Janice Horton - The Backpacking Housewife - Escape around the world with this feel good novel about second chances!

Over the sound of the roaring diesel engine, I ask Summer if she’s already got somewhere to stay at Railay. She shakes her head, flicking her long glossy hair from side to side like a show pony. ‘No, but don’t worry, it’s early in the season. I’m pretty sure we’ll find somewhere reasonably priced to stay for one night.’

I keep my eyes trained on what I can see of the horizon over the large moving expanse of deep water ahead of us. I worry about being seasick. To distract myself, I play a guessing game on where the lifejackets might be kept in case of a capsize. Then I hear Summer laugh.

She’s enjoying another conversation with the gap year lads from the minibus.

They’re all sparring over ‘where is the best … something … in the world?’

I enjoy listening to their animated and enthusiastic conversation, probably because they are all so impressively well-travelled and confident. Their parents must be so proud of them, I think to myself, knowing how proud I am of each of my own two sons. This time, German Peter has asked for the consensus on ‘where is the best full moon party in the world?’

‘Without a doubt, Koh Phangan has the best full moon parties!’ Summer tells them emphatically. I can see the lads all nodding their heads in agreement. Although I also notice they tend to agree with Summer whatever she says. And who can blame them?

‘Yeah, you haven’t lived until you’ve been to one of those crazy nights on Phangan!’ yells one of the American lads, punching the air to make his point and to let everyone (most importantly, Summer) know that he’s one of the cool cats who’s actually been there and done it. Almost everyone in the boat nods in agreement with him. I guess I haven’t lived?

‘So where would you guys say is the best for scuba diving?’ German Peter asks.

I listen keenly for the answer, grateful for another distraction. I’m starting to feel queasy.

Summer immediately pipes up again. ‘That would be Geluk Island. I learned to dive on the reef there and it got me totally hooked on scuba. It’s got the best diving in the whole world’

‘Yeah, man, Geluk!’ Nate yells. ‘I went last year with the GGF and did my thesis in marine ecology and conservation. The reef is so alive, man. I swam with dolphins. It was awesome!’

The other’s look at him enviously as they obviously can’t make the same claim.

Prince Harry is suddenly winning big over the Americans.

‘What’s the GGF?’ I ask him curiously.

‘The Goldman Global Foundation. It’s a conservation charity organisation.’

‘That is SO cool, Nate!’ exclaims Summer. ‘I love dolphins.’

‘Where is this island again?’ I ask for clarification. ‘And how is it spelt?’

‘G-E-L-U-K,’ Summer spells out for me. ‘It’s pronounced “gluck” and it’s on the Meso-American reef in the Caribbean, the second largest barrier reef in the world after the Great Barrier Reef in Australia, only it’s in much better condition and, like Nate says, the diving there is incredible.’

My eyes are wide with interest. Summer and Nate have painted such a vivid picture of this beautiful tropical island paradise. I immediately dream of going there one day to scuba dive.

I mentally add it to my bucket list.

I mean, why not, right? There’s nothing to stop me because I’m a backpacker too!

Just then, our boat comes around the headland that successfully cuts Railay Beach off from the rest of Krabi province, and we all gasp at the sight of the picture-perfect utopia in front of us. The photos in my guidebook did no justice at all to the incredible beauty of this place.

The soaring limestone cliffs look like giant fingers pointing into a cloudless blue sky.

Having entered the protection of the bay, I see the water all around us is now a flat calm shimmering emerald green sheet of pristine clarity. Just ahead of us is the much-anticipated white-sand half-moon curved beach with its backdrop of lush green forest and swaying palm trees. Our boat takes us right up to the shore line, beaching itself so that we can all clamber out, straight into the calf-deep, bathtub-warm water that is gently lapping the soft powder white sand. I look around me. Happily, so far, the place doesn’t look too overcrowded or trashy.

The boatman throws us our backpacks. I grab mine and trudge with everyone else up the beach until we reach a sand path between the low-lying buildings sitting under the palm trees.

‘Where shall we try first?’ I ask Summer, thinking the hotels on the beach looked very nice.

‘Oh, not here, Lori. Not for me anyway. These hotels are way above my budget.’

I shrug it off. ‘Then they’ll be over mine too. I imagine this place is pricy, right?’

Summer nods. ‘Right. If you stay on West Beach you’ll pay a fortune for the privilege of watching the sunset from your balcony when you could actually just watch it for free on the beach. But don’t worry, I’m sure there are places far less expensive further in.’

‘Okay. Let’s go. I’ll follow your lead,’ I say to her, trying to hide my concern over ending up in a shared dorm with one bathroom and with all the lads from the bus and the boat.

As it is, on East Beach, just a five-minute walk away from the idyllic West Beach, while Summer checks out the shared hostel dorms, I find a pretty twin-bed wooden bungalow with private bathroom for rent. It’s double the cost of the hostel – but when I point out if we shared it would be the same price, Summer agrees it would be far nicer than the dorm.

We decide to spend the rest of the day lazing on the beach. Summer wants to top up her tan and I’m hoping to develop one. Summer, looking the very definition of her name, is wearing a tiny white bikini on her tiny, toned and evenly suntanned body while I’m searching a local beach stall for a sun hat, a tube of factor thirty sunscreen, and a swimsuit.

The hat is no problem but the sunscreen is ridiculously expensive and the swimsuits (bikinis as they don’t seem to do one-pieces) are all ridiculously small and nothing more than triangles of fabric and string.

Eventually, I find one with large enough triangles and we head for the sand and the sea.

The beauty of the enclave surrounding Railay beach is unreal.

It’s so blissful to lie on the silky soft, white sand and feel the hot sun radiating over my body.

I keep closing my eyes and then opening them again just to make sure I’m not dreaming.

I see that Summer has gone off snorkelling with the lads. I watch them swim over to the rocks underneath the wrap-around cliffs. I can hear them whooping and shouting, ‘oh wow look – you gotta see this!’ I’m curious to wonder what they have seen in the water.

Soon Summer comes running back up the beach to insist that I go snorkelling too.

‘Come on, Lori. It’s amazing. There are so many fish. It’s so beautiful – it’s like a tropical fish tank, and it’s so shallow and close to the rocks that you can stand up if you want.’

As comfortable as I am sunning myself on the beach, Summer won’t take no for an answer and she is being so sweet to want to include me. It does look like fun. I reason with myself, that if I intend to learn to scuba dive then I really should try snorkelling first, so I agree to rent a snorkel and mask and join them.

Well, from the very first moment I put my face into the water, I find I’m utterly spellbound.

The sea is warm and clear. Below me, lying on the sandy seabed are starfish, and all around me there are tiny colourful fish. I’ve never seen anything like it.

It’s like being in Finding Nemo . I float on the surface, with my face in the water and my arms and legs splayed out so I look like a starfish myself, watching all the fish darting about in the corals and rocks and sea grasses. It’s so fascinating that I soon forgot to panic about breathing through a narrow tube or getting a little bit of water in my facemask.