Railay Beach – Our Place Of Broken Dreams
Our Story
We all have them, those places we’ve travelled to that stay with us long after we’ve left.
The kind of places that leave an imprint on your soul. We fall in love with the landscape, the people, the feeling of being there.
And later, we find ourselves sitting around with friends, swapping stories, describing that magical little beach, always with the same hope: one day, we’ll go back.
Well, that’s how Railay Beach was for us.
Tucked away on Thailand’s Andaman Coast, accessible only by boat, it felt like a secret.
The towering limestone cliffs, the calm turquoise sea, restaurants served delicious Thai food, the rustic beach bars with their fairy lights.
It was everything we dreamed a slice of paradise could be.
We swam in crystal-clear water, watched monkeys leap through the trees, relaxed on the beaches and spent slow, warm evenings soaking in every moment.
But as we recently found out, even paradise can change.
1999
My first trip to Railey was in 1999, the moment we landed on the beach I knew this was about to become one of my favourite places.
This Peninsula was only reachable by long boat so no traffic only walking.
Just one sandy walking path from East Railay Beach to West Railay Beach we thought this was heaven.
Accommodation (Railay Bay) on the beach for 300 baht, around $15 NZ dollars, basic but perfect for backpackers.
With the quiet tranquil beach of Ao Phra Nang and its emerald green waters, white sands and its breathtaking scenery.
West Railay, the main beach that you arrive at from Ao Nang
Here we spent most days swimming and eating corn on the cob with hardly anyone else insight.
In the evenings we would eat in West Railay playing beach football, as the sunset, with the local workers who had finished their shift or were having a break.
East Railay was very bohemian, cheaper accommodation, tent sites and a few cafes and restaurants.
A four-day stay turned in nine and it was hard to even leave then.
2003
In 2003, we returned. We had expected changes, and yes, there were a few.
But to our relief, it still held the same soul-soothing vibe it had back in 1999.
The cliffs still stood proudly against the horizon, the boats still lined the shore, and the sunsets were just as golden and breathtaking as we remembered.
Prices had increased, but not by much.
Things were a little more polished in places, a few more tourists perhaps, but it didn’t feel overwhelming.
The charm was still there, unshaken.
Some of the properties had changed, newer builds had popped up, and a few familiar places had been rebuilt or upgraded, but nothing felt out of place.
It was a natural evolution, not a takeover.
And best of all, I still found myself on the beach at sunset, barefoot in the sand, playing footy with the local Thai staff.
More happy memories made, more moments to treasure.
The beautiful Ao Phra Nang Beach. This spot is just perfect, before it became over crowded
2007
Four years later, in 2007, we returned once more, this time staying for a week at Diamond Cave Resort. By th
en, Railay had experienced one of the region’s darkest days.
Like many places along the coast, it was impacted by the devastating 2004 Boxing Day tsunami.
The tragedy had touched the lives of so many, and we arrived unsure of what to expect.
The sandy path we once strolled along had been replaced with a concrete one.
But honestly? No worries.
The spirit of Railay still lingered in the air.
Accommodation had built up, new places had opened, some more polished and modern.
Prices had risen again, as they do, but it hadn’t yet tipped into the overly commercial.
Somehow, Railay still carried that same unmistakable essence of 1999, that magic mix of wild beauty, warm people, and a pace that invited you to just be.
It was still the kind of place where you could step off the boat, drop your bags, and feel your shoulders relax instantly.
Troubles felt smaller here.
Time moved slower.
The world outside didn’t seem to matter.
And yes, I still played footy on West Railay at sunset with the Thai staff. Just like before.
That simple ritual, that connection, meant everything.
The laughter, the camaraderie, the joy of it all.
It was a reminder that while places may change, some moments are timeless.
Over the next few years, we’d find ourselves reminiscing often, sharing stories of Railay with friends and family.
We’d describe the cliffs, the beach, the food, the sunsets, and try our best to put into words how special it was.
But deep down, we always knew that 95% of the people we told would probably never make it there.
And maybe that’s what made it feel even more sacred, like a secret we were lucky enough to hold.
The front entrance to Market street and so the mass changes begin
2016
Fast forward to 2016, and we were given the opportunity to return, this time with Lukas.
We were genuinely excited.
Finally, we’d be able to share one of our special places in Asia with our son.
A place woven into the fabric of our own love story and travel memories.
A place we had talked about so often.
We weren’t naïve, we knew things would have changed.
We had seen the signs when booking online: higher prices, an explosion of new accommodation options, and glowing five-star reviews that hinted at a very different Railay than the one we first knew.
Still, nothing could prepare us for the moment the longtail boat rounded the corner and West Railay came into view.
The joy on our faces quickly faded. Travellers were everywhere, shoulder to shoulder on the sand, queuing for boats, crowding the paths. ]
A brand new “Market Street” had sprung up, lined with tailors, travel agents, souvenir shops, and cafés charging Western prices.
Gleaming resorts now stood where humble bungalows once sat. It was overwhelming.
We couldn’t even find our accommodation at first, that’s how unfamiliar it had all become.
When we finally did, we settled into our room quietly, in a kind of stunned silence.
Lukas had fallen asleep, blissfully unaware.
We sat together and spoke in hushed voices about what we had just witnessed.
It wasn’t anger, it was sadness, disappointment.
Still, we reminded ourselves: change is inevitable.
Let’s make the most of it.
The next morning, we headed to Ao Phra Nang Beach, determined to salvage the magic.
At first, it looked promising, soft sand, turquoise waters, a calm morning.
Lukas swam with me, Connie stretched out in the sun, and for a brief moment, it felt like maybe, just maybe, we could still find the old Railay.
But it didn’t last.
Soon, the familiar rumble of longtail engines filled the air. Dozens of boats, packed with day-trippers, descended on the bay.
Within minutes, the beach transformed into chaos. Towel to towel. People everywhere.
The peace evaporated.
Sunset on Ao Phra Nang beach just before our final swim for the day
We tried to find solace elsewhere.
I thought maybe a sunset footy match on West Railay would offer some comfort, some tradition. But even that was gone, the beach was jammed with travellers, shoulder-to-shoulder, watching the sun dip below the horizon.
No space for a ball, no familiar faces, no shared laughter.
And for the first time ever in all our years of travel in Thailand, we got sick.
All of us.
We couldn’t help but wonder if the surge in tourism and the visible waste, even at night, we saw longboats carrying rubbish away from the peninsula, was beginning to take its toll.
Even East Railay, once the bohemian heart of the area, had lost its charm.
The ramshackle bars, hammocks, and chill vibes had been replaced by high-end restaurants, boutique shops, and luxury hotels.
We did manage to uncover a couple of small, family-run restaurants, hidden behind the glitz, holding onto what was left.
But how long will they last?
That’s anyone’s guess.
Railay was no longer our slice of paradise.
We know the truth, places grow, evolve, and eventually, word gets out.
What’s undiscovered will eventually be discovered.
That’s the rhythm of travel. But part of us just wished it hadn’t happened here.
Still, we made beautiful memories with Lukas.
We laughed, explored, and shared precious moments as a family.
But it wasn’t the reunion we had hoped for. And when we took our final step off Railay Beach that trip, we knew deep down, it would be the last time we’d lay eyes on that shoreline.
Thumbs up from Lukas as we board the long boat and say goodbye to Railay Beach
Final Thoughts
When we first heard about Railay Beach, it sounded like the kind of paradise we dreamt of, dramatic limestone cliffs, turquoise waters, and a laid-back vibe only accessible by boat.
And while those elements are still technically there, the reality of Railay today is quite different from what it once was.
Over the years, Railay has become increasingly overrun with tourists.
What was once a tranquil, somewhat hidden gem has turned into a busy hotspot filled with selfie sticks, longtail boat traffic, and a vibe that feels more like a resort strip than a secluded escape.
The natural beauty is still striking, but it now competes with the sprawl of luxury hotels, five-star resorts, and constant construction, a clear sign of tourism overpowering sustainability.
While we appreciate the comfort and convenience that development can bring, it’s hard not to feel that the essence of Railay has been diluted.
The charm of wandering quiet beaches and finding tucked-away cafes has been replaced by overpriced menus and packed viewpoints.
So now we find ourselves asking the question, do we return to the other slices of paradise we’ve fallen in love with over the years?
Those off the beaten path places that felt untouched and personal?
Places like Railay once was, where we had that magical connection.
Or… have they changed too? Have they, like Railay, become the next “must see” on someone’s viral travel list?
Perhaps, rather than chasing what was, we choose to leave those memories untouched, perfectly preserved in our hearts and photos.
And instead, continue the adventure.
Seek out new corners of the world, new cultures, new challenges.
Create fresh memories with our kids, ones they’ll carry with them just as we’ve carried ours.
Because maybe that’s the real beauty of travel, not just finding paradise, but allowing it to evolve, just as we do.
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Meet the family
We are a family of 4 living in New Zealand. I’m a teacher (great profession for traveling) and my wife Connie works in project management. We are also proud parents of two travel-loving boys.
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Scott - 4 Degrees of Destination
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Hi, I've been fortunate enough to have travelled for over 25 years. My parents gave me the travel bug when I was 10 years old by taking my sister and I to the USA and Mexico for two months. I've travelled by myself, with mates, with my wife and now as a family of four. My goal is to inspire our families to get out and see the world.