East Coast to West Coast

Having a blender, the urge to blitz everything into a smooth purée is almost irresistible. However, I managed to curb this particular instinct this morning, and we enjoyed whole fruit pieces for breakfast, which we actually had to chew. Such a chore.

After an eye-wateringly expensive taxi to the other side of the island, we arrived at Khlong Dao. This is the first of the beaches that line the west coast of the island as one arrives from the ferry terminal at Bin Saladin (which sounds like a magical incantation), and hence it is the most developed.

Khlong Dao. Frightening

Fortunately, the main coastal road from Bin Saladin is set back from the shoreline. This, plus the fact that building regulations restrict the height of the hotels along the front, mean that the beaches are unspoiled stretches of sand. But they are still just sand. And hot sand at that. I only have a limited capacity for lying on the beach and quickly tire of sand blowing into my face, filling my nose and ears with its gritty presence, while I'm trying to read a book. There was limited shade when we arrived on the beach, which quickly scurried up and off the sand entirely as the sun passed its zenith.

However, the sea is another matter. The water on this side of the island is clear, blue, and calm. Above all, it is warm - about the temperature of a cool bath. The view out to Ko Phi Phi is sublime. All this makes it very inviting for a swim or just to sit in the shallows on a rock, taking care not to cut oneself on the sharp barnacles (I was not so careful).

Along the beach front are small bamboo restaurants, offering freshly prepared classic Thai dishes. Taking lunch at Koala Bar, K ordered her soon-to-be-favourite papaya salad (som tam, ส้มตำ), while I had my go-to veggie staple of pad thai (ผัดไทย). Both Thai standards and both exquisitely prepared. The noodles came thoughtfully with additional peanuts and chilli to mix in according to taste. I loaded the whole lot on and left with lips tingling and belly full.

Despite a full belly, a quick dip in the sea led to greater hunger rather than the indigestion I had anticipated. This time my sweet tooth cried out for the mango sticky rice we had seen on Rann restaurant's menu.

Another quintessential Thai dish, khao niaow ma muang (ข้าวเหนียวมะม่วง) combines sticky rice cooked in coconut milk and fresh sliced ripe mango. Sticky rice is short-grain rice and is also known as glutinous rice, although that name makes it sound less appetising - an effect similar to using the word 'pulchritudinous' to describe someone possessing great beauty. If ever there were an example needed for the opposite of an onomatopoeic word, this would be a candidate.

Sunset at Khlong Dao

Approaching sunset, we grabbed a cold beer and stood in the warm waves. Ironically, this scene was rather more comedic than romantic, as I entertained tedious concerns about the safety of our bags on the beach, and then attempted to open the bottles on a rock, having not brought an opener. Nevertheless, our concerns melted away as did the sun in the fire-orange sky.

In the dusk, we made our way farther along the beach, which had lit up with various lanterns while our back had been turned. When we reached a restaurant with green lanterns, we knew we had reached our destination. At Time for Lime, the resident vegetarian owner serves up food with a conscience, as the profits are ploughed into the animal welfare centre she set up on the island.

As the name suggests, lime is a key component in their offering, and the food and drink (an excellent mojito) we tried were sour with the little green fruit. The restaurant specialises in a six-course tasting menu (vegetarian or otherwise), which changes each day.

Sat on a mezzanine, the atmosphere was cozy, the air filled with the clanking of woks and pungent with the smell of chilli being fried. Both sound and smell were the result of the cooking class being run downstairs, which sounded like enormous fun.

Pad thai at Time for Lime

Our menu naturally involved a taster of the classics we had sampled at lunchtime: som tam and pad thai. Alongside these were the house signature soup - a combination of pumpkin, coconut and lime - and a savoury slice of sweet potato atop jasmine rice that was doing a fair impression of being a salmon steak.

The meal was punctuated by a decadently rich and unctuous chocolate mousse so thick that it was essentially a ganache.

We sped our way back in the dark mounted in the side-car of a tuk-tuk, which affords one a level of interaction with the driver not possible in the carriage style, even if that is just grinning at one another as the vehicle hurtles over bumps and round corners.

I suspect the party was just starting on the beaches of the west coast, while sleepy Old Town was ready for bed. However, returning to the sound of waves crashing under the house, I realised this was the place I wanted to be on Ko Lanta.