The morning of my first full day on Tarutao started abruptly at 6:30 AM with a gecko in full song in my bungalow. It is amazing that such a small being as such an amazing voice, both bird-like and cartoonesque at the same time.
Each bungalow here at Ao Molac sports a clothesline facing the sun, so laundry was in order, using the cold water shower to wash myself and my clothes at the same time. No, of course not while I am wearing them, just at the same time.
After brekkie on the veranda, a loaded up with water and headed back towards Ao Son, this time turning off on the trail for the Lu Du waterfalls. It is four kilometers to the trail off of the single lane road and then 3 kilometers through the jungle. It doesn't sound like much but remember, it is 95 degrees with 85% humidity.
The air of the entire walk is decorated with butterflies. I lost count at around 15 different species. I wish I knew more so that I could list their names, but there were all manner, all colours, constantly appearing and re-appearing across the road and path. Dark Morphos, bright Swallow-Tails and all manner of other colours, yellows with charcoal gray, deepest blues, pale pastels.
The next bit of jungle wildlife was the different troupes of monkeys, Crab-Eating Macaques, who protested my passage through their turf. Every 500 meters or so would bring me past another group, not counting the bungalow monkey troupe, a special group.
I sweated my way the first falls, hopping from rock to rock and trying to follow the dilapidated trail markers. The water fall was no more than two meters high, but it emptied into a deep, shaded pool, perfect for swimming. I continued up the stream for a difficult 500 meters until I found the second falls. This pool proved too much. The clothes came off and in minutes I was swimming naked in the shade, being pummeled by the waterfall, while fearless little fish nipped at my body hair. The cool water was more than sublime.
Using an old green rope, I scaled the next rock wall, traveling naked now. Above the second falls were a series of small falls and pools carved into the rock stream bed. I slide back down to the deep pool for another swim and then, clothed again, started rock hopping back down the stream.
Back on the trail to Ao Son, I saw small boars traveling lightening fast through the jungle understory. There were more butterflies, and a perfectly preserved, though very dead, beetle of with massive protruding mandibles.
I had lunch at the tiny veranda of Ao Son, met a few people who had hiked down as well, and then walked down the 3 kilometers of almost pure white beach, devoid of another human being. Finally the heat was too much and I headed for the home bungalow.
As I arrived back at Ao Molac, one of the Thai guests asked me what bungalow I was in. When I said "Number 6", she said "Ah. Yes. Monkeys." The cute little furry monkeys had become cute little thieving bastards whilst I was gone, prying two of the wooden louvers off of a side window and raiding my backpack. Finding no food, they had managed to open the fast-tek buckles on my pack, pull out several of the stuff sacks, and scatter them around the room.
Fortunately, monkeys don't actually smoke cigars, despite the bad calendars from the 1960's that would lead you to believe that they do. Had the little fur balls gotten into my cigars, there would be some monkey pelts decorating my lodge pole.
Each bungalow here at Ao Molac sports a clothesline facing the sun, so laundry was in order, using the cold water shower to wash myself and my clothes at the same time. No, of course not while I am wearing them, just at the same time.
After brekkie on the veranda, a loaded up with water and headed back towards Ao Son, this time turning off on the trail for the Lu Du waterfalls. It is four kilometers to the trail off of the single lane road and then 3 kilometers through the jungle. It doesn't sound like much but remember, it is 95 degrees with 85% humidity.
The air of the entire walk is decorated with butterflies. I lost count at around 15 different species. I wish I knew more so that I could list their names, but there were all manner, all colours, constantly appearing and re-appearing across the road and path. Dark Morphos, bright Swallow-Tails and all manner of other colours, yellows with charcoal gray, deepest blues, pale pastels.
The next bit of jungle wildlife was the different troupes of monkeys, Crab-Eating Macaques, who protested my passage through their turf. Every 500 meters or so would bring me past another group, not counting the bungalow monkey troupe, a special group.
I sweated my way the first falls, hopping from rock to rock and trying to follow the dilapidated trail markers. The water fall was no more than two meters high, but it emptied into a deep, shaded pool, perfect for swimming. I continued up the stream for a difficult 500 meters until I found the second falls. This pool proved too much. The clothes came off and in minutes I was swimming naked in the shade, being pummeled by the waterfall, while fearless little fish nipped at my body hair. The cool water was more than sublime.
Using an old green rope, I scaled the next rock wall, traveling naked now. Above the second falls were a series of small falls and pools carved into the rock stream bed. I slide back down to the deep pool for another swim and then, clothed again, started rock hopping back down the stream.
Back on the trail to Ao Son, I saw small boars traveling lightening fast through the jungle understory. There were more butterflies, and a perfectly preserved, though very dead, beetle of with massive protruding mandibles.
I had lunch at the tiny veranda of Ao Son, met a few people who had hiked down as well, and then walked down the 3 kilometers of almost pure white beach, devoid of another human being. Finally the heat was too much and I headed for the home bungalow.
As I arrived back at Ao Molac, one of the Thai guests asked me what bungalow I was in. When I said "Number 6", she said "Ah. Yes. Monkeys." The cute little furry monkeys had become cute little thieving bastards whilst I was gone, prying two of the wooden louvers off of a side window and raiding my backpack. Finding no food, they had managed to open the fast-tek buckles on my pack, pull out several of the stuff sacks, and scatter them around the room.
Fortunately, monkeys don't actually smoke cigars, despite the bad calendars from the 1960's that would lead you to believe that they do. Had the little fur balls gotten into my cigars, there would be some monkey pelts decorating my lodge pole.
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