Tarutao National Park: A Wild Escape from Prison Past to Pristine Paradise

The longtail boat lurched over another wave, spraying salt water across my sunburned face as Tarutao’s silhouette finally came into focus. Thick jungle cascaded down to pristine beaches, unmarred by the usual resort developments that plague Thailand’s more famous islands. “Almost there,” the boatman shouted over the engine’s roar, pointing toward a simple wooden pier jutting out from the shore. This wasn’t just another Thai island paradise—this was Tarutao, a former prison island turned national park, where nature had reclaimed what man had once corrupted.

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I’d spent weeks photographing the overcrowded beaches of Phuket and Koh Phi Phi, and frankly, my camera roll needed something different. Tarutao promised that difference—raw, untamed, and relatively unknown. What I didn’t realize was how much this remote outpost would challenge me, from its mosquito welcoming committee to its complete lack of amenities. But that’s getting ahead of the story.

Unpacking Tarutao’s Haunting History

The boat docked at Ao Pante Malaka, and I immediately felt the weight of history pressing down despite the tropical breeze. In the 1930s and 40s, this paradise was Thailand’s version of Alcatraz—a remote prison island where both political prisoners and hardened criminals were sent to be forgotten.

Walking through the small museum near the ranger station, I found myself transfixed by black and white photographs of emaciated prisoners. The isolation that makes Tarutao so appealing to modern escapists like me made it the perfect prison—surrounded by shark-infested waters and miles from civilization. Escape was virtually impossible.

What really grabbed my attention (and later became the subject of a moody photo series I shot at dusk) was the story of how during World War II, supply ships stopped coming. Guards and prisoners, facing starvation together, formed an unlikely alliance and turned to piracy, raiding merchant ships in the nearby Strait of Malacca. It’s hard to imagine such desperation while standing on these peaceful shores.

I spent an afternoon at the old prison ruins near Ao Talo Wao on the island’s east side. Getting there required a bumpy truck ride arranged by rangers (30 minutes, 300 baht round trip—worth every baht). The crumbling concrete foundations are all that remain, with nature slowly reclaiming the site. I set up my tripod as the afternoon light filtered through the trees, creating dramatic shadows across the ruins.

Standing there alone, I felt a chill despite the 90-degree heat. My camera clicked in the silence as I tried to capture that eerie juxtaposition—tropical beauty surrounding such human suffering. A monitor lizard darted across the path, startling me and ruining what would have been my best shot. Maybe some things aren’t meant to be captured.

It feels weird, doesn’t it? To vacation where people once suffered? I kept thinking about this as I wandered the grounds. The same isolation that tortured prisoners now attracts travelers seeking solitude. I’m still not sure how I feel about that contradiction, but I suppose preservation through tourism is better than letting history disappear altogether.

A Protected Paradise—Nature’s Redemption

Tarutao’s dark chapter ended after World War II, and in 1974, the island and surrounding archipelago became Thailand’s first marine national park. Later, UNESCO designated the area as a biosphere reserve, cementing its protected status. Thank goodness for that—the preservation efforts are why Tarutao remains so stunningly untouched today.

The morning after exploring the prison ruins, I woke before dawn, grabbed my camera gear, and hiked to a viewpoint overlooking Ao Son beach. The light was perfect—that golden hour glow photographers chase worldwide—as it illuminated dense mangrove forests meeting pristine white sand. I spent an hour just shooting the interplay of light on water, switching between my wide-angle for landscapes and my 70-200mm to capture a family of crab-eating macaques playing at the forest edge.

Photographing Tarutao presents unique challenges. The extreme contrast between dark jungle and bright beaches can blow out your highlights if you’re not careful. I found myself constantly bracketing exposures and using graduated ND filters to balance the scenes. Pro tip: bring a polarizing filter—it cuts the glare on water and makes those turquoise colors pop dramatically.

The wildlife here is remarkable and relatively unafraid of humans. During my four-day stay, I spotted hornbills, dusky langurs, monitor lizards, and countless tropical birds whose names I’ll never know. One morning, I even glimpsed a mouse deer—a tiny, delicate creature that looks like something Disney might have designed—darting across a trail.

Look, I’ve seen plenty of pretty beaches before (occupational hazard of being a travel photographer), but Tarutao’s untouched vibe made me feel like I’d stumbled into a secret. No beach bars. No massage huts. No trinket sellers. Just nature doing its thing, beautifully and unapologetically.

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That said, this pristine quality comes with trade-offs. There’s no nightlife unless you count watching hermit crabs by flashlight. No air conditioning to escape the heat. No fancy restaurants when you tire of simple Thai dishes. I met a French couple who left after just one night—they hadn’t done their research and expected something more like Koh Samui. Their disappointment was my gain; I inherited their abandoned mosquito coils.

Getting There and Getting Around—Not as Easy as It Looks

Let me save you some headaches by explaining exactly how to reach this hidden gem, because—trust me—it’s not intuitive, and online information is spotty at best.

My journey started with a flight to Hat Yai from Bangkok (about 90 minutes). You could also bus it, but that’s a solid 12-hour commitment I wasn’t willing to make. From Hat Yai airport, I arranged a minivan to Pak Bara Pier through a tourist booth at the airport (400 baht). The ride took about 2 hours on some questionably maintained roads—I’ve got the blurry photos to prove it.

At Pak Bara, you’ve got options: the slow ferry (350 baht, 1.5 hours) or speedboat (700 baht, 30 minutes). I opted for the speedboat because I wanted to maximize my time on the island, but in retrospect, the ferry might have been better for photography—more time to shoot the approaching island and more stability for my camera.

Important note: these boats don’t run during monsoon season (roughly May to October). I visited in November, just after the park reopened, which meant fewer people but occasional rain showers that created challenging lighting conditions for photography.

Once you’re on Tarutao, transportation options are… limited. There are no taxis, no rental cars, no motorbike rentals—just your feet, bicycles you can rent from the visitor center (100 baht/day), or occasional songthaew truck services run by the park rangers for longer journeys.

I rented a mountain bike my second day to explore the western coast trails, which was simultaneously wonderful and terrible. Wonderful because I could stop anywhere to set up my tripod when the light looked good. Terrible because some hills were so steep I ended up walking the bike while sweating profusely and swatting mosquitoes.

One afternoon, I got completely turned around on a trail near Ao Molae. My phone had no signal (download offline maps before you go!), and the trail markers were, um, creative in their placement. What should have been a 40-minute ride turned into a two-hour adventure featuring a brief rainstorm and an uncomfortably close encounter with a large monitor lizard. I got some great shots of rain drops on palm fronds, though, so… worth it?

Oh, and I’m still not sure if I overpaid for the boat trip back to the mainland. The ranger who arranged it quoted 800 baht, but the boat captain charged me 1,000 when I boarded. Maybe there was a miscommunication, maybe I got the foreigner price—either way, I was in no position to negotiate while standing on a pier with all my gear and no alternatives.

What to Do in Tarutao—Beyond Just Soaking Up the Sun

Beach Bumming and Snorkeling at Ao Pante Malaka

The main beach near the park headquarters quickly became my morning ritual spot. I’d wake at sunrise, grab my camera, and head to the beach while the light was soft and golden. The sand here is powdery white, and the water gradient shifts from clear to turquoise to deep blue as it extends outward—a photographer’s dream for long exposure seascapes.

Snorkeling here is decent but not spectacular. The visibility was about 5-7 meters when I visited, with some colorful parrotfish and small reef sections. Bring your own gear if possible—the rental options at the visitor center are limited and pricey (200 baht for a basic mask and snorkel that looked like they’d seen better decades).

My best shots came from getting in the water around 9 AM when the sun was high enough to penetrate the water but not so high that it created harsh reflections. A simple underwater housing for my smartphone (about $30 on Amazon before the trip) proved invaluable for split-level shots showing both above and below the waterline.

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Hiking to Toe Boo Cliff

This was simultaneously the highlight and lowlight of my trip. The 2-kilometer trail to Toe Boo Cliff starts innocently enough near the park headquarters, with a well-marked path through coastal forest. About halfway up, though, the “trail” becomes more theoretical than actual.

I set out after an early morning rain shower (mistake number one) carrying my full camera backpack (mistake number two). The humidity was approximately that of a steam room, and the rocks were slippery enough that I nearly went down hard at least three times. My Nikon dangled precariously from my neck as I scrambled up using both hands.

The trail markings aren’t always clear—at one junction, I followed what I thought was the path only to end up at a small stream crossing with no obvious continuation. After backtracking and some creative bushwhacking, I found the actual route.

But—and this is a massive but—the view from the top was absolutely worth every mosquito bite, scraped knee, and sweat-soaked shirt. The panorama stretches across the entire western coastline, with islands dotting the horizon and beaches curving below like white ribbons against the green jungle. I spent an hour at the summit just shooting different compositions as clouds moved across the landscape, creating shifting patterns of light and shadow.

Photography tip: A circular polarizer is essential here to cut through haze and make the ocean colors pop. I bracketed most shots (3-5 exposures) to handle the extreme dynamic range between bright sky and darker foreground vegetation.

Kayaking the Mangroves

On my third day, with my leg muscles still protesting from the cliff hike, I opted for a gentler adventure and rented a kayak (300 baht for half-day) to explore the mangrove forests on the eastern side.

This turned out to be perfect for wildlife photography. The quiet approach of a kayak doesn’t startle animals like a noisy longtail boat would. I drifted silently through narrow channels, spotting kingfishers, mudskippers, and even a mangrove snake coiled on a low branch (that one got a very long lens treatment—I kept my distance).

The light filtering through the mangrove canopy created challenging exposure situations. I found myself constantly adjusting settings as I moved between shadow and dappled light. In post-processing, I had to recover quite a bit of shadow detail from the RAW files. Next time, I’d bring a small reflector to bounce light into the darker areas when shooting close-up details.

One warning: timing is everything with kayaking here. I made the mistake of returning as the tide was going out and ended up having to drag my kayak through ankle-deep mud for the last 200 meters. My water shoes may never recover, and neither will my dignity.

Surviving Tarutao—Tips for the Unprepared Traveler Like Me

Let me be crystal clear: Tarutao is not for everyone. If your idea of island paradise includes swim-up bars and room service, you should probably head to Koh Samui instead. But if you’re willing to trade comfort for authenticity (and amazing photo opportunities), here’s what you need to know:

The accommodations are basic at best. You have two options: bungalows (600-1,000 baht depending on size and location) or camping (200 baht for tent rental plus 30 baht camping fee). I split my time between both to get different experiences and photo perspectives.

The bungalows have fans but no air conditioning, simple beds with mosquito nets, and cold-water showers. Electricity runs from 6 PM to 6 AM only, so charging camera batteries requires planning. I brought a power bank that saved me multiple times when my camera battery indicator started blinking red during daytime shoots.

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If you’re camping, position your tent carefully. I initially set up in what seemed like a perfect spot, only to discover during a midnight bathroom run that I was in the middle of a crab superhighway. The constant scuttling against the tent fabric created some, uh, interesting dreams.

Food options are limited to the park restaurant near headquarters and small canteens at some of the other beaches. The food is decent Thai basics—fried rice, pad thai, curries—but the menu doesn’t change, so prepare for repetition. Prices are reasonable (60-120 baht per dish) considering they have to boat in all supplies.

Bring these essentials or regret it deeply:
– Bug spray with DEET (the mosquitoes here seem to consider the natural stuff a condiment)
– Sunscreen (the sun is intense, and you’ll be outside constantly)
– Hat and sunglasses (especially important for photographers to reduce glare when composing shots)
– First aid kit (the nearest hospital is hours away)
– Cash (there’s no ATM, and nobody’s interested in your platinum card)
– Snacks (when the canteen closes, that’s it for food options)
– External battery packs (for charging camera gear during the day)
– Refillable water bottle (the park has filtered water stations)

I didn’t mind roughing it—actually, I found it refreshing to disconnect from the usual tourist infrastructure. But I’ll admit that by night four, I was dreaming of a proper mattress and air conditioning. My back has some strong opinions about those bungalow beds that I won’t share in polite company.

Why Tarutao Stole My Heart (Even If It Wasn’t Perfect)

On my last evening, I set up my tripod on Ao Pante Malaka beach as the sun began its descent. The tide was out, creating perfect reflections on the wet sand. I experimented with long exposures as the light faded, capturing the movement of clouds and the gentle wash of waves. A few park rangers gathered nearby, cooking fish over a small fire, and invited me to join them.

My Thai is limited to ordering food and basic pleasantries, but somehow we managed a conversation through gestures, broken English, and the universal language of sharing photos on my camera’s LCD screen. They told me (I think) about how few photographers visit compared to the more famous islands, and seemed genuinely pleased that I was capturing their home.

That moment encapsulated why Tarutao had worked its way into my heart despite the challenges. In a country where tourism often feels like an industrial process, Tarutao offers something increasingly rare: authenticity. No one’s trying to sell you anything. No one’s performing for tourists. It’s just nature, history, and simplicity.

I think what makes Tarutao special is precisely what makes it difficult—its commitment to preservation over development. The park service has resisted the easy money that would come from allowing resorts and infrastructure. Instead, they’ve maintained this delicate balance between accessibility and protection.

It’s a shame more people don’t know about Tarutao, but also… it’s not. The limited facilities naturally cap visitor numbers, protecting the very qualities that make it special. If everyone who goes to Phi Phi came here instead, it wouldn’t be Tarutao anymore.

That said, I sometimes wished for just one decent coffee shop. After four days of instant coffee from the canteen, I would have traded my favorite lens for a proper cappuccino. Well, maybe not my favorite lens. But definitely my backup battery.

If you’re up for an adventure that’s equal parts stunning and challenging, Tarutao is waiting. Just bring bug spray. Seriously. All the bug spray you can carry.

And as I packed up my tripod, watching the last light fade from the sky and reveal stars you never see in Bangkok’s light pollution, I knew I’d be back—next time with more mosquito coils, a better sleeping pad, and the same sense of wonder for this island that transformed from a place of punishment to a paradise worth protecting.

About the author: Jack is a passionate content creator with years of experience. Follow for more quality content and insights.