For whatever reason, I decided to go back to Koh Pha Ngan for the real-deal Full Moon Party. There are a bunch of reasons that this isn't the best decision I've ever made. For one, it becomes unreasonably expensive here as 20,000 people converge on the tiny island in the days before the party. Another, it isn't really my scene (which I know because I've already checked it out and failed miserably at enjoying it). Third, the boat ride from Koh Tao to Koh Pha Ngan nearly sank on the rough sea swells. But I do have the great company of Maggie and her Scottish friends she introduced to me.
I'm over-exaggerating a little about the boat. The boat caught a large swell at a weird angle, and the boat tipped hard enough to one side where a few of the windows in the bottom cabin were covered in water. Usually, boats are engineered for such things, as was this boat, but before we left the choppy waters in the port of Koh Tao, one of the windows was speared and cracked by the stern of another boat. This spider-web of cracked glass imploded as the water pressure pushed on the window, then allowing water to spill into the cabin for a handful of seconds. While the boat didn't sink, it was terrifying enough for everyone in the bottom cabin to panic and believe it was going to sink.
Although my seat was in the bottom cabin, I was occupied in puking off the side of the boat on the top deck, along with 20 other travelers. The brown watery chunks spilled down onto the windows below -- another reason the bottom cabin sucks. Between heaving, I silently laughed at the irony of all of us spewing on a boat bound for an enormous island party where a large percentage will end up spewing again, under their own hand, due to drinking too much alcohol.
I remember the very swell that caused the incident, hanging tightly onto the hand rail, and then thinking, "Just how far will this boat continue to tip over before it doesn't return to normal". It did return to normal though. Then I heard the muted screams of a few people on the bottom cabin through the imploded window, and selfishly realized how happy I was being on the top deck. The waters were rough, but I felt comfortable enough that I could tread water long enough in such a situation to be rescued, and less confident that I would have escaped the crowded (fire-hazardly so) cabin.
Following this, I pondered what type of biology allows one to get sea sick and then feel completely restored from puking almost immediately. If someone can explain that to me, send me an email.
I enjoyed the rest of the ride back to Koh Pha Ngan on the top deck, checking out the views without feeling sick. On the way, we passed several tanker ships, with a combination of preachy messages in large, bold letters on the hull. I read them from 500 meters or more away:
No Smoking
Safety First
Prevent Pollution
Were those messages for their own crew or for the crew of other boats? Or just to impress that the company is safety and ecologically conscious?
I also spotted a catamaran on the sea headed for Koh Tao. These more-expensive-ticket catamarans are touted as being able to make the trip there in 45 minutes (compared to 2 hours for our boat). What they don't tell you about is the ride: falling, rising, and flying through the waves like a dolphin cresting the sea. Its violent enough that no one is allowed to be outside on the deck when the seas are rough. I imagined what that ride was like for the passengers, locked up inside, groups huddled around 50 gallon trash cans and taking turns ralphing up their breakfast, and the miasma filling the cabin for the innocent, non-sea-sick passengers.
It was one more excessively fast tuk-tuk ride to the bungalow hotel in the town of Hat Yao. As I walked up the steep hill the to bungalow I thought, "Well, at least if a tsunami comes, I'm protected from that here."
And if you are keeping up with Ethan's blog, I have a would you rather... be on a train sitting hard seat for 40 hours, or a 2-hour terrifying boat ride? Maggie said she'd prefer the train. I said I'd take the boat.
I'm over-exaggerating a little about the boat. The boat caught a large swell at a weird angle, and the boat tipped hard enough to one side where a few of the windows in the bottom cabin were covered in water. Usually, boats are engineered for such things, as was this boat, but before we left the choppy waters in the port of Koh Tao, one of the windows was speared and cracked by the stern of another boat. This spider-web of cracked glass imploded as the water pressure pushed on the window, then allowing water to spill into the cabin for a handful of seconds. While the boat didn't sink, it was terrifying enough for everyone in the bottom cabin to panic and believe it was going to sink.
Although my seat was in the bottom cabin, I was occupied in puking off the side of the boat on the top deck, along with 20 other travelers. The brown watery chunks spilled down onto the windows below -- another reason the bottom cabin sucks. Between heaving, I silently laughed at the irony of all of us spewing on a boat bound for an enormous island party where a large percentage will end up spewing again, under their own hand, due to drinking too much alcohol.
I remember the very swell that caused the incident, hanging tightly onto the hand rail, and then thinking, "Just how far will this boat continue to tip over before it doesn't return to normal". It did return to normal though. Then I heard the muted screams of a few people on the bottom cabin through the imploded window, and selfishly realized how happy I was being on the top deck. The waters were rough, but I felt comfortable enough that I could tread water long enough in such a situation to be rescued, and less confident that I would have escaped the crowded (fire-hazardly so) cabin.
Following this, I pondered what type of biology allows one to get sea sick and then feel completely restored from puking almost immediately. If someone can explain that to me, send me an email.
I enjoyed the rest of the ride back to Koh Pha Ngan on the top deck, checking out the views without feeling sick. On the way, we passed several tanker ships, with a combination of preachy messages in large, bold letters on the hull. I read them from 500 meters or more away:
No Smoking
Safety First
Prevent Pollution
Were those messages for their own crew or for the crew of other boats? Or just to impress that the company is safety and ecologically conscious?
I also spotted a catamaran on the sea headed for Koh Tao. These more-expensive-ticket catamarans are touted as being able to make the trip there in 45 minutes (compared to 2 hours for our boat). What they don't tell you about is the ride: falling, rising, and flying through the waves like a dolphin cresting the sea. Its violent enough that no one is allowed to be outside on the deck when the seas are rough. I imagined what that ride was like for the passengers, locked up inside, groups huddled around 50 gallon trash cans and taking turns ralphing up their breakfast, and the miasma filling the cabin for the innocent, non-sea-sick passengers.
It was one more excessively fast tuk-tuk ride to the bungalow hotel in the town of Hat Yao. As I walked up the steep hill the to bungalow I thought, "Well, at least if a tsunami comes, I'm protected from that here."
And if you are keeping up with Ethan's blog, I have a would you rather... be on a train sitting hard seat for 40 hours, or a 2-hour terrifying boat ride? Maggie said she'd prefer the train. I said I'd take the boat.
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