James Bond Island: How a Movie Set Became a Tourist Magnet Thanks to ‘The Man with the Golden Gun’
The morning light was still gentle when our longtail boat pushed away from the Phuket pier. I fumbled with my camera settings, trying to capture the perfect shot of the horizon while simultaneously making sure my gear wouldn’t get splashed. Little did I know that my photography challenges were just beginning—and that James Bond Island would prove to be both a photographer’s dream and nightmare all at once.
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The Bond Connection That Started It All
I first encountered James Bond Island the way most people my age did—not through travel magazines or Instagram, but through my dad’s worn-out VHS collection. I must have been around 12 when we watched The Man with the Golden Gun during one of our weekend movie marathons. While most of the plot details escaped my young mind (something about a solar energy device and a ridiculous third nipple on the villain?), those towering limestone karsts rising dramatically from emerald waters burned themselves into my memory.
“That can’t be real,” I remember telling my dad.
“Oh, but it is,” he’d replied, “somewhere in Thailand.”
Fast forward two decades, and here I was, heading toward that very spot—Ko Khao Phing Kan, with its famous 20-meter tall islet Ko Tapu (literally meaning “nail” or “spike” in Thai). This needle-like rock formation served as the backdrop for villain Francisco Scaramanga’s lair in the 1974 Bond film. The movie scene culminates in a duel between Roger Moore’s Bond and Christopher Lee’s Scaramanga around these dramatic rocks—though honestly, I had to Google who won before my trip (it was Bond, obviously… it’s always Bond).
What fascinates me most isn’t just the island’s natural beauty, but how a single film transformed an obscure limestone formation in Phang Nga Bay into one of Thailand’s most recognizable landmarks. Before 1974, these islands were just another stunning but anonymous part of Thailand’s coastline. After Bond’s visit, they became a symbol of exotic adventure that tourists from around the world scrambled to see with their own eyes.
The power of cinema, right? One movie, less than two hours long, forever changing the destiny of a remote Thai island. As a photographer, I find something both magical and slightly troubling about this transformation—which would become increasingly apparent as our boat approached the famous site.
Getting There—Navigating to a Cinematic Legend
Starting from Phuket or Krabi
Most visitors reach James Bond Island from either Phuket or Krabi, with Phuket being the more popular launching point. From Phuket, it’s roughly a 30-kilometer journey to Phang Nga Bay, which typically takes about an hour by speedboat or 1.5-2 hours via the more atmospheric longtail boat. I opted for the latter, partly because I wanted those classic shots of the boat’s colorful prow framing the limestone karsts, and partly because… well, when in Thailand, right?
You’ve got basically three options for visiting:
- Join a large group tour (the cheapest option at around 1,200-1,500 baht)
- Book a private longtail boat or speedboat (more expensive but offers flexibility)
- Sign up for a premium tour with fewer people (what I eventually chose)
After reading mixed reviews about the crowds, I splurged on a small-group tour with “Amazing Phang Nga Bay Tours” (not sure if I’m allowed to mention specific companies, but whatever—they weren’t sponsoring me). It cost about 2,500 baht (roughly $70 USD), which initially made my budget-conscious heart wince. In retrospect, though, I’m glad I paid extra for the smaller boat and earlier departure time.
Wait—I should mention something important. If you’re prone to seasickness like I unfortunately discovered I am, take medication BEFORE you leave. The waters can get choppy, especially during the rainy season (May-October), and nothing ruins a photography expedition faster than hanging over the side of a boat for reasons that have nothing to do with getting the perfect shot.
What to Expect on the Journey
The boat ride through Phang Nga Bay is honestly half the experience. As you leave the pier, the scenery transforms gradually from mundane coastal views to increasingly dramatic limestone formations jutting out of the water like nature’s skyscrapers. I found myself taking more photos during the journey than at the actual destination.
Our guide, a local named Chai with an impressive command of five languages and an even more impressive collection of dad jokes, pointed out various formations along the way. “That one looks like elephant,” he’d say, pointing to what absolutely did not resemble an elephant in any way. But we all nodded enthusiastically anyway.
The bay itself is a maze of over 40 islands and islets, with mangrove forests fringing many of them. I noticed fishermen working in tiny boats among the mangroves, seemingly unbothered by the tourism happening just a short distance away. This contrast between traditional life and tourist activities is something I kept noticing throughout the trip.
One thing I wish I’d known before booking: December through February is peak tourist season, not just for better weather but because that’s when Chinese New Year and the European winter escape crowd converges on Thailand. I visited in late January—rookie mistake. If I were doing it again, I’d aim for November or March for slightly fewer crowds but still decent weather.
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Our boat captain navigated with the casual confidence of someone who’s made this journey thousands of times, occasionally taking shortcuts through narrow passages between karsts that made me clutch my camera bag a little tighter. The limestone walls would come so close I could almost touch them, their surfaces a tapestry of erosion patterns, stubborn vegetation, and the occasional sleeping bat.
“How much farther?” a sunburned German tourist asked about an hour into our journey.
“Not far now,” Chai replied with a smile that suggested he gives this answer regardless of the actual remaining distance.
Fifteen minutes later, the distinctive silhouette of Ko Tapu appeared on the horizon, and a collective murmur of recognition spread through our small group. Even from a distance, there was no mistaking that peculiar nail-shaped rock.
What You’ll See (And Why It’s Not Just About Bond)
As we approached James Bond Island, I realized something that travel blogs don’t emphasize enough: Ko Tapu (the famous “nail” rock) is actually quite small compared to how it appears in photographs. Standing approximately 20 meters tall, it’s impressive not for its size but for its improbable shape—a narrow limestone tower balancing on a seemingly too-small base, looking as though a strong gust of wind might topple it into the sea.
The main island where visitors disembark, Ko Khao Phing Kan (literally “hills leaning against each other”), offers several vantage points for photographing Ko Tapu. I immediately made a beeline for the small beach on the eastern side, hoping to get that classic shot before too many other boats arrived. The morning light was hitting Ko Tapu perfectly, creating that postcard image I’d seen countless times.
What surprised me was how the actual island feels more like a strange, collapsed cave than a typical beach destination. Massive limestone walls create a sheltered lagoon, with overhangs and internal chambers that speak to the island’s geological history. You can see why a Bond villain would choose this as a lair—it has natural drama written all over it.
“Please, no swimming,” Chai reminded everyone as a few visitors eyed the inviting emerald water. “And no, you cannot go onto Ko Tapu itself.”
This last point disappoints many visitors, but it’s a necessary protection measure. The iconic rock is now off-limits to preserve it from erosion and damage. You can only admire it from a distance—which, honestly, is probably for the best given how precariously balanced it appears.
Beyond the main attraction, the island offers short walking paths through strange rock formations. I followed one that led uphill to a viewpoint overlooking both Ko Tapu and the surrounding bay. Standing there, watching the parade of longtail boats arriving below, I felt strangely small against the towering karsts and ancient sea—a humbling moment that made me forget about Bond entirely.
It’s in these quiet moments, away from the selfie sticks and tour guides, that you connect with what makes this place truly special: not its cinematic fame, but the sheer improbability of its geology. These karsts formed over millions of years as ocean waters dissolved the limestone, creating these otherworldly shapes that seem to defy gravity itself.
Wait, I just remembered something important—if you’re serious about photography here, bring a polarizing filter. The glare off the water can wash out the vibrant greens and blues that make these images pop. I forgot mine and spent half my time trying to find angles that minimized reflection. Amateur hour, I know.
The Tourist Boom—Fame’s Double-Edged Sword
By 10 AM, my peaceful morning reverie had evaporated faster than the dew on my camera lens. What started as a trickle of visitors had become a flood. Longtail boats and speedboats arrived in quick succession, each disgorging 20-30 people onto the small island. The quiet click of my camera shutter was now drowned out by tour guides with megaphones, excited chatter in a dozen languages, and the occasional movie quote shouted for Instagram videos.
“I am Scaramanga, the man with the golden gun!” yelled one tourist, striking a pose that would have made Christopher Lee cringe.
I found myself retreating further up the path, seeking pockets of solitude that were increasingly hard to find. The transformation was jarring—from serene natural wonder to open-air movie theme park in the span of an hour.
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“Before the movie, maybe ten people visit here each day,” Chai told me when I asked about the island’s history. “Now? High season, maybe two thousand people. Every day.”
The numbers are staggering when you consider the island’s small size. During peak season, hundreds of boats make the journey daily, bringing visitors who stay for an average of just 30-45 minutes—barely enough time to snap the obligatory photos and buy a souvenir before being hurried back to the boats.
Speaking of souvenirs, the island now hosts a small village of vendors selling everything from shell necklaces to miniature Ko Tapu sculptures and, of course, James Bond memorabilia. Most items are mass-produced rather than local crafts, though I did find one older woman selling intricate woven bracelets that seemed genuinely handmade.
“You like? Special price for you,” she said, a phrase I’d hear repeated dozens of times throughout my Thailand trip.
I bought a bracelet, less because I needed it and more because she wasn’t shouting or aggressively pursuing customers like some of the other vendors. The economic impact of tourism here is undeniable—these vendors, the boat operators, tour guides, and countless others now depend on Bond fans and Instagram travelers for their livelihood.
But the environmental impact is equally undeniable. Despite trash cans positioned throughout the island, bits of litter collected in crevices between rocks. The constant boat traffic has affected water quality, and the erosion from thousands of feet has required pathways to be reinforced and restricted.
Conservation efforts exist but seem overwhelmed by the sheer volume of visitors. Signs asking people to respect the environment stand beside tourists leaving water bottles behind. It’s the familiar conflict of tourism in beautiful places—the very popularity that brings economic benefits also threatens the natural beauty that attracted visitors in the first place.
I loved the dramatic scenery, truly I did—but standing in a queue to take a photo of Ko Tapu without other tourists in the frame wasn’t exactly the James Bond experience I’d imagined. Part of me wondered if I should have just watched the movie again instead.
But then the sun broke through some clouds, illuminating Ko Tapu in a way that made me forget the crowds momentarily. I adjusted my camera settings, waited for a brief gap between selfie-takers, and captured what became my favorite shot of the day—not because it was perfect, but because it represented the reality of this place: extraordinary natural beauty existing in tension with its own fame.
Tips for Making the Most of Your Visit (Even with the Crowds)
After my visit, I spent an evening in my Phuket hotel reviewing my photos and reflecting on what I could have done differently. Here’s what I wish someone had told me before my trip:
Timing is everything. The early bird really does get the worm here—or at least, fewer photobombers. Most large tour groups arrive between 10 AM and 2 PM. If you can get on a tour that leaves by 7-8 AM, you’ll beat the worst crowds. Alternatively, some operators offer “sunset” tours that arrive later in the afternoon after many have left. I chose the morning option and don’t regret it, despite having to drag myself out of bed at an ungodly hour.
Consider the weather and season. November through April offers the best weather, but December-February brings peak crowds. I’d recommend November or April for the sweet spot of good weather and slightly fewer tourists. The rainy season (May-October) means fewer people but carries the risk of choppy seas and canceled tours. A photographer friend who visited in September said she got some dramatically moody shots with storm clouds, but also spent three days waiting for a break in the weather.
Go beyond the island. The best tours include James Bond Island as just one stop among many in Phang Nga Bay. Our tour also took us kayaking through sea caves and to the floating Muslim village of Koh Panyee—both of which I actually enjoyed more than the main attraction. The limestone cave kayaking was particularly magical, with bioluminescent plankton visible in some of the darker caves.
Bring the right gear. Beyond the usual sunscreen and hat (seriously, the Thai sun is merciless), I’d recommend:
– A zoom lens if you’re into photography (I used my 24-105mm the most)
– A dry bag for electronics (our boat didn’t get very wet, but better safe than sorry)
– Cash for the national park entrance fee (currently 300 baht for foreigners) and any souvenirs
– Water shoes if you plan to explore the beach areas (some parts are rocky and sharp)
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Manage your expectations. This is perhaps the most important tip. If you’re expecting a deserted island where you can recreate Bond scenes in solitude, you’ll be disappointed. If you approach it as one interesting stop on a beautiful bay tour, with some cool movie history attached, you’ll likely enjoy yourself more.
I’m terrible at managing my own expectations, so of course I initially felt that twinge of disappointment when seeing the crowds. But once I adjusted my mindset and focused on the unique geology rather than the movie connection, I found myself genuinely appreciating the place for what it was.
Oh, and one last thing—don’t waste your money on the overpriced coconut ice cream sold on the island. It’s literally twice the price of identical ice cream on the mainland, and not particularly refreshing when you’re already sweating from the humidity. Learn from my mistakes, people.
Is James Bond Island Worth the Hype?
This is the question I’ve been asked most since returning home, and honestly, I still find myself wavering between yes and no.
From a pure photography perspective, the island delivers. Those limestone karsts against emerald water create images that practically take themselves. My Instagram post of Ko Tapu garnered more likes than anything else from my two-week Thailand trip. There’s undeniable visual power to the place.
From an experience perspective, however, the answer gets murkier. The crowds significantly detract from what could otherwise be a tranquil natural wonder. The commercialization feels at odds with the raw beauty of Phang Nga Bay. And the brief time you actually spend on the island hardly justifies the hours of travel to get there.
Yet there’s something undeniably cool about standing in a place you’ve seen on screen, especially one as iconic as a Bond location. I caught myself humming the 007 theme while walking around, feeling a childish but genuine thrill at being in Scaramanga’s territory. That connection to pop culture creates a unique layer of appreciation you don’t get at other beautiful but anonymous islands.
Would I recommend it? Yes, but with caveats. Make it part of a larger Phang Nga Bay tour rather than the sole destination. Go early or late if possible. And perhaps most importantly, take time to look beyond Ko Tapu to appreciate the broader scenery of the bay.
What I find myself wondering now is how many equally stunning islands exist in that same bay, unmarked by movie fame and therefore unvisited by the masses. Our boat passed countless unnamed karsts that looked just as dramatic as James Bond Island but sat peacefully undisturbed by tourism.
Perhaps there’s a lesson there about fame and its double-edged nature. The movie put this corner of Thailand on the world map, bringing economic opportunity but also commercial development. It transformed a natural wonder into a bucket-list item, for better and worse.
As I sorted through my photos that evening, I found myself lingering not on the classic Ko Tapu shots everyone takes, but on a chance image I captured while our boat was leaving—the island framed between two passing longtails, a layer of mist still clinging to the limestone in the morning light. No people visible, no souvenir stands in sight, just the timeless beauty that existed long before Bond and will remain long after our footprints have washed away.
That’s the image I printed and framed when I got home. Not because it’s technically perfect (it’s slightly underexposed, actually), but because it captures what I want to remember about the place—not its fame or crowds, but the quiet majesty that made it worthy of the silver screen in the first place.
James Bond Island isn’t just a movie set that became a tourist trap. It’s a reminder of how our human stories temporarily overlay the much older, much grander story of the natural world. Worth visiting? Yes, I think so—just remember to look beyond the movie connection to see what really makes it special.
And maybe bring earplugs for when someone inevitably shouts, “The man with the golden gun!” for the hundredth time that morning.
About the author: Jack is a passionate content creator with years of experience. Follow for more quality content and insights.