Ko Kradan: The beach walk of a lifetime
Island Daze #17
Wherever you happen to be right now, I invite you to toss your worries aside and join me on a virtual stroll into the natural bliss of Ko Kradan.
Starting at Paradise Lost, a rather legendary bungalow joint set amid Ko Kradan’s otherwise jungle-cloaked interior, I find the head of a trail behind the family rooms at the property’s edge. I venture south into the island forest, occasionally stumbling over the tree roots as I watch the woods for birdlife. Vines twist into the canopy and leaves the size of car hoods reach over the trail.
The forest ends at Ao Nieang Resort, one of the island’s longest-running lodgings set beside a secluded beach of the same name. I pop into the open-sided restaurant to chat with the Thai ‘aunties’ who look after guests staying in bamboo bungalows that are among the cheapest rooms on Ko Kradan. The aunties return to Trang for part of wet season, they say, but they’ve been coming to the island since they were kids.
The narrow beach at Ao Nieang extends within easy swimming distance of South Reef, the most popular snorkeling area on Ko Kradan. I get the feet wet while snapping a few shots of Ko Libong, a larger island hosting Muslim-Thai fishing villages and the largest of the two endangered dugong herds left in Thailand. These herbivorous sea mammals occasionally stray towards Ko Kradan.
With low tide approaching I’m able to follow the sandy shore north beyond the rocky outcrop that separates Ao Nieang from Hat Ko Kradan, the island’s primary beach. There I pass the Anantara beach club along with the campground and restaurant operated by Hat Chao Mai National Park. Day trippers relax at both of these spots as their friends snorkel the reef or basque in the tepid shallows.
I circle back to Paradise Lost to hydrate before striding onwards to the west coast for a look at the undeveloped Sunset Beach. Its wide 200 meters of khaki sand are worth a visit, I find, even hours before travelers flock there for sunset.
Back on the east coast I take a peek into every resort. The midrange Kradan Beach Resort and the luxurious Seven Seas were established early in Ko Kradan’s development, explaining why their designers left a fair amount of space between each bungalow and villa. Attracting wealthy Bangkokians and honeymooning foreigners, Seven Seas is owned by a Thai actress (sorry, her name escapes me) who also owns the similarly stylish Twin Lotus Resort up on Ko Lanta Yai.
Built in the late 2000s or later, rooms at half a dozen smaller resorts set further south are packed tightly together. This part of the beach is something of an Italian enclave with citizens of the boot-shaped country involved — last I checked, at least — in the management of The Reef Resort, Kalume Village and Mali Resort, which absorbed neighboring Coral Garden Resort in early 2021. Add Marco from Paradise Lost and almost half of all resorts on Ko Kradan have Italians on staff.
I’ve always enjoyed the mellow vibes and tasteful wooden bungalows at Kalume Village. Fronting its restaurant, which also does good pizza and pasta dishes, sits a relaxation perch suspended amid the branches of a venerable umbrella tree that drapes over the powdery coral sand.
Waving goodbye to the Italians, I wander down to the far south end of the beach and stride out into the ankle-deep sea as the tide recedes. Petite clusters of brain and staghorn coral appear through the crystalline water.
Waterbirds swoop down to snack on the marine life that gets left behind in shallow tidal pools. Hermit crabs duck into their shells as coin-size sand crabs bury their translucent bodies beneath the moist grains.
Appearing far away as blurry figures, people who’d been snorkeling or snoozing on the beach surface on sandbars extending hundreds of meters from other dry land.
Kayakers who don’t want to run aground like some unlucky fish seek the deeper water far from shore. The sky is so clear that I can make out details on Farang Beach and other parts of Ko Mook’s west coast. This larger island is more than eight km to the north, but now it looks close enough to wade to.
The only sounds are the muffled hum of longtail boat engines, the brush of a breeze and distant laughter from kids playing with beach dogs. I think of how the moon’s gravity is tugging millions of tons of seawater towards the other side of the earth, revealing this carpet of rippled white sand below my feet. Over there, in the darkness of a wintry morning, family and friends in North America are asleep.
Two different storms materialize to the north, cloaking distant karst massifs in soft grey curtains of rain. A gust follows, bringing cooler air and the unmistakable scent of freshwater in the minutes before it’s released from the clouds.
I head back to the north side of the island and locate the sandy lane to Paradise Lost. The sky darkens as the treetops sway in the wind. Every minute, the thunder draws closer. Finally, the sky opens and a deluge pounds the earth seconds before I return to my little thatch-roofed hut. I sit on the porch and watch the rain, acknowledging how fortunate I am to have spent these hours on Ko Kradan. 🌴