After being in Chiang Mai for over a year, seeing Thai elephants was definitely a long overdue experience. We had been apprehensive about jumping on the elephant tour bandwagon for a number of reasons - the most important being that we are very sceptical about the role of animals in Thailand’s tourism industry. Also, I'm allergic to tour groups, tourists, and toury-touristy type things in general.

Another reason we were so late to go play with the big gentle giants is that personally, I was not all that desperate to see them. Having grown up in South Africa with a family who all had ants in their pants, I was often taken on camping trips out in the bush or on the beach, or rustic cabins out in the forests and mountains. There were times we’d wake up to a zebra casually nudging through all our supplies, or a warthog grunting at the entrance to our tents. My dad always pushed me and my sisters to be explorative and unafraid of the wild (and I suspect he also secretly hoped we’d roughen out all our soft little girly edges). That encouragement led me to numerous encounters with nature and wildlife that impacted me profoundly from a young age.

I remember a time I sat face to face with a hyena, perched on a step while the stinky dog was a few steps below me, curiously sniffing out our leftovers from our dinner hours before. There was another time my over-enthusiastic gran jumped out our car to snap some close-up pics of a rhino, which began pawing the ground, perhaps preparing to charge, while we yelled at her profusely, “Get back in the car! GRAN!” to which she replied, “Just one more snap! That rhino would never charge an old lady like me!”

I have always been proud of my country’s passionate wildlife conservation efforts, and was horrified the first time I actually met somebody who said they hunted for sport. He was a Midwestern American, unfortunately dumb as a piece of plastic, and I fantasized about stalking and executing him for days after our retch-worthy meeting. Many South Africans share this sweet sentiment about hunters and poachers, and those in the know will annoyingly bombard you with endless conservation facts and figures...

Like the one about African elephant populations hovering around 700,000, while Asia only has about 32,000. Or the one about the biggest threat to Asian elephants being a lack of space, not to mention the abuse and hardships that working elephants still suffer from even today. Without getting too deep in the elephant dung-pile, I always knew that by coming to Thailand I would be exposed to issues surrounding wildlife and nature that I’d struggle to understand. And I do, all the time.

This is why my stomach sank when my boyfriend said to me the other day, “That’s it. I've had enough of all these people on Facebook having a big elephant party! Let’s do it!” I had to give in, because it’s a rather reasonable desire to want to see elephants in Thailand, but I had two conditions: I did not want to ride an elephant, and I did not want to see them chained up.

After a search on elephants in tourism, and the state of elephant camps in Thailand (and much outrage and ranting from me) I found the Elephant Nature Park. I was immediately drawn to their statement “our aim has always been to provide a sanctuary and rescue centre for elephants” because when you search for elephants in Chiang Mai, you will land upon more than a few elephant camps, whose messages don’t seem to be about rescuing or rehabilitating elephants, but more about how you as a tourist can have a good time. Another selling factor was that Elephant Nature Park’s lunch was already vegetarian, which might seem silly to some, but says a lot about their attitude towards all animals. Our day at their park was promptly booked, for 2500 a person (again, a lot cheaper than others).

A picture that sums up the entire park: elephants, dogs, nature, and caring people.

In May 2013, during the last week of the school term break, my boyfriend and I hopped on our CBR 150cc, and began our adventure to the town of Pai. I had been on this Pai journey once before, in the high season, and didn't quite understand the difference going in the low season would make. Of course, the trip there was thoroughly terrifying, although extremely enjoyable as well (if that makes sense). A lot of the more treacherous roads seemed to have been repaired since I had been on the same ones a few months before, and there were many more construction workers milling about and fiddling with heaps of tar. It rained heavily, as usual, and this was the part that made the trip so dangerous. Unless you can overcome the paranoia of flying down a natural water-slide on your vehicle, I'd recommend pulling over for a coffee while the rain subsides, which it nearly always does.

Because it was so quiet in Pai, with a noticeable lack of people and parties, we spent more time exploring the town and its surroundings. We would drive aimlessly along the little roads that make rings around the place, and stop wherever we thought we had spotted something interesting. This is how we came to find a lonely chained-up elephant, the Pai canyon, some adorable puppy friends, and many, many beautiful views of the scenery. Pai is a lovely little town, but it does have an extroverted, party-crazed personality during the high season, and I'm grateful I got to meet the beauty of this place when things were calm, quiet and peaceful.

A lonely elephant off the beaten track in Pai.