Our Experience At The Elephant Highlands Project In Chiang Mai

Last Updated on January 19, 2026 by Charlotte

Searching for a truly ethical elephant experience in Thailand? Tucked away in the mountains north of Chiang Mai, the Elephant Highlands Project is an intimate sanctuary created by the legendary team behind Elephant Nature Park. Unlike typical tourist attractions, this haven welcomes just 6-9 visitors daily to observe and assist with four rescued elephants. I spent a day walking mountain trails beside these gentle giants, preparing their meals, and witnessing their natural behaviors. In this post, I’ll share my unforgettable experience, explain what makes this place genuinely different from other sanctuaries, and reveal why it gave me hope for the future of ethical elephant tourism in Southeast Asia.

Our Day At The Elephant Highlands Project

Nothing says ‘good morning’ quite like a machete and a bushel of watermelons. We’d just arrived at a rustic pavilion tucked into the mountains north of Chiang Mai, and our very first task was to get to work, chopping fruit for breakfast. Not our breakfast, though. This feast was for the elephants. We didn’t realize it at the time, but the guests of honor were already on their way.

First Impressions: Meeting the Elephant Family

From somewhere around the bend, a trumpet rang out, rich and deep, like the mountains themselves were calling back. Moments later, four elephants came trotting down the path with surprising speed, ears flapping, obviously very excited for their breakfast. I had never seen an elephant run before. It was both slightly terrifying and completely magical.

The elephants lined up along the pavilion, trunks swaying in a beckoning motion. I nervously extended a wedge of watermelon. One of the elephants reached out gently, curled her trunk around the fruit, and vacuumed it into her mouth with a soft whoosh. I had known elephants were big! But I hadn’t expected to feel quite so small beside them.

As I fed them, our guide introduced each member of what he called “our little found family.” The three adult females, Nong Pop, Mae Pond, and Kham Paeng, act as collective nannies to the youngest, Kham Saen, an energetic boy who joined in 2023. Despite being called “the baby,” Kham Saen already towered over most of us humans, full of toddler energy and clearly very pleased with himself. Watching them interact, I could see the family dynamics at play, patient aunties keeping a watchful eye on their rambunctious nephew.

Trekking the Banana Trail: Hiking to the Highlands Sanctuary

After breakfast, we left our packs in the truck and set off on a hike through the surrounding hills, each of us carrying a canvas bag full of bananas as a kind of elephant bribe. The trail wove through tea fields and bamboo groves, winding gently upward through the lush green of the mountains. This is a true no-harm sanctuary, which means the elephants can’t be forced to go anywhere: they walk, pause, snack, or wander as they choose. The bananas are just for encouragement.

Progress was slow and sweet. The elephants set the pace, stopping often to snack, sniff, or to just admire the landscape. We were told to offer a banana every twenty feet or so to keep them moving, but whether they cooperated was entirely up to them.

At first, I was nervous walking alongside such massive creatures. But they lumbered gracefully, never once stepping out of line or onto our toes. When Mae Pond turned her head and I met her steady, intelligent eyes, something shifted inside me. It was like looking into a consciousness both ancient and tender. I felt a deep sadness thinking of elephants like her who have endured cruelty at human hands. But I also felt something else: a quiet awe for these animals who still choose to trust us despite everything they’ve lived through.

As I loosened up, I started noticing more of the beauty of the landscape around us. Mist curled over the ridgelines, and rows of tea trees marched up the terraced mountainsides. The air smelled like damp earth and citrus. But then, I felt a slight tug on my banana bag. At first, I thought I imagined it! Until I turned and caught Nong Pop red-handed, slyly sneaking a banana like it was the most natural thing in the world. Our eyes met, and she didn’t even pause, she just continued chewing while maintaining direct eye contact. Our guide laughed: “She knows exactly what she’s doing. They’re smarter than us sometimes.”

As we crested the final hill, the sanctuary’s heart came into view, and our elephant companions picked up their pace, clearly recognizing they were almost home.

Arrival at the Sanctuary: A Haven for All Creatures

At the entrance to the Elephant Highlands, we were greeted by a joyous entourage of dogs, cats, and even a waddle of ducks that seemed to serve as the sanctuary’s unofficial pep squad. It was immediately clear that this was a place for all creatures, not just elephants.

The elephants, recognizing home, trumpeted softly and quickened their pace. They made a beeline for a large stone basin brimming with fresh water, dipping their trunks in for long, satisfying drinks after our hike. Our guide explained that the sanctuary operates on a philosophy of freedom: no chains, no hooks, no forced performances. These elephants were now living as close to a natural life as possible after years in Thailand’s tourism and logging industries. Watching them wander contentedly into the pasture, relaxed, I could see the difference this place had made in their lives. While the elephants dispersed to their favorite spots, we humans followed the scent of lemongrass and chilies to a covered pavilion where lunch awaited.

A Global Gathering: Lunch in the Highlands

We gathered around long picnic tables perched on a wooden deck overlooking the valley. The staff laid out a buffet of home-cooked Thai food that seemed impossibly fresh considering our remote location: steaming vegan Khao Soi with its rich coconut broth, fragrant Pad Thai sprinkled with crushed peanuts, crispy spring rolls, tropical fruit glistening in the sunlight, and, somewhat miraculously, strong coffee and cookies for dessert.

I piled my plate high and found a spot at the edge of the deck where I could watch the elephants while eating. The baby elephant, Kham Saen was playfully rolling in a mud puddle while the three nannies grazed peacefully nearby, occasionally flapping their ears in the midday heat. The juxtaposition was perfect. Humans sharing food and stories on one side, elephants doing essentially the same on the other.

Around the table, our group resembled a miniature United Nations: a lady from China, two lifelong friends from Georgia (the state, not the country, they clarified with a laugh), and solo travelers from Singapore and Australia. Despite our different backgrounds, we shared the same expressions of wonder whenever an elephant came into view.

“What brings you back?” I asked the man from Singapore.

“They remember,” he said, nodding toward the elephants. “And so do I.”

As conversations wound down and plates emptied, our guide appeared with a large metal bucket, signaling that our brief rest was over. “Now,” he announced with a grin, “we make elephant dessert.”

Sticky Business: Crafting an Elephant Cake

Our guide brought over a big metal bucket filled with sticky rice, corn, tamarind, and elephant supplements. We rolled the mixture into dense little balls and fed them to the elephants, one palmful at a time. Adult Asian elephants need to eat over 300 pounds (130 kilograms) of food every day. So this wasn’t just a treat, it was a small but important part of their daily calorie load. By now, everyone seemed more relaxed, even while elbow-deep in sticky rice. No one flinched when a muddy trunk reached out to vacuum a rice ball off someone’s hand, even if it came with a little slime.

With the leftover rice mixture and a new haul of cut fruit, we made what the guides called an “elephant cake.” Using a banana leaf as the base, we carefully arranged watermelon, bananas, squash, corn, and sticky rice into a compact, delicately decorated gateau. It almost looked elegant, like something you’d bring to a jungle-themed dinner party.

The elephants knew exactly what was coming. They crowded in with laser focus, trunks hovering eagerly over the spread. As soon as we backed away, it was game over.

They demolished the cake in seconds. The entire half of a watermelon disappeared in a single gulp. The bananas were hoovered up with surgical precision. One elephant casually inhaled the entire banana leaf one bite, like the plate was the best part. It was chaotic. It was hilarious. And honestly? It felt like the greatest honor to have helped make it.

Toddler Trouble: When Baby Elephants Attack!

After the cake carnage, the elephants wandered off toward the pasture. That’s when the baby elephant decided it was time for some mischief. He started by chasing one of the sanctuary dogs in wide, gleeful circles. Then, just as things seemed to be calming down, he snuck up behind one of his nanny elephants and nipped her right on the butt! The response was immediate and dramatic: trumpeting, trunk-thwaps, and a full-on display of auntie outrage. It looked like a scolding, but you could tell there was affection underneath it, like when a babysitter throws her hands in the air and mutters, “kids these days!”

Our guide explained that the baby, Kham Saen, was entering a rowdy phase. Like any toddler, he had energy for days, no concept of personal space, and a desperate need to play. Apparently, he’d recently knocked over a pergola in a moment of mischief. He doesn’t yet understand his own strength. Eventually, as he matures, he’ll need to move to another sanctuary, one designed for adult male elephants, who tend to require more space and solitude. But for now, he’s doted on, tolerated, and occasionally told off by his trio of long-suffering aunties. Despite the drama, the herd settled back into their rhythm of grazing, once again reminding us that here at the Elephant Highlands, everything moves on elephant time.

Hillside Snacks: Smashing Pumpkins in the Upper Pastures

For our final activity, we followed the elephants up to the upper pasture, a wide, open slope with panoramic views of the surrounding mountains. The air was cooler up here, the light softer, and the silence broken only by the rustling of grass and the occasional elephant snort.

This time, our job was to deliver dessert: kabocha squash.

The technique? Simple. Pick up a squash, hurl it against the ground, and try not to get splashed. The squash burst open with a satisfying crack, releasing a spray of orange juice and seeds.

The elephants ambled over, chomping happily through the shattered pieces. Juice splattered our arms, our legs, our shoes. One enthusiastic throw landed too close to someone’s sandal, earning a yelp and a muddy splash. But no one minded. At this point, we were fully committed to the mess.

The upper pasture might have been the most beautiful part of the sanctuary. The views stretched for miles, the air was cool and still, and for a moment, everything felt at peace. Many of the elephants here spent the first decades of their lives in logging camps or tourist shows, overworked, isolated, and sometimes abused. And with Asian elephants living up to 60 or 70 years in captivity, that’s a long time to suffer. So, standing there, muddy, sunburned, and covered in elephant slime, I felt genuinely grateful that these elephants would get to spend the rest of their lives somewhere as peaceful and beautiful as this.

An Elephant Pool Party: The Perfect Ending to a Perfect Day

As we made our way back down from the upper pasture, our clothes still decorated with orange squash splatter, the baby elephant Kham Saen suddenly broke away from the group. With the single-minded determination of a toddler who’s spotted an ice cream truck, he charged toward the large pond. The baby elephant hit the water like a cannonball, sending waves sloshing over the banks.

His massive body created a spectacular splash as he keeled over sideways, disappearing briefly before resurfacing with obvious delight. He rolled onto his back, stubby legs waving in the air, using his trunk like a personal water cannon to spray arcs of water in every direction. It was adorable. Several of us edged closer to the pond’s shore, laughing as the baby Kham Saen developed a new game: submerging completely, leaving only the tip of his trunk above water like a snorkel, before blowing bubbles that erupted on the surface. For a creature weighing hundreds of kilograms, he moved with surprising buoyancy, as if the water transformed him into something weightless.

Mae Pond, apparently the designated babysitter for the afternoon, begrudgingly trudged into the water after him. Her entrance lacked his enthusiasm. She waded in with the resigned air of a parent who knows that supervision is non-negotiable, no matter how tired they might be. She kept to the shallows, occasionally spraying herself with trunkfuls of water, one eye always on her rambunctious charge.

It was a perfect last image to hold onto: the elephants playing in the pond, in their element, surrounded by humans who had come to serve, not to use. And in that moment, watching trunks fly and water shimmer in the mountain light, I felt like we all belonged.

Some Final Thoughts On Ethical Elephant Tourism

In all honesty, I have mixed feelings about elephant tourism, even at sanctuaries like the one I visited. What sets the Elephant Highlands Project apart is their extremely limited approach: they only allow 6-9 visitors per day, and our role was primarily to prepare food and observe, not to bathe or directly handle the elephants. We were essentially temporary volunteers, doing manual labor to support the elephants’ care rather than treating them as entertainment.

The dark truth behind much of Thailand’s elephant tourism industry is difficult to confront. Many elephants in Thailand’s tourism industry have undergone a brutal process called pajaan or “crushing,” where baby elephants are separated from their mothers and subjected to physical abuse until they learn to comply with human commands out of fear. This means that as long as there’s tourist demand for certain types of elephant interactions in Thailand, there will be an economic incentive for elephants to be captured or bred for the tourist trade.

Why Can’t These Elephants Be Released Into the Wild?

This question troubled me throughout my visit. Unfortunately, there are thousands of captive elephants who are already victims of the tourism industry. With Asian elephants living 60-70 years in captivity, most of these animals face decades ahead of them. According to conservationists, these elephants cannot simply be released back into nature for several reasons:

1. They don’t know how to forage for food or navigate wild territories
2. They might compete with already threatened wild elephant populations for limited resources
3. They lack the social skills needed to integrate into wild herds
4. They remain vulnerable to poaching, having been habituated to humans

For elephants who can’t return to the wild, the best option is a spacious sanctuary with quality nutrition, veterinary care, and the freedom to roam and socialize with other elephants.

How To Identify Authentic Ethical Elephant Sanctuaries

I spent many hours researching before choosing the Elephant Highlands Project, and I’d recommend the same careful evaluation to anyone considering an elephant experience in Thailand. Here are some key indicators of a genuinely ethical elephant sanctuary:

• No riding, performances, tricks, or shows
• Extremely limited visitor numbers (the fewer tourists per elephant, the better)
• Visitors primarily observe rather than interact
• Visitors contribute through volunteer activities that actually help the elephants
• Spacious natural habitat where elephants can roam freely
• Small toue group sizes to minimize stress on the animals
• Educational component about conservation and elephant welfare
• Transparent information about where their elephants came from
• Support for wild elephant conservation efforts

I spent many hours researching ethical elephant sanctuaries and found the Elephant Nature Park to be one of the more reputable places. The tour cost may be higher than the typical elephant meet-and-greet packages sold at tourist kiosks, but there’s a reason for that: ethical sanctuaries require large enclosures, huge amounts of food, and ongoing veterinary care.

The Future of Elephant Tourism

The most ethical elephant experience would likely be observing them from a distance in their natural habitat, but this isn’t feasible for most travelers or for the thousands of elephants already in captivity. As more tourists demand truly ethical experiences, the industry is slowly evolving, with the most exploitative practices losing popularity. My experience at the Elephant Highlands Project showed me what the future of ethical elephant tourism might look like: a model where tourists are limited in number, come primarily to learn and contribute labor, and where observation takes precedence over interaction. The most profound moments weren’t when I was feeding the elephants but when I was simply watching them. I loved seeing the baby elephant Kham Saen play in the pond or the adults forage peacefully in the upper pastures, making their own choices, living as close to a natural life as their circumstances allow.

Here’s a Short Video About Our Day at the Elephant Highlands Project

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Have you visited the Elephant Highlands Project, or are you planning to?

I’d love to hear your thoughts, or to answer your questions. Drop a comment below or get in touch. The more we talk openly about ethical animal tourism, the better the experiences become for everyone involved, especially the elephants.