Oh, Ko Phi Phi—the crown jewel of Thailand. Where warm turquoise waters meet bleach blonde beaches and wooden longtail boats glide over lively coral reefs and under towering limestone cliffs. A picturesque destination for honeymooners looking for a romantic getaway and young backpackers in search of booze-brimmed beach parties—this island archipelago has a little something for everyone. Unfortunately, what makes this gem so appealing is also what makes it one of the pricier and more over-crowded destinations in Thailand.

After studying in Bangkok for over three months, the Andaman Islands were the final leg of my journey before returning home to the States. At this point in my trip I had exhausted much of my funds and just wanted to squeeze out one last grand adventure before saying goodbye to Thailand. My partner Ashley and I arrived at the pier on Ko Phi Phi Don with little money, some spare clothes, a tent, and a bottle of Hong Thong.

Taking our tight budget into account, we wanted to utilize the tent as much as possible. I had read about a place called Green Beach Camping Resort on the far side of the island that offered camping spots for a few Baht a night. Sticking to our cheap-o no-unnecessary-costs budget travel agenda (read my Thailand budget travel post on the ISA Student Blog here), we deferred to hiking across the island rather than paying for a longtail to ferry us there. According to Google Maps, the hike was only about an hour. How hard could it be, right?

We stopped for directions to the trailhead and the lady we asked thought otherwise.

“Oh no, bad idea. It is very hard for you.”

Maybe we should have taken her advice. Nonetheless, our pride and ignorance proved too great and we continued on. Neither of us was prepared for what would come next.

The next couple hours were spent climbing up to four different viewpoints that overlooked the island, bushwhacking around snake-infested underbrush, and wandering through dense jungle with only Google Maps screenshots for navigation. Eventually we arrived at the new and shiny megaresort Phi Phi Island Village and walked through a quaint village adjacent to Lo Lana Bay, where Green Beach was located. Once more stopping to ask directions to the camping area, we were met with quizzical looks from the locals.

“I wonder if this place actually exists,” Ashley inquired.

As if on cue, the path looped around a corner and appeared a large wooden sign with ‘Green Beach Camping Resort’ lazily painted across it. We followed the trail to what we presumed to be our final destination, drenched in sweat and relieved to at last lay our packs down.

Instead, we found an open grassy area filled with scattered trash and a small deserted open-air structure—which I assumed to be the front desk. The yard was littered with empty Chang bottles, pieces of half-burnt firewood, and various forms of discarded plastic—bags, bottles, boxes, etc. It was obvious no one had been here in months. This is not how TripAdvisor portrayed this place to be.

There weren’t any other cheap accommodations on this side of the island and walking all the way back to the pier was not an option for either of us at this point, so we decided to set up camp in the vacant lot. Not one minute into setting up the tent, an old, wiry local approached us. The man had rough leather-like skin, showing the years of labor under the sweltering Thailand sun, and shaggy gray hair that shot out in all directions. He didn’t speak English but spoke to us as if we could understand everything he was saying. The man’s voice rose and it didn’t take long to realize that we were being kicked out.

Well, shit.

We resorted to the beach to weigh our options. Lo Lana Bay consists of a long stretch of white-sand beach, flanked by rocky shores on either side. A simple sea gypsy village sits along the shore to the left. The inhabitants live in modest wooden homes perched on stilts and spend all day weaving fishing nets and collecting shellfish. It is only possible to reach the village during low tide when the rocks are exposed.

I think it was Ashley who suggested we take one of the abandoned homes for the night.

The sun would soon dip below the horizon and it looked like we were staying on the beach that night, which wasn’t the safest or most legal option, but seemed to be our only one considering the circumstances. As we began to accept our fate, a group of westerners paraded by, joking loudly. They started along the rocky outcrop, towards the sea gypsy village. Just before reaching the village, the group took a sharp left, scrambled up a steep hill, and disappeared into the jungle.

Curious as to where they went—and frankly, just down on our luck—we followed. We reached the hill, where a lone rope tied to the end of a tree at the top was the only source of stability. After reaching the top, we descended through thick jungle until it opened up and revealed the most pristine beach I had ever seen, nestled in this little cove between immense karst cliffs that jutted out of the sea on either side. Here, we found the westerners, a tour group led by their guide, Paul, a jovial Englishman who has been living on the island for the better part of five years.

I looked to Ashley and smiled.

“I think we found our spot.”

We shared drinks and laughs with our new friends and watched the sun expire for the night. Soon the group would make the long trek back to the pier, leaving Ashley and I to our private beach paradise.

The next few days were something out of a dream. We kept to a daily routine of waking up to the crashing of waves on the beach, and going for an early morning swim before lying out to dry under the warm sun. Phi Phi Island Village Beach Resort is a luxury resort catered towards couples and families and had all the amenities including beach bungalows, gourmet international restaurants, and an infinity pool with a view of the jade-tinted Andaman Sea. Only a short walk away, we put on our best act as a honeymooning couple and spent the afternoon relaxing by the pool and indulging in all the resort had to offer (like complimentary dumplings served poolside!). No one thought twice of us.

Once the day began to wind down, we made our way back to camp, stopping for supplies in the village first—the essentials of water, Pringles, and rum. We strolled along the beach, made our way over the rocks, gave a modest ‘sawatdee’ to our neighbors in the sea gypsy village, and returned to our beach, just in time to watch the sun set over The Land of Smiles.