We caught an early flight on Thai Lion Air down to Krabi, and headed straight for the docks. From there, we were able to walk right onto a boat bound for Koh Jum — no fuss, no rush, just the start of island time.
I first learned about Koh Jum back in 2007 on an earlier trip through Thailand. A couple we met had traveled extensively around the Andaman-side islands, and when I asked where they’d recommend for somewhere scenic without the crowds, they didn’t hesitate. Koh Jum, they said. We ended up staying a week back then, and sure enough, it was everything they promised — quiet, beautiful, and wonderfully low-key.
Fast forward 19 years, and that still holds true.
This time around, I found an Airbnb on the south side of the island in a small fishing village, and we booked it for 11 nights. I hesitated a bit before committing — most visitors opt for the bungalows scattered along the west coast — but it turned out to be an excellent decision. We had the entire house to ourselves, complete with a deck that extended right out over the water.
As it turned out, our place was the last house at the edge of the village. Beyond it lay only the local K–12 school, the village temple, and then three to four miles of completely undeveloped coastline. No resorts. No roads. Almost no people. It felt like we had our own private beach stretching endlessly in both directions.
Two sections of that beach held incredible tidal pools, and several shallow coral reef areas were perfect for snorkeling. We spent hours exploring — sea urchins, starfish, and schools of tropical fish everywhere you looked. Unlike many of our trips, which tend to be full throttle and tightly packed with plans, Koh Jum invited us to do the opposite.
We parked it.
Days passed without schedules, alarms, or urgency. Time slowed to a crawl in the best possible way. Our 11 days felt more like several weeks, and by the time we left, my batteries were completely recharged.
I didn’t miss a single morning of waking up naturally around 5:30 a.m. I’d slip quietly out of the house and walk the beach — three to four miles north toward the first signs of life near the bungalows. Then I’d turn around and slowly make my way back.
Every morning, without fail, a dog would meet me at the same spot. He’d join me for the entire walk, disappearing into the jungle now and then, only to reappear with more dogs in tow. By the time we reached the bungalows, we often had a loose pack of ten dogs, swimming, playing, and wrestling all the way back to the fishing village.
Some mornings, troops of crab-eating macaque would be out on the beach, racing from crab hole to crab hole, plunging their arms deep into the sand — shoulder-deep — in search of breakfast.
By the time I returned to the house around 8 a.m., the kids were already out on the beach near our place, catching crabs and snorkeling. Right about then, the Airbnb owners would arrive with breakfast, freshly prepared and delivered straight to the house. We’d carry it out to the deck and eat overlooking the Andaman Sea, watching the tide roll in.
New (and Old) Fears Along the Shore
I couldn’t help but think back to a trip in 2007, when we took a ferry from Langkawi to Krabi. During that four-hour crossing, we passed through massive swarms of giant jellyfish — some with bells a couple of feet wide and long trunks and tentacles trailing five or six feet below them. At times, the water was thick with them.
When swimming back then, small fragments of broken-off tentacles would drift by and deliver little stings — nothing dangerous, but definitely memorable.
This trip, we had a bit of that, but nowhere near the scale I remembered. Still, every one of us managed to get stung by a jellyfish at least once.
A few new beach fears were unlocked as well. Venomous fireworm were swimming and crawling around the reefs — beautiful to look at, but absolutely not something you want to brush up against. And then there was the morning after a short but windy storm rolled through, when giant forest scorpions were suddenly everywhere. They’d been blown out of the trees and were scattered along the beach, all the way down to the water’s edge. That one definitely got everyone’s attention.
A Day Out on the Andaman Sea
One of our standout days was hiring a longboat with a two-man crew to take us snorkeling around the Phi Phi Islands. It’s a fantastic day out.
The ride across open water to the first island takes about an hour, but having our own boat meant we could choose where to stop — usually skipping the most crowded spots in favor of quieter reefs. We spent the day snorkeling in 5–20 feet of crystal-clear blue water, drifting over coral and fish with far fewer people around.
I’d highly recommend it.
The boat picked us up right at our house around 9 a.m. and dropped us back off by 4:30 p.m. For a full day on a private boat that could comfortably hold 6–8 people, including lunch (fried rice, simple and perfect), you can expect to pay around $150. We explored four different islands before heading back toward Koh Jum as the light softened in the afternoon.
Cruising the Island
On quieter days, I’d rent one of the little Honda Airwave scooters, complete with a gazebo-style sidecar that fit the rest of the family. We’d cruise around the island, trying new restaurants and stopping at roadside fruit and vegetable stands.
Star Restaurant became one of our go-to spots, sitting roughly halfway up the island along the main road. There were several good fruit stands nearby as well, making it easy to turn a short ride into an afternoon outing.
Taking It With Us
The memories we took away from our time on Koh Jum will always stay with me. The slow mornings, the long walks, the dogs, the reefs, the small daily routines — they’re the kind of moments that don’t fade easily.
Some places recharge you.
Koh Jum did exactly that.
Wise Clan in Stanland 
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