THE NATURALS : Two resorts singled out for blending in : IN THAILAND, TRADITIONAL SEASIDE BUNGALOWS AND A MENU OF ECO-TOURS

AO NAM MAO BAY, Thailand — The water flowed out of the cave, filling the lagoon and spilling down limestone terraces into the forest below. I dove into the lagoon cautiously and swam slowly. As I entered the cave, and darkness, the water appeared to glow with light, and stalactites glistened overhead. I swam against the gentle current, curious about its source, and not too sure I wanted to find it. . . .

This was just the last stop in a day full of interesting explorations. Our little group, traveling by pickup truck and long-tail boat, with a local guide, had already visited caves with ancient rock drawings, caves turned into Buddhist temples, caves with amazing limestone formations. We were on an eco-tour, one of several offered by the Dawn of Happiness, a traditionally designed, low-tech, ecologically correct beach resort in southwestern Thailand.

A friend had suggested we go there when he heard we were heading back to Thailand, where we had been a dozen times before. “You can visit a rubber plantation, learn Thai cooking or just laze on the beach. It’s run by an American environmentalist. An eco-resort.” We had to admit we’d never been to an eco-resort before. “Just try it,” he said. “You’ll like it. I stayed there a week and loved it. It’s easy to find, just outside of Krabi.”

We arrived in Krabi, a coastal town and provincial capital about two hours from Phuket, without reservations, since none of our phone calls to the resort had gotten through. January was the height of the tourist season, and Krabi bristled with tourists getting on and off express boats to nearby Phi Phi Island. We walked off riverfront Uttarakit Road into a travel agency to get directions to the resort. On the wall, along with 50 other ads, I noticed a dusty poster: “Dawn of Happiness, Ao Nam Mao Bay. 12 bungalows away from the crowds; batik, flowers and fans in every bungalow; romantic seaside restaurant . . .” The telephone number was different from the one we had. We called. No one answered.

The travel agent wanted to help. “Ao Nam Mao is not a good beach for swimming,” he said. “It’s better to go to Ao Nang or Railay Beach.” We said we wanted an eco-resort. He shook his head. “The Dawn of Happiness is on the beach.” Eco-resorts can’t be on the beach? “No, eco-resorts are in the jungle, jungle walks and that sort of thing.”

That attitude, though not uncommon, was a bit outdated. Back in the early ‘70s, when eco-tourism consisted mainly of environmentalists and birders, he would have been right. But the meaning has evolved since then. Today eco-tourism--also called green, low-impact, sustainable and ecologically responsible tourism--has expanded to embrace more mainstream travelers.

The United States-based Eco-tourism Society, an organization of conservation and travel professionals, defines eco-tourism as “responsible travel to natural areas that conserves the environment and sustains the well-being of local people.” It’s widely seen as the fastest growing segment of the travel industry, grossing more than $335 billion a year worldwide.

Directions in hand, we rented a little Honda motorbike ($8 a day, no license needed), and followed clearly marked signs to Ao Nam Mao Bay. As we drove past the oil palm and rubber tree plantations, I’ll admit I was a little worried. The combination of “eco” and “resort,” might prove to be a boring and very expensive mixture. On the other hand, Maria, my travel partner, said that anything on the beach was good enough for her. She just hoped they’d have beer.

At the small Dawn of Happiness sign we turned into a sandy driveway and parked in the palmy shade. A covered wooden walkway led across a small stream to the office. On the right, a short path led through wild-looking shrubbery to where we could see the bungalows. We took the path.

Half a dozen traditionally thatched beach bungalows with solid walls of interwoven bamboo--and names such as Lotus Pond, Hibiscus, Orchid House and Birdsong--surrounded a spacious pagoda. We found a second enclave, similar to the first, but close against the beach. It had an even larger pagoda. Both pagodas were roofed with thatch and had an inviting arrangement of woven pandanus mats, Thai pillows and hammocks. The bungalows were shaded by coconut palms and veiled with colorful bougainvillea, which here and there had threaded its way through the thatch. Refreshingly unresort-like and traditionally Thai.

“We built the bungalows,” Thom Henley, the resort’s founder, later told us, “out of coconut wood two-by-fours, bamboo walls and nipa palm thatch roofs so as to have the least impact on the remaining tropical forests. We also didn’t want to exaggerate the gap between the relative wealth of guests and the poverty of the local people, so we deliberately set out to make the bungalows no fancier than local fishermen’s shacks.”

The only signs of any guests were a towel drying on a porch chair, a batik sarong draped over a natural wood railing, a pair of sport sandals outside a door. The beach was deserted also. Up and down it, not another hotel or house was to be seen, only a few traditional fishing boats stranded by the low tide. And what a tide. The water seemed to have receded halfway to the islands on the horizon. The travel agent in Krabi was right about one thing; Ao Nam Mao was obviously not a swimming beach.

*

The open-air restaurant (and office)--thatch and bamboo like the other structures--stood just off the beach next to a small lotus pond. Tanya, the manager, sat at one of the tables doing paperwork. I couldn’t help noticing the phone on the counter. “We’re in and out around here,” Tanya explained. “And the phone’s a bit unreliable. We’re getting a new system.” (The mobile phone number listed in the guidebook does work, however.)

Apparently the phone runaround hadn’t hurt business. When we asked about checking in, she told us that the bungalows were fully occupied. But where was everyone? “Half the guests are doing the hot springs in the jungle,” Tanya told us, “and the other half are snorkeling out in the islands. Most people come here for our eco-tours. However,” she added, sympathizing with our situation, “you don’t need to be a guest to sign up. Just let us know so we don’t leave without you. There’s a list of eco-tours on the wall.”

We looked over the daily roster with its enticing photos: Saturdays, Thai Village Life ($10); Mondays, Klong Thom Hot Springs and Lowland Forest Pools ($24); Tuesdays, Amazing Caves of Ao Luk ($14); Wednesdays, Lost Islands and the Jungle River Cruise ($14); Thursdays, Jungle Safari to the Khao Phanom Bencha National Park ($10). Snorkeling and beachcombing to Poda and Dam Kwan islands ($10 including mask and snorkel) seemed to be offered on most days--a sort of lazy, in-the-sun alternative to the other activities. All outings included lunches and beverages.

We bought a couple of cold bottles of Singha beer and sat on the beach wondering what to do. We hadn’t finished the beers--or come to a conclusion--when Tanya walked over to tell us that someone had just checked out. We could have their bungalow, if we wanted. The price was a surprisingly eco-nomical $20 a night, a percentage of which is donated to local conservation projects. (The resort also has three apartment-style family units available for the same price.)

Clean and comfortable, and spacious enough for two, the wood-floor bungalow had a large rattan bed canopied with mosquito netting, a rattan dresser (with a fresh orchid), and a ceiling fan attached to a beam beneath the thatch. The bathroom had a tiled floor and a Western-style toilet. A clay water vase under a spigot, a dipper and a wooden stool made up the “low-flow” bath. The toilet was a “low-flush” design too--in a retro-tech way: You used the dipper to supply the water to flush it. Very Thai--and very eco-correct.

Tanya reminded us that the restaurant had free mineral water--refill your own container. It was a generous effort to help reduce the trail of plastic water bottles that tourists so often leave behind.

*

That evening the restaurant served a full house--about 20 guests back from the day’s activities. Chicken and locally caught fish and prawns simmered on the barbecue grill. The rest of the menu was gourmet Western-Thai, with dishes such as the Lotus Pond Salad (four tomatoes cut like flowers and stuffed with egg, tuna, shrimp and chicken); beef and chicken curries; healthy pasta dishes; and specialty desserts such as fruit fondue, crepes and Kluag Thod (bananas deep-fried in sesame seeds, rice flour and grated coconut).

Thai music played softly on the speakers and a tiny black cat rubbed against our feet. Frogs jumped in the lotus pond nearby. The sun set behind the islands. But what was this? They were lighting mosquito coils and putting them under the tables? Surely such a poisonous insect repellent was not ethically eco?

But even at such an eco-correct resort as the Dawn, compromises sometimes must be made. When the Dawn was opened five years ago, the resort composted and grew its own vegetables. Now they find it more sensible to buy fresh from the Krabi morning market every day (thus incidentally better supporting the local economy). As for composting, they discovered the compost attracted rats, and, apparently, rats are a favorite food for cobras!

Service at the restaurant, with its small kitchen staff, was sometimes slow, but the delicious Thai food was worth the wait. Monika, a German woman traveling alone on her first trip to Thailand, took it philosophically. “I get my reading done,” she said. She had been at the resort a week, joining a different eco-activity every day.

Ian, a Canadian lawyer, had already been here five days, though he had planned on three. That afternoon he had arranged for a Thai cooking class. “We made a curry and some Thai soup, he said. “Trouble was, the cook had all the ingredients chopped up ahead of time and didn’t speak any English. Still, that sort of thing costs $500 for four days in Bangkok. Here I paid $10. And got to eat what I made.”

Most of the guests were professionals in their 30s or 40s. Pro-active, but not particularly athletic or even outdoorsy. About the only thing everyone had in common was their mutual dislike for the superficial disco and video travelers’ scenes, especially the Thai variety (a la Phuket and Phi Phi).

Nights in the bungalow were tropical serenades of tree frogs, cicadas and the rustle of palm fronds. Mornings we woke with the sun and took walks down the beach past tiny fishing villages and prawn farms and even Mesozoic shell deposits--before returning to complimentary fruit platter breakfasts served at the restaurant. As for those environmentally sensitive eco-tours, they were just plain fun, all guilt-free and ecologically responsible, especially the snorkel trips.

About half past 10 most mornings, the Dawn’s long-tail (the kind of boat used by local fishermen) would be loaded with snorkel gear and a couple of lunch coolers. On the day we went, nine of us climbed aboard, finding seats under the awning or out on the sunny bow. We motored slowly past the headland toward Poda Island, the large island a couple of miles from shore. Looking back at the mainland’s karst--a region of porous limestone--we saw 200-foot-high shafts of rock honeycombed with caverns and capped with jungle, rising above the lowland forests and marching across the blue Andaman Sea.

As we approached Poda Island, we were disappointed to see several other long-tail boats on the beach and even a restaurant with a row of back-to-back bungalows. A short stroll down the sand, however, and we had the place to ourselves. We swam in a shallow lagoon enfolded in a crescent of sand and walked under limestone cliffs hollowed out by the sea. We returned to a make-it-yourself lunch laid out on a blanket in the shade: breads, egg salad, tomatoes, onions, bananas, oranges and watermelons. Soft drinks in returnable glass bottles. Reusable metal containers and utensils. No paper or plastic.

*

After our light lunch, the boat took us around the island to sample the snorkeling spots. The shoreline alternated between lush limestone precipices and coves of fine white sand. Aside from that first beach, the island was deserted. In one cove, we floated 10 feet above the teeming reef as curiously tame coral fish--yellow, purple, striped and spotted--swam right up to our masks and peered in, even turning on their sides for a better view. They looked unsettlingly intelligent. A couple of the guests were snorkeling for the first time, and evidently enjoying every minute of it.

Just south of Poda Island, Dam Kwan Island is anyone’s vision of a perfect, pocket-size tropical isle. The falling tide had uncovered a white spine of trackless sand, which we followed all the way to the next palm-studded island. On either side of the sandy ribbon were turquoise waters so clear every ripple cast a shadow on the bottom. It’s the sort of place where you want to do nothing for days on end. (For those wanting a real Robinson Crusoe experience, drop-off and pick-up arrangements can be made with any long-tail boatman. Take your pick of a hundred islands.)

When we finally pushed off for home, we did so like good eco-travelers, taking nothing with us and leaving nothing behind but footprints. It was 6 p.m. when we returned, and low tide. The long-tail slid to a muddy stop. The only sign of the Dawn of Happiness was a profusion of palms on the empty beach. We eased overboard and walked the quarter mile across the tidal flat.

Back at the bungalow, crouched native-style on the wooden stool, I sluiced cool water over my salty sunburnt skin with the dipper from the clay vase. Blissful! Each and every low-flow dipperful. Blissfully eco.

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GUIDEBOOK: Thai-Style Dawn

Getting there: Thai Airways, Singapore Airlines, Korean Air and China Airlines offer connecting service to Phuket. Advance-purchase, round-trip fares start at $1,025.

The Dawn of Happiness is at Ao Nam Mao Bay on the west coast of southern Thailand, about 300 miles south of Bangkok and about 20 minutes west of Krabi via taxi, minibus or (tide permitting) long-tail boat.

Phuket International is the nearest airport, about 40 miles or two hours from Krabi by local bus.

Bangkok trains also run daily to Surat Thani, about a three-hour bus ride from Krabi.

Reservations: Dawn of Happiness Resort, P.O. Box 35, Krabi, 81000 Thailand. From the United States it is an operator-assisted number only (tell the operator it’s a cellular phone that can only be dialed by an operator in Thailand): 14644362. Rates: $20 per night for a bungalow.

When to go: On Thailand’s west coast, the high season (mostly sunny) is late November to May (reservations recommended); low season (periodic rain) is June to October. Heaviest monsoons September to mid-November. Average monthly temperatures vary between 80 and 85 degrees; daytime highs rarely rise above 93; nights rarely drop below 73; sea temperatures never dip below 80.

For more information: Tourism Authority of Thailand, 3440 Wilshire Blvd., Suite 1100, Los Angeles, CA 90010, (213) 382-2353; fax (213) 389-7544.

--C.D.