Into Thailand's Lost World - When John Gray discovered collapsed island caves and pristine lagoons, he never dreamed they could be destroyed by too many visitors

International Wildlife, Nov-Dec, 2000 by Anthony Mecir

The idea was supposed to be a godsend for environmental protection-and in some places it is. In theory, ecotourism works this way: Local people who might otherwise destroy environmentally sensitive areas are persuaded by tourists' dollars that these spots are worth more intact than degraded. Visitors anxious to review unbridled nature flock in and leave their money behind. Local people make a living, and now they have an incentive to protect the revenue-producing landscape and its rare wildlife.

For conservationists and the tourism industry, success has always been a matter of balance. To draw people, you need infrastructure- transportation, lodges, access. But too much infrastructure and too many visits and you effectively destroy the unique place you had set out to save.

For a deeply disillusioned Gray, the balance at Phangnga Bay has tipped way too far. "It was fantasyland," Gray told me last year. "We wanted to be the perfect model ecotourism company. I knew we were going against the grain."

Now chastened, he talks of spending more time in Vietnam, the Philippines and Fiji, where Sea Canoe runs smaller operations. Perhaps he would move to Fiji's 200-island Lau Group-potentially "classic ecotourism" country-where citizens take more pride in their natural environment and the government exercises greater controls than in Thailand to stop its exploitation, Gray said.

Recently, we sat over morning coffee in the middle of Phangnga Bay. Light breezes brushed a deserted beach on Yao Noi Island, ruffling Gray's thinning hair tied back in a ponytail. Though a handsome, athletic man, Gray joked about his other nickname: The staff fondly calls him ling yai, the big monkey.

We had slept in unpretentious, idyllic bungalows owned by Soonthorn Sagulsan, once a simple fisherman and bird nest collector who joined Sea Canoe and now, Gray proudly relates, can stand up to senior government and military officials and say, "No." Neither he nor any of the company's more than 50 other staffers resigned in the face of the shooting and threats.

"Provide a local staff with training, give them respect-that's how you build environmental awareness," Gray said. "There are a lot of people out there building ecotourism empires by paying their staff one dollar a day. How are such employees going to protect the environment with a vengeance?"

Gray had been faced with stark choices: shut down Sea Canoe, get shot out of the water, or-as he finally did-pay the nest gatherers and hopefully make some difference in the grim situation on Phangnga.

Although Gray rejects it, his nemesis Thiti says he's come to care for the environment and that the Caveman had been his inspiration. "He is so angry at my company. He calls us all mafia. But I still respect him. Sea Canoe is still the best," Thiti readily admits. "John is my teacher."

We prepared, after breakfast, to set off for one of Gray's most loved corners of the bay, where sea otters still frolic, gibbons watch us from hiding and a lone shrimp fisherman will sing a melancholy song that echoes off the plunging cliffs.