Chapter 11 – A little bit better than boring.

Our next destination was an island south of Lanta called Koh Mook. The details of this little gem, as with Koh Jum, were spilled over a pub table late one night in Khao Lak. Fortunately one of us was sober enough to pocket them at the time. I’ll let you guess which one...

We had arranged a shuttle boat to take us over. When it arrived, however, our shuttle boat had turned into a speedboat. This was a bad thing because Paul and Sarah had recently had a rather unfortunate accident involving a speedboat, and understandably weren’t really keen on a repeat performance. So a long tail boat was quickly summoned. This was a good thing because unbeknown to us we had joined a four island snorkelling trip (equipment and fruit included) for the price of a ferry. Score.

The rest of the passengers did look slightly bemused when the boat left us standing on the shore of island number three and the crew waved us goodbye.

Koh Mook is cool. There’s only really one beach to stay on, unless you count the incredibly beautiful, incredibly expensive luxury resort and SPA on the other side of the island. But we don’t. That’s just for yuppies.

We got pretty basic bungalow accommodation in the garden/jungle of a family run restaurant which had no hot water, but electricity that lasted long enough to allow the fan to shift the hot air around our room. It served us well.

But cushy accommodation is not what had brought us to this island. We had come to cast our eyes on the legendary Emerald Cave, a secret lagoon once upon a time home to the treasure of pirates.

We set out on this adventure on our 2nd day in. A long tail boat took us around the bay and anchored on the other side of the mountain. Our driver pointed to what looked like a hole in the wall no bigger than four heads. Sarah said “No Way!” The bravery in the boys’ faces disappeared. This was going to be interesting.

Despite the fact that we were all pretty good swimmers, we donned our life jackets not quite sure of what we were getting ourselves into. Leaving Sarah on the boat we dropped into the water and tentatively followed our guide. Thankfully, as we neared the cave its mouth began to open, but as it swallowed us, we were submerged into a darkness so dark it belonged in a Stephen King movie.

The walls howled torturously as we waded through the black water, orientated only by each other’s voices and the glimmer of light in our guide’s hand ahead. But as we rounded a corner, some 80 meters later, the darkness fell behind us and what lay ahead stole what breath we had left.

We emerged into a crystal clear lagoon surrounded by a perfectly white sand beach. Massive cliffs steeped in green hid us from the rest of the world. The whole place seemed to glow emerald. It was exquisite. One of those real jaw-dropping, awe-inspiring, speechless moments made slightly comical by the fact that my left boob had managed to escape from my bikini and was in full view, nip and all, as I came out of the water.

No, we weren’t the only people there. And yes, it was noticed.

When we had all got our breath back and I had found my dignity, we decided two things. 1, that Sarah could not leave Koh Mook without seeing it, and 2, we had to have a photo with us all there. Both of which meant we’d have to go back through the tunnel of torture.

We did it.

We got the camera and Sarah, and it was worth it. I mean how could you not have your picture taken on a real life treasure island?

Our day was made.

We ‘sailed’ back to shore heads high feeling a combination of Captain James Cook and Jack Sparrow. Real adventurers discovering the undiscovered and living to tell the tale. Well, not really, but one can pretend.

We washed the day down with one, two, many Samsung cocktails. And when we were well into the night, round about silly hour, decided it would be a great idea to do headstands on the beach. That’s when it happened. That’s when gravity stole my camera, filled with all our Emerald Cave memories, and gave it to the sea.

Never to be seen again.

We spent the next day mourning our loss on the beach as we were too hung over to drown our sorrows. But all was forgotten when Marc and I were suddenly surrounded by millions and millions of tiny silver fish whilst snorkelling just off the shore. They swam circles around us, build walls between us, below us and above us.
They stayed and played for what felt like an age, their little bodies shimmering like shards of a broken mirror in the sun’s light.

It was truly one of the most incredible experiences of my life.

And if you’re wondering, no we don’t have pictures of that either.

You can find the picture we do have here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/43679192@N07/sets/72157623040941695/