Anantara Golden Triangle Elephant Camp & Resort

It’s breakfast time and Mr Smith is enjoying the attention of another woman. He jumps up from the table to get closer to the lovely young Mina as she leans in and plants sloppy kisses on his cheek. I feel a pang of jealousy, then indignation – ‘where’s my kiss?’ – but it’s short-lived as Mina quickly stretches over and smooches me, too.

Kissing in public is frowned upon in rural Thailand but these shameless PDAs are commonplace at Anantara Golden Triangle – especially at breakfast. The affectionate Mina is one of about six baby elephants who roam the resort’s expansive grounds, and a pachyderm pash in the morning isn’t the first of our elephant encounters.

To our delight, the distinctive silhouette of a long-nosed, mega-tonne mammal was the first thing Mr Smith and I spotted as our car pulled into the drive late the previous afternoon. As we clambered out, stately stone elephants greeted us at the entry and we were offered welcome drinks in the elegant Elephant Bar and Opium Terrace.

Exhausted by our journey from Bangkok to Chiang Rai in the country’s northernmost corner, we headed straight to our Anantara Suite to escape the tropical heat. Our fatigue vanished as soon as the door clicked closed, though, with Mr Smith scampering around our vast suite in search of the most comfortable spot to chill out. Would it be the plump sofa in the living room? The king-size bed laden with silk pillows or the luxurious day-bed on the balcony? The terrazzo tub big enough for two?

A girl always guided by her stomach, I descended upon the free minibar and rustled up a selection of salty snacks to accompany our evening drinks. With sunset approaching, the day-bed and its jaw-dropping valley vistas was confirmed by Mr Smith as the winner. Languishing with cold beers, we took in the spectacular views of tropical Thai jungle and the rolling hills of nearby Myanmar (aka Burma) and Laos.

Wonderfully relaxed the following morning, we decide to delay our date with the award-winning spa until late afternoon (treatments are included in room rates). It’s time to enjoy the outdoors. With hearts still aflutter from our earlier embrace with Mina, the elephant camp beckons.

About 25 elephants call Anantara Golden Triangle home. Its elephant camp is a special conservation effort designed to keep tame animals, that once cleared forests and made a living for their mahout owners, off the streets. This benevolent set-up both protects the animals and allows guests a unique chance to get up close and personal with their enormous fellow residents.

You can take an elephant trek, or learn the special commands of the mahouts, but Mr Smith and I choose to help bathe the babes. Our experience starts with an educational session where we hear that the rapid destruction of the nellies’ natural habitat has placed them prominently on the endangered list. We also learn that elephants are one of the few animals on earth, besides humans, who can recognise themselves in the mirror. It’s just one of the fascinating discoveries recently made by Anantara’s in-house researchers.

Zoology class over, Mr Smith leads us past the gorgeous sunlounger-lined infinity pool down the hillside to the junior jumbos. We round a bend into a clearing to find three of the biggest infants I have ever seen, eagerly waiting for us behind a trail of rope. A mountain of bananas and bamboo sits to one side, and we’re soon shovelling the sweet treats, skins and all, into the babies’ mouths.

With the food demolished in less than five minutes, it’s time for a swim. The mahouts speak no English but they direct us and the baby elephants in an unlikely parade to the river that snakes its way around the edge of the resort.

Elephants and mahouts wade in, trunks waving, and Mr Smith and I follow them gingerly. Within seconds we’re all splashing about, rubbing elephants’ tummies and scratching behind their flapping ears, as if they were oversized, hairless dogs. Cheekily the youngest sucks up a trunk full of water and sprays it all over me. Riotous laughter from Mr Smith, then the mahouts follow and we’re all soon in the midst of a mad water-fight.

Eventually someone calls time on our vigorous watersports and we drag ourselves begrudgingly from the river. Soaked to the core we make our way, arm in arm, back to the hotel, saddened that our pachy-playtime has come to an end. As he opens the door to our room Mr Smith looks me up and down mock-disapprovingly: ‘You smell like a wet elephant,’ he says. I glare at him but then my gaze falls on the terrazzo tub – surely the perfect antidote to my new fragrance.

As we slide into the bubble-bath, glasses of cold bubbles in hand, I can’t resist spraying a mouthful of water, trunk-style, at Mr Smith. Elephants never forget…