Get up close and personal with rescued elephants, the ethical way, in Chiang Rai

Following the flash floods that hit northern Thailand in October 2024, there were news reports about the evacuation of 100 elephants from a popular sanctuary near Chiang Mai, during which two died.

This tragedy sparked furious debate on the ethics of animal welfare and the role of human intervention in such situations. 

When I bring it up, Chatchote Thitaram, assistant professor at the Faculty of Veterinary Medicine at Chiang Mai University, with several years of researching and writing about elephant welfare, tells me that letting loose a large herd of panicked elephants used to human guidance would have been an even worse disaster.

What would work is better safety protocols and contingency planning, he explains.

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The debate arose partially from Thailand’s reputation for animal rescue centres, especially elephant camps that encourage (uncomfortably) close interactions between tourists and animals. 

“Many parks claim that they don’t use the hook and chain to control the elephants, but once the tourists are gone, these (control) tools come out. And they don’t limit the number of visitors or the interaction timings, which puts the elephants under great stress,” Prof Thitaram adds. 

In contrast, I’m here at the Four Seasons Tented Camp Golden Triangle, watching the resident rescue elephants walk, feed, and play seemingly without a care in the world. 

My first interaction with them is at breakfast, when Jathong and Kamool show up, demanding their own chow. And while guests sit demurely cutting up their eggs and avocado toast, these two begin devouring bananas and cucumbers by the bucketfuls, eagerly extending their trunks for more treats.

A Four Seasons sanctuary

In this ecolodge with just 19 luxury tents spread discreetly across the property, breakfast with elephants is a standout experience. 

Jathong and Kamool are just two of the nearly 20 elephants roaming around this stunning riverside property in northern Thailand’s Golden Triangle region, where the country’s borders meet and melt with Laos and Myanmar. 

The elephant care programme here has been created in partnership with the Golden Triangle Asian Elephant Foundation. This small non-profit leases the animals from owners who can no longer feed and maintain them. 

Instead of being forced to give joyrides to tourists or being exhibited at a poorly managed nature park, these gentle giants find a welcoming home here. The organisation also takes care of the mahouts, providing housing, healthcare, and education support for the families.

Each of them has their own mahout, who performs the combined role of a trainer and caretaker, and builds a lifelong relationship based on mutual trust and affection. The mahouts also have clear instructions to move their animals to higher ground at the first hint of possible flooding. 

John Roberts, director of conservation at the Golden Triangle Asian Elephant Foundation, says, “The only camps that lost elephants were the ones that had decided as a philosophy never to control their elephants. But the elephants that were traditionally handled and helped by humans were all safe.” 

I had arrived at the camp the previous evening on a longtail boat from the tiny pier that marks the Golden Triangle hub. The Ruak River is muddy from the rains but placid on the 15-minute downstream ride, and before I know it, we have pulled up at the Four Seasons pier, where I am welcomed with a fresh passionfruit juice and sprawling vistas of the countryside. 

From the open lobby, I can see the Ruak merging into the mighty Mekong, the entire riverscape ringed by low grey hills in the distance.

The view from my tent is even more spectacular, but more than the vista, I am charmed by the little elephant motifs strewn all around the tent, from cookies to wall decor. With a massive four-poster bed, luxurious bathtub, and a balcony, my Mekong tent definitely put the glam in glamping. 

Hairy shenanigans

I could easily spend all day enjoying the tent, but the elephants are waiting. And so, I change into the blue mahout outfit hanging in the tent and get ready for a walk with the pachyderms. 

On this lazy stroll through the grounds, where the elephants are foraging and feeding in pairs, I get to watch them from a respectful distance and also learn more about elephant behaviour.

Watching me coo over the duo at breakfast, assistant camp manager Ajit Nandakumar had said, “These two are best friends. At 55, Kamool is a drama queen. And Jathong is 20 years younger, but always manages to calm her down.” 

I find the idea of elephant friendships fascinating and strangely moving. 

As it turns out, the elephants at the Four Seasons Tented Camp have formed intense bonds and follow the classic “buddy system” as they navigate their way through life. 

“They choose their own friends because they have a mind of their own. And if they don’t like another elephant, there is no way we can make them stay together,” mahout Jumbo tells me with a laugh.

Elephant encounters aside, my time at the Tented Camp goes by in a flash, with an indulgent massage at the jungle spa, an excursion to the ancient town of Chiang Saen and a special sundowner by the riverside. 

Later that night, as I relax in the warm glow of a hearty meal, I hear the gruff trumpeting of an elephant in the distance. “Good night to you, too, my friend,” I mutter under my breath.