I’d been chasing quiet corners of Thailand for years, and Koh Chang stopped me in my tracks. The moment I stepped off the ferry, the salty breeze hitting my face and the sight of jungle-covered hills stretching into the distance, I knew this wasn’t just another Thai island. My backpack felt lighter somehow, despite the sweat already forming along my shoulders in the afternoon heat.
Thailand’s third-largest island somehow remains a secret compared to its flashier siblings Phuket and Koh Samui. They call it “Elephant Island” – partly for its elephant-shaped headland, though I like to think it’s also for the gentle giants that once roamed its forests. While Phuket drowns in neon and Samui builds another infinity pool, Koh Chang stands apart: wild, untamed, and unhurried.
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I’ve roamed Thailand’s islands for over a decade, and Koh Chang keeps calling me back. Maybe it’s the way the jungle tumbles down to meet pristine beaches, or how you can still find stretches of sand with just your footprints. Whatever it is, I’m here to guide fellow nature lovers through this paradise, sharing what makes it special based on my own adventures (and occasional misadventures). Consider this your companion for exploring Koh Chang – best read before development inevitably catches up.
Getting to Koh Chang: The Journey Sets the Scene
Half the magic of Koh Chang is in the getting there. I’ve tried every route over the years, and each has its charm. The most straightforward option starts at Bangkok’s Ekkamai Bus Station, where 300 baht buys you a 5-6 hour ride east to Trat province. My preference is always the first-class bus with its reclining seats and blasting AC – though I’ve learned to bring a sweater after one particularly frigid journey.
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For the time-pressed, minivans make the trip faster, though with considerably less legroom. On my last visit, I splurged on a Bangkok Airways flight to Trat – a 45-minute hop that costs around 2,000 baht each way. The tiny airport, with its open-air waiting area and single luggage belt, sets the perfect tone for the laid-back island ahead.
Regardless of how you reach Trat, everyone converges at the ferry piers at Laem Ngop. As I handed over my 80 baht for a ticket aboard the car ferry, a familiar excitement bubbled up. The 30-minute crossing is when the transformation begins. I always head to the upper deck, watching as the mainland recedes and Koh Chang’s mountainous silhouette grows from a shadow to a detailed landscape of peaks and valleys. The water shifts from the murky brown of the mainland to hints of turquoise as you approach the island. It’s like the world slows down with each passing minute.
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My first ferry crossing was in 2012, and what struck me then holds true today: the absence of chaos. Unlike arriving in Samui or Phuket, there’s no swarm of touts grabbing at your luggage or shouting “taxi, taxi!” Just a handful of white songthaews (converted pickup trucks) waiting to carry passengers over the steep hills to their destinations. The drivers chat in the shade, in no particular hurry. One trip, I shared a ride with a family of Germans, a backpacking couple from Brazil, and a cage of chickens. Classic Thailand.
A word of wisdom from someone who learned the hard way: time your visit for November to February. My first trip in August saw me huddled under a leaking bungalow roof for three days straight as monsoon rains pounded the island. The upside? I finished two novels and became best friends with the guesthouse cat, but I missed what I’d come for. The dry season brings blue skies, moderate humidity, and water clear enough to count the scales on fish.
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The Untouched Heart of Koh Chang
What makes Koh Chang a nature lover’s dream is simple math: over 70% of the island remains cloaked in pristine rainforest. Its rugged interior rises dramatically, culminating in peaks like Khao Salak Phet, which stands at 744 meters. It’s the kind of place where you feel small, in the best way.
I’ll never forget my third morning on the island, waking before dawn to hike one of the inland trails. The forest breathed around me – literally, with mist rising from the undergrowth as the sun began warming the canopy. Cicadas created a wall of sound so intense I couldn’t hear my own footsteps. Red squirrels darted between branches, and twice I froze as something larger crashed through the underbrush (probably wild pigs, though my imagination conjured more exotic beasts).
Much of this wilderness falls under the protection of Mu Ko Chang National Park, established in 1982. This designation has been Koh Chang’s saving grace, putting the brakes on the unchecked development that has transformed other Thai islands. On a sweaty trek to Klong Plu Waterfall – the most accessible of the island’s many cascades – I chatted with a park ranger named Khun Somchai who’d worked there for 20 years. “Before tourists,” he told me, squatting to light a cigarette, “we had more elephants, more tigers.” He grinned. “Still have plenty of snakes.”
The waterfall itself was worth every mosquito bite and slippery step. Plunging 20 meters into a deep emerald pool, it offers the perfect reward: a frigid dip that washes away the humidity. I shared the pool with a French family whose children shrieked with delight as tiny fish nibbled at their toes.
What struck me most about Koh Chang, compared to islands like Koh Phi Phi or Koh Lanta, is how its late arrival to tourism has preserved its soul. While Phuket welcomed its first resort in the 1970s, Koh Chang remained largely the domain of backpackers and adventurers until the early 2000s. The result? An island where development feels like an afterthought rather than the main event. You won’t find golden arches on Koh Chang, no Starbucks, no high-rises scraping the sky. Just jungle and sand, with human habitation nestled in between.
The island’s delayed development has also given it a chance to learn from others’ mistakes. Over beers in Bang Bao, I met Tomas, a Swedish expat who runs a dive shop. “We close completely in low season now,” he explained. “Five years ago we’d run trips even when visibility was shit, because tourists wanted it. Now we say no – better for the reef, better for business in the long run.” He described coral restoration projects and efforts to establish mooring buoys to prevent anchor damage. These aren’t perfect solutions, but they show an awareness often missing elsewhere.
Beaches for Every Mood
If you’re coming to Koh Chang, you’re coming for the beaches – and the island delivers spectacularly diverse coastal experiences.
White Sand Beach (Hat Sai Khao) lives up to its name with a kilometer-long stretch of powdery sand that squeaks underfoot. As the island’s most developed beach, it strikes a balance – lively but not overwhelming. One evening, I grabbed a young coconut from a vendor, wedged myself against a fallen palm tree, and watched the sun melt into the Gulf of Thailand. Families played in the gentle waves, fire dancers practiced their routines, and the scent of grilling fish wafted from nearby restaurants. Yes, it’s touristy, but it still feels authentically Thai.
For my money, though, Klong Prao Beach is the island’s crown jewel. Stretching for nearly three kilometers and split by a scenic river estuary, it epitomizes tropical perfection. I stayed at a mid-range resort here for a week, and every morning followed the same ritual: sunrise swim in water so warm it felt like slipping into a bath, followed by strong coffee at a bamboo table with my toes in the sand. One morning, the beach was entirely empty save for a fisherman casting a net in the shallows. We nodded to each other – a perfect, wordless exchange.
Several upscale resorts like The Dewa have claimed prime spots along Klong Prao, but the beach is long enough that it never feels crowded. The estuary itself offers a fascinating micro-environment where you can watch monitor lizards sunning themselves on the banks and longtail boats puttering out to sea.
For a different vibe entirely, Lonely Beach (Hat Tha Nam) serves as the island’s backpacker haven. Despite its name, it’s rarely lonely – especially during high season when its budget accommodations and beach bars attract a young, international crowd. I’m well past my all-night party days, but I still love the energy here. Wooden bungalows for 300 baht a night, communal dinners, impromptu jam sessions – it’s a slice of old-school Thailand increasingly hard to find.
Then there are the true hidden gems. On my last visit, I rented a motorbike and bumped down a dirt track to reach Long Beach (Hat Yao) on the southeastern coast. After 20 minutes of wondering if I’d taken a wrong turn, the jungle opened up to reveal a crescent of golden sand with not a soul in sight. The beach had that gloriously unkempt look – driftwood scattered about, coconut husks bobbing in the surf. I spent three hours there, swimming, reading, dozing in the sun. My only companions were a stray dog who kept a respectful distance and a family of crabs scuttling between rocks.
One of my most memorable days on Koh Chang started at Kai Bae Beach, where I rented a kayak (200 baht for the day) and paddled out to Koh Man Nai, a tiny islet about 30 minutes offshore. The crossing was just challenging enough to feel adventurous, with curious fish visible through the clear water below. Reaching the uninhabited island, I beached my kayak and spent the afternoon snorkeling around its rocky perimeter, spotting parrotfish, angelfish, and even a small reef shark. Sometimes the best experiences are the ones you paddle to yourself.
Adventures in the Wild
Koh Chang rewards those willing to venture beyond the beach lounger. The island’s mountainous interior offers treks ranging from gentle nature walks to challenging scrambles up near-vertical slopes.
One morning, I joined a small group heading into the national park from the trailhead near Klong Son. Our guide, a wiry man named Noi who looked to be in his sixties but scrambled uphill like a teenager, pointed out plants with medicinal properties and mimicked bird calls to draw responses from the canopy. The trail grew steeper and muddier as we ascended, sweat soaking through my t-shirt despite the shade. Just as my legs began seriously protesting, we emerged at a viewpoint overlooking the entire northern end of the island. Beneath us, the jungle rolled down to meet the sea in a patchwork of emerald and turquoise. The reward for our efforts: a hornbill gliding majestically across the valley, its distinctive silhouette unmistakable against the blue sky.
For those seeking less strenuous encounters with nature, Koh Chang’s waterfalls offer accessible splendor. Klong Plu is the most popular and easiest to reach – a 200 baht entrance fee gets you a well-maintained trail leading to an impressive cascade. I’ve visited three times over the years and still find it magical, though it gets crowded by midday.
For a more secluded experience, Than Mayom Waterfall on the east coast comes with a fascinating history – the royal mark of King Rama V and Rama VI can still be seen carved into the rocks, commemorating their visits in the early 20th century. The falls themselves cascade in four tiers through the forest. Full disclosure: I slipped on a moss-covered rock here and bruised my tailbone quite spectacularly. Worth it for the chance to float in pools once enjoyed by Thai royalty.
For those drawn to marine adventures, Bang Bao Pier on the island’s southwest tip serves as the launching point for snorkeling and diving expeditions. I joined a full-day trip (2,500 baht including lunch and equipment) to nearby Koh Rang, where the protected waters host healthy coral gardens. My dive guide, a taciturn Thai woman named Pat, knew every fish by its scientific name and seemed to take personal offense when one member of our group accidentally kicked a coral head. “You break, very slow to grow back,” she scolded, before softening the rebuke with a quick smile.
For those wanting to get certified, PADI courses run around 14,500 baht – considerably cheaper than on more developed islands. The diving here isn’t quite Similan Islands-level spectacular, but the visibility is generally good (outside rainy season) and the sites refreshingly uncrowded.
Perhaps my most unexpectedly delightful adventure came in Salak Phet, a fishing village on the island’s southeastern coast. I rented a kayak from a family-run operation and spent a peaceful morning paddling through dense mangrove forests. The silence was absolute except for the dip of my paddle and the occasional plop of a mudskipper. Pushing through narrow channels where branches formed a canopy overhead, I felt like an explorer discovering uncharted territory, though the weathered man fishing from a tiny wooden boat clearly knew these waters intimately. He nodded as I passed, his cigarette barely clinging to his lower lip.
I’ll admit: my fear of heights kept me from attempting some of the more adventurous cliff-jumping spots locals mentioned. But that kayak through the mangroves? I’d do it again tomorrow.
Where to Stay: From Huts to Resorts
Koh Chang’s accommodation spans the full spectrum, catering to every budget and comfort level. On my first visit, operating on a shoestring, I stayed in a basic wooden hut at Lonely Beach for 300 baht a night. The bathroom was shared, the mattress was questionable, and I had to check my shoes for scorpions each morning – but falling asleep to the sound of waves was worth every minor discomfort. Until, that is, a family of mosquitoes discovered a hole in my net midway through the night. I woke looking like I had measles.
For mid-range options, Kai Bae beach offers excellent value. Bungalow resorts like Garden Resort provide air conditioning, hot water, and private balconies for around 1,200-1,800 baht per night in high season. Many include breakfast – typically eggs, toast, fruit, and the kind of coffee that makes you question your life choices.
My personal favorite place to stay, discovered on my third visit, is Baan Rim Nam – a guesthouse built on stilts over the Klong Prao river. The rooms are simple but spotless, and the wooden deck extends over the water, where you can sit with a cold Chang beer and watch longtail boats putter past. I woke one morning to find a monitor lizard sunning itself on a nearby log and egrets stalking through the shallows. At around 1,000 baht per night, it feels like stealing.
For those seeking luxury, The Chill Resort and Emerald Cove at Klong Prao beach offer pool villas and high-end amenities. I’ll confess I’ve never stayed at either – my budget stretches more to pool access than pool villa – but I’ve treated myself to cocktails at their beach bars. The people-watching alone justifies the 220 baht daiquiri.
A practical note: Koh Chang’s geography dictates your experience. The west coast holds most development, beaches, and amenities. The east remains remarkably untouched, with fishing villages and rubber plantations instead of resorts. It’s charming to visit, but staying there requires either a rental vehicle or acceptance of relative isolation.
During a rainy afternoon at my guesthouse, I chatted with the owner, Khun Aod, about how tourism had changed post-COVID. “Before, many Chinese tours. Very busy, good money, but noisy,” he said, refilling my tea without asking. “Now more Europeans, stay longer. Maybe better this way.” He described how many smaller businesses hadn’t survived the pandemic, but those that did were rebuilding gradually. His perspective reminded me that tourism isn’t just about my experience as a visitor – it’s the economic backbone for thousands of locals.
Food & Culture: A Taste of Koh Chang
If Thailand is a food-lover’s paradise, Koh Chang offers some of its finest chapters. The island’s status as a fishing community means seafood dominates menus – always supremely fresh and cooked with care.
My most memorable meal came from an unnamed shack on White Sand Beach – just a few plastic tables set in the sand and a kitchen consisting mainly of a grill and wok station. I pointed to a red snapper displayed on ice, and the cook nodded approval. Twenty minutes later, the fish arrived split and grilled, stuffed with lemongrass and garlic, its skin crisp and flesh succulent. Accompanied by a spicy green mango salad that made my eyes water, it was perfect in its simplicity. The bill? 350 baht, including a large beer.
Bang Bao’s restaurants specialize in crab, particularly the intensely flavorful yellow curry crab that combines sweetness and heat. I burned my tongue and didn’t care – it was that good. I still dream about it during particularly boring meetings back home.
Beyond the tourist areas, the island’s fishing villages offer glimpses into a way of life that hasn’t fundamentally changed in generations. Bang Bao, while now lined with shops and restaurants, still features wooden houses built on stilts extending into the sea. Walking to the end of the pier early one morning, I watched fishermen unloading the night’s catch – squid, mackerel, and shellfish sorted into plastic baskets while cats prowled hopefully nearby.
Salak Phet village on the eastern side feels even more authentic, with a small temple, simple wooden houses, and rubber plantations stretching inland. During a motorbike exploration, I stopped at a roadside stall where an elderly woman sold mangosteen, rambutan, and dragon fruit. My Thai extends barely beyond hello and thank you, but fruit creates its own universal language. She showed me how to properly open a mangosteen by squeezing it gently at the sides – a small skill I’ve treasured ever since.
Nightlife on Koh Chang runs at a lower voltage than on other islands – and that’s precisely its charm. White Sand Beach has a scatter of beach bars where you can sink into an axe pillow with a cocktail, while Lonely Beach offers the island’s closest approach to a party scene, with late-night bars featuring fire shows and bass-heavy music. My preference is for the mellower spots – like Oodie’s Place on Klong Prao, where one night I sipped a Chang beer and listened to a Thai man with a surprisingly good voice cover everything from Bob Marley to Adele.
For those staying longer, several cooking schools offer the chance to recreate that yellow curry crab yourself. Koh Chang Thai Cooking School near Klong Prao taught me the fundamentals of balancing Thailand’s four essential flavors – sweet, sour, salty, and spicy. My pad thai didn’t quite match the roadside version, but I left with recipes and techniques that have improved my home cooking immeasurably.
Why Koh Chang Matters
As my ferry pulled away on my most recent visit, Koh Chang receding into the distance, I felt the familiar tug of somewhere that matters to me. In a country blessed with spectacular islands, what makes this one special?
Perhaps it’s that Koh Chang offers Thailand before the crowds found it – a glimpse of what Samui or Phuket might have been decades ago. Its mountains remain largely untrammeled, its villages authentic rather than constructed for tourist consumption. The balance between development and preservation still tips toward the latter, creating a place where nature sets the rhythm rather than commerce.
That’s not to say change isn’t coming. Each visit, I notice new resorts, more tour boats, busier beaches. The road running down the west coast has improved dramatically, and WiFi reaches places it never used to. But Koh Chang’s heart – that wild, green soul – remains intact for now.
So pack your swimsuit, your hiking shoes, and go lose yourself on Elephant Island. Wade into the clear waters of Klong Prao at sunrise. Trek to a waterfall and feel the cooling mist on your face. Paddle through mangroves as kingfishers dart across your path. Eat seafood so fresh it practically leaps onto your plate.
I’ll be back, Koh Chang. You’ve got too many secrets left to share – hidden coves I haven’t swum, jungle paths I haven’t explored, flavors I haven’t tasted. In a world racing toward uniformity, you remain gloriously, perfectly yourself.