This story has been adapted from a personal blog I kept while living in Thailand during my senior year of high school. I lived in northern Thailand, but towards the end of my year, I was able to travel with my fellow foreign exchange student friends to the southern part of the country to be touristy. This was one of those moments.
I should start by saying I have no photos to accompany this story beyond the post-torrential downpour selfie you've already seen. We thought it best not to sacrifice any iPhones to the depths of the Thai jungle in the province of Satun. But trust me, this story is a good one.
When our van, carrying around fifteen teenage girls from the US, Germany, and Italy reached the kayaking site, it was already noon. We scarfed down a buffet lunch and swiftly abandoned our shoes and valuables, leaving them in our van. They'd be no use to us wet. Our girl group was deep in the jungle in the southern province of Satun, Thailand. Finally, after months of working to assimilate into Thai culture, I could be a dumb tourist with my Western friends. And this was just my kind of adventure.
Now barefoot, we strapped on florescent life jackets at the urging of the tour company. How does one drown in such a shallow river? With much effort, I mused as I buckled my jacket, second-guessing exactly what we were in for. We each paired up, me with my German friend Amelia (name changed for privacy), who insisted I sit in the front of our two-seater kayak. Then we were climbing barefoot down to the river and waded our way in with our boats. Amelia was handed the paddle, and we pushed off.
The river was more like a large stream, no wider than the length of several kayaks and not much deeper than waist-high at any point in our journey. Overhead, the lush, jungle trees and leaning bamboo shielded us from the baking afternoon sun. Small patches of sunlight danced rhythmically on the water as we paddled. Unseen but largely present were the squawks and chirps of tropical birds - some I knew, some I didn’t. The gurgles and gushes from the endless flow of water reminded me of my home in Pennsylvania and instantly put me at ease. The sweet smell of wet vegetation was also familiar to my senses. I felt as though we were one with this perfect little ecosystem, and I imagined we were gliding through the Amazon. But this was less deadly. I was absolutely radiant.
Amelia paddled our boat elegantly around the gentle curves of the stream and successfully avoided most rocks and low-hanging branches that batted at the surface of the water. Seems easy enough, I thought when I agreed to take over paddling later on. Quickly I learned that you have to paddle with the current, as doing anything else proved futile.
Our guides, two surprisingly competent teenage boys, had us stop frequently to keep the group together. I didn't realize until that first instance that most of our friends were long since out of sight, perhaps struggling to get around the stream's curves. Amelia, along with a handful of other girls and myself, who had eagerly kept up with our guides, decided to beach our kayaks on the stream's edge and immerse ourselves in the warm waist-deep water while we waited. Our mocking when they caught up was met with playful shoves, dunking our heads into the murky water and answering my question, "Did I really need to wear such ugly nylon clothing today?" Already drenched, we did a bit of swimming until it was time to push on.
This next section of the river was less dense with trees and allowed for sunlight to hit my already-drying skin. I caught glimpses of towering limestone cliffs not half a mile away. More bird squawks, none I recognized this time. A gentle rustle in the leaves. I stopped paddling and allowed our boat to be carried by the current, trying to take in the beauty. If it wasn't for the afternoon sun, still high in the sky keeping me grounded, I'd have lost my sense of time.
Returning to the thick undergrowth of the jungle, Amelia and I switched seats so I was sitting in the rear. Frequently trading off seemed to keep us energized and in the front of the pack right behind the guide, which I was grateful for as several big rocks got closer. Seeing them, Amelia immediately passed the paddle back to me. Great. A few additional strokes in faster water and we discovered that these weren’t just rocks, but rapids, too. Where did these come from? Until now, we'd been floating along like a lazy river ride. No one taught us how to actually kayak!
I paddled ferociously, never mind my recently re-dried shirt. I fought the push and pull of the current to try to line up with the only opening in the first set of rocks. My eyes widened as I saw the guide’s boat pass through the opening in the rocks and drop down out of sight. You're joking. At the last minute, my less-than-professional paddling and the strength of the current turned our boat 180 degrees and I realized: we'd make it through the opening, but we’d be going down the rapids backward.
The two of us screamed unabashedly as our boat squeezed through the narrow gap and dipped into the drop, me going down first, my line of sight meeting the treetops instead of the horizon. The drop wasn't more than a few feet, but we went down hard and fast. Honestly, it was exhilarating. But we weren’t done yet.
Paddling was getting increasingly complicated, now having to dodge rocks jutting out of the water we could barely see until we were on them. Up ahead, our guides gracefully maneuvered their kayak through another line of rocks, up and over another drop-off. I paddled with strength I didn't know I had, but pushed the thought aside to focus on meeting that one small break in the rocks, speeding through the rushing, obstacle-ridden rapids. A flash of a glance behind me showed many of our friends had gotten stuck on the rocks. After a few extra powerful strokes, we were almost there. Amazingly, I accidentally turned our kayak (again) at the last moment and we sped down this final drop also screaming and bracing for impact. Note to self: I’m great at navigating through the rocks and rapids, and that's about where my skills end.
With limp limbs, I forcefully forfeited the paddle to my German partner and breathed a sigh of relief. Despite the craziness, that was my kind of fun. Amelia guided us the rest of the way along a now quiet and peaceful section of the river. I let myself lay back in my seat to take in the bamboo canopy and mountains coming into full view.
A while later, we were met with a wall of rocks twice our height that seemed to be guarding the entrance to a large cave mouth directly behind it. There was no way to paddle through it, so we assumed that must be the end of our tour. Then we came to the oh-so-clever realization that we were still in the middle of the jungle, arguably more so than when we started, and there appeared to be no obvious way out. That, and we discovered the tall stone steps leading up and over the rock wall to the entrance of the cave.
My first job at the age of fourteen was as a tour guide in a local cavern, so I was thrilled at the idea of going inside. As the others floated in, our guides worked for what seemed like a good twenty minutes to carry everyone's kayaks up the stairs and down to the water behind the rock wall. I waited impatiently up front, and the second our kayak made it to the other side I was finding my boating partner and making my way up and over the narrow stairs.
The mouth of the cave was high and wide, and it seemed to tower over us as we stepped into the kayak. To my delight and Amelia's relief, I was in front. I immediately started paddling into the pitch black opening up ahead but was instructed I must wait for the rest of the group. I sighed as I paddled us in small circles around the opening of the cave while we waited. I became Amelia's personal tour guide, eager to share my knowledge with my captive audience of one. I explained how this limestone cave was likely formed by this river, once much deeper, and about the natural rock formations she’d see inside. I was absolutely mesmerized by the deep, dark water beneath us. It was so still that my every stroke felt like it was slicing the surface.
Finally, everyone climbed into their kayaks on the other side and we were ready. The guides strapped on a headlamp and led the way. I paddled a few powerful first strokes, ensuring our place directly behind them. Once inside, the guides pointed out the swarms of bats that hung and fled from the rocks when met with our curious lights. Aside from the sound of the paddling, it was silent. I glanced behind me as we made our way around a turn. All I could see were a few white dots from the other headlamps and a long line of boats behind us. The glow from the cave’s entrance was slipping away.
The whole experience gave me quite a high. The headlamps provided enough light to maneuver along the carved-out rocks, but the water beneath us was jet-black. I wondered how deep it was. Surely more from excitement than skill, I managed to match our guides' strokes with ease. They pointed out an impressive flowstone formation as we passed through a narrow passage. Nerd alert! I’m pretty sure our guides weren’t used to such enthusiasm, and they seemed to find it amusing.
All too soon I started to see the light of the cave’s exit up ahead. It was also rather apparent that the rest of the group had fallen behind again, so one of the guides jumped out of their boat to guide them in. Clearly, he'd done this enough times to know he could touch the bottom there because we certainly couldn't see it. The other guide, however, gave Amelia and me a quick nod and a “follow me”. We made a sharp left turn through a tight, low opening in the rocks. I ducked. There was a sudden rushing of the water that pushed us forward. And just like that, light flooded my eyes. We’d reached the wide mouth of the cave on the opposite end where the ceiling grew to 30-something feet high. Dense jungle foliage surrounded the tall opening. We beached our kayak on a sandy mound inside the edge of the cave and waited for the others.
We relaxed, swam in a pocket of deep water that made me understand why we had life vests, and watched as the guides climbed one of the rocks only to fling themselves off, diving into the water. As much as I begged, no, we were not allowed to do that too. But hey, swimming in a cave still checked off one of those life-goal things, so I was happy.
Then, out of nowhere, it started to rain. Like, really rain. Our girl group, all together now, ran across the sandy mound to the edge of the cave to feel the drips of the cold, refreshing water. There was a mutual consensus that it was time to go. We ran to grab our kayaks and paddled out of the cave. I was in the front paddling again, immediately soaked from the rain, as if I wasn’t already from swimming. The sunny blue sky had turned to a glowing gray while we were in the cave. Now, we were racing to the almost-visible boat access point we were told was the end of our tour as the rain came down in torrents. A strong wind had picked up, and it was blowing the rain in sheets until everything looked white. I paddled hard and fast against the water bombs that stung my skin. It probably sounds awful, but it was a blissful and exhilarating feeling. We were all giddy and screaming as we hurried to shore about 500 feet out. Kayaking through a cave and out into the pouring rain while living in Thailand is one of those once-in-a-lifetime kind of stories.
We ditched our boats in the mud and ran up the bank. I took a step back and let it all come to me. The mountains, the cliffs, the trees, the stream, the cave in the distance. I threw my hands up. We did that! Fortunately, our ride was waiting for us. Our shoeless selves loaded up in the bed of a silver pickup truck and we sped off in good spirits. The wind was actually warm, and it was fun to stand in the truck watching the luscious green fly by.
And then the rain got heavier. If that’s even possible. Both the combination of the speed of the truck and the heavier rain made the raindrops sting as they bombarded us. We crouched and hunkered down, with many of my friends using their life vests as a shield! Luckily, my back was flush with the truck’s cabin, so all I had to do was make myself small. After what felt like a good half hour, the rain finally let up. We’d driven out of it. We rose from our protective balls and used the wind to dry ourselves off a bit. Minutes later we arrived at our starting point. We took a few group photos to remember this crazy adventure. Then we found our van (and our shoes!) and called it a day.
This is easily one of the wildest (literally!) memories I have of living in Thailand as an exchange student. There are parts I look back on where I question the sanity of it. Fifteen girls riding in the bed of a pickup truck, safety to the wind? Sure. Swimming in God-knows-what riddled water in God-knows-where Satun, Thailand? Naturally. Though I should mention that much of my time in Thailand I didn't know where we were, or what I was eating, or generally what was happening... But I'd have this particular adventure all over again in a heartbeat.
I enjoyed this experience so much that, after some to-do, I found the company that made this possible. For anyone curious, it's Abang Water Rafting and Kayak and the name of the cave is Tham Chet Khot. I highly recommend it.
