- December 5th, 2025
- Koh Lipe, Thailand
- ARCH TRAVEL
Koh Lipe - Tropical Paradise
For years my friends wouldn’t shut up about Koh Lipe.
“Most beautiful water in Thailand,” they said. “Still quiet, no cars, door opens straight onto the beach…”
I smiled, nodded, and kept postponing it like everything else that sounded too good to be true.Then one rainy Thursday in Bangkok, July 2024, I snapped.
I booked the earliest flight to Hat Yai, jumped in a minivan to Pak Bara, caught the half-empty low-season speedboat, and ninety minutes later the island appeared through a curtain of rain.
I understood immediately why they all sounded slightly insane when they talked about it.
It wasn’t picture-perfect every day—some mornings were cloudy, and short rains would pass through suddenly—but it made the island feel even more peaceful, almost secret.
There were fewer tourists than peak season, more empty stretches of beach, and long quiet evenings where the loudest sound was the wind pushing waves to shore.
And somehow, that made the island feel more honest—less curated, more alive.
Despite its size, Koh Lipe has a surprising number of small boutique hotels, beachfront bungalows, and laid-back bars, especially around Pattaya Beach and Walking Street.
Many businesses had shorter hours in July, and some restaurants closed early because of the weather—
but the upside was more space, more quiet, and more locals willing to stop and chat.
If you come expecting luxury resorts and infinity pools, Koh Lipe isn’t that kind of island.
It’s barefoot living, ocean at your doorstep, salt in your hair, and sunsets that look unreal.
The First Morning I Forgot My Own Name
I woke up at 7:23 a.m., pushed the door, and the Andaman was already bright turquoise, flat as glass. A single longtail boat drifted in the distance like someone had parked a postcard. I stood there in the clothes I’d slept in until the sun climbed high enough to make me squint.
I still haven’t unpacked that feeling.
Saltwater Days
I snorkeled almost every day.
Even in July, visibility was surprisingly good—schools of tiny tropical fish, flashes of yellow and electric blue, coral swaying with the current.
Diving felt like entering a quieter universe, where sound disappears, and all that’s left is breath and movement.
I remember rising to the surface and feeling like I had just returned from somewhere else entirely.
Koh Lipe isn’t dramatic like the Maldives—it’s smaller, simpler, quieter.
But it makes you feel like nature is very close, very real, very present.
Nights That Stay With You
At sunset—the kind that makes you hold your breath, afraid to disturb it—I take a towel and an ice-cold coconut and walk along the narrow sandy path to Sunset Beach on Koh Lipe, and I stay there until the sky turns completely dark.
The evening glow here is so beautiful that it makes you question your own eyes, and the night sky is even more breathtaking. With no light pollution, the stars pile up layer after layer. Sometimes a longtail boat returning from the sea breaks the silence for a moment, accompanied by the sound of gentle waves slipping onto the shore.
It feels like a small night song that belongs only to Koh Lipe.
Leaving Was a Mistake
When the longtail finally pulled away and the island shrank to a green smudge, I did the most undignified thing: I turned to the stranger next to me and said, “I think I just left half of myself back there.”I’m writing this from a city where the sky is the color of wet concrete.
My feet are still sandy. My phone background is still that photo of the open villa door and the empty sea.
And I already have the return ticket.Koh Lipe didn’t feel like a vacation.
It felt like remembering something I’d forgotten I knew.If you ever need to find me, I’ll be the one on Sunrise Beach who can’t stop smiling at nothing, waiting for the crabs to finish their evening parade, trying to make one more week last forever.See you when you get here,