Could it be that the road to good intentions is often paved with hell? That’s how it feels as I ascend a jungle-clad knoll at the southern end of Pak Nam Pran Beach, Pranburi, at a pace that probably would make a narcoleptic snail blush. Step after faltering step, I heave myself up the rocky path towards the coveted view until, finally — as my glasses threaten to slide of my glistening face for the umpteenth time—I reach the summit. After reflecting on my aching calves and rocketing temperature for a self-pitying second, I take the time to look around. To the south and west, the limestone peaks of Khao Sam Roi Yot and Kui Buri national parks trail off into the distance before giving way to even wilder territory at the Burmese border. Meanwhile, pristine sand stretches for kilometers to the north, the lapping waters of the Gulf of Thailand filled with kitesurfers, who look like oversized multihued tropical butterflies to me. I’m only 220 kilometers from Bangkok, but it might as well be a thousand.