When I was in college, I decided to tag along on a spontaneous trip to Thailand with a group of girl friends. Despite my fairly serious travel and flight anxiety, the idea of 10 days in gorgeous Phuket seemed like the experience of a lifetime— a memory that would stay with me forever. In a way, I was all too correct.
The first few days were incredible. Drinking fruity cocktails on private beaches, tasting the authentic Thai cuisine, and I won’t lie, I may have had a bit too much fun in the bar scene. However, what I was really looking forward to was the excursion on the 5th day: a kayaking tour and booze cruise through the caves of Phang Nga Bay.
The morning of the excursion, we all loaded up on beer and wine coolers and excitedly hopped on a bus towards the tour company. The boat was 3 stories, the food was exceptional, and the views were second to none. The 8 of us fried in the sun on the roof of the boat, taking pictures to post on instagram and tossing empty bottles into bins— all anxiously awaiting what we all had decided would be the best part of the trip.
The boat slowed down beside a massive array of cliffs and we all began to search the flat mass of flat rocks for whatever cave we’d be entering, but we saw no opening. I asked one of the guides where the cave was, expecting a typical large tunnel to enter, and he pointed to a small, maybe 3 feet tall and 7 feet wide, opening at the base of the cliff. My breath caught in my throat at the sight. I asked if maybe the tide was too high; there was no way we were going through that. I was met with a smile and a chuckle from the guide who returned to preparing the kayaks.
We all split into groups of 4: 2 girls and 1 guide per kayak, and loaded onto the yellow, inflatable boats. I grabbed the arm of a girl who looked equally as nervous as I did and asked if she’d like to go together. We quickly realized we were the only ones feeling the anxiety of such claustrophobia. We all settled in, armed only with bikinis, sunglasses, and a stranger with a paddle, and moved towards the first cave.
My kayak led the pack, heading in first. The guide instructed us to lay flat on our backs to enter the cave. I laid my head on the legs of the girl behind me and struggled to breathe. We entered the mouth and were struck by a gorgeous opening, beyond tall enough for us to sit comfortably. The walls had a crystalline surface that was illuminated by the headlamp our guide aimed around. Stalactites clung from the ceiling high above us. The guide slapped the water and hundreds of glittering blue spots filled the space next to us. Bioluminescent plankton illuminated the room like stars. Seeing the amount of space and intricate scenery I began to relax.
As we moved forward, the guide instructed us to lay back again. I looked forward and realized that we were entering a tight tunnel. My anxiety spiked. I’ve always been claustrophobic, I can’t even stand elevators let alone this tunnel that didn’t even look like it could fit the kayak, especially not with us atop it. I asked the guide how long this particular cave was. He told me that we would be through in about 5 minutes.
It’s strange how much time slows down when you enter survival mode: 5 minutes can seem like an hour when you believe your time is up.
The walls of this section were somehow even tighter than the entrance. It was pitch black save for the occasional view from the headlamp. I had to squeeze my shoulders back and suck in my stomach as far as I could, but I could still feel the presence of solid, thick walls suffocating me from all sides. My hot breath bounced back into my face off the stone directly above me. I tried to focus on the sounds, the moving water, the slap of the paddle behind us by our guide who, even completely horizontal, was still skilled enough to keep us moving forward.
Until the sounds of water stopped. So did the boat. I could hear rock scratching rubber and my own rapid breathing as I realized we had gotten stuck, lodged against the tight walls of what I believed would surely become my tomb. In an attempt to relax, I released my stomach. Immediately, I felt a piercing sensation from a low hanging stalactite that attempted to bury itself in my gut. I let out a half-gasp-half-yelp that must have startled my guide, because I felt a quick movement, heard the crunching of glass against stone, and then the small amount of light provided by the headlamp was gone. A string of Thai, what I can only imagine were harsh curse words, followed.
Then more scraping and paddling, frantic this time, trying to release us from the rocks— save us from what seemed like the fate of being buried alive in a grave of crystal and salt water. A stone dislodged in front of me. As it splashed, the shallow water erupted with the glow of plankton. In that short moment, I looked to my left. Beside us was a small tunnel at eye level.
What I saw in the brief flash of blue light will stick with me forever.
To say it was human would be generous— though it looked like it may have been once. It squatted on its mangled feet, its arms stretched out for support. Its hands looked puckered and pruned as if soaked in water for so long the skin could fall off the bone. Dirt and weeds were embedded in its long, razor sharp claws. Its skin was ghostly pale with deep green and purple lesions littering its skin. The body was so thin you could distinctly see ribs and bone through stretched skin. Dark, wet, matted hair hung low, covering most, but not all of its face… a face that will haunt me for a lifetime. The eyes were pure white with no pupil. Cheeks so sunken it looked almost skeletal. It had no discernible nose, just a hole as if the cartilage had fallen off. I swear on my life as I caught that glimpse, the thing smiled at me. As it did, it revealed a bloody mouth with yellow teeth like knives. The lack of lips led me to believe the creature may have chewed them off itself…
I tried to scream, to call out, to do anything at the sight, but all of the air had escaped my lungs. I struggled to inhale as the guide finally dislodged the kayak and sent us forward. My mind raced at the thought of what I had seen, what I might say or do. With my mind going a mile a minute the only words I could manage to breathlessly get out were to ask if there were any animals in the cave. “Only the crabs and the bats,” the guide told me. “Well, and us.” and he kept paddling along.
We exited the tunnel into a more spacious area. As I was able to sit up again, I started to tell myself that the being must’ve been a trick of the light, a hallucination created by my fear of the caves and tight spaces. That was when, still surrounded by pure darkness, I felt two hands grip my shoulders. I let out a shrill yelp before my friend, of course it was just her, leaned in my ear and asked the worst question I’ve ever been asked: “you saw it too, didn’t you?”
Blazing hot tears filled my eyes. It felt like all of the air was sucked out of the room. I leaned over the side of the boat and emptied the contents of my stomach. All I could repeat, over and over again, was that we had to get out… we had to get out… we HAD to.
The guide, who must’ve mistaken my panic for claustrophobia, told us that the only way out was forward and that we were halfway through. The cave was a perfect U shape, in and out on the same cliff side. The guide began to turn us to the left towards our exit.
2 minutes, 30 seconds, and a few tight spaces and I’d be out. I’d be safe. I’d have another wine cooler to calm the nerves and I would NEVER think about this cave again. That’s how it would be. That’s how it had to be.
We move forward, out of the base of the U, into another small tunnel on the final stretch. Instinctively, I once again lay back and hold my breath, making my body as small as possible through the small, smotheringly confined space. I sob silently to myself, wanting nothing more than to be back on the spacious boat on the gorgeous sea that I will never see the same again.
We float for about 30 seconds more and then once again, like clockwork, I hear the scraping of rubber and rock, feeling us stop our forward motion. A grotesque and distorted hissing noise fills the air and I feel every hair on my body stand on end. I’m even more horrifyingly aware of how small the space is as the hairs on my arms stretched out to touch the walls that trapped me in my own personal hell.
A bright light strikes the side of my face. I look over and see the headlamp of a guide from one of the kayaks that trailed behind us. The light finds us through a tunnel in the U bend. The same tunnel where I saw that, that thing just minutes before. It all happens so quickly. There’s a scream and the loud *pop* of an inflatable kayak as my guide begins to scream at us,
“Don’t look left! Whatever you do, don’t look left!”
He’s only a split second too late as I see the nightmarish abomination leap at the other kayak from the tunnel as the girls and guide scream for mercy. I shut my eyes as tight as I can, but there’s no point. In an instant, the headlamp of the other guide goes dark. The only light illuminates from the glowing blue water of the startled plankton.
The sounds seem to never end. The screams stop, but they are quickly replaced by thrashing and ripping. I hear the carving of skin, the crunching of bone through those razor-like fangs. The once happy laughs of my friends have been replaced by gurgling and sputtering— gasping for any last breath they can find. Sounds that I will hear forever, everytime I close my eyes, every night while I try to escape to sleep that is riddled with nightmares. The hellish sounds fill the entire cave.
And then silence.
The loudest silence I have ever heard.
And it was over.
Including the guides, 12 of us entered that cave, but only 9 came out. The first 3 kayaks returned us safely to the boat as the guides returned to the cave looking for our fallen friends to no avail. After hours of searching and sobbing, the sun set and we were forced to return to shore, silent in shock.
We gave our statements to the Thai police until the sunrise before returning to our hotel. For my own sanity, I lied and told them that I saw nothing. I couldn’t retell what I saw and heard until now. I regret it every day.
A proper search party was sent to the cave, but they found nothing. There were no answers, no signs that they were ever there. No sign of anything.
For the safety of others, the cave has since been sealed.
Forever their tomb.