I arrived at the hotel, Koh Yao Yai Village, early in the morning, slightly sticky from the boat ride and very ready to explore. My room wasn’t ready yet, and instead of doing the sensible thing and ordering a coffee by the pool, I decided that what I clearly needed was a scooter.
On islands like Koh Yao Yai, renting a scooter feels almost mandatory. They are easy to handle, affordable, and wildly tempting if you are the kind of person who associates wind in your hair with freedom.
I used to work as a tourist rep in Greece in my twenties, and back then we all got around on scooters just like this. It felt glamorous at the time. In reality, it was mildly unhinged. Over the course of one summer, I crashed twice, including one particularly dramatic fall right in front of a group of “my” tourists. You would think that experience would have made me cautious for life. Apparently not.
That morning on Koh Yao Yai, all memory of scraped knees and bruised pride had evaporated. I rented the scooter, adjusted the helmet, and set off south along the quiet island roads, convinced I was starring in my own travel documentary.
Koh Yao Yai is largely Muslim, and most of the food served on the island is halal. You will not find much pork on the menus, but you will find plenty of beautifully cooked chicken and beef dishes, fragrant soups, and stir fries that make you forget pork ever existed.
After checking out a couple of postcard perfect beaches, I stopped at a roadside restaurant for lunch. You know the type. Open air, plastic chairs, a few laminated menus curling at the corners. Over the years I have learned that this setup often correlates strongly with good food.
I ordered a bowl of noodle soup with meatballs and a plate of stir fried chicken with basil. While I was eating, I felt that familiar sensation of being watched. I looked up and nearly choked.
Behind the kitchen, just a few meters away, stood a giant bird of prey. I am not an ornithologist, but this was not your average backyard chicken. It looked like some kind of raptor. There was a rope attached to its legs, so I assume it was being kept there intentionally.
The woman running the restaurant had noticed me photographing my food, and once I had finished eating, she gestured enthusiastically toward the bird. I should take a photo of that too. I felt uncomfortable. I am not a fan of wild animals in captivity, but I was also very aware that this was not the moment for a spontaneous lecture on animal welfare. I smiled politely, took a couple of photos, and later deleted them. If you look closely at one of the food photos from that day, you might just spot a blur of wings in the background.
Lunch over, I climbed back onto the scooter and continued around the island. At some point, I noticed a small dirt road branching off from the main road. It looked promising. I could see a hint of ocean shimmering between the dense greenery, and I convinced myself that a secluded beach was waiting at the end.
The track started out manageable. Then it got narrower. Bumpier. Red dirt turned into loose gravel and something that might once have been a path. I told myself it was just a short rough patch.
It was not.
Eventually, I reached the point where it was difficult to tell what was road and what was jungle. This was where a sensible person would have turned around. Instead, I decided to push on just a little further.
One of the tires slipped. The scooter tilted. And suddenly I found myself in what can only be described as a slow motion crash. Not dramatic, not cinematic. Just me, a rented scooter, and a very undignified meeting with the red dirt of Koh Yao Yai.
Lying there, helmet slightly askew, I had a moment of clarity. I was on a rented scooter. I was alone. I was in a deserted area with questionable reception. If I had broken an arm or hit my head, this story could have taken a very different turn.
Thankfully, I was mostly fine. A bit shaken, a bit dirty, ego slightly bruised. I picked up the scooter, brushed the red dust off my legs, and decided that my daily quota of adventure had officially been reached.
I drove back slowly, far more aware of every bump in the road, returned the scooter, and handed over the keys with what I hope looked like casual confidence.
Koh Yao Yai is beautiful. The beaches are quiet, the roads are peaceful, and exploring by scooter can be wonderful. Just maybe skip the improvised jungle detours. Some hidden beaches are best left undiscovered.
