We left the main mecca of Ko Rong, Cambodia’s second largest island, with one goal in mind—isolation. Our rickety fish boat was anchored two schooners away from the pier so we formed an assembly line to heave our bags, tents, water and food into the right vessel. While Lisa sat starboard and protected the food, Tomer settled at the stern to safeguard his guitar. That left me in charge of the bags, which became a damp task as water filled the beam—bags shuffled, eggs perished and sun scorched our water pebbled skin. We were dropped off at the right edge of Long Beach, roughly 150 meters from the coastline, forcing us to haul our camp gear to shore in waist deep water, survivor style. We bid our boatman farewell and began a long trek down Long Beach in search of the perfect campsite.
According to Tomer, this is one of the cleanest and most beautiful beaches he has ever been to. I’ll take his word for it considering he lives minutes from a beach in Israel and as done a lot more worldly beach hopping than me. I’ve spent the majority of my life in the mountains, or endless flat landscapes made up of farm fields and tumbleweeds. Any and every beach I’ve been to is unique and majestic, but my lifetime sample size of beach visits is far too small for a solid grade. This beach, for now, has the least pollution and human population I’ve ever seen. We finally setup camp in between two palmy pine trees with suddenly nothing better to do, but chill, snorkel, read, cook, treasure hunt, drink and more. As the sun fell closer to the sea’s horizon, it perked up in piercing pink and orange hues with a vibrant dash of marmalade—by far, the best place to see the sunset on the entire island. And that’s not the only thing that glows. Once the lights go out, the stars speckle like a disco ball, and the gleaming azure plankton comes out to dance. It's a truly magical experience.