After 19 years I returned to Ko Lipe, the tiny Thai island I’d spent nearly a month on in 2006. Back then it was remote and simple: intermittent electricity, basic beach bungalows for a couple of dollars, a handful of restaurants and one beach bar. You hung out on the sand, snorkeled, read, drank a beer, rotated meals among a few places, and lingered. It was paradise, and many travelers got stuck there for weeks.
I avoided returning for years because I didn’t want to ruin that memory. Revisits often mean chasing ghosts: the people, places, and magic that made a first trip special aren’t usually waiting unchanged. But on a recent trip down Thailand’s Indian Ocean coast, Ko Lipe made sense logistically and as a lively spot for New Year’s Eve—there’s even a boat to Langkawi, my next stop—so I went.
What I found was heartbreaking: Ko Lipe has followed the Ko Phi Phi model of rapid, unsustainable development. Dirt paths are now concrete for cars and construction trucks. Palm groves have been replaced by high-end resorts with pools on an island that lacks a natural fresh-water source. New resorts keep being built. Coral is dying from the pressure of boats, anchors, pollution, and overfishing. Beaches are lined with longtails whose exhaust leaves an oily sheen on the water. Restaurants increasingly cater to tourists seeking bland Western food rather than showcasing real Thai cuisine.
This boom has displaced many locals who sold to mainland developers. Much of the island’s workforce now comes from the mainland and sees little of the tourism wealth. In short, Ko Lipe is another victim of Thailand’s too-common pattern of overdevelopment and resource exploitation.
If it’s your first time on Ko Lipe, I can understand the “wow” reaction—the water is an incredible azure, the sand is white, and the national-park surroundings make for excellent boat trips to nearby islands. Compared to Phuket or Krabi it still feels less developed. But that’s not an argument for visiting. Going now only increases pressure on limited local resources and further profits the developers who bought land from locals.
I’m not against growth; I’m against this kind of unmanaged growth. You can’t easily put the genie back in the bottle, and locals shouldn’t be asked to remain impoverished so visitors can preserve an idealized vision. With nearby islands that are better managed—Ko Lanta, Ko Jum, Ko Mook—there are alternatives that don’t contribute to Ko Lipe’s decline.
Consumer choices matter. Stopping harmful practices—like riding elephants—happened when travelers changed their behavior. Eco lodges grew because people demanded them. Conversations about overtourism increasingly come from travelers as much as from locals. If enough people skip Ko Lipe, maybe its trajectory could change. I doubt it, but hope remains.
For now, if you care about being a responsible traveler, skip Ko Lipe. Your absence is at least not another contribution to the problem. Go somewhere better managed instead—your choices do have an impact.
