Coral Island is the most perfect place on the planet: beach sand white and soft; deep shade from the mangroves at the border of land and beach; the bluest water atop a coral reef. Magical. To get to the island, 3km southeast of Phuket, you rent a boat and driver on the beach at Rawai, to have at your disposal for a day in this beautiful spot.story_article_left1Peter Malherbe, a long-time Phuket resident and my dearest friend of 38 years - we met on the first day of university at Rhodes in 1977 - was in charge of securing us the best deal.Longtail boats rocked gently in Rawai Bay, glistering like jewels in the morning sun. The boats, shaped like canoes with exaggerated ends, were painted in myriad colours, flying bright flags, adorned with scarlet and russet and emerald ribbons fluttering in the wind.Next to each boat was a smiling Thai man showing off his polished bronze muscles, wearing the colours of his boat, eager to make a deal. They seemed to be shouting: "Pick me, pick me" in Thai.But Peter lumbered past the yelling crowd, heading towards a man at the end of the line.Not for us the gleaming longtail boats with their dancing streamers and handsome pilots. Peter was standing before a boat that was ... tatty.It was not decorated. It had been many years since the hull had seen a coat of varnish or paint. Grey, ash-coloured wood, blistered from the sun, cracked like the heels of a Bedouin housewife.And next to our boat was a broken, one-eyed man with betelnut-stained teeth and a club foot, which gave a pronounced limp. Grinning. This was to be our ride to Coral Island.story_article_right2Peter chose Mr One-Eye because, he said: "Who else will hire the poor miserable chap?"Peter was a big man. Getting him into the boat was no mean feat. He sat on the edge and it tipped and rolled, held steady by 10 Thai men, who helped heave his legs into the boat. Once he was in, the boat rose perilously into the sea at one end.Our friend Gary and I clambered aboard and clung to the front seat as we set off, skimming across the sea like an exclamation mark on the water.We moved slowly out into the Andaman Sea, avoiding karsts that rose up like sentinels at the gateway to paradise, Peter singing opera. His O Sole Mio echoed off the limestone walls around us. Gulls wheeled and screeched.Then we were on the island, off the boat and in the sea, its translucent turquoise water revealing brilliantly coloured fish swimming around our legs. Us, bobbing about, laughing and telling stories and calling for iced lemon crush to be brought to us in the tepid water.It will forever be one of my favourite days. RIP dear Peter. And thank you for that perfect day.- © Charmain Naidoo..