Koh Yai Noi: A Tranquil Escape in Thailand’s Andaman Sea   Recently updated!

Returning to Koh Yai Noi: A Slow Travel Escape in Thailand

Our speedboat, packed to the gunnels with eager travelers heading to various islands scattered across the Andaman Sea, departed from the pier at Ao Nang. The morning air carried the salty tang of the ocean as the boat roared to life, bouncing across the waves with a steady rhythm. It was a warm day, the kind where the sun glared off the water, creating a dazzling, blinding shimmer. As we skimmed across the sea, I was looking forward to seeing the island again. Our first stop, and also our final destination, was Koh Yai Noi.

Half an hour later, we arrived. As the boat slowed, its engine cutting down to a low hum, I peered over the side to take in the shoreline. A wooden pier stretched out over the water, leading to a sleepy little dock with only a few people waiting. Compared to the throngs of tourists who had crowded onto the boat at Ao Nang, only a handful disembarked with us. I felt an immense sense of relief. Koh Yai Noi had clearly remained well off the beaten path of the infamous banana pancake trail. The influencers, the bucket cocktails, the relentless parade of backpackers looking for full moon parties and fire shows—none of them had made this island a priority. And thank goodness for that.

As soon as we set foot on the island, our lovely hostess had arranged for a car to pick us up. The driver greeted us with a warm smile, and within moments we were speeding down the narrow roads, weaving between lush greenery, glimpses of coastline, and the occasional wandering chicken. The drive was smooth, the road mostly empty apart from the odd motorbike or pickup truck. After twenty minutes, we pulled up to our home for the next two weeks, where we were welcomed by Adrianna, an Italian expat who had settled here long ago. With her sun-kissed skin and relaxed demeanor, she radiated the kind of tranquility that only comes from island living.

The little hut she had prepared for us sat within a sprawling garden, its wooden structure nestled amongst tropical foliage. Three other huts were scattered nearby, close enough to feel part of a small community but distant enough to ensure privacy. It was a traditional Thai-style hut, designed to invite the cooling sea breezes and provide respite from the tropical heat. This also meant that the walls only reached about three-quarters of the way up to the roof, which was wonderful for air circulation but equally wonderful for allowing all manner of jungle creatures inside. It quickly became a shared space between us and the island’s wildlife. Mornings often began with frogs sitting serenely in the kitchen sink, and tiny lizards darting across the lounge walls as if they owned the place. The hut had a small but functional kitchen, perfect for preparing simple lunches. The lofted bedroom held a large, comfortable bed draped in protective mosquito nets, a necessary barrier against the persistent nighttime critters. But the best feature of all was the shaded verandah, complete with a hammock that became my sanctuary. I spent countless hours there, swinging gently, watching vibrant tropical birds flit through the garden, their songs blending with the rustling of the palm trees.

We had visited Koh Yai Noi many years ago, perhaps twelve or more, and even then, it had been a tranquil escape. Back then, the island had only a few small guesthouses, a handful of restaurants, and long stretches of untouched beaches. To our delight, very little had changed. There were a few more restaurants dotting the beachfront now, and a handful of additional accommodations had sprung up, but the essence of the island remained unspoiled. It was still the quiet, laid-back haven we had fallen in love with all those years ago.

Our days on the island fell into a slow, satisfying rhythm. We spent time working on various projects, the quiet surroundings providing the perfect backdrop for focus and inspiration. We took long, meandering walks along the winding roads, sometimes greeting a friendly local selling fresh fruit from the back of a motorbike. We ate—perhaps a little too indulgently—at a couple of remarkable restaurants, savoring each meal with the appreciation that only comes from knowing that nothing is rushed here. And every evening, we made our way down to a small beach bar, where we would sip cocktails as the sun sank into the horizon, setting the sky ablaze with streaks of orange and pink.

The island itself was a patchwork of jungle and farmland, with the western side largely dedicated to small farms and the southeastern side hosting the modest tourism industry. The locals, fiercely protective of their home’s peaceful nature, had managed to keep mass tourism at bay. Unlike Phuket, with its chaotic nightlife and relentless crowds, or Ao Nang, where touts pulled you in every direction, Koh Yai Noi remained a sanctuary. There were visitors, of course, but they were few and far between—fellow travelers who sought not the party scene but the quiet embrace of nature.

Two weeks passed in the blink of an eye. As we packed our bags, the weight of leaving settled heavily in my chest. I would miss our quiet corner of Thailand, but I knew we would come back. There was something about this place, something that made time stretch and contract in an odd way. It felt like we had only just arrived, yet at the same time, it felt as though we had been here forever. On our last morning, we made our way back to the ferry pier, the salty breeze whipping through our hair as we watched the ocean stretch out endlessly before us. Soon, we would be back in Ao Nang, and from there, on to Samui—an island I was admittedly not looking forward to, knowing all too well what awaited us there.

Lek’s

Lek’s, a charming little spot just a short stroll from the beach, became a favorite. It served some of the best Thai food we had ever eaten, with a menu that balanced classic dishes with lesser-known regional specialties. The setting was idyllic, a space surrounded by flowering vines, making every meal feel like a special occasion. We ate there nearly every night, and each dish was a masterpiece.

Ciao Bella

For a change of pace, we visited Ciao Bella, a lovely Italian restaurant run by two friendly Italians who had brought a little piece of their homeland to the island. We dined on authentic homemade pasta, perfectly crisp pizzas, and decadent desserts, all enjoyed in the shade of a peaceful garden across from the beach.

The Pub – Extra Time Sports Bar and Restaurant

Then there was The Pub – Extra Time Sports Bar and Restaurant, where we found ourselves more than once, drawn in by their excellent burgers and well-made mojitos. It was the kind of place that made for an easy, relaxed evening with good food and drinks. Right next door to Lek’s, it became a convenient go-to whenever we craved something a little different.

Pa Sai Thai Food

And of course, Pa Sai Thai Food, located right on the beach, became our preferred spot for sunset drinks. Sitting beneath the shady trees, watching the last light of day fade away while sipping on a cold drink—it was the perfect way to end each evening.

Koh Yai Noi had been exactly what we needed. A reprieve from the tourist madness, a place to slow down, to breathe, to appreciate the simple beauty of an island that had remained untouched by the chaos of modern travel trends. As we pulled away from the pier, watching the island shrink into the distance, I knew one thing for certain—we would be back. There are places in this world that leave an imprint on you, that whisper to you long after you’ve left, calling you back to their shores. Koh Yai Noi was one of those places, and I had no doubt that one day, we would return once more.