Pack Up Paradise

“The skies were star-spangled and blue phosphorescence would spray like diamonds in the sea … the sand glowed silver and the waves danced alive as they hit the shore.” Colin Hinshelwood has vivid memories of his first full-moon party, in 1988, on the tropical Thai island of Koh Phangan. The intrepid Scotsman had bobbed across on a fishing boat from neighboring Koh Samui. Hippies and backpackers from across the globe had drifted in, to sit on a beach, strum a battered guitar, perhaps smoke some marijuana, and simply be. Today, the only blue spray you’ll see there will be the lurid curaçao cocktail expelled from the guts of a retching 20-something. Obeying the law that states that every sun-blessed paradise shall become the next Cancún or Ayia Napa, Koh Phangan is now awash in tawdry techno, cheap fast food and wasted millennials. Just offstage are the property developers, waiting for the parties to peter out so that the bulldozers can move in and the condos can go up.

The parties are in no danger of stopping just yet. Every month, thousands of revelers still make the pilgrimage to Thailand’s isle of overindulgence. Haad Rin beach, on Koh Phangan’s southern tip, is a one-mile strip onto which 30,000 people, mostly young foreigners, will cram themselves on busy nights. The sand fills with makeshift stalls selling buckets brimming with whiskey, cola and eye-popping local energy drinks, for just a few dollars. Beach bars blast out ear-shattering trance until the early hours. The influx of ready cash has attracted an underworld element, and narcotics, violent crime and sexual assault are rife. With the northern summer in full swing, even more young people from North America and Europe will turn up, joined by callow antipodeans escaping the southern winter. They risk anything from their dignity to their lives to fulfill a backpacker rite of passage.

(MORE: Silver Sand and the Sound of Waves: It’s 1988 and Thailand’s First Full Moon Party)

The name “full-moon party” lends a vaguely pagan air to the proceedings, but in truth the gatherings were first held at this time for purely practical reasons. In the 1980s, Koh Phangan was a rough place after dark. Packs of feral dogs roamed; so did muggers. The odd shooting was a fact of life. But the brilliant light of a full moon brought safety and a brief respite. It was “an evening of getting naked, splashing in the sea and dancing around imaginary Stonehenges,” recalls Hinshelwood. There was no electricity on Haad Rin (aging flower children cried “colonialism” when it eventually arrived). So the festivities centered on campfires and music the partygoers made themselves. All this took place in the incomparable natural setting of the Gulf of Thailand, immortalized in Alex Garland’s novel The Beach and its 2000 big-screen adaptation staring Leonardo DiCaprio. Joe Cummings, whose Lonely Planet Guide to Thailand has sold countless copies since it first appeared in 1982, visited Haad Rin in 1983 and says it was “one of the most beautiful beaches I’d ever seen.”

These days, years of debauchery have ravaged the environment. Broken glass and plastic litter the sand, and the island faces a freshwater crisis caused by the huge number of visitors. Hard drugs — ya ba (the local name for crystal meth) as well as ecstasy and heroin — have replaced the relatively benign marijuana and mushrooms of yore. Drownings are an unsurprising occurrence, given the number of wasted revelers on a beach where there are no lifeguards. A nadir was reached last year, when 22-year-old Briton Stephen Ashton was killed by a stray bullet on New Year’s Eve. Koh Phangan had become one of the circles of traveler hell.

The locals, of course, are aware that it’s time to attract a better class of customer. The Tourism Authority of Thailand is attempting to revamp the island’s image, and boutique resorts now grace the more tranquil western and northern shores. An airport is due to open in the fall, putting the island within an hour’s flight of Bangkok’s wealthy weekend crowd. Once they show up, prices on the island will rise and the ravers will ship out. “Koh Phangan’s days as a backpacker place are numbered,” says veteran travel writer Andrew Bond. But with a thousand-odd Thai islands out there, they’ve no need to cry into their buckets just yet. There’s surely some beach on Koh Kood or Koh Payam just waiting to be turned into the next dump site for discarded flip-flops and broken glass. Haad Rin has paid its dues.

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