Koh Tao: A Post-Pandemic Paradise

When I first visited Koh Tao in the summer of 2019, I was on this grand tour of South and Southeast Asia. After spending a good deal of time in northern Thailand, I bounced around neighboring countries and went as far as India and Nepal before returning to the south. I didn’t come to Koh Tao for the diving then, but it’s why I returned.

I didn’t know much about scuba diving then. I figured I could get a quick overview and then take the plunge. Turns out its a little more complicated than that. I ended up getting my open water certification at Carabao Dive Resort and fell in love with it. When I decided to return to Thailand after pandemic, diving was a must.

There are three islands in the Gulf of Thailand that draw the majority of tourists: Koh Samui, Koh Phangan, and Koh Tao. Samui is the largest island. It’s known for sprawling resorts, spas, and world class golf. It has its own airport and draws throngs of retirees. Definitely not the place for me. Phangan is medium-sized and is the party hub. It has beautiful beaches and is famous for a raucous full moon party held there every month. I inadvertently landed there a day or two before the party. I spent one night in what felt like a college dorm and bounced to Koh Tao the next morning. Koh Tao is the smallest of the three islands. It’s more relaxed and is renowned for the diving. I felt just like Goldilocks in Baby Bear’s bed. It was just right.

My time in Thailand is limited and I’m not one to hurry. After a mandatory week in Phuket, it’s time to dive.

I use a broker to arrange the combo taxi, van and the ferry it takes to get to Koh Tao – not my preferred method, but sometimes it just makes sense. It’s also great to have a car pick you up directly instead of trying to hustle taxi at 5:30 am

From the bus station in Wichit (central Phuket), it’s a 5 hour ride to the Donsak Pier on the northern tip of Surat Thani. A word to the wise: bring extra layers of clothing. The air conditioning on buses, vans, and trains is intense – across the continent. I’ve learned this the hard way.

One of the great thing about bus or van travel in Thailand are the “truck stops”. These aren’t western truck stops with fast greasy food and quick marts. They’re essentially open air kitchens with a few tables and some cover from the rain or sun, and the food is excellent. Thai women, who do most of the cooking, choreograph it, so it’s always hot and fresh whenever a bus arrives. After a plate of fried chicken cutlets, sweet pork, and spicy curry, I nod off for the rest of the ride.

From Donsak Pier, we board a long skiff with double outboard motors – much quicker than the lumbering ferries. All boats stop at Koh Samui and Koh Phangan before Koh Tao. It’s about a two and a half hour cruise. The weather starts grey and misty, but clears by the time we reach Mae Haad pier, the “busiest” point on Koh Tao.

I rent a motorbike directly off the pier and head to Chalok Baan Kao Bay. I prefer not to ride with all of my gear, but it’s not too far and I don’t trust the tuk tuk drivers to be fair. As I motor south, I notice an eerie stillness. Lots of places are closed for good. Great little mom-and-pop restaurants are gone and huge dive resorts sit dark. Plywood planks block restaurant entrances and porches sag under stacks of unused furniture. Green shoots push through floorboards and vines circle the eaves as the jungle reclaims what is rightfully hers. My favorite coffee haunt is gone and the streets are quiet. The trauma wrought by the pandemic is palpable here. When the tourist dollars dried up, people just couldn’t survive.

It’s still a tropical paradise, even without the usual buzz. I grab a little bungalow just a few feet from the water at Koh Tao Tropicana Resort. I splurge for one with air conditioning at $12 per night. It’s a tropical Eden with flowering wines and palm-shaded walkways. There are several dozen other units on the property, but only two paying guests besides myself – and of course the cafe is closed.

Carabao Dive Resort is just next door. The diving here is world renowned. There are scores of operators across the island. Carabao is not the slickest or the fanciest, but it is by far the coolest. It’s nonchalant, unpretentious, and relaxed. I received my open water certification here in 2019, and it’s the reason I came back. Carabao is family.

When I get to there, I find Matteo, the dive master, is still here. Prior to Covid, he was managing a whole team of instructors. A dry erase board behind his desk was filled with the week’s itinerary. But for now, most of the instructors had to bail and he’s leading dives himself. I decide to go ahead and get my advanced certification. For $245, I get the instruction, six dives, and gear rental, plus accommodation for three days – a total steal.

We dive the next afternoon. I’m joined by a couple from France. I don’t get too much of a refresher before we take the plunge, and I immediately regret my bravado. I descend to quickly on the very first dive and the pressure in my ears is excruciating. And with the pain comes the panic. Luckily, Matteo sees everything. We pause so I can adjust the pressure through my sinuses and then descend into the wonderland.

I immediately remember why I love diving. There’ s nothing quite like it – floating above the coral, surrounded by the most brilliantly colored fish. There’s calm and peace and almost complete silence, save for the bubbles from your breath. It’s pure witnessing; complete enjoyment and totally in the moment.

What strikes me is the tranquility of all of these creatures. There isn’t any striving or purpose driving them. These fish, this beautiful psychedelic coral, all just being. Sure, some fish feed or give chase, but most of the just flit around together in little schools or rest sublimely in pairs among the coral. Just being and is enough. It’s more than enough – it’s glorious.

Everything quickly came back to me a and the second dive of the day and things went “swimmingly”. There’s great camaraderie in diving. You swim as a team and then you bask together in the splendor of the dive. Dive buddies are pals for life.

We go for a night dive. Armed with just a flashlight, the coral reefs look like a Martian landscape. And we go deep. At Chumpon Pinnacle, this underwater mountain of coral, I take my deepest dive to date: 31.5 meters. We swim through tunnels at Green Rock and I get the chance to do a wreck dive to the HTMS Sattahut, a US marine boat that fought the Japanese in WWII.

In between dives I motor about the island. There are some steep hills and a few hairpin turns, and not much traffic. I go off-road in search of hidden beaches and sunset points and put the bike through its paces. I’m getting warmed up for the Mae Hong Son Motorbike loop.

The food all over the island is incredible, even some of my favorites are gone. I always look for the little places where a single woman works over a hot wok.