Koh Lanta Hotels in

Today, the Pimalai Resort and Spa is Koh Lanta's sanctuary, the keeper of the island's charm, but unlike our fifty baht hut with lumpy bed and flimsy mosquito netting, it embodies luxury and romance.

Fifty baht. Two dollars US at the time. That's what I paid a night the last time I visited Koh Lanta. That was just nine years ago, when this island in southern Krabi Province was new on the lips of the backpackers we met along the way. I recall sending a postcard to a fellow Peace Corps volunteer who was stationed here, in the national park, asking her for advice as to where we should stay and what we should see. She replied with a terse note telling me to stay away. She had seen what they were doing to Phi Phi. Her job, after all, was to conserve the island. Chastened but not deterred, we went anyway. What was she so worried about? There were only a handful of bungalow operations. Our resort, The Sanctuary, shared a long beach with but two other little clusters of bamboo and thatch huts. A small river emptied into the sea, cutting the beach in half, providing photo opportunities of local fishing boats tied up beneath the shelter of casuarinas. The Phi Phi Islands dominated our view. They appeared a mere half day's sail away, out by where the sun set in the evening.

Most importantly, Pimalai Resort and Spa on Koh Lanta was designed to assimilate into its natural environs. It is one of the few hotels in Thailand that will most likely meet a first-time visitor's expectations of Andaman paradise. In fact its slogan reads, "Discover Nature Discover Yourself." The gardens and trees are as much a part of the rooms as the pillows and teakwood parquet floors. Some guests have suggested that more trees be cut, branches and leaves removed from view, but GM Frank de Lestapis says they are missing the point. The focus of Pimalai is nature; even the beach must take a back seat to the tiny birds darting about, the lizard puffing out its neck in a bizarre orange triangle, the cashew nut trees, the frangipani. What was once a rubber plantation has been transformed in three quick years into a botanical garden with a resort inside it.

While it seems counter-intuitive to believe that a luxury resort would exact less environmental damage than do small bungalow operations, consider that Pimalai recycles its waste water and garbage, keeps the 900 metres of beach immaculate and preserves much of the surrounding area as a natural buffer, an insurance policy against creeping growth. Next, bear in mind that most bungalow operations have neighbours. Owners buy a small bit of land and fill it with huts and the folks next door do the same until they all run together in a motley patchwork of hot dank rooms with sewage problems.

Lanta is no longer the secret passed from table to table. Rather, it has become the destination you read about in an airline magazine, written up in the "Getting Away From It All" column. The pioneering backpackers have moved on to someplace new, the mainstream foreigner scene has moved in. Koh Lanta is something of the Koh Pangan of the Andaman, teeming with bungalows, internet cafes boasting "high speed" satellite linkage, "chill out" bars, tattooed Thai Rastafarians and parties timed to the phases of the moon. Beads, tie-dyes, fire sticks, silver jewellery. Visiting international DJ's, acid jazz and trip hop, drums and bass and of course, the ghosts of Bob Marley.

Don't get me wrong. Lanta is in by no means in the latter stages of development. It is probably the most remote island that visitors will venture to in Thailand. There is only one big town and it's the size of one neighbourhood in Phuket. The only road is barely sealed. Sadly, however, Lanta is serviced by an automobile ferry. Dust rises in the passing of every car, creating clouds that settle along the roadsides, dulling the vegetation's green. The quilt of bungalows and their attendant services line the coast unbroken for miles. Yet this is only a tiny fraction of the island's whole. Acres upon acres of untamed jungle, much of which lies within the boundaries of the national park, twist and climb over some of the largest mountains in Thailand's Andaman Sea. At altitude, the panoramic vistas include most of the islands of Krabi and Trang, limestone karst topography that evokes scenes of Taoist China, of Guilan. Absent from all vantage points are jet skis, parasailors, and go-go bars.

As you drive south along the coast, longer tracts of jungle intersperse roadside attractions. The farther south you drive, the farther back you go in time, until you approach those early days, when the first hairy people lugged their aluminum frames carrying their lives, bound in rugged nylon, to Lanta's sands and forests. This is about where you come to Pimalai.

Of course, most guests don't have to endure the road at all. They fly into Krabi, where staff meet them and whisk them to a private ferry that docks on a floating pier just off the beach. Guests are free to rent motorbikes or Suzuki jeeps and visit all the backpacker haunts; they are equally free to stay put in the illusion that there is no island beyond this cove. It is that isolated, that quiet. Because of the trees and the remote location, you will hear no traffic at all.

Like that first sanctuary that I stayed at oh-so-long-ago, Pimalai shares its beach with just two small bungalow outfits. A limestone island, Koh Haa, is the focal point of the view down here, similar in majesty to the Phi Phi group. Sunset on the horizon beside its silhouetted cliffs is the perfect postcard. Unlike that first beach, Pimalai garners the natural protection of rocky headlands on either end of its powdery shore. It also owns 75% of the land on its hillside and cove. It will not go the way of that doomed little fifty-baht-a-night enterprise.

Architecturally, Pimalai blends elements of southern Thai and Balinese design. Natural logs fastened and roped together form shelters at the beach restaurant, Rak Talay, from which the lower part of the resort resembles a fortress, built of stone walls and raw logs. Large thatched roofs shelter both the children's and the jaccuzzi sections of the freeform infinite-edged swimming pool, which is fed by a steeply-terraced waterfall and fountains in the shape of feminine "orchid blossoms". Bright red poinsettia bushes provide rich contrast to the greens and earth tones. Large trees in prominent positions give the scene the feel of a sparkling forest spring. In the evenings, the cicadas sing their hearts out to drive the point home.

Pimalai is a popular honeymoon destination because of its seclusion. The beach villas, with private pools, take the concept of privacy to the next level, offering exclusive worlds of intimacy within an over-arching atmosphere of peacefulness. Yoga in the mornings, spa treatments any time the mood strikes, the Andaman's crystal blue persuasion. Everywhere the scents of flowers, the sounds of running water, the rhythms of waves. On our first evening, a couple got married in a Thai Buddhist ceremony right on the beach. The staircase was lined with bouquets of orchids and gates cut from banana trees, with small shelves to hold candles. On the sand, potted poinsettias and a pathway of white pebbles and orchid blossoms. Coconut fronds had been cut and tied into arches leading to an altar room of four stout logs, a thatched roof, and gauzy mosquito netting curtains. Off to the side, the couple, barefoot, the groom in linen khaki, the bride in cream-coloured silk, knelt before five monks who led them through the Buddhist precepts and wedding vows. When the abbot finished speaking, he painted white dots on their foreheads, proclaiming "You are no longer free. You are now bonded with love, tenderness and caring." The couple rose, proceeded through the archways to the altar chamber, where they sat and received garlands of jasmine, love flowers, roses and orchids. Finally, the staff and interested guests blessed them by pouring water from gilded seashells over their extended hands. You simply cannot get much more romantic than that.

Pimalai captures all the elements of paradise without the bleating horns of tuk-tuk taxis or the come-ons of tailors clinging to your arms in vain attempts to sell you a poor-fitting suit. It's also a great resort for active folks. If you can tear yourself away from the pool and the beach chairs, Pimalai's SCUBA team can zip you out to some of the best dive sites in Asia, at Hin Daeng and Hin Muang. Daily boat trips ferry guests to the Emerald Cave or to snorkel through coral gardens in the Rok Islands. Windsurfers, a small sailboat and sea canoes are all available for guests. On the island itself, the national park offers plenty of activities including hiking, mountain biking and elephant trekking.

Pimalai is the ideal getaway for backpackers who have grown up, or for anyone who fancies nature's sanctuary, especially for couples who look no further than each other for entertainment and nightlife or travellers who refuse to settle for any destination that allows tour buses. This is the ideal location for people who long for exotic retreats with gorgeous beaches and wild jungles, but who have tired of hardship travel or avoid it entirely.