A flash of lightning illuminates the giant karst towers that guard Tonsai’s white crescent beach in the teal Andaman Sea. A strong wind brings temporary relief from the heat and humidity that wrap around us like a thick blanket. The energy of an approaching storm is tangible…

We sit cross-legged on bamboo benches at an open-air bar under a straw roof, listening to music and eating coconut curry and rice. Next to us muscular Thai men, glistening with sweat, dance with flaming spears for the customers’ entertainment. As if on cue, the pitter-patter of rain begins and within seconds transforms into a heavy, furious downpour. Everyone hastily seeks shelter as marble-sized drops of rain hammer the roof and the ground, bouncing and blowing in every direction. Within minutes, the gutters become raging brown rivers. This is rain like I’ve never seen before.

The thumping base of the music and the pounding of raindrops create a chaotic yet wonderful harmony. A slender woman in a flowing blue skirt emerges from the bar and begins a beautiful, hypnotic, dreamlike dance. She is a siren, summoning others to join her. Lightning cuts through the darkness every few seconds, illuminating the magic.

Michael captures climbers dancing in the rain, illuminated by lightning, with the iPhone

A nightly ritual at Chill Out Bar, taken with my little camera

This is our introduction to Tonsai Beach, a world-class playground for adults – the land of 24/7 adventure, happy mushroom shakes, and more six packs than a Costco-sized liquor

store. Michael and I arrived here after an overnight combo bus-shuttle-boat trip from Bangkok. During our short-lived time in the big city, Michael was sick as a dog, tethered to our rock-hard Thai mattress near our tiny, tiled bathroom, while I wandered around wats (Buddhist temples) and witnessed the astonishing variety of Khao San Road travelers all by my lonesome. The moment Michael started feeling better, he absolutely refused the idea of staying in Bangkok any longer and so off we went to Tonsai, an international sport climbing mecca in Southern Thailand.

Tonsai Beach is in the very southern part of Thailand

Panoramic view of the entire Railay Peninsula (Tonsai Beach is far left) taken from a climbing belay station inside a cave on Thaiwand Wall

From inside a cave through Taiwand Tower, Michael captures a climber ascending “The Best Route in Minnesota” with Happy Island behind him

The rumors we heard about Tonsai were true. The area is composed almost entirely of jungle, beach, and limestone towers generously decorated with tufas and stalactites like wax melting down a candle. Many climbing areas are accessible right from the beach and only a few minutes’ walk from bars, restaurants, and rustic bungalows.

Taylor climbing with a stunning view of Tonsai Beach

“Second star to the right and straight on ’til morning.” – Peter Pan’s directions to Never Never Land

Fishermen start heading home at sunset in their longtail boat

Climbers from all over the world flock to this little paradise to push their limits on uniquely tufa-tastic routes, climb in their swimsuit, belay friends with their toes in the sand, and (if planned right) walk less than a hundred feet for a post-climb swim and beer. In fact, after one of the routes Michael did, he literally rappelled down into the bar. It doesn’t get better.

Kevin belays Michael up Tonsai Beach Wall with Freedom Bar just around the corner

After climbing “Humanality,” Michael rappels down into the bar…

Kevin ascends a dramatic arête dividing two large caverns that guard a gigantic cave through Thaiwand Tower

This microcosm of the climbing world was more than we hoped and became our home for a solid month. Our bungalow was the 2nd highest in all of Tonsai with a view over limestone walls and jungle.

It was 120 steps to our rustic little bungalow, but the view was worth it… every time.

Two slices of our daily routine: ordering food from our favorite family-run restaurant, Mama’s Chicken, and planning our climbs for the day

Within this tiny world, it wasn’t hard to establish a regular routine and create a community of like-minded friends, allowing us partner-swap like a swingers’ club so that the driven climbers could push themselves to their limit and Team Moderate (as some of us came to call ourselves) could push ourselves hard… enough. Some quick shout-outs to our new friends Kevin and Shelly (Colorado), James (Canada), Phil and Olivia (Switzerland), Severn (Hawaii), Gordy (New Zealand), Lisa (Colorado), and Sylvene (France); we had an awesome time climbing you guys!

It’s amazing how few non-climbing pictures we have with our Tonsai friends…

Shelly reaches for a hold on Defile Wall, which is only accessible at low tide through a narrow channel between two skyscraping walls

While Tonsai was our paradise, it wouldn’t be everyone’s… For every butterfly, flower, and sunset, there were many times more spiders, snakes, and mosquitos, with its rapid development resulting in unsightly trash and sewage draining into the ocean (which caused minor cuts on beach-goers to turn to festering wounds without treatment). While some of the cooler monkeys chilled out at the crag, there was a gang of marauding monkeys that roamed the area… evil, mean, despicable monkeys. These bastards ransacked our bungalow one afternoon, getting in through the windows and other spaces in our less-than-perfectly-built bungalow. Every bag was torn, every article of clothing was strewn about, every item that smelled was eaten, and a nice little brown gift was left for us in our sink.

One of the good monkeys hanging out with us at the crag; then the results of the evil monkey gang that ransacked our bungalow

Then there was the very strange Case of the Disappearing Soap. With the loss of our first bar, I blamed Michael. With the loss of our second, he blamed me. With the loss of our third, we decided to put our heads together and come up with a plan. We made an iron-clad vow to always return the soap to one designated spot. It was gone the next day. No doubt, there was a thief with an insatiable appetite for soap in our midst… one with an unknown identity and origin, but apparently large enough to carry off the new bar. I put a new yellow soap in a small plastic bag and hung it from the showerhead. That lasted two days until the thief managed to knock it from the bag. One more step to protect another new bar of soap – sealing the hanging plastic bag – finally worked. But that yellow bar made casual appearances every few days, always in a different place around the bathroom and a little more dirty and gnawed upon. Perhaps it’s best that we never identified the thief or it might have been harder to sleep at night…

Regardless, for us, this was The Life. For almost an entire month, we monkeyed around on the rocks, ate curry, and shared travel stories with friends from around the world. Life was good. Easy. Simple. Glorious. Every morning, Michael and I would inevitably start later than planned, unable to pry ourselves away from lounging in the tie-dye hammock on our bungalow deck until driven out by hunger. After a quick breakfast, we would meet up with our friends and hike the jungle paths, clawing our way up tattered ropes, ascending dubious bamboo ladders, and overcoming other various obstacles to reach the day’s destination soaked in sweat, covered in dirt, and ready to climb. After a hard, hot day, we might take a swim and then enjoy happy hour and eventually dinner at one of the few restaurants in town before heading back for a good night’s sleep. That’s it. That’s all we did for the month. But indulge me as I go into more detail on a couple notable experiences…

A boatman finishes cleaning up before retiring for the day with Thaiwand Tower in the background

Kevin scales the incredible walls near Phra Nang Beach

We enjoy watching the sunset from the warm water of Tonsai Bay

A short vignette of one of our favorite days:

His shorts dripping with seawater, Michael scales up a 10-foot rope ladder to a rock outcropping. Without a rope, harness, or any form of protection, he climbs higher and higher and higher. I can see what he’s aiming for, but it’s anxiety-provoking to watch. He climbs above his objective and carefully, oh-so-carefully, climbs down until he is hanging from the prominent tufa extended over the ocean below. I watch from the bow of a longtail boat, an aptly-named wooden vessel with an extended engine that dips into the water behind it, steering and powering it like a fish’s tail. The boat captain is lounging behind me in a hammock, being rocked effortlessly by the waves, smoking a joint. With a look of childlike glee on his face, Michael lets go of one hand, suspended in mid-air high above the sea. Then he takes a deep breath… and lets go. He falls for what seems like several seconds before plunging into the ocean. “That was awesome!!” he exclaims when he resurfaces. I sigh with relief. And then he begins to climb up again. This is deep water soloing.

Michael hands from one hand on a prominent tufa before taking the plunge

Our longtail boat carries us away from Tonsai Beach for a day of deep water soloing

The day we went deep water soloing was sunny and warm. The ocean was the temperature of bathwater. Schools of fish swam in the coral below and flying fish jumped above the surface in waves. We ate lunch in a little cove, accepting with delight leftover fresh grilled fish that were generously given to our haggard group by wealthy Chinese tourists. The sunset did not disappoint, and Michael was able to convince some friends, already one or two drinks deep, to scale up the cliffs one last time.

Phil makes a final ascent high above the water at sunset

Heading home after a long and adventure-filled day

Another major highlight was using kayaks to access more remote climbing areas. With the tides controlling land access to several coves and beaches, harnessing the sea was the only viable option for getting to certain special places.

Kayaks open up a whole new realm of climbing possibilities

Our gear strapped to our backs to avoid getting it soaked in saltwater, we spent a day paddling around the peninsula and exploring otherwise inaccessible caves and crags. Joined by our new friends from Colorado, Kevin and Shelly, we made our way across the bay, around cliffs, and to the base of Ao Nang Tower. A three-pitch route started from the kayak, with the crux at the beginning: getting out of the kayak and onto the rock via a tattered rope. Michael and Kevin were able to execute the route beautifully, while Shelly and I opted to paddle around, swimming and chatting instead.

Michael joins Kevin at the hanging belay on the top of the third pitch of Ao Nang Tower

Michael and Kevin kayak back, triumphant after a successful climb of Ao Nang Tower (the obvious tower in the background)

The finale of our climbing in Tonsai was a multi-pitch route within striking distance of the top of the intimidating Thaiwand Tower. A watchtower over the entire peninsula, we spent a fair amount of time on this incredible and iconic wall.

An iPhone panorama of the start of Michael’s next pitch from the belay station on Thaiwand Wall

As usual, the approach to the base of the climb was half the battle. My hands hurt from clutching at the knotted, fraying rope as I hauled myself up a slippery trail of mud, ducking underneath t-shirt-sized jungle leaves, over spikey trees and through armies of ants.

A sampling of the climbing trails and ladders to access the crags

We climbed up and onto a ledge just above the jungle canopy and then traversed gingerly around the corner into the mouth of a cave the size of a three-car garage and started the actual climb. The climb took us higher and higher above the canopy, over the arm of the peninsula, with the view of the bay and beaches below becoming more and more fantastical. Colorful kayaks dotted the sea and snorkelers looked like little fish in the clear water, swimming above the rocks and coral. Longtail boats frequently passed, their unmuffled motors dominating our auditory senses and making it impossible to hear each other.

James climbs on Thaiwand Wall with boats and kayaks just outside of the tower’s looming shadow

Taylor and James hang out on Thaiwand Wall at a belay station overlooking Railay Beach

As we climbed higher on the wall, the angle gradually shifted to be more and more overhung, like climbing the crescent moon. At the end of the route, Michael pulled up and over a ledge and disappeared from my view. A few long minutes later, he hollers “on belay” and is ready for me to start climbing. My arms were ‘pumped’ and I can’t say my climbing was graceful, but I was able to follow his lead. When I peeked over the final ledge, there was Michael, free-hanging from an anchor with ropes going here and there inside a tiny overhung cave, a tunnel above him like a sunlight to the top of Thaiwand Tower and hundreds of terrifying feet of air below. This was the highest we could safely go, with the entire peninsula at our feet, karst towers rising up in waves through the jungle as far as the eye can see. Finally, one at a time, we embarked on an amazing, anxiety-provoking rappel out of the cave and into open air for about 400 feet, slowly spinning as the ropes twist back and forth in the wind. This may be the most memorable rappel either of us has ever experienced.

Michael rests at the final anchor of our multi-pitch climb up Thaiwand Tower, with a tunnel above him to the very top, before our epic free-hanging rappel down two rope lengths (about 400 feet)

Stupidly flashing gang signs from a cave-based rap station high on Thaiwand Wall. By no means does this mean that we condone gang activity; we of course do not.

Despite our desire to remain in this world indefinitely, the holidays reminded us how quickly time was passing. Being here for Christmas was tougher than we expected. The local Buddhist and Muslim culture, along with the tropical environment, did not inspire a vigorous Christmas spirit, but we did what we could: we bought multi-colored lights that were older than us, which (perhaps foreseeably) broke just by being taken out of the box; we took speakers climbing on Christmas Eve and blasted Christmas songs with wild abandon; we hosted happy hour with a Secret Santa exchange on our bungalow balcony; and we splurged on an all-you-can eat buffet of calamari, curry chicken, fried rice, and fish, topped off by several delicious scoops of ice cream.

Michael putting our ancient, broken Christmas lights to good use

Our Christmas Eve party on our bungalow deck

As the days ticked by and the holiday crowds overwhelmed our little paradise, we reluctantly left our comfortable life in Tonsai to see more of the country. With our original plan to travel all over Southeast Asia now impossible in the time remaining, we decided to experience one more beach adventure before moving to the highlands. We set our sights on a small, undeveloped island: Lao Liang.

A boat weathers the storm off the coast of Ko Lao Liang

Lao Liang is a tiny, remote adventure paradise in the middle of the Andaman Sea, an effort to reach no matter where you are coming from. The island is comprised of inaccessible limestone cliffs with a single, white sand beach guarding a protected, forested cove. Hammocks swing in the breeze next to a sandy-floored, open-air, thatched roof mess hall, one of the only semi-permanent structures. Buffet-style meals are served three times a day often featuring stir-fried vegetables with tentacles; prawns with shells, heads and antennae intact, and fresh-caught barracuda grilled on the spot. The sleeping accommodations are luxurious, double-room nylon tents. On the far side of the short beach, several bolted rock climbs beckon. A regular rotation of eating, napping, reading on the beach, and rock climbing was the perfect capstone experience for our time in Southern Thailand.

On our final day, just before we boarded the long-tail boat to leave for destinations northward, we took to the kayak for a final adventure. This is my Tom Sawyer-inspired journal entry:

First Mate’s Log, Entry #3214:

The twenty ninth day of the twelfth month of the two thousand and fourteenth year of the common era. The Captain and I set forth this day to circumnavigate Ko Lao Liang, an insubstantial but wondrous isle seemingly comprised of nothing more than dramatic cliffs and one sandy beach. Our vessel, the TriYak, was small and poorly camouflaged but mighty. At first it appeared built for a man of normal size in the aft and a giant in the bow, but upon further inspection, the absence of a seat created this deception and in fact she was outfitted for three sailors. Our crew, however, being of only the most selective and compatible, consisted of two: myself and The Captain.

After receiving provisions from the natives consisting of Nutella pancakes and coffee of the instant variety, we set forth on our mission. The waters were calm and clear, with coral, fish, and tiny creatures roaming the world below. It twas at least five entire minutes before we laid our eyes upon the most enchanting white sand beach, heretofore undiscovered, when The Captain cried out “Ho! There we must go and snorkel!” And so we did. It was a most timely discovery, as soon thereafter another vessel made its landing with one adult and two wee humans of apparent European descent. But nay! We were the original explorers and none shall deny us this glory.

Onward we ventured to complete our original mission.

“Matey, glance yonder at the big ships due west!”

“Aye, Cap’n! They seem to have us outgunned!!”

However, The Captain correctly surmised that they were peaceful passenger vessels for the well endowed. Lo, it was a harmless moment, but called to mind the danger of these seas and, dare I say, the doubtful chances of unscathed survival.

Again, we continued onward, duly noting the cliffs and rock formations above and detailing grand schemes for their conquest and development into a rock climber colony. “Cap’n!! There she be!” I yelled as I spied our original moorage. With valiant strides we heaved our good vessel onto the shore. Mission accomplished.

Total Mission Time: one hour and six minutes. Glory be to God.