Koh Kradan: My Unexpected Escape in the Andaman Sea

I still remember that moment. Standing on the rickety pier at Trang, sweating through my t-shirt, wondering if I’d made a terrible mistake. The boat looked… well, let’s just say it had seen better days. But three hours later, as we approached a sliver of white sand fringed by impossibly turquoise water, I knew. Some journeys are worth every uncomfortable minute.

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That was my introduction to Koh Kradan, a tiny island in Thailand’s Andaman Sea that changed my understanding of what a beach paradise could be. Not because it’s perfect—it’s definitely not—but because it’s real in a way that many Thai islands aren’t anymore.

Getting to Koh Kradan: A Journey Worth the Hassle

Let me be upfront: getting to Koh Kradan is a pain in the ass. But that’s kind of the point. If it were easy, it wouldn’t be the semi-secret paradise it still is.

I flew into Trang from Bangkok, which took about an hour and a half. From there, things got… interesting. I hopped in a minivan that took me to Kuantungku Pier, a journey of about 45 minutes that somehow stretched to nearly two hours. Why? Well, our driver apparently needed to pick up his cousin, drop off some mysterious packages, and stop for gas twice. Welcome to Thai time.

At the pier, I had a couple of hours to kill before the afternoon boat. There’s a little restaurant there—nothing special, but the tom yum was decent, and the lady running it kept bringing me free slices of pineapple. I think she felt sorry for the sweaty farang melting in the corner.

The boat ride itself was about 30 minutes, I think? Could’ve been 45. I lost track of time watching flying fish skipping alongside us. Cost me 400 baht, though prices change seasonally. Some travelers I met later said they paid 300, others 500. Thailand, man.

Here’s the thing—I was cursing this whole complicated journey right up until the moment the island came into view. Then suddenly, I was grateful for every detour and delay. The hassle keeps the crowds away. And as we approached the shore, with no pier in sight, I realized we’d be jumping into knee-deep water to reach the beach.

“Your hotel?” the boat driver shouted over the engine.

“Paradise Lost!” I yelled back, immediately feeling like an idiot for how pretentious that sounded.

He nodded and pointed to a collection of simple bungalows visible through the trees. “You swim now,” he grinned, killing the engine about 15 meters from shore.

And so, with my backpack held over my head like some sort of bizarre offering to the sea gods, I waded to Koh Kradan. Not the most dignified arrival, but definitely memorable.

First Impressions of Koh Kradan: Was It Love at First Sight?

Not exactly.

Don’t get me wrong—the beach was stunning. The kind of white-sand-meets-clear-blue-water that makes you question if someone’s secretly enhanced the saturation on your eyeballs. But I was wet, slightly grumpy from travel, and suddenly aware I’d forgotten to pack a towel. Rookie mistake.

I trudged up to Paradise Lost (yes, that’s really the name of the resort), checking over my shoulder every few steps because the view was so ridiculously perfect it felt like someone might be playing a prank on me. The reception was just a wooden desk under some trees, where a laid-back Thai guy named Pon greeted me with a cold towel and colder beer. Bless him.

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“Not many people today,” he commented, glancing down the nearly empty beach.

That’s when it hit me. I’d been to Phuket, Koh Phi Phi, even Koh Lanta—all beautiful, but all crowded with tourists taking the same Instagram shots and drinking from the same buckets. Here, there were maybe 15 people visible on the entire stretch of beach. I could hear the waves. Actual waves, not techno music or touts selling massages.

My bungalow was basic—just a bed with a mosquito net, a fan, and a bathroom where the shower and toilet occupied the same three square feet of space. But it had a little porch facing the sea, and sitting there that first evening, watching the sun melt into the horizon, I felt something I hadn’t experienced in years of traveling through Southeast Asia: peace.

I’m not usually this sappy, I swear. I think it was probably just dehydration from the journey. Or maybe it was the second beer. But I remember thinking, “I could stay here for a while.” And that’s rare for me—I usually get itchy feet after three days anywhere.

Oh, and I definitely hadn’t packed enough sunscreen. My nose was already turning an alarming shade of pink, which would become a theme of the trip. But more on that disaster later.

The Beaches and Snorkeling: Koh Kradan’s Real Magic

Sunset Beach: My Favorite Spot

Koh Kradan isn’t big—you can walk around most of it in a couple of hours—but it has several distinct beaches. The main beach, which stretches along the eastern side, is where most accommodations are located. It’s gorgeous, don’t get me wrong, but Sunset Beach on the western side became my daily pilgrimage.

Getting there involves a hot, sweaty walk through the island’s interior on a dirt path. The first time I tried, I got lost and ended up at someone’s private property, where a very confused Thai family pointed me in the right direction while their chickens eyed me suspiciously.

When I finally emerged onto Sunset Beach, I actually gasped out loud. Then immediately looked around to make sure nobody had heard me being so embarrassingly dramatic. The beach is smaller, more rugged, and completely undeveloped. Just sand, sea, and the occasional fallen tree creating natural driftwood sculptures.

I started bringing a book there each afternoon, along with a coconut purchased from the only vendor on the main beach (a sweet older woman who called me “handsome man” despite clear evidence to the contrary). I’d sit for hours, occasionally swimming, mostly just staring at the water like I was trying to memorize its exact shade of blue.

One evening, I shared the entire beach with just one other person—a German guy named Klaus who was reading Nietzsche and didn’t seem interested in conversation. Perfect. We nodded at each other and then silently watched one of the most spectacular sunsets I’ve ever seen, as the sky cycled through orange, pink, and finally a deep purple before darkness fell.

I think that’s what I loved most about Koh Kradan—it forces you to appreciate simple pleasures. No WiFi, no nightlife, just you and whatever thoughts have been hiding behind your busy schedule back home.

Snorkeling Right Off the Shore

Here’s where Koh Kradan really shines. You don’t need a tour or a boat to see incredible marine life—just mask, snorkel, and fins, which you can rent for about 150 baht from most resorts.

The coral reef starts literally meters from the shore on the main beach. My first morning, I waded in up to my waist, put on my mask, and stuck my face in the water—and immediately came face-to-face with a blue starfish the size of a dinner plate. I jerked back so quickly I fell over backward into the sea. Smooth.

Once I’d recovered my dignity (and my snorkel, which was floating away), I spent nearly three hours exploring the reef. There were clownfish darting in and out of anemones, parrotfish crunching on coral, and schools of tiny silver fish that moved like a single organism. At one point, I followed a massive blue-spotted ray as it glided effortlessly along the sandy bottom.

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The highlight came on my third day. I’d ventured a bit further out, maybe 50 meters from shore, where the reef drops off slightly. I was floating above this drop, watching a moray eel peek out from its hiding spot, when something made me look up. A sea turtle, probably a green turtle, was swimming directly toward me.

I thought I was a decent snorkeler until that moment. The excitement of seeing the turtle caused me to inhale through my snorkel at exactly the wrong angle, sending me into a coughing fit that scared away both the turtle and every fish within a 20-meter radius. Sigh.

Not all is perfect, though. Some sections of the reef show damage—broken coral, bleaching, the sad signatures of climate change and careless tourism. It made my heart ache a bit. The locals are trying to protect what’s left, with some areas marked by buoys where you shouldn’t swim. Please respect these if you visit.

For the more adventurous, there are boat trips that take you to nearby islands and deeper reefs. I joined one (400 baht) that visited Koh Mook and its famous Emerald Cave. Worth it, but honestly, the snorkeling right off Kradan’s beach was just as impressive.

Life on the Island: Slow Vibes and a Few Surprises

The first thing you need to understand about Koh Kradan is that there are no roads. No cars. No motorbikes. No 7-Elevens. No ATMs. Basically, none of the modern conveniences that make up the backbone of most Thai tourist destinations.

And it’s wonderful. Also occasionally maddening.

My days fell into a simple rhythm. Wake with the sun (the bungalow walls were thin enough that I could hear the German couple next door breathing, so sleeping in wasn’t really an option). Take a morning swim. Eat breakfast—usually fresh fruit and eggs—at my resort’s open-air restaurant. Read. Snorkel. Nap. Walk to Sunset Beach. Watch sunset. Eat dinner. Sleep.

Rinse and repeat.

The accommodations range from very basic (my fan bungalow at Paradise Lost) to surprisingly upscale (The Sevenseas Resort on the northern end). I paid about 900 baht per night, which felt steep for what was essentially a wooden box with a bed, but location is everything.

Food-wise, your options are limited to what’s available at the handful of resorts. Most meals cost between 120-250 baht. The seafood was predictably excellent—I had a whole grilled fish one night that I’m still dreaming about. But after a few days, I was craving variety. There’s only so many times you can order pad thai before you start to question your life choices.

The biggest surprise was the island’s resident dogs. There’s a pack of about seven or eight that seem to belong to everyone and no one. They spend their days lounging in the shade and their evenings patrolling the beach. One golden retriever mix adopted me for my entire stay, showing up at my bungalow each morning and following me to breakfast. I named him Coconut (original, I know). I miss that dog more than some people I’ve dated.

Power on the island can be iffy. Most places run generators that shut off around midnight, plunging everything into darkness until morning. WiFi exists at some resorts but works on what I came to think of as “island time”—which is to say, barely and unpredictably. I found myself checking my phone less and less, until one day I realized I hadn’t looked at it for 24 hours.

That might have been the real magic of Koh Kradan. Not the beaches or the snorkeling, but the forced disconnection from the constant noise of normal life.

Why Koh Kradan Isn’t for Everyone (And Why I Still Loved It)

Look, I need to be straight with you. If your idea of a perfect Thai island involves full moon parties, shopping, or air-conditioned comfort, Koh Kradan will make you miserable.

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There’s no nightlife—unless you count watching the bioluminescent plankton sparkle in the water after dark (which, honestly, beats most clubs I’ve been to). There’s nowhere to shop except tiny resort gift shops selling overpriced sarongs. And while some accommodations offer air conditioning, many don’t—you’ll be at the mercy of sea breezes and fans.

The limited food options get old fast. By day five, I was having elaborate fantasies about pizza. And the remoteness means everything costs more than on the mainland. I paid 80 baht for a small bottle of sunscreen that would have been 40 in Trang.

The first couple of days, the lack of WiFi felt liberating. By day four, I was having withdrawal symptoms, standing on specific spots on the beach where my phone occasionally caught a signal, desperately trying to upload a photo to make my friends jealous. (It never uploaded, by the way—the universe has a sense of humor.)

But here’s the thing. All those inconveniences? They’re also Koh Kradan’s greatest strength. They’re what keeps this place special in an increasingly homogenized world of travel experiences.

I’ve been telling friends they shouldn’t go unless they’re prepared for “roughing it” (by Thai standards, which is still pretty comfortable). But every time I say it, I feel a twinge of guilt—like I’m trying to keep the place to myself. And maybe I am. Because despite the sunburn (my nose peeled for weeks afterward), despite the limited menu, despite having to wash my clothes in the bathroom sink, I’m already planning my return trip.

On my last morning, I woke up early to catch the 8 AM boat back to the mainland. I had a flight to catch from Trang, back to Bangkok, back to reality. I should have been packing, but instead, I found myself wading into the sea for one last swim.

The water was perfectly calm, reflecting the pink-orange sunrise like a mirror. Schools of tiny fish darted around my feet. I floated on my back, looking up at the sky, and felt a contentment that’s rare in our hyperconnected world.

Koh Kradan isn’t perfect. It’s hot, sometimes inconvenient, and definitely not for everyone. But for those seeking a slice of what Thailand’s islands were like before mass tourism—before the bucket drinks and fire shows and chain hotels—it’s something increasingly precious: authentic.

As my boat pulled away from shore, I watched the island recede into the distance. The German couple from the neighboring bungalow stood next to me at the rail.

“Will you come back?” the woman asked.

I thought about the hassle of getting there, the basic accommodations, the limited food options. Then I remembered that sea turtle, the sunsets, the simple rhythm of days dictated by nothing but natural light and tides.

“Definitely,” I said. “But don’t tell too many people about it.”

Too late, I guess. Sorry, Koh Kradan. I couldn’t keep you to myself after all.

About the author: Jack is a passionate content creator with years of experience. Follow for more quality content and insights.This article is my original work. Please credit the source if reposting.