12 days in Thailand 1/7- 1/28/2025

Day 5-Elephant Sanctuary-1/11/2025

Today we are on a all day tour and our first stop begins with a visit to the Living Green Elephant Sanctuary, part of the Living Green Foundation, which promotes itself as an ethical, conservation-focused elephant experience in northern Thailand.

As we arrived at the sanctuary, the bus came to a stop at the top of a gentle hill, and from there the experience immediately felt more grounded and immersive. Instead of a formal entrance, we began walking down a narrow dirt path, the earth uneven beneath your feet, shaded by trees and surrounded by the quiet sounds of nature.

The path sloped steadily downward, guiding us toward the heart of the sanctuary. At the bottom, the space opened up to a large, covered pavilion, simple yet welcoming.

It had a high roof for shade, but the sides were completely open to the surrounding landscape, allowing the breeze to pass through freely. Rows of wooden benches and long tables were arranged underneath, giving it the feel of a communal gathering place where visitors could sit, rest, and share a meal.

Our tour guide gave us a blue shirt, and we all put on a simple “mahout-style” clothing (like a blue jacket) to create a sense of immersion. Our tour guide explaining how they take care about the elephants and history before letting us interact with the elephants.  He also explained that “Ethical” elephant tourism has become a major shift in Thailand over the past decade. For many years, elephants were used in logging and later in tourism, especially for rides, performances, and entertainment. However, growing awareness of animal welfare has changed traveler expectations, and many travelers began avoiding riding camps, which is why our guide mentioned that the business is no longer viable. Sanctuaries like one emerged as an alternative livelihood for retraining camps into rescue and care centers.

Just beyond the open structure, we could see their enclosure, close enough that we didn’t need to move to observe them. There was no sense of separation beyond a simple boundary; the elephants were right there, part of the same environment.

From the pavilion, we were led down toward the enclosure, where the experience quickly became more immediate and hands-on. We could see that the elephants were already gathered nearby, drawn in by piles of freshly cut plants, likely corn stalks and leaves, laid out for them. The abundance of food kept them close, calmly milling about so everyone could observe them up close.

Nearby, our guide organized the group and asked for a few volunteers to help carry baskets filled with cut sugar cane. Each piece had been trimmed into long sticks, easy to hold and offer.

Once everyone gathered in a semicircle, he gave a short, practical lesson on how to feed the elephants, where to stand, how to hold the cane, and how to stay aware of their trunks.

 Even with a wooden barrier, being that close, seeing their trunks reach out, feeling their strength and gentleness was a powerful experience.

I grabbed a bunch of sugar cane to feed the elephants.

 I was a bit scare a first because they are so massive.

Our tour guide encouraged all of us to say “bon bon” as we fed them, a playful cue that everyone quickly picked up. While it may not be a formal Thai command, it added a lighthearted rhythm to the interaction, with people calling it out as the elephants reached forward with their trunks, skillfully taking the sugar cane and guiding it into their mouths.

Up close, their presence felt both powerful and gentle, the texture of their trunks, the slow, deliberate movements, and the quiet focus on eating made the moment surprisingly calm.

We really enjoyed the feeding experience.

Among them was a young calf named Millie (on far left). At about two years old, she was still nursing, staying close to her mother and occasionally nudging her for reassurance. Compared to the larger elephants, her small size and playful movements stood out right away. She moved with a kind of curiosity, sometimes lingering near her mother, other times wandering a little, as if testing her independence but never straying too far.

After everyone had a chance to feed them, the experience shifted again. We were led further out into an open field, where there were no visible fences separating the group from the elephants. It felt more natural, less structured, just a shared space between people and animals.

We all gathered around the open field.

Standing there, with the elephants moving freely around you, the dynamic changed. Instead of observing from a boundary, you were now simply present in their environment

Each elephant were help by a guardian so they stay in the field.

Again our tour guide asked for volunteer to bring freshly cut corn stalks for the elephants to eat.

What stood out most in that moment was how close the relationship felt between the elephants and their caretakers. One of the guardians sitting right on the ground, almost tucked beneath the elephant’s head, his back resting casually against its massive front leg. It was such a vulnerable position, he looked completely at ease, focused on his task, using a sharp knife to cut thick pieces of sugar cane in half.

All the while, the elephant hovered just above him, reaching down impatiently with its trunk, trying to grab the pieces before he had even finished cutting them. There was no tension, no hesitation, just a quiet rhythm between them. It was clear this wasn’t something new. The level of trust had to be built over time, because one wrong movement could easily be dangerous, yet both seemed completely comfortable in each other’s presence.

After that, we were invited to gather around the elephants. Being that close, you could finally reach out and touch them, their skin rough and warm, with sparse bristly hair. It was a different kind of connection now, more direct, more tactile, as the elephants stood calmly among the group.

It felt very natural to be surrounded by elephants.

Elephants surrounding one of the guardians for pieces of sugar cane.

Then the experience shifted again as the guides began leading one of the elephants toward a nearby creek.

Not all of them followed, some lingered behind, uninterested, but another one slowly made his way down. You could see that even here, the elephants had their own will; nothing felt forced.

An elephant following their guardian to the creek.

The elephants stood there, soaking it in, sometimes still, sometimes shifting slightly, while water glistened across their bodies. It felt playful, almost childlike, yet grounded in something more meaningful: a shared moment between people and animals, simple and unhurried, set in the natural surroundings of the creek.

Down by the creek, a group gathered in the shallow water, each person handed a small bowl.

Laughter and excitement filled the air as people began scooping water and splashing it onto the elephants’ thick skin.

On the walk back up toward the open pavilion, the pace slowed again, and that's when we noticed Millie (in the center). She was tucked closely beside her mother, quietly nursing. completely at ease despite the presence of people nearby.

It was a gentle, almost intimate moment, and it stayed with you. Seeing such a young elephant not just surviving but clearly thriving, comfortable, curious, and still deeply bonded to her mother gave the whole visit a more hopeful feeling.

Back at the pavilion, the atmosphere shifted to something warm and communal. Everyone took their seats on the wooden benches while, just a few steps away, the staff began preparing lunch. It was impressive to realize that everything had come with you on the same bus, ingredients, cooking equipment, everything needed to feed the group.

Right there, in the open-air kitchen, they cooked pad Thai fresh on the spot. You could hear the sizzling from the pan, smell the sweet and savory aroma as it drifted through the space, and watch the whole process unfold. It added another layer to the experience, simple, local, and shared together after the morning’s activities. Sitting there, eating, reflecting on what you had just experienced, it really did feel like a special visit.

These elephants are what you might call “semi-free.” They are not confined in the way traditional camps once kept them, and they are no longer working in logging or giving rides. But they also can’t simply be released back into the wild. Many were born in captivity or have spent most of their lives around humans. They may lack survival skills, and in places like northern Thailand, there’s also limited safe habitat left for them. So sanctuaries like this exist in a kind of middle ground: they provide food, medical care, and protection, they allow more natural behaviors and social bonding. but they still rely on tourism to fund those operations.

The presence of visitors, feeding, touching, bathing does influence how the elephants live. It’s not a completely natural life. But compared to the past—carrying tourists, performing tricks, working long hours—this is generally considered a much better alternative. But for many of these elephants, it may be the most realistic and humane option available today. And moments like seeing Millie with her mother, that’s often what people hold onto. It suggests that, within these limitations, the elephants are at least able to live with some level of comfort, care, and dignity.

NEXT... Day 5- Doi Inthanon National Park