Koh Lanta Is One of Thailand’s Best Hidden Gems

Koh Lanta, an island in the southern Andaman Sea off Thailand’s west coast, is one of the country’s true hidden gems.

There are no Western chains here. No bar girls. There is still unbuilt beachfront, although in five years it may be gone. There are plans to build a bridge that will soon connect Koh Lanta to the mainland. Once it’s done, it’ll be an easy 45 minutes to Krabi International Airport (KBV). But that’s a travel writer’s worry for another day. 

For now, Koh Lanta remains relatively undiscovered, especially by Americans. During my second consecutive January visit—November to March are the best months to come to the island in terms of the weather—I didn’t meet another American. Scandinavians, however, are a different story. There are nonstop flights from Stockholm to Krabi International Airport, and I spoke to quite a few Swedes and Norwegians who were eager to escape the winter darkness. I found plenty of those snowbirds at both Rawi Warin Resort & Spa, a kid-friendly luxury hotel, and at Pimalai Resort & Spa, one of the island’s top properties (it has two Michelin Keys)—my wife and I spent a nearly perfect week there this year.

Founded 22 years ago on 100 unspoiled acres, Pimalai boasts 3,000 feet of prime Kantiang beachfront. Most mornings, I slow-jogged its entire length, which verges on the Platonic ideal of a tropical beach: mostly empty, with soft sand that can be found both in and out of the gentle water. Pimalai is luxury done right, with more beach and poolside lounges than hotel guests. While there are small resorts at both ends of Kantiang, in the morning, I saw almost no one.

Because of the terrain, Pimalai feels like two resorts, each with an infinity pool and restaurants. There are only 121 total accommodations. Deluxe rooms are located near the beach, while pool villas are tucked into the terraced hillside. All guests get access to round-trip van service to the Krabi Airport and a speedboat transfer to Pimalai’s pier—this cuts 45 minutes off travel time. Again, real luxury.

One memorable morning, my wife and I were picked up at Pimalai to begin a day-long snorkeling charter to Koh Haa and Koh Rak. Because we’re old and crafty, we sat up front beside the driver, Jaroon, while other passengers crammed into uncomfortable bench seats in the bed of the pickup. After 40 years of chasing the sun on unspoiled (and then only slightly spoiled) Thai beaches, we’ve learned that the best part of travel is the people you meet and talk to. Like most Thai people, Jaroon was gentle, affable, and warmly friendly to tourists. He apologized for his English (which was quite good) and laughed when I told him my name was “Khun Khon-di,” which roughly translates to “Mister Goodman.”

Because Koh Lanta is in the far south of Thailand—near Malaysia—90 percent of its inhabitants are Muslim, including Jaroon. He admitted that many of his friends drank alcohol, although he didn’t, perhaps because he had 500 rubber trees on his property, from which he gathered latex each morning starting at 3:30 am, before going to work. Income from his rubber trees doubled his monthly salary as a driver, which had enabled Jaroon to send his daughter to college in Bangkok, a fact of which he was justifiably proud.

The snorkeling that day on Koh Rak was spectacular. I saw lots of healthy soft and hard coral. There were fish everywhere, large and small, and though I’ve been diving and snorkeling in Thai waters for quite some time, I saw something I’d never seen before: a 15-legged crown-of-thorns starfish. It was an electric blue mammoth with black thorns peppering its surface.

On the boat back from Koh Rak to the pier, our captain made a detour past a mangrove forest inhabited by a large band of swimming, fruit-loving monkeys. I’d never seen monkeys in the water before, but I got the idea these monkeys eagerly awaited our boat’s arrival for their daily treat of leftover watermelon and pineapple.

One evening later in the week, we hired Jaroon to drive us to Old Town, on the east side of Koh Lanta. This coast fronts the Straits of Malacca, rather than the Andaman Sea, and lies along a traditional trade route to Malaysia. The east coast of the island doesn’t have sandy beaches or upscale resorts, but it does have Moken (a group of Indigenous sea nomads) communities. The other big attraction of this unique place is the simple restaurants that are built on wooden pilings—we listened to the waves break as we feasted on squid and grouper.

We loved our time on Koh Lanta and at Pimalai, which was incredibly well-run; our room was serviced, unobtrusively, three times a day. The international breakfast buffet included obscure regional specialties, Thai noodle soup, an array of tropical fruit, and organic juices. The food at Rak Talay, the beachside seafood restaurant where we often ate dinner, was not only sumptuous, but for a five-star, surprisingly affordable.  If you visit, try the soft-shell crabs. You’ll be amazed by the flavor and by how many crabs comprise a single order. 

I can still taste them—and hope to again.