I Rode an Elephant in Samui — And Regret It

I Rode an Elephant in Samui — And Regret It

The morning air in Koh Samui shimmers with promise—coconut groves stretching towards sapphire skies, the tang of sea salt riding every breeze. My sandals kick up dust as I follow signs promising “Elephant Trekking Adventure.” I’m giddy with anticipation, imagining myself atop one of these gentle giants, seeing the world as they do. But what unfolded that day painted my memories with a different palette—one tinged with regret and lessons I’m compelled to share.

The Allure of an Elephant Ride

There’s something almost mythical about elephants—their wrinkled wisdom, the slow sway of their steps. Watching them from afar, I felt a childlike awe, that tickle in your chest when you witness something ancient and grand. Every travel brochure in Samui seems to beckon with the image: you, the adventurer, atop an elephant, jungle fanning out in all directions.

I told myself it was harmless—an “experience of a lifetime.” The word adventure has a powerful pull, don’t you think?

The Reality Behind the Ride

The elephant I met was named Mali. Her skin was a patchwork of gray and pink, ears flapping in the heat. Her eyes, though, held a weary kind of knowing. As I climbed onto the wooden seat strapped to her back, excitement fluttered in my stomach—soon replaced by a strange, heavy unease.

It was in the gentle sway of Mali’s walk, the metal hook the mahout carried, the distant sway of her trunk. The trek itself was beautiful—birds darted through sunlit leaves, every breath tasted like green. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Mali moved slowly, her steps deliberate, almost resigned.

When the ride ended, I watched as she was led back to a bare patch of earth, chained while she waited for the next rider.

Learning the Truth

Later, curiosity led me to research. I learned that elephants, especially in tourist destinations like Samui, are often taken from the wild as babies. The process of taming them—called phajaan—can be deeply traumatic. The heavy wooden seats hurt their spines; the constant rides and unnatural tricks take a toll on their bodies and spirits.

I thought back to Mali’s eyes, that patient sadness. My heart ached. I realized I hadn’t been part of an “adventure”—I’d been part of her burden.

What I Wish I Knew Before

If you’re traveling to Thailand (or anywhere with captive elephants), here’s what I wish someone told me:

• Skip the ride. However tempting it is, riding elephants hurts them, physically and emotionally.
• Choose ethical sanctuaries. Some places allow you to observe, feed, or bathe elephants in a way that respects their freedom and dignity. Look for sanctuaries certified by organizations like the Asian Elephant Support or World Animal Protection.
• Do your research. Websites and reviews can be misleading; dig deeper. Ask how the elephants are treated, whether they’re chained, and if they’re allowed to roam.
• Spread the word. Share what you learn. The more travelers choose ethical experiences, the more the industry will change.

A New Kind of Adventure

My regret became a compass, steering me towards gentler, more respectful encounters. I learned that sometimes the bravest thing you can do as a traveler is to question the “bucket list” experiences we’re sold.

There’s magic in simply watching elephants be elephants—mud-splattered and happy, trumpeting with their friends. I still remember Mali, and I hope that by sharing her story, I can help her and her kind.

Let your travels be painted with empathy as well as wonder. The world is full of unforgettable moments that don’t come at the expense of its most magnificent creatures.

If you go to Samui, taste the fresh mango, swim in the turquoise waves, listen to the cicadas sing at sunset. But let elephants walk their forests in peace. That’s an adventure worth treasuring.