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It’s night, and I’m bathed in sweat, drenching everything I touch inside the tent. I stagger outside into the tranquil night, with the waves lapping on the sandy shore. Kneeling in the still water in the dark, peace reigns as I wave my hands through the water. A green entrail of phosphorescence sweeps behind my hand. Spots of glittering green swirl around in the clear, dark water. On the beach a firefly passes overhead. Hermit crabs scurry across the sand – their shells casting moon-shadows. The beach is at its best in the silent heart of the night.

Koh Rok island at sunrise

To get to Koh Rok I took a snorkelling tour. Well, actually 2 – one to get there, and one to get back. The waters are clear and turquoise blue. They are warm without being hot. Just floating above the coral I watch all the characters from the film Nemo swim past. The clown fish darting in and out of the coral grass swaying to and from with the current. Bright yellow and black fish with a long upper fin floating behind in their wake. Then I pass through schools of tiny tiny fish, moving in unison to form an amazing cloud that engulfs me. Clams with lips of blue close as I approach.

Koh Rok beach

Koh Rok is not as remote as I thought. There is a restaurant, open in the morning and evening, and groups of Russian and Italian yoga people stayed overnight in the big, less hot tents provided. After 10, the beach is packed with people from the snorkelling tours. Alone on a tropical paradise was not my Koh Rok experience. Only in the death of night was I able to experience nature alone – an intimacy with nature which no guided tour can provide. I hope there will be places in nature that remain just that – natural. Places without restaurants and park rangers. Deserted tropical islands from Robinson Crusoe. I guess they still exist – somewhere.

Ko Rok beach