July 10 , 2026

Waking up to another luxuriously restrained morning at my stylish White Sands hotel, the morning sun illuminating the shimmering surf lapping the shoreline visible past the screen of palms scatteried through the garden outside my window. A taste of each of the individual stations at the buffet breakfast, the quality reasonable and the portions generous, although nothing stands out beyond the spectacular view of the sea below us. The morning unfolds in its usually unproductive manner, although I do have a clear goal, and I have the tools to achieve those goals — traveling along the western island highway to the southern tip of the island with the rental scooter on the parking lot a short walk from my room.

And soon, I am off, through the less memorable sprawl that extends to the south of White Sands, the rare stretch of green that marks the area to the south of the village, then the sprawl of retail, budget hotels, coffee shops, restaurants, and massage parlours that spans much of the highway to the south, the calibre of the establishments not necessarily subpar, but little exceptional stands out in an environment entirely disconnected from the nearby coastline. Access to the beaches is jealously guarded by the resorts small and large that block off any shoreline with the remotest trace of sand. But there is an exception, as I saw yesterday, the area of the Kai Bae viewpoint, where the road rises away from the coast over a series of tortuous curves to offer spectacular views of the verdant and largely untouched forest that spans a relatively generous distance from the road to the water.

I would love to stop by the viewpoint again if only to get another chance at spotting a hornbill, although it seemed that when I was here previously the birds may have been so visible as they were returning to the area to roost for the evening — in which case I would not be able to spot any of the birds this early in the day. The allure of the small park certainly towers over anything I have on the island thus far, but I am also very curious as to what delights may await me en route to the southern tip.

The road rises, the steep serpentine curves now navigable with a reasonably-powered scooter or better, but in the event of rain or nighttime, I would be loath to travel here, especially given the clear disregard for caution exhibited by the Thai drivers and the relatively muted bravado of the farang. Further along, the jungle opens up to an unexpectedly elegant and spectacularly-situated cafe, its sheets of greenish tinted glass braced against the wall of virile jungle. The Sylvie Cafe seems to be attached to the Sylvan hotel deep in the jungle below, but there is no visible connection between the two, other than that you can see traces of the rooftops of the latter from the balcony of the former.

But as seductively opulent as the hotel below may be, the landscape before me is as spectacular as visible from the viewpoint immediately to the north, the thick jungle flowing down the ribs of the hillsides that extend all the way to the waterfront at this latitude of the Koh Chang. On the water below, the diminutive West Coast islands, enclosed by seductive tendrils of pale yellow sand, the surrounding waters a two-toned deep blue and pale blue-green, and the blue sky above coated with the shredded white cotton batting of stratocumulus clouds. The verdant tropical environment before me is all the more spectacular as it contrasts wildly with the uniform overdevelopment I have seen heretofore on the island.

The cafe is consummately stylish, inflected with a range of decorative details, the smaller space adjoined by a relatively cavernous restaurant that is currently closed and may only be available for guest dining. The coffee shop is open to the public, the occasional visitor entering, the ubiquitous older Caucasian men with their younger Thai female cohorts, all gawking and taking pictures, the staff patient and predictably subservient. The rounded pale wooden chairs adhere to a Scandinavian aesthetic, while the broken tile mosaic floor, the white floral bas relief plaster wall arches and mother-of-pearl chandeliers, and wave-shaped fabric as well as the circular metal mobiles draped from the ceiling follow some other design calling. But the stylish interior is subsumed by the stunning views …

It turns out that you can only transit between the cafe and the hotel below by means of electric golf cart for which you’re supposed to pay ฿100 — sorry, I’ll pass! Particularly given that I was interested in exploring the hotel for promotional purposes. The staff are apologetic, but the service is decreed by the manager; and yet there is an access road I can take to see the hotel below at my own behest …

Further to the north another resort huddles in the coastal forest belt, the Siam Bay Resort, much more mundane that the one whose mountaintop cafe I just came from, but alluring in its own unique way. The rough-hewn paved road drops steeply towards the water, definitely not a passage for the faint of heart or in inclement weather, although today is happily unfailingly sunny, without a hint of rain. The staff at the open-air reception in one of the large waterfront structures lets me look around the grounds, which extend around a small bay with a relatively shallow beach (although it may be high tide). Box-like glass-fronted cabins are stacked on a hillside ranging to the north, while immediately across from the reception, a cavernous, two-level open-faced structure houses a restaurant.

The relatively diminutive pool is raised on a podium and abuts the waterfront, the beach below being under water, possibly only exposed at low tide. As seems to consistently be the case, the beaches on Koh Chang (outside of White Sands) are far from stellar. Behind the reception lie a string of older and larger worn-looking cabins, although directly facing the water. While the resort is modest, it lies in a relatively vast private forested enclave detached from the highway and surrounding development, and facing the West Coast islands. The only other resort in the vicinity is Sylvan, although given the size of Siam Bay’s terrain, its neighbor remains out of sight.

The road further south continues on its steep and sinuous trajectory, although it does eventually descend again to sea level, arcing at some distance from the seaside, with no chance of seeing any beach from the road. And yet there are some middling resorts hugging the road, the mere fact that their chalets line the highway a good reason to never consider staying there. The quality of the beach? I couldn’t know, given that as everywhere else, access to the waterfront is prohibited to non-guests, an overarching characteristic of the resort development that blankets Koh Chang, and a good reason to never visit the island, especially considering how inconsequential the beaches typically are. On the other hand, anyone who stays on the island and gets to know it better will also becomes familiar with the few public access points to beaches as well as the resorts that have a more laissez-faire attitude towards outside visitors.

The predictable sprawl of restaurants, bars, massage parlours, convenience stores, and budget motels lines the roadside, of a calibre decidedly lower than to the north of the viewpoint, and despite the scattered locals and budget travelers visible along the roadside, evidently catering to a far less enfranchised demographic of visitors than other segments of the island. Considering how inexpensive it is to stay her to begin with, I can’t possibly imagine who would be desperate enough to stay in this pocket of the island. Perhaps in other times the prices were higher and the demand elevated, but given that tourism to the country in general has dropped off and it is low season …

Suddenly, I spot a broad paved concourse leading in a straight line to the waterfront. Hallelujah! The broad road is lined with eateries and modest lodges, presumably catering to the lower-budget younger travelers more interested in alcohol-fueled entertainment in their stays on the island, although there is no beach to speak of on the waterfront, which is probably also why the entirety of the establishments seem to be devoid of customers. The wood-paneled, open-faced restaurant by the shore is by far the most attractive of the lot, what with its matching patterned pink cushion seats and overly attentive staff. But I simply don’t want to spend the time here, given that there is still so much to explore to the south, and there is no beach to speak of here. Well, there is a crescent of beach to the north, but whatever semblance of a trail that runs to the north is obstructed by undergrowth and garbage.

At a somewhat more civilized compound to the south, a side road leads past a smattering of modest bungalow complexes to a beach, not particularly memorable, and as with everywhere else I have been thus far (outside of White Sands), with very few visitors in evidence. Again, with the amount of accommodation options that exist on the island, I can’t see the vast amount of relatively tepid places getting much traction, unless they were extremely inexpensive. The accommodations I see are at best modest, the landscape negligible, the plots only in the vicinity of the beach, and the beach itself at best an afterthought, hardly a reason to travel any distance to take in.

Consistent with my experience on the island thus far, I see no evidence of housing that would be used by locals. With all the tourist accommodation splattered across the western coast of the island and the seemingly endless stream of retail lining the western island highway, I struggle to understand where all the workers that operate these businesses would stay.

Further to the south, the road weaves through abundant greenery, although there is little in the line of memorable landmarks, be it geological, man-made, or views of the beach. My ultimate destination is the southern tip of the island, although the Bang Bao area seems to extend not just from the village of the name but to the entire southwestern quadrant of Koh Chang. In the time remaining of the afternoon, I will attempt to explore whatever is accessible by road, although there could be far more to see than I would have expected. What is for certain, though, is that despite the area’s somewhat scenic appeal, it seems somewhat perplexing to see it as a meaningful destination, given its scattered, unfocused nature and the lack of any kind of coherent attractions.

On the map, I see that the narrow two-lane paved road weaves past the Bang Bao village onto a promontory that extends far to the south. Several deviations from the main road seem to lead to the village, although when I pursue one, as it morphs into a potholed and waterlogged dirt road, a band of aggressive dogs takes note of my arrival and rushes toward me, barking aggressively, to which I can only respond by turning around and continue on the road to the south. I wasn’t necessarily that desperate to see the village anyway!

As I descend to the south, views of the village open up, the low-slung, often open-faced wooden bungalows squeezed along the waterfront, green hillsides rising artfully above, the illumination of the verdant forest undulating thanks to the shifting cloud cover above. The town extends to a lengthy pier along which sit whitewashed pavilions with pointed canopies and to which colourful traditional boats are anchored, a very appealing sight indeed! Perhaps I will find time later to explore the town, but first I want to see how far the road takes me to the southern tip of the island.

I see the occasional obese, grizzled male farang deep in the throes of male menopause with a much younger local starlet clinging tightly to their rump sputtering by, although little evidence of any organized tourist accommodation. There do seem to collections of semi-abandoned huts that the intrepid may seek out here, that at least offer a hideaway of sorts as far removed as possible from the uninterrupted sprawl of development to the north. Most of the slightly hilly area is covered by forest, although with little evidence of a local community, other than the Bang Bao fishing village I can occasionally make out through the screen of coconut palms lining the shoreline. And some of the waterfront isn’t just beach, but it lies adjacent the road and is entirely undeveloped, although I couldn’t visualize this meager, rock-strewn sand strip to be much of a destination for any foreign sun seekers. And yet for the few that do make it here, it may be paradise …

The narrow road weaves along the eastern periphery of the peninsula, the interior remaining an unknown from my vantage point, although the sporadic views of the sea to the east are glorious, including the receding perspective of the fishing village with its enormous pier. It continues further along, loosely hugging the eastern side of the peninsula, alongside scrub, forest, random houses, then degenerates into a dirt path. Time to turn around!

The afternoon is waning, thanks to my constant stopping to take in the scenery and snap pictures. I could try visiting the town again, but first want to explore its periphery, given that the map shows a small tangle of alleys above and along the waterfront to the east. I retrace the road toward the village, then skirt the settlement, the narrow road now winding steeply, climbing dramatically, then descending abruptly again, the terrain to the immediate north of Bang Boa village quite hilly. There is only occasional traffic on the road, which makes for a far safer environment, considering its tortuousness. Further to the south, the paved two-lane roadway gives way to sandy trails, fortunately hard-packed and flat, the web of errant paths leading toward the sea.

I have little idea as to the specific sites I could visit here, given the lack of labeling on the map and the absence of signposts along the sand paths. I can only ride so far to the south before reaching the sea. While there seems to a campsite and luxury hotel spread out among the coconut palms and mangrove here, the beaches are modest at best, the bushy trees reaching in part all the way to the lapping waves. But the abundant sand is largely clean, the beaches offer great views of the landmass on either side of the bay, and most surprisingly for Koh Chang, there are no developments occluding access to the ample shoreline. What’s more, there are virtually no visitors to be seen in the area, an advantage for visitors intrepid enough to make it this far.

Much of the terrain further from the shoreline is dedicated to the open-sided, rustic structures of the Chivapuri Beach resort, and from closer viewing of the sets of multi-level bungalows perched at odd angles in the forest setting, I can see that this is not some middling establishment, but a paragon of evocative tropical luxury. If I was to return to Koh Chang, this is the place I would stay, although there is nothing to see or do nearby. And yet on the other hand, the plethora of retail establishments that litter the main road to the north are only of passing appeal, ultimately only tainting the tropical beach ambience.

Time to return from this remote outpost while there is still daylight, and even though the return trip — without the incessant stops — should be a lot quicker than the trip here, it should still take a considerable amount of time, and I don’t want to be riding along the island highway in the dark, especially not on the steep parts. The views of Bang Boa and the bay it faces are quite spectacular, probably the last memorable views I will take in until I reach the mid-island viewpoint. But alas, I won’t have time to visit the village and traverse its lengthy pier.

I reach the mid point of the island far sooner than I had expected. Despite the relatively anodyne perspective from the highway, I would like to visit the Centara resort, as I remember the young Swiss stoner couple I met earlier on at the Sylvie cafe raving about it. Why not enter? The access road to the waterfront leads to an ostentatious gate, small parking area, and a ring of gargantuan buildings, which already sets a less than memorable tone to the ensemble. Why not continue along the side road and see what the neighboring Barali Beach resort offers?

An exceedingly different vision, it turns out; the much smaller resort may have a simple layout, but the design of the individual cabins lined up in a long column running toward the water and surrounding landscaping is just perfect, rich in a tapestry of frangipani, fan palm, and assorted other tropical shrubs of various shapes and sizes. The villas are designed with character, somewhat reminiscent of an Indonesian Dutch colonial style, even very private, despite the proximity of the individual buildings to each other.

Barali is verdant, enticing, atmospheric, elegant, and yet also private, and notably, small enough to not attract the large groups and families that skew the experience of the apparently more luxurious resorts on the island, such as the neighboring Centara and the Kacha Resort in White Sands. The area of the pool, the adjoining bar, and the narrow strip of sand may not be individually impressive, but for anyone staying in a villa closer to the shore, it would feel just perfect. And if you really wanted to experience more of the world, you could always return to the island highway, lined with shops, restaurants, bars, and so on.

Since I originally stopped to view Centara, I drop in after I leave the Barali resort, although the immediate distraction on the parking lot amounts to watching a fairly large snake slither by, which I point out to passing Chinese visitors, and when they are horrified, remind them that they are in the tropics, and that the tropics aren’t just beautiful beaches. But the staff is also somewhat mortified …

The cabins in the resort are not quite as sizeable as at the Barali, although more artfully arranged, along undulating flagstone-paved paths, with ample landscaping, but the expanse of the grounds is such that the resort as a whole comes across as generic and repetitive. Moreover, the pool and bar/restaurant area by the waterfront are inundated by families with voluble children, which is not something you want to see when on a luxury tropical beachside excursion. On the other hand, if you are traveling with a larger family or in a group, this could be the perfect option!

I see men blocking the road up ahead. A police checkpoint! This could be a problem, given that I don’t have a driver’s license. But they casually wave me through, locals repeatedly having emphasized to me that the police focus on drivers not wearing helmets, which is endemic amongst both locals and tourists. For all that I was worried about renting scooters without a license at the outset of my trip, I rented scooters extensively in my journey through Laos and Thailand and never had a problem with the police.

The woman at the travel agency that I rented the scooter from is happy to see me and hear that my visit to the island went well. Obviously there is no damage to the scooter, but I could well imagine that more reckless farang could incur serious damages to these two-wheelers, especially given how challenging the roads are in some parts of the island. Passport in hand, I am off to the Thai restaurant next to the Muay Thai boxing studio, although today the coconut curry is nowhere nearly as good as it was last time I was here. Oh well …

Back at the hotel, I fall asleep, then when some time has passed, I wake up, still groggy. I had planned on spending an hour or so focused on writing but it is now late – and I haven’t even booked a hotel for Bangkok yet! The effort becomes confused and drawn out, given that many of the places near Khao San road are hostels, which I don’t want. What’s more, Khao San road is a party zone and any place that is too close will be loud.

I want breakfast included in the overnight fee, but the extra charges are often ridiculous, at least for Thailand. When I try searching in Incognito mode the costs are much lower – but then Agoda slaps on high taxes, which are included when searching in regular mode. Then I take into account reviews, realizing that Google displays the highest rating found on any booking site, while the individual booking sites typically show much lower average ratings. I see endless complaints about service at many cheaper hotels, but considering the amount of work, hassle and low pay workers put up with, maybe I could just dismiss those complaints …