The Seven Tiers of the National Park

Chai was the kind of boy who measured his life in seconds. To him, the world was just a series of finish lines. Back in Bangkok, he was the “Prince of the Pool.” If he wasn’t beating his personal best in the 100-meter freestyle, he felt like he was drowning.

“Chai-ah! Slow down, lah!” his cousin, Somchai, shouted, wiping sweat from his forehead. “The waterfall isn’t going to run away!”

They were standing at the entrance of Erawan National Park. The sun was a golden coin hanging in the humid sky. Around them, the jungle breathed—a heavy, green breath filled with the scent of damp earth and blooming jasmine.

“You’re so slow, Som,” Chai said, checking his waterproof sports watch. “Tier one is only five minutes away. If we don’t hurry, the tourists will crowd the top. My coach says if you aren’t first, you’re last.”

Somchai sighed, adjusting his backpack. “This isn’t a swim meet, cousin. It’s a hike.”

Tier One: Hulaiwi

They reached the first level, Hulaiwi, in record time. The water was clear, almost like glass, spilling over smooth limestone rocks into a shallow pool. A few families were already there, spreading out mats and opening containers of sticky rice.

Chai didn’t even look at the water. “Too easy,” he muttered. “This is for babies. Let’s go.”

“Wait, I want to see the fish!” Somchai pointed at the Mahseer barbs swimming near the edge.

“No time. We have six more levels. Move it!”

Tier Two: Wang Macha

The second tier was beautiful. A wide curtain of water fell into a deep, turquoise pool. This was where most people stopped to swim. The fish here were bigger, congregating around people’s feet for a “fish spa” nibble.

“Oh! It tickles!” Somchai laughed, dipping his toes in.

Chai stood on the wooden bridge, tapping his foot. His heart was racing, but not from the beauty. He felt an itch under his skin—the need to be at the highest point. To Chai, the second tier was just a distraction. It was a silver medal. And Chai didn’t do silver.

“Som, if you don’t come now, I’m leaving you behind. I want to be the first one at the seventh tier today.”

Tier Three: Pha Nam Tok

The trail started to get steeper. The humidity felt like a wet blanket. Chai’s breath was coming in short bursts, but he pushed himself. He passed an elderly couple walking slowly, hand-in-hand.

“Excuse me, Uncle, Auntie,” Chai said, darting past them.

“Careful, young man!” the old man called out with a smile. “The stones are slippery. Don’t rush the spirits of the forest.”

Chai ignored him. He reached the third tier, a tall waterfall that crashed into a deep green pool. It was loud and powerful. Somchai finally caught up, huffing and puffing.

“Chai, wait… look at how the light hits the mist,” Somchai panted. “It looks like a rainbow.”

“Rainbows don’t win trophies,” Chai snapped. “Third place is the first loser. Let’s go.”

Tier Four: Oke Nang Peesua

By the fourth tier, the “easy” path ended. The trail became a tangle of tree roots and jagged rocks. This level featured two large, smooth boulders that looked like natural slides.

A group of local kids were sliding down the rocks, screaming with joy, their brown skin glistening. One boy, younger than Chai, waved. “Hey! Want to slide? The moss makes it super fast!”

Chai looked at the mossy slide. Part of him—the part that used to play in the rain before he joined the elite swim team—wanted to jump in. But he looked at his watch.

10:45 AM. Too slow.

“No thanks,” Chai said stiffly. “I’m going to the top.”

The younger boy looked confused. “But the top is just more water. The fun is right here!”

Chai didn’t answer. He was already climbing.

Tier Five: Bua Mai Long

This tier was a series of small, cascading terraces. It looked like a giant’s staircase. Because it was harder to reach, there were fewer people. The silence of the jungle began to swallow the sounds of the city.

Chai’s legs were burning. He slipped on a wet root, skinning his knee.

“Aiyah!” he hissed, clutching his leg.

Somchai caught up and immediately pulled a bandage from his bag. “See? This is what happens when you race the mountain. The mountain always wins, Chai.”

“I’m fine,” Chai said, pushing his cousin’s hand away. He looked at the water. It was strangely still here. For the first time, he noticed a blue butterfly landing on a nearby leaf. It stayed there, opening and closing its wings.

For a second, Chai forgot about his watch. He watched the butterfly. It wasn’t going anywhere. It was just… being.

“It’s nice here,” Somchai whispered.

Chai shook his head, clearing his mind. “We’re almost there. Only two more.”

Tier Six: Dong Pruk Sa

The climb to the sixth tier was brutal. There was no clear path, just slippery limestone and thick vines. Chai had to use his hands to scramble up. He was sweating buckets now, his “Prince of the Pool” ego feeling a bit bruised.

When they reached the sixth tier, it was hidden behind thick trees. It was small and private.

“We’re almost the only ones here,” Somchai said, washig his face in the cool water. “Maybe we should just stay here? It’s so peaceful.”

Chai looked up. He could see the faint glimmer of the seventh tier through the canopy. It was so close. “No. If I stop now, the whole trip was a waste of time. What’s the point of coming to Erawan if you don’t reach the end?”

“The point,” Somchai said, “is the Erawan. Not just the end of it.”

Chai didn’t listen. He began the final trek.

Tier Seven: Phu Pha Erawan

The final climb was a vertical scramble. Chai’s muscles screamed. He pulled himself over the final ledge, expecting a burst of triumph, a crowd to cheer, a gold medal to appear.

Instead, there was silence.

The seventh tier was a pale, milky blue pool fed by water trickling down a rock formation that looked like the three heads of the Erawan elephant. It was beautiful, yes. But it was also… quiet.

Chai stood there, waiting for the “winning” feeling. It didn’t come. He checked his watch. He had made it in record time. He was the first one there.

He sat on a rock, chest heaving. Five minutes passed. Ten. He realized he was lonely. He had left Somchai at tier six. He had ignored the rainbow at tier three. He had skipped the slide at tier four. He had barely looked at the blue butterfly at tier five.

He looked at his reflection in the pale blue water. He didn’t look like a winner. He looked like a boy who had run through a palace and only looked at the exit sign.

Twenty minutes later, Somchai appeared, grinning widely. He was holding a cool stone he had found and had a smudge of dirt on his nose.

“Chai! You missed it!” Somchai shouted.

“Missed what? I’m here. I won,” Chai said, though his voice lacked energy.

“On the way up, a troop of monkeys came down to the water at tier six! They were playing and stealing bits of fruit. It was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen! And I met a traveler who told me a story about the hidden caves.”

Chai looked at his cousin. Somchai was glowing with excitement. He had memories. Chai only had a number on a watch.

Chai looked at the three-headed rock. He finally understood. The seventh tier wasn’t the prize. The prize was the 1,500 meters of jungle, laughter, fish-nibbles, and rainbows he had treated like obstacles.

Chai stood up and took off his expensive sports watch. He tucked it deep into his bag.

“Som,” Chai said softly.

“Yeah?”

“Let’s go back down. Slow-slow.”

Somchai smirked. “You want to race?”

Chai laughed—a real, deep laugh that felt better than any trophy. “No, lah. I want to go down to tier four. I think I owe a certain rock-slide a visit.”

As they descended, Chai didn’t look at the time once. He stopped to talk to the elderly couple. He helped a child find a lost sandal. He spent an hour watching the fish at tier two.

He realized that in the water, you swim to finish. But in life, you walk to live. And for the first time, Chai wasn’t worried about being first. He was just happy to be there.