WHAT ABOUT THE MONKEYS in the pool?” I ask my son Ollie, but he doesn’t respond. “Or that funny-looking man who gave you those sweets on the train to Ella?” We’re standing in front of the palm-flanked Galle Lighthouse in southern Sri Lanka, and I’m rattling off a laundry list of anecdotes from his first trip to the country almost four years ago. I had hoped the sight of this notable landmark would spark a memory, but he throws me nothing but blank stares.
Who am I kidding: he was barely two years old at the time. According to science, developing brains only start retaining memories around the age of four. And while these days Ollie is quick to register the occasional cuss word that slips out and has not forgotten that one time I promised him a puppy ages ago, many of the trips we took in his early years seem to have vanished from his little noggin.
It was just after his fourth birthday, however, that I’d noticed a change. During a holiday in Goa, he’d been actively engaged, rather than just tottering along in my footsteps. Months afterward, he’d bring up the crocodiles and rainbow- coloured birds we’d spotted on a boat tour around Goa’s tangled mangroves.
Now that our father-son experiences not only bond us, but actively shape his worldview, they’re all the more rewarding. That’s why I’d plotted this return trip to Sri Lanka, which has everything from beach breaks to wildlife safaris on one kids-friendly, jungle-dipped island, just a three-hour flight from our home in Bangkok.
IT’S LATE AFTERNOON when we arrive at Cape Weligama, a sprawling resort with breezy, terracotta-roofed villas on a palm-tufted bluff about an hour east of the lighthouse in Galle. We’re welcomed by Malik Fernando, who runs the Resplendent Ceylon hotel collection that spawned from his father’s Dilmah Tea company.
Over milky tea, he shares his plans to make his hotels even more kid-friendly. At Kumbuk, Cape Weligama’s village-like outdoor space near the kids’ pool, young guests will soon be able to study local cinnamon, learn to tie Sri Lankan sarongs, and paint traditional sanni masks. “I want to show them the real Sri Lanka,” Fernando says. “We’re at the forefront of the most amazing biodiversity. It’s like the Costa Rica of Asia; a perfect place for pampered urban kids to leave their sterile everyday environments.”
At Wild Coast Tented Lodge, another resort in his portfolio that will be our next stop, there’s more in the works: a 2,000-acre (800-hectare) conservancy; a leopard research station; and an educational ‘mad scientist’s lab’ for kids. “We’re sadly beyond the point of preserving nature,” Fernando says. “It’s all about regenerative travel now. I want young guests to see how we can positively impact our place on the planet.”
Later, we have a Huckleberry Finn time bouncing around the southern coast, hopping in and out of tuk-tuks to hunt for hidden coves and beaches marked on Google Maps with pirate map–worthy names such as Secret Jungle Beach and Coconut Tree Hill. They’re the kind of places you really want to find around here: palm-fringed strips of golden sand with shacks of sun-bleached driftwood renting out loungers for a fistful of rupees.
We zip past bosom-shaped stupas and ramshackle stalls selling fish with googly eyes, the air around them thick with the saline stink of the sea. At Weligama Bay, where a kaleidoscope of fishing vessels bob in the waves like oversized toy boats, we stop to sip from coconuts larger than Ollie’s head. Like everyone, the burly shopkeeper greets him, much to his chagrin, with “Hello, baby!”
A DAY OF POOL-LOLLING later, we’re in a jeep trundling down a muddy road in the low-slung jungles Yala National Park, Sri Lanka’s second-largest wildlife reserve. We’re on the lookout for elephants and Yala’s elusive leopards—so far, without any luck.
“I only see poop,” Ollie sighs, pointing at the baseball-sized boluses lining the path. Our guide, Saranga, a cheery Sri Lankan chap with a Garibaldi beard and a messy man-bun, compares our search to a game of hide-and-seek. “Who do you think would win this game in your house?” he asks Ollie. “You, or someone who’s not familiar with the place?” It buys us some more of Ollie’s patience, and just when he’s about to run out of it again, Saranga points out the droppings’ creators: an elephant mother and her tuk-tuk-sized bambino, trampling through the jungle fringe.
As our shadows lengthen, the park springs alive. While Ollie fires off such hard-hitting questions as “Why are elephants so fat?” and “Why don’t animals use toilets?” we pass bathing buffaloes and monitor lizards as large as dachshunds. Through his binoculars, Ollie peeps a mongoose asleep in a gnarled tree, wild boar piglets, and peacocks whose screeches sound jarringly inelegant for such regal creatures. But still no leopard.
The wildlife-watching continues at Wild Coast Tented Lodge, our base camp pitched up on the boulder-strewn coastline just outside Yala’s gates. Signs warn guests to watch out for wild boars and buffaloes, as the lack of fences allows the critters to come and go as they please. (Saranga told me guests once found a sloth bear asleep under their stilted tent one night.)
When we return from sundowners on the oceanfront, where, every evening, the staff sets up a lantern-lit bar, slinging arak cocktails and icy G&Ts, we bump into a troupe of langurs hopping between the restaurant’s dome-shaped roofs. After dinner that night, in our steampunk-meets-safari tent with its porthole windows, copper tub and leather-trimmed furnishing, we fall asleep to the rumble of waves and the thud-thud-thud of tiny paws tripping over our canvas roof.
I WOULD LOVE NOTHING more than a lie-in, but Ollie is up at five the next morning, determined to see a leopard in the flesh. Off we go again and, thanks to Wild Coast’s excellent planning, we zip past the endless queue of jeeps snaking outward from Yala’s entrance gate. The sky is still pastel; the jungle hums with birdsong.
We dodge wheel-swallowing potholes and buffaloes blocking the road, until suddenly Saranga spots fresh paw prints in the sand. A monkey’s alarm call confirms that a leopard can’t be far, so we stake out for a while, nibbling on coconut cake and peppery cassava chips, ignoring Ollie’s suggestions to use the samosas in our lunchbox as bait.
Saranga tells us that these big cats can sit still for up to eight hours—Ollie’s wringing and whining makes me wish he had some of that leopard patience in him. We turn the jeep around—leopard unseen—and he eventually dozes off, binoculars slipping from his little fingers.
Suddenly, commotion. A traffic jam has formed on the park’s main road and jeeps are frantically trying to reverse. There are shouts and car honks, and a handful of safari-goers have escaped through a jeep’s window. A few cars ahead of us, a giant tusker runs amok—his trunk rummages between car seats and the legs of scared-stiff passengers.
Ollie squeezes my hand as the elephant brushes past us so close that I can smell its muddy stench. I recall Saranga’s lecture from the day before, in which I learned that an Asian elephant’s trunk is nimble enough to pick up a needle and strong enough to break bones. Luckily, he assures us that the beast is only on the hunt for bananas.
“That was so cool!” Ollie says. He insists that he wasn’t scared, “not even for a second!”
We’ll look for leopards again next time, but I’m confident that the new memories we’ve made this time will surely last forever.
The Details
GETTING THERE
Fly into Colombo’s Bandaranaike International Airport. From there it’s a two-hour drive to Galle, a 21⁄2-hour drive to Cape Weligama, or a four-hour drive to Yala National Park or Wild Coast Tented Lodge. The Lodge is on the shore, 15 minutes from the park entrance.
Most transfers to and from Resplendent Ceylon properties come with lunch boxes, drinks and snacks for the road. Early-morning outbound flight departures from Colombo mean overnight drives are sometimes required from the coast; blankets and pillows can make the drive a snooze for little ones. (Alternatively, book an airport hotel.)
Both hotels where we stayed are members of Relais & Chateaux, who can help plan your whole trip.
STAY
Cape Weligama
Probably the most iconic resort on the south coast of Sri Lanka due to its dramatic headland location, sweeping views, and design by Thai architect Lek Bunnag, this luxe complex features only 39 guest rooms, creating the vibe of an intimate high-end village. Easy access to one of the world’s most famous surf beaches, elephant and whale watching, diving, tea plantations, and Galle Fort.
resplendentceylon.com/capeweligama; doubles from US$637 including breakfast.
Wild Coast Tented Lodge
The steampunk-meets-safari tented pods hidden in the jungle along the shoreline mean you can fall asleep to the crashing of waves and the footfall of critters. Days here start with safari drives around Yala National Park and end with pop-up dinners on the lantern-lined shore. Pool-lolling (whether in your private plunge or swirling communal pool), wildlife talks, and locavore lunches fill the peaceful moments in between.
resplendentceylon.com/wildcoastlodge-yala; doubles from US$1,174 all-inclusive.
DO
Sri Lanka’s south coast is a riot of colour and full of options for fresh-air adventures kids and adults will love, not to mention great eating, from famed boat harbour Mirissa to traditional artisan villages and more. Here are just three highlights:
Galle Fort
A beautifully preserved walk through the south coast’s history as waystation, colonial prize, and chess piece for centuries of Europeans sailing towards Asia, Galle’s ancient buildings are now filled with cool shops, bars, restaurants, and boutique hotels. Local schoolkids in crisp white outfits romping along the fort walls at dusk will leave an indelible imprint on your memory.
Uda Walawe National Park
A sprawling open parkland that is sanctuary to about 250 elephants, it’s also a good place for spotting eagles. Park fees are 3,500 rupees per person but best let your hotel arrange your whole excursion as it’s about a two-hour drive from either of the ones where we stayed.
Yala National Park
Wild leopards, sloth bears, peacocks, mongooses, water buffaloes, elephants, crocodiles, spotted deer, monkeys, hornbills and much more. Park fees vary depending on each group, but hover around US$30 for adults and US$8 for children. Much easier, though, to let the hotel arrange your guide and queue-jumping jeep driver.
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The information in this article is accurate as of the date of publication.
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