Located a half an hour drive from the tourist hotspot of Krabi and just up the shoreline from Au Nang, the family run Pan Beach Resort was secluded, natural, and most importantly, reasonably priced. In essence, everything that Ko Phi-Phi was not.

Entering the resort from the quiet, leafy approach road, the area is carpeted with a green, well kept lawn. Either side stand a row of spacious, tasteful wooden bungalows that subconsciously guide the eye down towards the serene, sandy beach and lapping waves of the seafront ahead.

The only sounds to be heard are the rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze, the calming sounds of the waves and, occasionally, the playful barking of the two resident dogs, who we affectionately named, Cod (due to her gammy eye), and Tripod (due to his severe limp).

There are several small, vegetation covered islands emerging from the water just off shore. As the tide goes out, forcing the shallow waters to retreat along with it, you can stroll out to the islands, stand on the pebble strewn bay, and look back towards the tree lined beach, set against a backdrop of jagged green hills. To your left, at the end of the beach, is an area of dense mangrove and, to your right, nothing but golden sand and the small collection of peaceful resorts that share this stretch of rugged paradise.

The welcoming, talkative family that own and run the property, despite seeming to be on call constantly, are never short on friendly smiles, which just adds to the relaxed homely feel that greets you here.

Originally we had booked a two night stay. That soon became ten after seeing the place for ourselves.

The first night, in our basic but comfortable bungalow, I was lying on the bed, stretched out and engrossed in a book when the peace was suddenly destroyed by a booming, high pitched shriek of pure, unadulterated terror. The kind of ear splitting wail that only a woman can manage. I practically soiled myself as I instinctively shot up and onto my feet in a sort of crouching, defensive position, with arms outstretched, and began frantically scanning the room to see what the hell was going on.

Aimee, eyes wide and alive with panic, was half dressed and dishevelled having just emerged from the shower. She was jumping around as if on hot coals and screaming something, which, to the average human, was inaudible due to the excessive frequency.

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh!!” Was all I caught of it.

And then she was up on the bed with me and we were both looking down at the floor. At what, I had absolutely no idea.

“What the f*ck? What’s going on?” I spat out whilst retaining my controlled, defensive stance.

“Oh my god! There’s a… Oh my god, I think it’s a mouse! Oh my god, oh my god!”

It was like a scene from Tom & Jerry when the woman in the slippers ends up clambering up desperately on to a chair and screaming for help. Honestly, it was truly pathetic.

What followed was a tense standoff, with the mouse stubbornly holding his position under the bed, and us bravely hiding from it above. After a few minutes of panic and heavy breathing, the tiny, helpless creature got bored and left, just walking out, no doubt confused as to what the two idiots jumping about on the bed were up to.

I think I would have done the same in his position.

The days here are difficult to separate. They seem to have merged into one due to the fact that, of the ten days we spent here, nine were lost to the unspoilt, rugged beauty of the place. We would emerge from the bungalow and into the bright mid-morning sun, make the short stroll to the beach and then stay there for the rest of the day. Stretched out on the fine sand, with the sea breeze offering a refreshing respite from the heat, you find yourself emptying your mind of all of life’s stresses. It is a fantastic feeling to close your eyes, take a deep breath of crisp ocean air, and just listen. To the soothing sounds of the water. The gentle rustling of the trees in the breeze. No people. No cars. Nothing but the sounds of nature.

Most days we would take Cod and Tripod for a stroll along the beach, watching them attempt to catch crabs in the shallow waters, or, sometimes, being attacked by a couple of bald, wolf-like, hardened strays that lurked in the shadowy woods at one end of the beach like something from a horror movie.

Occasionally Aimee, in her self appointed role as mother of the earth, would spot a bone dry, dead looking starfish, or maybe a slimy looking cylindrical lump that I’m led to believe is known as a ‘sea cucumber’, that had been caught out by the quickly retreating tide and dash to their aid, scoop them up and deliver them safely back into the shallows. This was generally followed by one of two things, either, said fish shuffling slowly, deeper into the water and much rejoicing on the part of saviour Evripidou, or, it performing an about turn and once again beaching itself, which generated a slightly more hardened response from Mother Earth.

“Stupid fish…”.

We did, reluctantly, tear ourselves away from the beach for one day at least. It was our sixth day here and we booked a tour of the surrounding islands through the resort. Ordinarily, we were told by the chirpy, perm haired mother, they would call a tour company in Au Nang and add you to their particular tour, but for us they were happy to make an exception and take us out on their own, private long boat. Just the two of us.

The tour was similar in many ways to that which we had done previously in Phi-Phi, taking in some amazing scenery as well as snorkelling in some stunning emerald waters, teeming with marine life. There was also the element of following scores of other boats around the same spots that we had found in Phi-Phi, but, thankfully, not to quite the same extent.

Overall, if I was to return to any of the places we have visited in Thailand, it would most likely be here. It offered the direct opposite of the countries intriguing but chaotic capital, Bangkok, and in turn, really delivered what we had hoped to find in the southern reaches of Thailand in the unspoilt, largely tourist free beaches that the guidebooks and travel shows promote but are increasingly becoming a backpackers myth.

It was difficult to leave but, on what was the eleventh day, with a hint of reluctance, that is exactly what we did.

With our departure from Pan Beach came with it our departure from the ninth country of our trip, Thailand, as we said an emotional farewell to Cod and Tripod, threw our backpacks into the back of the taxi and headed off to the small, sterile Krabi airport ahead of our second visit to the most cosmopolitan, and expensive of South East Asian cities, Singapore…