I stood on the bank with Mangdun and looked at the longboat lying helplessly on its side, waiting for the water to rise. Yesterday I had spent the day finding the nearest trees, journeys and accommodation. Ferry, flight, car hire and hotels were booked and I had even thought of interview questions about strength in case the opportunity arose. It had been a great feeling to sit on the veranda at the big table all day and do ‘office stuff’ with a clear conscience. A clear conscience because, although I didn’t experience or look at anything that day, the planning was essential for the next few days, my goals and therefore my work. That’s right. This day full of planning made me realise once again: I’m not just here for fun, I’m here for work.
To my relief, Anna got in touch with me in the evening and told me that the boats would be leaving again tomorrow morning. The trip was in doubt until the very end, as the weather didn’t really look any better. But the advantage of this island region was that the weather was constantly changing and you couldn’t rely on the weather forecast, including the rain radar, at all.
At 08:00, we set off to the north-east of the island to board the wooden longboat. Anna and her father drove ahead on the scooter and I followed behind. Now I waited with Mangdun, a friendly old fisherman with a very rudimentary knowledge of English, for the tide to come in so we could cast off. Excited, full of anticipation for the day but also full of impatience, I watched the rolling, flat waves and could hardly wait to get going. I was already thinking about photographing the tree when I suddenly realised that this was exactly the kind of situation I wanted to experience, in addition to the motifs. So I shouldn’t just be impatiently focussing on achieving the goal, the subject shot, but enjoying and savouring the situation itself! Instead, however, I had fallen back into ‘to-do mode’!
I took a deep breath, exhaled slowly and sat down at a table made of solid stone on the shore. I let my gaze wander, began to observe, perceive and simply enjoy. Suddenly Mangdun jumped up and ran to the boat. The water was there! Baffled by how quickly it had finally happened, I looked after him, whereupon he began to wave vigorously and signalled that I should push the boat out. I also rushed to the shore, threw my waterproof bag onto the boat and gave the bow of the boat a push that was a little too hard, whereupon it shot out onto the water and Mangdun started shouting, appeasing but laughing. At the last second, I pulled myself onto the boat and took a seat in the bow, facing in the direction of travel. Now we were off! Off to the Big Tree!
The boat was an old, typical wooden longboat, as I had often seen in Thailand, only this time it was a little smaller. The lorry engine, which was typically simply bolted onto the stern, was a little smaller and quieter. Mangdun steered the boat along the coastline until we finally broke away from the main island of Ko Yao Noi and headed for one of the many smaller rocky islands in the north-east. An impressive panorama opened up around us and we were suddenly surrounded by countless rock formations that seemed to grow out of the sea. I remember Maria’s words just before we set off. Forty-four small islands are said to belong to the entire region of Ko Yao Noi and Ko Yao Yai, the sister island to the south, and there seemed to be a lot to tell about them. At least that’s what I deduced, because Mangdun suddenly began to talk with great enthusiasm and vigour, repeatedly pointing to the rocks and various islands. Unfortunately, it wasn’t possible to understand even the slightest bit with my almost non-existent Thai and Mangdun, on the other hand, simply didn’t speak enough English for such explanations, but that didn’t stop him from continuing to talk in Thai anyway.
Apart from another small fishing boat on the horizon, we were completely alone. The sea had visibly calmed down and the not yet so strong morning sun was pleasantly warming, while a light breeze blew the sometimes splashing spray into my face and a great feeling of happiness formed in me again. This was exactly what I had imagined: Me, alone, on an individual, authentic journey with a knowledgeable local, on the way to a motif, in a region that is not overcrowded with tourists and that I would never have discovered in this way without the ‘motif hunt’. I was living my vision!
Mangdun didn’t steer the boat directly to the Big Tree stand, but first travelled to some beautiful islands and beaches that were well worth seeing and impressive. However, this had not been agreed and my thoughts kept wandering to my destination, the Big Tree. Only when I realised that I would probably be so ‘overcrowded’ in my mind after the Big Tree that a subsequent sightseeing tour would really be a waste of time was I able to fully surrender to the unplanned impressions and enjoy them again. Fucking ‘active mode’.
Mangdun showed me a huge, colourful cliff, a cave full of stalactite-shaped structures where people had obviously spent the night, and several paradisiacal little beaches and bays. What impressed me the most was a twisted lagoon full of mangroves, surrounded by rocks. The echo of the high chorus of the local birds resounded through the lagoon. The sand was wonderfully soft, white and coarse-grained and consisted mainly of old, dead and finely crushed coral. The warm water gently lapped at my ankles as I listened with pleasure to the sounds of the surroundings, the birds singing, the lapping of the waves and the dripping of rock water with my head on my back. Somehow I suddenly felt a bit like I was in a Tomb Raider computer game, only much better, more intense and without bloodthirsty monsters or wildly shooting enemies. I would have loved to stay in this place a little longer, it was so peaceful and magical, but I had a mission to fulfil and a subject to photograph. Besides, I didn’t know where else Mangdun would take me, so it was time to leave. I got up, swam through the hole in the rock face and returned to Mangdun, who had made himself comfortable on a tree stump on the beach and was waiting patiently.
The small beach we were now heading for seemed rather unspectacular compared to the spots we had seen before and it took me a while to realise that this must be the beach at Big Tree Bay. My mood suddenly changed from detached relaxation to joyful, excited focus. Mangdun crunched his longboat into the dark yellow sand, while I quickly put on my trainers and threw on my shirt. I almost forgot to spray myself against mosquitoes, grabbed my mobile phone and notebook and jumped off the boat with dry feet.
The beach was small, overgrown with trees right up to the edge of the shore and very peaceful. There was a small house on the left where a ranger was obviously supposed to collect a national park fee – but no one was there. As I walked roughly in that direction, Mangdun shouted something to me in Thai, waved and pointed to a wooden path that led deep into the forest. I followed him. The soundscape suddenly changed. The rhythmic, calm sound of the sea gave way to a shrill orchestra of cicadas and the song of countless birds. The remarkably well-built wooden path we were following meandered between impressive, interesting trees and bushes, but I no longer had an eye for these ‘side plants’. I really only had one goal now: the Big Tree.
After probably 100 metres, we came across a huge tree with an enormous, wide root system. Teerapat had previously told me that some tourists sometimes mistook another large tree nearby for THE Big Tree. Teerapat had told me the previous evening that some tourists had taken photos of themselves and the tree, which they later proudly presented to Teerapat, who then explained the mistake to them and was very disappointed. I didn’t want this to happen to me, so I asked Mangdun if this really was the Big Tree. He looked at me a little puzzled and I could see from his face that he was wondering whether I was a bit stupid. Laughing, he pointed to the huge root system, shouted ‘Big Tree, Big Tree’ and sat down on a large root of the tree. I put down my waterproof bag and took in the huge tree from a distance. I had made it! I was at my first ‘real’ motif. I was an exploring artist. I took a few overview shots and sent them to Teerapat to be on the safe side. Even here in this remote bay there was mobile network in Thailand. Then I started to walk around the tree, letting it have an effect on me and getting used to the situation.
Big Tree
- Type: Tetrameles nudiflora; Sapung (Thai)
- Size: 64,20 m
- Diameter: > 24,20 m
- Age: > 500
- Place: Ko Yao Noi; Ao Kean Bay
It was a very special atmosphere! This tree, with its huge root system, shaped like ravines, was surrounded by a multitude of other impressive trees and huge plants. Some trees had even come very close to the Big Tree and one tree even grew directly out of the Big Tree’s lap. It was obviously accepted and even integrated by the Big Tree. The chorus of cicadas and birds had become a little sadder and softer and was accompanied by the gentle, distant, rhythmic sound of the nearby sea. Nestled and protected by steep, craggy, black rock faces, this tree had been able to grow to this enormous size for 500 years despite its direct proximity to the coast. Firmly bound to one place, yet free in its development and expansion. It was so calm and steadfast, powerful and graceful. For 500 years in seemingly passive existence and at the same time so present.
When I returned to my starting point, Mangdun had already got up and was about to leave. Obviously a few minutes at this tree was enough for him and he didn’t quite understand why a farang, a ‘Westerner’ like me, wanted to stay so long at this tree. However, I managed to motivate him to take a crooked photo of me in front of the tree before he made his way back to the boat, giggling slightly. I grinned. I hadn’t really started looking for a motif yet, just snapped a few shots and could only guess that this would take some time. But how should I start? I realised at that moment that I hadn’t really thought about the actual process. At home, I had meditated from time to time, focussing in particular on being mindful of my surroundings. I could do the same here now, I thought, and sat down on the root where Mangdun had previously been sitting. I wanted to take in this situation and my surroundings with as many senses and impressions as possible. I looked around, stroked the bark of the huge root and knocked against the wood.
It was interesting that this tree, despite its sheer size, seemed to be made of very light, soft wood. It was so large, downright ‘broad-legged’ and appeared so massive and stable, but in reality it was so soft, almost ‘light’, and somehow very vulnerable, even in need of protection. “Massive lightness. Resilience despite its softness. A soft, light giant’ popped into my head. It had probably only been able to achieve its size thanks to the protection of the other, much smaller trees and the cloak of the massive rock faces behind it, I thought. After all, the sea could still be heard and in the last 500 years there had certainly been one or two storms that had whipped into the small bay with destructive gusts. “Strength through the protection of others. Strengththrough support and integration”, I thought as I slowly closed my eyes and focussed on the sounds and atmosphere of the surroundings.
While I had been concentrating on the surrounding noises, a mosquito had identified me as a feast and didn’t let up until it had unnoticed the only place I hadn’t sprayed. My nose. The sound of two wooden sticks hitting each other from my mobile phone signalled to me that it was time to open my eyes and take photos.I rubbed my itchy nose vigorously as my eyes fell on a message from Teerapat: yes, it was indeed the Big Tree.‘Double confirmation, very good,’ I grinned to myself as I began to search for the motif.
Mangdun had brought a huge portion of fried rice for everyone and together we now sat at a massive wooden table on the dark yellow beach and ate quickly and silently.I had taken around ninety photos and was only interrupted in my madness by Mangdun, who came to me excitedly and signalled to me that we should set off soon. The sea was beginning to recede and otherwise we would have been stuck in this peaceful bay until the next high tide.
I collected the empty plastic packaging and threw it into a huge stone rubbish bin a few metres from the beach. This was remarkable as Thais don’t normally care too much about rubbish. The beaches and streets looked accordingly littered. Often, however, there were simply no rubbish bins at all. This was obviously different on Ko Yao Noi and especially on this beach. The whole island was somehow different. Once again, this time more carefully, I pushed the boat back into the sea while Mangdun started the engine. The return journey took us past countless beautiful bays, beaches and magical rock faces. The number of boats on the water had now increased slightly and the odd white pleasure craft could now be spotted. But even now, this was very little compared to the other islands of the past few weeks.
I looked happily over the bow at the horizon. Mission accomplished. Subject no. 1 photographed. Tired and satisfied, I closed my eyes and felt the warm wind on my skin. My work on this island was done. All the other stations were planned. Now I had some free time and could simply enjoy this island for the next three days. A marvellous feeling!
