#THE BERET ON TOP OF IT ALLL???

[boynextdoorcoverpoison]

would just like to thank sungho and whichever stylist that decided to put him in a crop top. doing god’s work fr

[jacks-tracks]

You Can’t Go Back

In 1995 I spent the winter in Thailand, from top to bottom. North of Chang Rai, almost crosse, d the border by mistake following the locals  , went caving, floated a bamboo raft down an underground river, hung out with the locals(who compared their culture to our Natives, with the same government policy of extinction), and narrowly  missed a border conflict with Burma which sent the long necked women fleeing into Thailand. Back by excellent railway, temples, and River Kwai, all the way to the southern islands, where I didn’t touch the mainland in 6 weeks of island hoping. Camped with the sea gypsies, sailes an 80 foot boat in the dark among unlit reefs(the captain was drunk), and ended my trip on Ko Tao Island where I am now.

Then I stumbled off the rolly ferry in a rain storm, and taking shelter in an open sided palm hut, met a young guy with a beret and Che Guevera moustache. “what did I nneed?”  A cheap place. “Have” he said, and we hopped the  combi truck along the deserted roads.  Only a 2 mile walk up a bloody steep dirt track in broiling heat and dripping humidity, thought I was having a heart attack! Finally downhill to his cliff side  bungalows overlooking spectacular Hin Wong Bay. The steep jungle clothed slopes dropped straight into the sea, except where the cover was broken by huge granite boulders, like clusters of elephants. Across the bay were tiny cabinas, dotted among the overhanging boulders, all of them larger than the buildings, Some of these granite monsters had rolled into thesea, and formed a peninsula, against which the sea rolled heavily. The hills around the semi circular bay rose 300 feet, jungle rainforest, topped by ridgeline high crowned trees. The bay itself was a crystaline clear aquamarine pool, which proved th be filled with shoals of tropical fish.

    I was the second customer there, the first being a woman from Galiano Island who had found this place by chance like me. The owner, ever cheerful, spoke a bit of English,as did his very pregnant wife the cook. His righthand man spoke not a word, but grinned all the day long. They chain saw milled coconut planks from the hillside, and I helped them build a deck onto the restaurant. When I saw all the plastic trash and glass on the beach I piled all the plastic into a huge heap, and stacked the glass to one side. I don’t know what I thought the fellow would do with it, but when he saw it he thanked me profusely for cleaning the beach...and lit the pile on fire, Smashed all the glassinto a rock crevice, and was well satisfied. From then on all the glass I found I paddled out to sea and sank it in deep water. The snorkeling was world class, a private aquarium for my daily pleasure, warm water, and an infinite variety of fish. I loafed in that paradise for two weeks, some of the happiest days I’ve spent.

    Now 25 years later I have returned to Ko Tao, where the village had become a town, the ferry a high speed 200 passenger catamaran, and the combi truck replaced by taxis at $20  a ride. The slippery dirt road in was now paved even down it’s last persipitous slope. A new resort cluster of Bungalows lined the beach, and the Boulder pile was covered by a sloping 4 story apartment complex, which is where I booked, it being the only Hin Wong on line option. Across the bay a line of blue roofed bungalows trailed up the slope, and ofmy friends place there was not a sign. It was only on my second day, after hiking a mile over the hills to the blue roofed resort(closed), and trying a likely downhill trail( that led to a squatters camp under some boulders big enough to make a roof), the I saw a building in about the right spot, totally covered in jungle. Some rock hopping, bush thrashing, past a collapsed bungalow(mine?) that I clambered onto the sagging deck of the old place. The roof was half blown off, doors looted, and the road an overgrown track. The kitchen still had most of its equipment, and jars of condiments were strewn on the floor. Alll else had been pillaged. When I left, I gave the lovely cook my stainless steel food bowl as a gift. There among the trash was the bowl. Whatever happened happened fast, and everything was left behind. No one now living in the bay has been here more than 10 years, so they can tell me nothing. Sickness, death, disaster, I will never know.......

   Since I arrived here the wind has been rising, and the sea has gone from 4 foot to 6, white bearded rollers that crash and surge against the granite. I had swum one arrival, dodging the bag fish and old ropes, bobing like the trash in the surge. Today it’s too rough to even go in. One thing hasn’t changed. The women racking the deserted beach have jolly bonfires going, using styrofoam to ignite the soggy plastic,. It’s still beautiful here, rugged and colourful, with only one other tourist staying. I have enjoyed my hilly hikes, and the sea wind will blow away my sadness.You  can’t go back...