Accessible by boat from mainland Krabi, Tonsai is a renowned climbing hotspot with an irresistibly relaxed after-hours atmosphere.
By Urasa Por Burapacheep
Spiderman Wall stands before us—a majestic chunk of rock rising out of the calm Andaman Sea, its otherwise sheer face striped with limestone like fossilised candlewax. We watch as the first brave souls begin their ascent, their bodies flexing and arching impossibly. Within minutes they have become mere specks. As the first body falls towards the sea, we gasp collectively.
This is deep water soloing—scaling large rock and jumping into the sea. It’s climbing in its purest form, with no set route, no rope, and no protection.
My turn soon comes. At the bottom of Spiderman, the rope ladder creaks and swings. My grip feels steady on the smooth outcroppings. My toes soon find their resting place. These are now the sole square inches of contact between me and the rock.
My only possible path: a seemingly featureless expanse of rock, then a giant lopsided wedding cake of stalactite two arms’ lengths away. From here, the crowd below seem nothing but figurines in toy boats. Lessons from the day’s training come flooding back to me.
Fact one: uncontrolled falls are always more dangerous, especially for a novice. Much better to jump when feeling prepared and comfortable. Fact two: from less than 10 metres, a human body can fall into the water without serious risk – I am five metres beyond that threshold.
Cut off from mainland Krabi by majestic limestone cliffs and carpeted by a dense growth of palms, Tonsai Beach has remained more of an island. From afar, the beach appears almost uninhabited.
At Basecamp Tonsai, visitors wake to the cries of gibbons and a shirtless Thai strums a heart-rending southern tune on his guitar. Next to him, what resembles an elastic rubber band stretches taut between two trees. A Thai steps nimbly along its length, a cigarette in hand. The band — a ‘slackline’ — tightens under his weight.
Tonsai’s abundance of fort-like cliffs and amiable, unpretentious vibe have drawn many of the world’s best climbers to its shore. They sit gobbling Thai comfort food and fruitshakes before heading out for the day’s climbs.
Instead, I head to Tonsai’s better-known neighbour, Railay, and a path which leads to Phra Nang Beach and eventually to an inland lagoon, which fills from the sea at each high tide. Below a confusion of tree roots, mud-caked rock, and smooth red earth, a sign reads: “Danger! Slippery Area Ahead.”
As if on cue, an out-of-breath French couple emerges, their limbs caked in mud. Another man staggers after them, shaking his head and muttering under his breath. Soon after my ascent, dense leaves close in and the path darkens. In the 1980s, visitors climbed up on vines, which broke at excessive weight, and some reported spotting a marijuana plantation.
On my trek, I encounter a system of fixed ropes slick with mud, a few practically vertical drops, a spectacular lookout point, leaves the size of grown men and invisible whirring insects reminiscent of something from Jurassic Park. Later, when I return to Basecamp covered in red earth, nobody raises an eyebrow.
Opposite Andaman Nature Resort’s open-air restaurant, locals tinker with the engine of a stilled Jeep, hoping it will start but unfazed if it doesn’t. My Tonsai comrades— four people from four countries and three continents—have prime seats: the slightly worn cushions in front of Tonsai’s only generator-powered and truly communal cable television. Marcus, a Swiss-based German, tells us he plans to buy a T-shirt that reads: “I’m leaving Tonsai tomorrow… Maybe.”
The nearby Small World Bar is its own universe, filled with a log-panelled counter, bamboo tepee, massive tree sculpture and jungle trinkets. An Italian man joins us inside our thatched pavilion and begins sipping his fruitshake.
“My friend built this place up from scratch. Everything here comes from the jungle,” he says.
Like many of Tonsai’s long-term residents, he calls himself a Rasta, sports dreadlocks and spends his days playing Frisbee.
“It’s a religion. We do everything for a reason,” he insists.
On the beachfront, Freedom Bar hosts a range of conversations in a wild mix of gentle accents. Beyond, mainland Krabi and its surrounding islands cast silhouettes against the sky. where stars twinkle like fireflies.
Back on the face of Spiderman, the magic of Tonsai seems a world away. Below me, a fellow climber with sculpted biceps looks up from his perch atop a tufa.
“It’s not a fight against the climb,” he tells me, bringing his fist to his chest. “It’s the fight against here.”
My mind goes blank. I step off and am suspended in air. The waves rush up to meet me. I hit the water. Later, on Tup Island, a narrow strip of sand extending into an endless expanse of sea, my saviour regales me with his first skydiving experience.
“When they ask ‘Are you ready?’ you want to shout back, ‘No, of course I’m not ready!’ You’re looking down and you see no car, no house. Nothing. It’s just a white field of air. And then you go. ‘‘And as soon as you’re out there floating, you have the biggest smile of your life. And it never leaves your face until you touch the ground.”
A wave rises inside of me. It breaks on to my face as a smile: “Yes, I know what you mean.”
Basecamp Tonsai offers climbing and deep water soloing trips. The Sunset Trip (B1200) is held twice a month at half-moon. Check basecamptonsai.com.
Getting There: Head to Krabi first – long-tail boats depart regularly from Ao Nang.
Accommodation: Most places are located on the main path. The average price is B500 per night, negotiable for longer stays.