Just show me the hammock and leave me alone with my beer

Koh Phangan, Southeast Thailand

"Time flies like an arrow. Fruit flies like a banana"
- Groucho Marx

Our bus and ferry journey from Bangkok passed without incident on the second attempt, and we found ourselves once more on the quiet island of Koh Phangan. It was pissing down with rain and the catamaran ferry bounced around like a hyperactive frog on a hotplate, but we were still glad to be back. We had enjoyed our time here so much last year that I insisted we come back on our second pass through Asia. Cara was not too eager to be unnecessarily repeating destinations, but I stamped my feet and threatened to burn her collection of flip-flops unless she relented, so here we were.

As a concession, I agreed to stay on a different part of the island than we had previously, and after a wet and windy drive in the back of a rickety old songtheeuw and a very bumpy ride sitting in the back of a pickup truck we found ourselves at Haad Khom Bungalows, a few miles outside Chaloklum*. Haad Khom is a beautiful little stretch of beach on the northern tip of the island, and notoriously difficult to get to, hence the rickety ride in the pickup.

We secured a great cabin right at the water's edge, with a large deck facing the sea and a couple of hammocks strung from the rafters. During the course of our stay I managed to break both the hammocks, but I put that down to their old age rather than my ever expanding waistline. The attached restaurant served up some surprisingly tasty food, and our days were split between stuffing our faces and working it off on the beach. The water visibility was pretty poor, so I didn't get much of a chance to try out our new underwater camera housing. On one occasion I attempted to walk into Chaloklum to replenish our supply of mosquito repellent and crisps, and the steep hills nearly finished me off. Several bottles of Singha back at the bar and I was almost myself again.

We enjoyed the Haad Khom Bungalows enormously, but after three or four days I started to get itchy feet and for once it wasn't down to athlete's foot. We took a taxi back to our old haunt of Mai Haad and checked into our favourite bungalow at the end of the beach. I was surprised when the owners recognised us from last year, but then there can't be too many pasty white westerners over six feet tall with sissy hair and a perspiration problem.

A few more days passed with Cara absorbing photons on the beach and me trying to 'become one' with my hammock. It is testament to how relaxed we were that even Cara was happy to sit through three consecutive Premiership football matches whilst sitting in the chilled beach bar. Okay, she might have bailed out soon into the third match, but it still counts as progress. Cara even managed to continue her uncanny wildlife spotting skills by finding a large, green snake next to her foot on her first try of the hammock. I spend my life looking for these things and she just stumbles across them every other day. I am obviously going about it all wrong.

My envy was heightened to stratospheric levels when an Aussie guy staying next door was circled by a ten metre whale shark whilst completing only his second open water dive. That was enough for Cara and me and we booked ourselves in with the new dive centre that had sprung up next to our bungalows. Of course, we saw nothing even remotely resembling a whale shark, but we still had a couple of great dives. Both the reef and visibility were excellent and we had a chance to give the new camera a run out.

We hired ourselves a moped and spent a few days exploring the island. We visited Haad Rin where the full moon parties are held (shithole!), and Thon Sala, the island's main town (still a shithole, but we found a place where we could get fantastic sausage, bacon and fried egg sandwiches, so we visited twice). The moped also came in handy for feeding ourselves of an evening. The food at our bungalows was just as lousy at it had been last year, and Cara's favourite restaurant, The Four Tables, had closed itself down until November. The Kiwi owner and his Thai wife had decided that business was so slow they would just sit on the beach for a few months, and no amount of pleading from us would change their minds. So every evening, we would jump onto the bike and scoot over to Chaloklum for us tea.

On one occasion, we were heading out of Mai Haad for dinner when we had a little excitement with our bouncy old moped. We approached the hill that led out of the bay, and I throttled up to carry us up the steep incline. As soon as we hit the concrete rampat the bottom of the hill, I knew we didn't have enough revs to make it up the hill. The bike began to groan under the strain, so I released the throttle and dropped it into first gear. Not a good idea. When the clutch released, the bike lurched forward and the front wheel began to lift off the ground. The front end reared up on the steep incline and tipped us both off the back of the bike. By this point we were only travelling at a few miles an hour, so we both easily managed to plant our feet on the ground and let the bike ride out from under us. Unfortunately, I had kept a tight grip on the handlebars to try and keep hold of the bike. The front end reared up higher and twisted the throttle in my hand. The engine whined like a swarm of angry bees and channelled the extra power to the back wheel. Desperately, and with hindsight extremely stupidly, I hung onto the throttle in a vain hope of controlling the little mechanical shit. As the bike started to bounce about the concrete on its back wheel, it twisted the throttle further still and tried to carry me off into the bushes. For a few moments we danced around together in a big circle, before I completely lost control and me, my mechanical shit, and the angry bees flew headfirst into the nearby shrubbery.

With the lightning fast reflexes of a tree sloth, I jumped to my feet and clambered over the still revving wreckage to shut down the engine. Cara, who had leapt acrobatically from the back of the bike and watched in horror/amusement as the moped and I had our little wheelie waltz about the road, ran over to make sure l was still attached to all my limbs. I was, and apart from a twisted ankle for me and a mangled front basket for the moped, everything was just fine. This has been the only blemish on my otherwise spotless driving record. Unless you count me reversing into that telegraph pole in New Zealand, of course.

Other things happened during our stay, but I've just read through what I've written so far and it was like watching paint dry. With that in mind, I think I'll just end this nonsense here.

Mik

*That sentence long enough for you, Chad?