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They say first impressions are always important. I question that adage when it comes to Koh Samui, that wonderful island resort on the east coast of Thailand in the Gulf of Thailand, because I had a somewhat different opinion when I first saw the island. But I must admit, readers that it was a long time ago, before Royal Orchid Holidays in fact.
It was the fall of 1975 and I had just completed construction of my schooner, Third Sea, on a small klong down river from Bangkok. My crew and I were on our maiden voyage heading south to Singapore. With Koh Samui on our direct route, it looked like a good place for an anchor stop and, most important, it would be our very first port-of-call. However, we didn’t have much information on the island.
On the chart table before me, I had all the information I could gather about Koh Samui; and that filled only one page. Even then, most of it was general information gleaned from our Sailing Directions—every yachtsman’s Bible—like Koh Samui being located 35 kilometers off the Surat Thani coast and about 700 kilometers south of Bangkok. Fishermen, it said, originally settled the island, about 1200 years ago. Apparently the island had trade connections with China, for Chinese ceramics that dated back to the Ming Dynasty were found washed up on shore, obviously from a wrecked Chinese ship.
It was an exciting moment when Koh Samui appeared on the horizon but, nevertheless, one with some apprehension. The report that I had, dated 1970, stated that until 1940 Koh Samui was almost unknown to the outside world and, although the island belonged to Thailand, its long isolation had kept it in the dark. Those from the mainland had to take about six hours travelling from a harbour in Surat Thani to reach the island. We also read that the Japanese did land on the island in 1941 but, finding it mountainous and without roads, they concluded it would be difficult to fortify and abandoned it.
But there was some progress later. In 1967, at the request of a local headman, the government decided to build a road. But due to Samui's high mountains and rugged terrain, heavy construction machines were required and had to be carried from the mainland. Construction was launched by manual labour and, what we didn’t know as we approached the island aboard Third Sea, after six years of long, hard work the result was only a dirt track.
We sighted the island just after dawn, after five days of hard sailing through bad weather. In the distance, with rain clouds still in the sky, it looked bleak and barren. The mountains, silhouetted against an even grayer skyline, looked menacing. We debated about stopping even for a few hours. However, we closed the distance.
The morning sun appeared through the clouds and gradually began burning away the mist. We studied the landscape through our binoculars. Soft shadows with pools of gray began to recede and melt away and turned the island into a lush green tropical landscape. Rocky cliffs dropped sheer into the sea and small bays and coves began to appear. But missing was any sign of life. There was not a house, not a building of any sort, not a road, not a soul to be seen anywhere.
“It might not be inhabited,” one of my crew said. I wondered if he might be right. We read aloud from the Sailing Directions and it said that Koh Samui’s main produce was coconuts, from which copra is made, tropical fruit, and bamboo. Most of the people who worked the copra and gathered the fruit lived on the mainland and came only to harvest their crops.
I have to admit, it was a disappointment. After an unpleasant sail through bad weather we were looking for some refreshment—fresh water showers, cold beer, a good meal and smiling faces to greet us.
The wind shifted as we approached the island. We lowered and furled the sails, started the engine and motored south, following the coast and cruising a hundred meters off the shore. We watched the island slip by. It was remarkably beautiful. Dense foliage clung to the rocky hills and the sea broke in gentle surf along the shoreline. The cliffs suddenly gave way and a small cove opened up. The chart indicated a depth of six fathoms—good for anchoring. The helmsman swung the wheel sharply to starboard, cut back on the engine, and we glided into a tropical wonderland. We watched the anchor settle to a white sand bottom. We felt we were discovering a new ‘undiscovered’ island.
As the crew lowered the dinghy, I made an entry into the ship’s log. “Anchored, Koh Samui Island. April 10, 1975.” As I look at the log today, it seemed like a hundred years ago and, what I remember clearly on everyone’s mind, “Was the island inhabited?”
We noted the coconut trees along the hillsides, not growing wild but planted in some sort of order. We rowed ashore and there, as we climbed a slight embankment from the beach, we found a dirt road. We set off following the road in hope that it would lead us to a village. But sailors are really not good hikers and I remembered that report on the chart table. It stated that Samui people themselves had only one means of transportation and that was to walk. It took them several hours to walk from Maenam district through jungles to Lamai Beach, the next cove down the island. After less than a kilometre, hot and thirsty and under a boiling sun, we gave up. We slumped down at the side of the road, discouraged and thirsty. Above us, clusters of green coconuts hung, ready to be plucked from the trees. We remembered the shipyard where we had worked on the schooner and where hucksters passed through the yard every day selling fresh coconuts for drinking. What a marvelous drink, cool and sweet, right from the nut. With one easy swing of a sharp knife, hucksters lopped off the tops of the nuts and handed them to us to drink. It looked so easy. Now we had all the nuts we wanted to drink, hanging like in the Garden of Eden above us. All we had to do was knock them down and open them.
None of us had ever climbed a coconut tree. It was not easy. In fact, we found it impossible. All we did was skin up our arms and legs. Next we tried knocking down coconuts with rocks and sticks. After twenty minutes we managed to dislodge one single nut from the bunch, and now our troubles really began. We had a penknife but were unable to tear away the husk. A miserable, forlorn bunch of beachcombers returned to the schooner empty handed and very thirsty.
Disillusioned with our newfound island, we decided to continue on to Singapore. We lifted anchor and motored toward a promontory jutting far out to sea. We hoped we’d pick up wind once we cleared the headland.
A light breeze came from the southeast and I gave the order to hoist the main, jib and fore staysail. As the sails filled and we heeled gently to starboard, a shout came from the helmsman. “Look,” he called, “look at that bay.”
We all looked in the direction he pointed. Indeed, a great bay opened, with a sweeping curve of a white sand beach. Through my binoculars I could see bamboo stalls along the water’s edge. Food stalls, and cold beer! Under full canvas, we sailed into Lamai Bay and fifty metres from shore, in six fathoms of water, we turned into the wind and dropped anchor.
The half dozen food stalls, set back among palms along the beach, were primitive but the food they served was delicious. And the beer was cold. The stalls, however, were not set up to cater to tourists. There were no tourists. They were there to serve fishermen. As we were having our second round of Singhas, a fishing boat entered the bay and anchored next to our schooner, and soon another boat arrived and dropped anchor. I climbed a nearby hill to get a photograph of Third Sea at anchor, and when I looked down, a half dozen more fishing boats had anchored around us. We were hemmed in from all sides.
Our first night at Koh Samui wasn’t a very pleasant experience. There was an offshore breeze but it didn’t carry the fragrance of flowers and tropical plants; it carried the stench of fish, from the fishing boats. Then, about four in the morning, when the world is still, all the fishing boats cranked up their engines, making it sound like the Indianapolis Speedway, and began to take off. Powerful lights flash on, and there came the sound of grinding windlasses and shouting fishermen. Relief came with the rising sun, when it was quiet again and we were the only vessel at anchor.
We spent three days at Lamai Beach. In the late afternoons, when the fishing boats began to return, we lifted anchor and motored around the point to the cove where we first went ashore. At dawn each morning we returned to Lamai Beach.
Lamai Beach then was all peace and quiet. One morning we visited a copra plantation and tried our hand at husking nuts with the workers. We couldn’t compete though we did get a lot of laughs and young fresh coconuts to take back to the schooner. Another time an owner of a food stall took us in his Jeep for a drive up the coast. It was a rough ride and could shake the fillings out of one’s teeth. But it was worth it. At Koh Farn, a small island only metres offshore, we watched workmen putting the finishing touches to a statue of a grand Buddha. Sometime in the 80's, a causeway was built between the island and the mainland and the Buddha is a main attraction in Koh Samui today.
We sailed away from Koh Samui with great sadness. We had made friends and we had found our island in the sun. Over the years, I sailed Third Sea many thousands of miles throughout the waters of Southeast Asia and the South Pacific and at every landfall I gave thought to Koh Samui. To me, it will always be inhabited.
For those interested I wrote more about sailing the waters of Southeast Asia in my book The Last Voyage.
Next week we go exploring in northern Thailand
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Koh Samui, miles of empty beaches
Following a sign into the hills
Schooner Third Sea at Koh Samui in 1974
Disappointed, Stephens left and photographer Mike
Yamashita. Not much there, they thought
Large Buddha was under construction in 1974
That's the life, a massage on the beach
Road into the hills, not so good but fun
Only old petrol stations when off the main road
Not cattle on the road but elephants
Stopping to watch a woman husk coconuts
An elderly lady in her teak house poses for a photo
The face of an old man tells his story
Elephant rides on Samui take guests into the hills
One can find prime forest on the island
Avis provides sturdy Jeep for trips into the interior
For more about cruising he waters around Thailand,
read the author's book The Last Voyage
Next week we explore northern Thailand
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