We fought our way back toward the hotel, dodging the impossibly out-of-control motorcycles all the way. Jane espied an ATM. She approached the machine but the glare on the screen made it unreadable. I leaned in to offer a bulky shadow. Crash! There was a low-hanging awning over the outlet, presumably to provide shade from the sun and shelter from the occasional heavy downpour. It clearly had not been designed for blind six-foot-two blokes. I now had the makings of a bruise developing above my left eye to go with the other injuries. I wondered how many more I might collect before we got home?

We seized on a moment of spontaneous impetuosity. When we got to the turning for the hotel we ignored it, wondering what was up the road. So, we continued upwards. We went up and up and up. Eventually a brow could be seen fifty or so metres ahead. We felt sure relief was at hand. We crested the hill to be confronted with more up and up and up. Our hearts were pounding, our backs were sweating, and our knees were buckling. This was the best workout that either of us had had since we left home. Oh, to be a sausage on the beach!

A homemade sign directed us to a viewing point. We turned off onto a narrow unmade path. All of a sudden it was quiet. The incessant screaming of straining motorbikes had subsided. Of course, we realised,, they could not get up this track. How wrong we were! Every now and again a small posse of the screeching machines would pass us. Were they brave or were they foolish? And, they did not wear helmets! The path was steep, constructed of scree, stepped with irregular risers and potholed. It had been eroded so that it was dusty and slippery for much of the ascent. The bikes sometimes slewed sideways, some dismounted and tried pushing them, but most abandoned their charges. Definitely foolish.

Was it worth it when we got to the top? You bet it was, what breath we had left to us was taken away by the vista, or in my case, the sense of a vista. I am not sure what our altitude was but it felt as though we were on top of the world. We shared a bamboo platform with very few others. Maybe there hadn’t been as many motorcycles as we had first imagined.

Eventually, we had to pull ourselves away from the sublime panorama for the journey back before it got dark. Jane did not fancy my chances of making it back in one piece should we have to navigate the path in reverse and in darkness. A Thai entrepreneur had set up a small shelter where he sold bottles of iced water. What a relief. Our throats were parched. Not sure how much we paid for each bottle but I am sure we would not have baulked at £10 each! It always amazes me how quick return journeys seem compared to the outward foray. All the discomforts of the way up returned with compound interest on the way down. There was still plenty of light left to us when we arrived back at our jaunty little bungalow.

Sometimes, just sometimes, air cooling can come into its own. This was one such time. It had been an incredible day. Don’t you find this, when you do something on the spur of the moment it can turn out to be truly amazing and most rewarding.

We did leave the hotel grounds on a few more occasions including a personalised car tour of the island. It was an eye-opener in a way. We visited different beaches, different bars and different panoramic views. Undoubtedly, it was worth every penny, but nothing could really match our decision to march up the hill to the truly unforgettable bamboo platform looking right out over the Gulf of Thailand.

Alas, it was now time to commence the journey back to home and the rest of winter. Just one more stop-off for a final dose of sun. Join us next time when we will be in Dubai, including a tour of the city with a Russian fella called Vladimir and a spot of belly dancing in the desert, rest easy, it’s not me!