We took an overnight bus to Ranong, departing from the primary Bangkok bus station, a fun multi-tiered maze of tasty eateries and shopping stands that make bus stations in the United States look like dirty shopping mall parking garages. After buying some last minute supplies and slurping down some spicy noodles, we boarded the overnight bus to Ranong. We arrived 8 hours later, sleep-deprived and disorientated, and made our way to the boat dock outside of the Ranong Custom’s house.
The boat dock and port at Ranong is an experience in itself. Ranong is only four miles from the Burmese border and the dock has the feel of a marine version of a run-down border town on stilts: traditional Thai fishing boats outfitted with loud two-stroke engines crisscross the intercoastal; fisherman from Burma, Thailand, and Malaysia (and perhaps further) smoke hand-rolled cigarettes while preparing their enormous aquamarine and bright orange fishing vessels for work; women en route to town from the surrounding island villages to purchase food staples donned umbrellas to protect themselves from the blistering sun. The busy scene was both beautiful and an intense depiction of survival, of finding food and sustaining oneself on dwindling ocean resources.
Our group passed our bags Chicago fire house style down to one of the large Thai fishing boats, inches away from the standing water on the boat floor. We took a breathe of the diesel-laden air and made our way to the Mokken village at sea.
