11 Best Beaches in Southeast Asia

I spent four years living in Southeast Asia, based out of Bali, and if there's one thing that ruined me for beaches everywhere else, it's this region. 

I chased coastline across seven countries during that stretch—some weekends by ferry, some by scooter down roads that turned to dirt halfway there, a couple of times by boats (that I probably shouldn't have trusted). 

What I found was a mix of the beaches everyone already has on their list (for very good reason) and a handful I only found because a local mentioned them almost as an afterthought. 

Here are the 11 I'd send you to first, famous names and quiet ones both, plus the tips I picked up along the way that most guides leave out.

Railay isn't technically an island, but it might as well be—those towering limestone cliffs cut it off from the mainland so completely that the only way in is by longtail boat from Ao Nang or Krabi Town. I'll never forget pulling up to that first sight of the karsts rising straight out of turquoise water. 

Most visitors stick to Railay West for sunset, but I always crossed over to Phra Nang Cave Beach in the late afternoon instead, when the day-trippers have cleared out and the light hits the cliffs. 

If you're even a little bit into climbing, ask at one of the shacks on West Railay about a sunset session on the easier routes. You don't need experience, and the view from halfway up a limestone wall as the sky turns pink is unlike anything else.

Everyone talks about El Nido's lagoons, but Nacpan is the beach I'd personally choose to spend a full day on. It's a four-kilometer stretch split into twin bays by a rocky headland, about a 40-minute tricycle ride north of El Nido town, and I've had entire mornings there without seeing more than a handful of other people. 

The trick is timing it around low tide, when a sandbar connects the two halves and you can walk the whole length without getting your knees wet. There's a small cluster of beach shacks at the far end that most day-trippers never bother finding, and that's where I'd tell you to get your grilled fish and San Miguel—cheaper, quieter, and the owners will happily point you toward a viewpoint on the headland that isn't marked on any map.

Lembongan sits just a 30-minute fast boat from Sanur, but it feels like it belongs to a different decade than Bali's main coast. I used to go over for long weekends whenever Canggu got too loud, and Dream Beach on the southwest side became my go-to for both surf and cliff-top sunset views. 

What most visitors miss is the mangrove channel on the island's north side. Paddle through at golden hour and you'll have it almost entirely to yourself, with the water glowing gold between the roots. 

For snorkeling, skip the crowded boat trips to Manta Point and ask a local operator about the reef just off Mushroom Bay instead, which gets a fraction of the traffic and still has pretty healthy coral.

And don’t skip a ride across to neighbouring Ceningan, reachable via a tiny yellow bridge. Here you’ll find more beautiful beaches and one of my all-time favorite spots, Sea Breeze cafe. 

Koh Kood is Thailand's fourth-largest island, and somehow it still feels like Koh Samui did decades ago. There's no airport, so it takes real effort to get there—a bus or flight to Trat followed by a ferry—and that alone keeps the crowds thin. 

Klong Chao Beach was my base whenever I visited, with soft white sand and water so clear you can see your feet in six feet of depth. 

The tip I always pass on: rent a motorbike and follow the coastal road to Ao Phrao on the northeast side in the late afternoon, where a single family-run restaurant serves the best som tum I had anywhere in the country, right on the sand, with nobody else around.

Con Dao has one of the heaviest histories of anywhere on this list. It was once a notorious prison colony under both French and American occupation, and that past has left it almost entirely undeveloped by comparison to Vietnam's mainland coast. 

I went specifically for the sea turtles, and Bai Dat Doc delivered: it's one of the last reliable nesting beaches in the country, and if you time a visit between June and September, the national park rangers sometimes let small groups quietly observe a nesting or hatching at night. Outside of turtle season, I'd point you to Ong Dung Beach, reachable only by a jungle trail from the ranger station, with a coral reef just offshore that rivals anything I saw further south.

Ngapali doesn't get anywhere near the attention it deserves, largely because Myanmar has been trickier to visit in recent years, but the beach itself is one of the most beautiful stretches of sand I found anywhere in the region. 

It runs for roughly three kilometers along the Bay of Bengal, backed by palm groves and a handful of small fishing villages rather than high-rises. 

I made a habit of walking down to the fishing boats just after sunrise, when the crews haul in the night's catch and you can buy fish straight off the boat for a fraction of what any restaurant would charge. Ask around for Lin Thar Oo village at the beach's quieter southern end, where the sand stays practically empty even in high season.

Koh Rong used to be a backpacker secret, and while word has gotten out over the years, it's held onto more of its charm than most islands its size. Long Beach, on the west coast, stretches for seven kilometers of near-perfect white sand, and I'd usually walk a good chunk of it just to put distance between myself and the handful of beach bars near the pier. 

The real reason to stay after dark, though, is the bioluminescent plankton—wade into the shallows on a moonless night and the water lights up electric blue with every movement. 

Most people don't know it's strongest away from the main village, so I always headed to the far southern end of the beach after dinner, phone left behind, just to watch the water glow. Watching it directly from the water on New Year's Eve years ago is still one of my favorite ever travel memories. 

Tioman sits off Malaysia's east coast and gets far less attention than its Thai or Indonesian counterparts, which never made sense to me given how good the diving and snorkeling are here. 

Salang Beach on the northern tip became my regular base—fewer resorts, a laid-back village feel, and a reef close enough to shore that you can snorkel straight off the sand. 

The tip worth knowing: the marine park boundary just past Salang holds far healthier coral than the more popular Tekek side, and a short longtail ride out there in the early morning, before the day-trip boats arrive, gave me some of the clearest water I saw anywhere in this part of the world.

Karimunjawa sits off the north coast of Java, and I'd wager most people, even seasoned Southeast Asia travelers, couldn't point to it on a map. Getting there takes a ferry from Jepara, and once you're on the main island, motorbike is really the only way around. 

Tanjung Gelam, on the western edge, has the kind of sunset that makes the awkward journey worth it, with shallow turquoise water you can wade into for a hundred meters before it gets deep. 

What most visitors never find is the smaller island of Menjangan Kecil just offshore, where a local boatman can drop you for a few hours of near-total solitude and a coral garden that's held up far better than most reefs I saw elsewhere.

El Nido's lagoons are about as famous as Southeast Asian beaches get, and I'll admit I went in skeptical that anywhere this photographed could live up to the hype. It did. 

The limestone cliffs rising straight out of impossibly clear water stopped me in my tracks. The trick to actually enjoying it, though, is avoiding the standard Island Hopping Tour A boats that arrive in a wave around 10am—instead, book a private paddleboard or kayak trip that gets you into Small Lagoon before 7am, while the water is still glassy and you can hear yourself think. 

I'll end where I started, back in Bali, but on the quiet side most visitors don't make it to. Amed sits on the island's northeast coast, a string of fishing villages strung along black volcanic sand, with Mount Agung looming in the background on a clear day. 

I stayed within a short drive of here for a stretch, and it became my antidote to Canggu and Seminyak whenever the south got to be too much.

The snorkeling straight off the beach is excellent thanks to the volcanic reef, but the real draw is the Japanese Wreck at nearby Banyuning—a WWII shipwreck sitting in shallow enough water that even snorkelers, not just divers, can explore it. Go early, before the dive boats arrive, for the best (and quietest) experience.