We first stayed in the coastal village of Ban Talae Nok.
They are fisherfolk here.
Caged Red-whiskered Bulbuls (Pycnonotus jocosus) is a common sight throughout Thailand - they are used in singing competitions.
The village was also the home to some of Thailand's one million Water Buffaloes (Bubalus bubalis) - down from three million thirty years ago.
In the mornings they liked to stroll on the beach.
The beach also contained vast amounts of driftwood - probably a relic from the tsunami almost exactly seven years before. The Andaman sea lies above the boundary of two major tectonic plates, and earthquakes are common. On December 26th 2004 a huge quake caused the plate boundary to move 20 metres and the sea floor to rise several metres. The resulting tsunami wiped away half of Ban Talae Nok village, including the primary school. Nearly one-quarter of the 228 villagers were killed, including 16 of their children.
Since then, early warning systems and evacuation plans have been put in place to avoid another disaster.
Central to most cultures is the kitchen, and the women who cook the meals that glue families and communities together - and there are few greater joys than to be invited to share that. Our host served up bowls of joy from her well-organized kitchen.
..and some big squashes.
We travelled through the eery landscape, where once proud valley trees poked their skeletal heads above the water.
Our home for the next days came into view.
Behind us, thick forest.
The least we could do was to dress for dinner - according to local custom.
We joined in the activities set up by the village: batik, nipa palm roofing, and making irresistible coconut rice cakes.
A new primary school has been built on higher ground, away from the risk of damage from future tsunamis.
Tread softly! all the earth is holy ground.
It may be, could we look with seeing eyes,
This spot we stand on is paradise
Where dead have come to life and lost be found.
We then sailed to the Surin islands, 60 km off the coast. They have been a national park since 1981.
Here around 150 Moken people live. They are traditionally nomadic people, usually living on their boats on the sea around the Andaman islands, settling in villages only during the monsoon season. There are only around 3,000 Moken - who have their own language, though not written. Of course, they too suffered from the tsunami.
For us decadent westerners, who see the sea as a playground rather than a source of life, there are quiet bays with crystal clear water in which to swim.
There is even treasure to be found.
Back on land, we called into Khura buri for breakfast.
A good opportunity to see the local produce. Looks like a Grouper there...
A short stay in a nearby tree house for some frolicking in the river.
Then inland east about 30 km to Cheow Lan Lake - a 185 square km artifical lake formed by the building of the Rajjaprabha dam in 1987. It is surrounded by the virgin forests of the Khao Sok National Park.
The weather on arrival was as expected for a tropical rainforest.
A floating terrace for tea...
...whilst dinner was fished out of the lake - a Snakehead (Channa micropeltes). This species can actually breath out of the water, using a primitive lung, allowing it to survive in stagnant water by gulping air and to even travel short distances across land.
At dawn and dusk we would watch Great Hornbills (Buceros bicornis) fly high into the trees around our hut. They are a metre long, and can weigh up to four kilos. Look hard, and you will see them.
Surely a Large Yeoman butterfly (Cirrochroa aoris) on the sandle must be good luck.
The clouds parted, and a new helmsman steered us past limestone peaks.
Our next overnight, a raft hut in the middle of the lake.
Time to explore under our own steam.
Returning to the city comes as a shock, though Bangkok's Chao Phraya river is also teaming with fish.
From the outside, the fish market doesn't look so appealing...
...but around the corner life is more colourful...
...and we again smell the sea.
But tiredness will always overcome temptation. It's time to go home.
