Then the rain began to pound and refused to stop. At first we all went swimming, basking in the bath warm waters of the Gulf of Thailand as the drops slammed down, raining up at me from the sea. Next small streams began to appear around the island, starting as little rivulets of water trickling through any low spaces; along the roads, down the paths, between the bungalows and the alleys between nightspots. That first onslaught was only a jab however, like an exploratory blow from a kick boxer simply trying to find a weakness before the true attack comes.
The situation quickly became more serious and the amount of rain and wind became anomalous, something that no one had seen this time of year, something to banter about around the bar or in the bungalow. These observations soon became irrelevant and the trivialness of “noticing” the bad weather became clear and the island deteriorated into a full blown crisis. Buildings began to flood, streets filled up into rivers and the pavement of the roads was washed out to sea like pebbles. As the torrents continued the situation only became worse. There was nothing anyone could do but sit back and watch the destruction. The seas were whipped into a frenzy of large powerful swells. The boats and the ferries completely stopped normal operation. Everyone who was on the island was stuck on the island, there together weathering the storm.
The electricity began to become intermittent, some say because the generators were running low on fuel and re-supplies could not make it out from the mainland, some figured it was just the standard destruction that occurs to power lines when high winds send debris whipping around like pieces of straw. Nevertheless, the power became sketchy, both Internet servers on the island went down and supplies and basic food stuffs in the stores began to dwindle.
The Royal Navy got called in to help. Not because the food was getting low, but rather because the supplies of beer and cigarettes were nearly exhausted. It was rumored that the Prime Minister of Thailand himself made the executive decision upon hearing the dire news and decided to intervene in order to prevent the island from being ripped apart by its inhabitants.
Word came down that an aircraft carrier would be sent in the morning to evacuate whoever was in need. People had been stranded for days, missed flights, overstayed visas, dealing with serious medical issues and missed obligations elsewhere. We all waited for the morning when we were told to assemble on the south end of the island for be transported to the mainland.
In the meantime things continued to deteriorate, rivers of mud had flowed down the mountainside and washed out buildings and homes. Businesses were completely flooded, sandbags were scattered everywhere but were ineffective against the sheer magnitude of water. The main tourist strip looked like it had been hit with a bomb, large parts of the paving had been annihilated and the route became impassible. To get anywhere you had to wade through knee deep water. Tourists woke up with their belongings floating around them and the water lapping into their room through the windows. Entire beach front establishments were disintegrated and washed out to sea. The aqua marine blue waters of the island turned to muddy trash filled soup. The bays were filled with boat carcasses, half submerged, smashed into each other and left to be destroyed in the surf. Palm trees lay strewn everywhere, the soil beneath their roots was literally carried away beneath them until they toppled over like matchsticks.
I heard that more rain fell on Koh Tao in just three days than they receive in the entire year and that is including their monsoon season.
The best way to get around became to go as naked as possible, because any clothing which you wore was soaked within minutes. In fact laundry and hygiene in general was becoming a major problem. Nothing was able to dry in the humid and wet climate and slowly backpacks filled up with damp mildewing clothing. The sun worshiping tourist crowd became a herd of rain-poncho clad recluses. Everyone who normally paraded around basking in sun-tanned glory now resembled odd moving Christmas ornaments, each locally bought poncho of pastel pink, blue or green bumping into each other as they mucked through the mud.
So everyone arrived at the secret pier in the morning to get evacuated from the mayham. Miscommunication was at an all time high. No one knew what was happening, only rumors that had circulated the night before. According to one Austin Powers looking Brit, “The aircraft carrier will be bigger than the whole Island of Kho Tao, and I should know, the British invented the aircraft carrier after all.” The scene was a full on refugee looking situation, except with a little more beer. Everyone that needed to escape had shoved into the lobby of the Koh Tao Resort and were barricaded against the wind and rain which continued to howl outside.
Eventually somebody hooked up the PA system and began to speak into the microphone. The Royal Navy aircraft carrier would indeed be arriving soon and all that we needed to do was line up, sign a sheet which verified we were trying to make and escape (for insurance reasons they assured) and wait for the boat to arrive. There were close to 1,000 people trying to evacuate and so the seen quickly became chaotic, everyone began by rushing to try and sing up first, but this was obviously hyper-counter productive. Eventually we were convinced by the woman with the microphone that everything would be much better if we just calmed down, relaxed, sent one representative for each group traveling together and lined up orderly. “Don’t worry,” she said, “the Navy is here and everyone will be getting taken out of here like one big happy family.”
Finally everyone had calmed enough to actually register. Each person was given a ticket and a sticker, the color corresponding to the destination we were hoping to reach. I had purple for Bangkok. I was labeled.
Suddenly out of nowhere the massive hulk of the aircraft carrier appeared out of the sea mist and froth of the ocean. Looming massively out of place on the once serene Thai waters it seemed to completely juxtapose itself against the experience that we were all hoping to find on Koh Tao: relaxation, remoteness and chillness. Nevertheless it was inspiring, it was hope, it looked like a formidable force and a true tangible escape route. A cheer rose up from the crowd. We were going to be saved! We would make it out of this place finally, the government was taking care of it, bless the Thai Prime Minister and the Navy’s resourcefulness…….or so we thought.
It took about an hour and a half for the ship to find proper moorage. I can’t speculate about why it was so difficult, it seems like a boat that size, with an anchor that size should be able to drop line pretty much anywhere in the world. For some reason, the Thai seafloor was proving difficult and we watched and anticipated as it did tiny concentric circle patrols just out of reach, looking for a place to whole-up.
The scene in the resort was post-apocalyptic. Little groups of travelers had huddled on the floor, circling up around their bags like pioneers protecting themselves against attacking marauders. Trash was strewn everywhere and everyone looked truly disheveled and confused. Each time an announcement was made the hubbub would subside enough to get the message that nobody knew anything about anything and we would go back to dozing, talking, card playing, reading, music playing or staring off into the wall.
Finally a boat arrived from the carrier, it tied up at a pier near the resort and began to accept passengers. The feeling was actually quite positive at that moment, it seemed like things were finally really happening. Small “long tails,” local boats with three meter long propeller tipped drive shafts attached to car engines, would be ferrying us out to larger boats, which would in turn take us out to the carrier that was still farther out awaiting our arrival. From there the carrier would take us to a port town near Bangkok where we would meet up with government hired buses to take us into the countries capitol. Neat diagrams were drawn up on poster board and posted around to illustrate the effectiveness of the strategy and put everyone and ease. The problem was that once again everyone wanted to rush the boats, once again we were soothed by the folks on the microphone who assured us it was much better to stay indoors, away form the rain and wind and just wait patiently.
Helicopters began to make runs to the island. Whipping over us with the stereotypical “Whump, Whump,” that you have heard on a thousand movies. Like giant metallic bees they whirred overhead, back and forth back and forth, flying deafeningly low. The helicopters began taking the disabled, the elderly, the pregnant and otherwise needy travelers to the boat. It was a simultaneously exciting and desperate feeling. It felt like there was no way that anything other than success was possible, the government had come to our rescue afterall. However as time went by most of the weary group remained stranded. It seemed like no one was getting anywhere.
Hours past and we waited full of hope. As we looked out at the hulk of the Navy boat just out of reach the storm began to again flex its elemental muscles. The long tails stopped making shuttle runs, there was no way to get us from the shallow waters of the resort out to the carrier. The storm was just too strong. Soon even the helicopters, which we had assumed could weather almost anything, stopped their patrols and evacuation. The weather simply refused to let us escape from the island. With all of the force of the Thai’s largest Navy vessel there to assist us, the temperament of Poseidon prevailed. For twelve hours I waited, little food, little water, waiting for a turn in the weather, waiting for shuttle services to resume by air or sea. The inactivity of the evacuation process became eerie. Doom settled in.
Finally the intercom system screeched and crackled as someone picked up the microphone and cleared their throat. The announcement came through, no one else could be evacuated that day, the waves were just too big to get out by boat and the wind was too strong for the helicopters to keep flying. Everyone who was not already on board was going to need to wait it out. “We’re sorry, but there is no way to get you out of here. If you have family already onboard, you are sick or injured or have a flight in the morning we can take another ten people,” said the speaker to the crowd of 1,000 refugees. Chaos.
The hulk of the carrier seemed so close you could touch it but there was no way to reach her. The helicopters had seemed so invincible yet the silence in the sky that had replaced their rotors seemed deafening. Both a literal and emotional cloud settled over us as the news sunk in. People began to burst into tears, make bribery attempts, hire private boats to take them out to the carrier and attemptl to ie their way onto the last emergency helicopter.
Exhausted, emotionally destroyed and hopeless we slunk back towards the destruction in the interior of the island, looking for somewhere dry to rest our head for the evening. We were stuck again, our only hope was the compassion of the weather gods. The Navy boat raised anchor and steamed off towards the mainland, leaving us all behind. Maybe we will get out tomorrow…….
1 comment:
hooolyshit. i heard about this from someone in nepal, but i didnt know you were there...wow...i was there 10 years ago...anyway, glad your okay ;)
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