Escape to Khao Sok National Park

I was sitting on the floor outside my hostel room with my back against the wall. It was late, probably around 10pm, and the room behind me was empty. The poppy beats of Ed Sheeran and Justin Bieber echoed up from the bar below while the laughs of happy backpackers playing beer ping pong rang through the night. I watched the silhouettes of palm trees gently sway in the darkness in front of me as a quiet voice in the back of my mind told me I should probably go downstairs and join in the fun. Instead, I did what any other hungover 23-year-old drained of all energy would do: I remained slumped on the floor and cried like a little baby.

I was on the island of Koh Tao, the last stop of my 2 week island-hopping around South Thailand. I always knew that these weeks would consist of not much more than drinking and lying on beaches, but when it comes to me and drinking, I tend to go a bit overboard. I rely heavily on alcohol to relax and provide a bit of Dutch courage in loud social situations, so the combination of being desperate to make friends while travelling solo and hopping from party island to party island meant my liver hadn’t had a break in a while. And don’t even get me started on the hangovers. From blurry nights fueled by potent buckets of Long Island Iced Tea in stunning Koh Phi Phi, to a wild night (and morning) at the legendary Full Moon Party on Koh Phangan that left me recovering in a hammock for the next 2 days, I was ready for a detox. I’d heard of chilled-out Koh Tao being the perfect place to lay low. I’d had my fun but I’m a lightweight: I needed a few days with no alcohol in sight.

Trouble was, Mother Nature didn’t want to play ball. Turns out the Thai islands have different weather systems, and while the West side with Koh Phi Phi was enjoying glorious sunshine all day long, the East side with Koh Tao was in the midst of their monsoon season with heavy rainfall and washed-up debris covering the beaches. Not exactly the ideal conditions for sunbathing. And with the sandy roads quickly turning to a slippery slide pitted with deep puddles and streams with every deluge, time to safely drive around the island was limited. So what do you do when you can’t sunbathe, you can’t explore and you’ve already browsed every shop lining the streets?

You head to the bar.

And so the cycle of eat, sleep, rave, repeat started again.

I was done. I’d literally drunk myself into oblivion and my health had taken a huge hit. I was in a tropical, albeit rainy, paradise, but I suddenly found myself battling with a debilitating cold which zapped me of all energy. Combined with the knowledge that I was throwing away far too much money on booze from my already precarious budget, and the excitement and motivation to continue travelling disappeared. All I wanted to do was go home and tuck myself away from everyone in a warm cozy bed. First world problems? For sure. I was deep in the murky depths of self-pity.

One morning, after speaking with a couple of girls in my hostel room, they mentioned their plans of continuing on to Khao Sok National Park. The name was unfamiliar, but a quick Google search saw images of jungle, nature, quiet and, most importantly, absolutely no partying. Perfect. Spontaneity hit as I bought a ticket back to mainland that day and swiftly left Koh Tao in the evening.

A sleepless 11 hour overnight journey on a ferry, one bus ride, an hour and a half wait in the back of a convenience store at 5:30am, and another final bus ride later, and I finally arrived in Khao Sok Village. Driving along in the back of a pick-up truck under a canopy of luscious green leaves and listening to the wild sounds of the jungle, we pulled up outside Coco Khao Sok Hostel, my base for the next few days, where the smell of freshly-baked cookies emanated from inside. All my alcohol-induced troubles faded away.

Located in the Surat Thani Province in South Thailand, Khao Sok National Park is believed to be one of the world’s oldest evergreen rainforests, dating back 160 million years. Interspersed with lakes, mountains, waterfalls and caves over an expanse of 738 kilometres squared, it is home to a huge variety of wildlife. From wild elephants, sun bears and gibbons, to over 300 bird species hidden within the jungle, there is plenty to be on the look out for (and even if you don’t see them, you’ll certainly hear them!) It is also proudly home to the rare Rafflesia Kerrii – the world’s largest and smelliest flower!

After checking in and dropping off my backpack, I ambled off down the road to explore the nearby trails through the National Park (after making sure it was safe to wander into a jungle on my own – another promise to my parents that I swore I wouldn’t break). I didn’t need to worry too much about getting lost within the depths of the trees – a clear path navigated the way, leading me past cheeky monkeys, giant monitor lizards and spiders the size of my hand! Curious to see what was beyond the beaten track, I strayed off down a smaller overgrown path, weaving between the leaves until I arrived at a peaceful cascading river.

It was on my way back that I realised I had an unwelcome visitor catching a free ride on my ankle: a leech. Not only was it my first time seeing a leech in real life, but it was my first time having one literally attached to me. After a dramatic display of panic with much cringing, squealing and swearing, I pulled myself together, took a deep breathe and yanked the squirming hitchhiker off me. Beth one, jungle zero. Just call me Bear Grylls.

Back at the hostel resting from my day’s explorations whilst munching on a freshly-baked cookie, I browsed Google for recommendations on what to do next. Cheow Larn Lake seemed to be a regular mention, and with little to no idea what else there was to see in this area apart from the jungle, I decided to continue my spontaneity by booking onto an overnight trip through my hostel. I was often wary of organised tours made purely to lure tourists in but this time I was ready to take the gamble.

Nestled in the heart of the national park, you’ve be forgiven for thinking that Cheow Larn Lake was an ancient site which had always been there, what with its beautiful emerald water blending in seamlessly with the vibrant greens of the rainforest. In fact, it was unintentionally created in 1987 after the damming of the Pasaeng river for hydroelectric power caused the valley to flood. Thailand’s very own Atlantis can be found at the bottom of the lake, where the houses, schools and temples of five villages lie, while the hundreds of limestone karsts which protrude from the surface are actually the peaks of huge mountains hidden beneath the water. Despite the devastation caused, the new lake has been transformed into a valued ecosystem within the national park and is now fiercely protected.

I was soon zooming across the still surface of the lake in a longtail boat, trying to keep my eyes open after an early start that morning. It seemed to be a recurring theme during my trip that as soon as I sat still in a moving vehicle, I fell asleep. Bus, tuk tuk, back of a motorbike – you name it, I had probably slept on it. But I fought off my fatigue, determined to not miss any of the stunning surroundings as we glided past jungle-clad limestone rocks towering over the striking blue water. As we neared the edge of the lake, we turned a corner to be met by a row of wooden huts huts peacefully floating on the surface: our home for the night. With just the shrill of the nearby monkeys and birds rising from the jungle, you couldn’t get more zen than this.

The next day I was up before sunrise for a morning safari across the lake. I sat on the edge of the wooden platform, watching as a layer of cloud peacefully hovered above the water and moved silently up into the trees of the jungle where the cries of monkeys echoed out. We boarded back onto the boats and floated on the water, spotting the different birds diving in and out of the lake for their morning catch. It’s no wonder that there’s a universal agreement that this time of day is the most beautiful in the park.

Just as we were about to turn back, our guide suddenly called out to us to look at the trees. There in the distance, just visible amongst the pale green leaves, I saw a strange silhouette with long arms swinging from branch to branch. A wild gibbon! We watched as he dangled in the air, munching on his leafy breakfast, and I smiled as I reminded myself that it was moments like these that made travel so special.

And suddenly, those self-pitying hungover days from Long Island Iced Tea buckets were just a distant memory.

Love, Beth x