Leaving Koh Samui came with no great sadness.

Some places capture your imagination and quietly become part of your travel story. Others simply become a place you passed through.

For us, Samui was the latter.

After three weeks of working, swimming and using our apartment as a comfortable base, it was time to move on. We packed our bags, booked a taxi and headed to the ferry port for the journey back to the mainland.

Our destination was Chumphon.

Not a place most travellers seemed to be heading towards, but that was exactly why it appealed to us.

The ferry terminal was located on a beautiful stretch of beach, with golden sand, palm trees swaying in the breeze and the kind of tropical scenery that makes you wonder why everyone is standing around staring at their phones.

Inside the ticket area, however, the tropical paradise disappeared beneath a sea of travellers.

Backpackers, families, tour groups and people carrying luggage large enough to require its own passport were all gathered together, waiting for their ferry.

We validated our tickets and found a quiet corner where we could sit and watch the chaos unfold.

Armed with a coffee and a rather disappointing chocolate muffin—which had clearly been through some kind of emotional journey before reaching me—we settled in to observe.

Travel hubs are always fascinating places.

Everyone is going somewhere.

Everyone has a plan.

Everyone appears to believe they are the only person who knows where they need to be.

The oversized suitcase situation once again provided entertainment. People wandered around dragging enormous bags, looking slightly confused and occasionally stopping dead in the middle of the walkway while trying to work out their next move.

I still do not understand what people pack.

We travel with backpacks, and even then, I occasionally wonder why I have so much stuff.

Yet somehow people manage to fill a suitcase the size of a small refrigerator for a beach holiday.

Perhaps they are carrying emergency wardrobes.

Perhaps they have packed for every possible weather event.

Perhaps they simply enjoy carrying heavy things through sand.

The world may never know.

Eventually it was time to board.

There was no electronic departure board announcing gates or boarding times. Instead, staff appeared and began directing people with a combination of hand gestures, shouting and the universal travel language of pointing confidently in a direction and expecting everyone to follow.

It worked.

Eventually.

Then came the boarding announcement.

And suddenly we witnessed what can only be described as a scene from Wacky Races.

The waiting crowd transformed instantly.

People surged towards the pier as if boarding first would somehow guarantee a better ferry, a better seat or perhaps a more favourable crossing. There was pushing, rushing and a surprising amount of urgency considering everyone was heading to the same boat.

We waited.

There was no advantage to joining the stampede.

Once the crowd had disappeared down the pier, we calmly followed behind and boarded without drama.

The ferry was, unsurprisingly, packed.

Fortunately, we found seats and settled in for the four-hour journey across the Gulf of Thailand. Initially it was pleasant—the sea breeze, the calm water and the feeling of moving somewhere new.

After a few hours, however, the reality of ferry travel began to set in.

The air became warmer.

The cabin became stuffier.

And everyone started looking slightly less enthusiastic about being on a boat.

After a brief stop at Koh Tao to collect and drop off passengers, we eventually arrived at Lomprayah Pier in Chumphon.

As soon as the ferry docked, the great migration began.

Passengers poured off the boat, many heading straight towards waiting buses bound for Bangkok and other destinations.

Almost nobody stopped.

Almost nobody looked around.

Which was a shame, because the pier was surrounded by a beautiful stretch of coastline.

But that is the nature of travel.

When you are rushing towards somewhere else, sometimes you miss where you actually are.

We, however, had made a different decision.

I have a simple travel rule: four hours of travel in one day is enough.

After that, I prefer to stop.

Travel days already involve enough waiting, carrying bags and wondering whether you are standing in the correct queue. There is no prize for making yourself exhausted.

So instead of immediately transferring onto another bus, we had booked a hotel just a hundred metres from the ferry pier.

The only problem?

I wasn’t entirely convinced it would be good.

The photos online had not exactly inspired confidence, and I had booked only one night as a precaution.

The hotel was called Magic House.

A slightly ambitious name.

Fortunately, it turned out to be completely accurate.

The moment we arrived, I wished we had booked longer.

Tucked away on Thung Makham Noi Beach, Magic House was exactly the kind of place slow travellers hope to stumble across. It was simple, peaceful and right on the water.

The rooms were comfortable, the setting was beautiful and, best of all, there was a restaurant overlooking the sea serving excellent food, cold beer and surprisingly good cocktails.

It was the kind of place where you arrive for one night and immediately start calculating whether your next booking can somehow be changed.

Before dinner, we wandered along the beach watching the sun sink behind the horizon.

A few local families were enjoying picnics, children played in the sand and people simply sat together enjoying the evening.

Nobody was rushing.

Nobody was checking off a list of attractions.

They were just there.

And that was exactly what made it special.

I thought about all the passengers who had stepped off the ferry and immediately disappeared onto buses heading elsewhere.

Of course, everyone travels differently.

Some people have limited time and a carefully planned itinerary.

But this is why we love slow travel.

Sometimes the best places are not the ones you planned to visit.

Sometimes they are the places where you simply stop because you are tired of moving.

That evening we enjoyed dinner overlooking the water, listening to the waves and feeling very pleased with our decision to pause.

The next morning, after a leisurely breakfast, it was time to leave.

And I have to admit, I was disappointed.

Magic House was exactly the kind of place where we could have happily spent several more days doing very little—which, when done properly, is actually quite difficult to achieve.

Unfortunately, our next accommodation was already booked, and the journey had to continue.

We caught a taxi into Chumphon town, a forty-minute ride to the minivan station where we would begin the next leg of our journey to Prachuap Khiri Khan.

As experienced travellers know, waiting is simply part of the process.

There are always stations, terminals and moments where time appears to slow down.

This was no different.

We waited.

And waited.

And then waited a little more.

Eventually, after an hour and a half, the driver emerged, climbed into the minivan, started the engine and gave us the signal to board.

No announcement.

No explanation.

Just the universal sign that it was time to go.

We climbed aboard and settled in for the four-hour journey north.

Prachuap Khiri Khan was not somewhere we had ever heard much about.

It wasn’t famous.

It wasn’t on the usual Thailand itinerary.

It wasn’t a place people seemed to rush towards.

But, for some reason, I had a feeling about it.

Over the years I have learned to trust my instincts when it comes to places. I can’t always explain why somewhere catches my attention. Sometimes it is a photograph, sometimes a passing comment, sometimes simply a name that makes me think, “That sounds interesting.”

More often than not, those little travel feelings turn out to be right.

Perhaps it is because the places that appeal to me are rarely the obvious ones. I have never been particularly interested in chasing the destinations everyone else is already talking about. I would much rather find somewhere slightly overlooked and see what happens.

Prachuap Khiri Khan was exactly that.

A small beach town on the Thai coast.

Not a headline destination.

Not a place people travelled hours to tick off a list.

Which, naturally, made us curious.

Because sometimes the best travel experiences begin with no expectations at all.

Let’s see what it has in store for us.