Tanjung Rhu Resort is designed to blend with its unspoiled surroundings. Photo / Pamela Wade

Tanjung Rhu Resort is designed to blend with its unspoiled surroundings. Photo / Pamela Wade

The stingray felt like an old rubber spatula, smooth, soft and slippery in the warm water, but when I mistimed the release of the fishy tidbit I was holding, he nipped my thumb hard before sliding back into his pen.

I still have the thumb - fortunately, rays don't have big teeth like sharks.

I wouldn't have got off so lightly with the ray's neighbour at the floating fish farm, a sinister barracuda which our guide, Ravi, said was more than capable of taking a chunk out of me.

In pictures of this island, the biggest of a cluster of 99 off the northwest coast of Malaysia, the sea is always a translucent turquoise speckled with rocky islands, the sand white and fringed with palms.

It's classic tropical scenery that has long lured visitors to the better-known beaches of Thailand, a short boat-ride away, and Penang further south.

Both destinations are now victims of their own success, as constant crowds dilute the local flavour.

But Langkawi is still thoroughly Malaysian. Even in the November to January monsoon season - with grey skies and low clouds hovering over the steep limestone highlands - there is plenty to enjoy.

The Mangrove Safari hadn't originally appealed. Living in Auckland, mangroves are hardly a novelty.

But in Malaysia's hot and humid climate the mangroves grow into towering trees.

Monkeys swing in the mangroves and then wade into the muddy river after the peanuts we throw, before clambering boldly on board our boat - not a regular occurrence back home at Lucas Creek.

Chugging further along the river we came to a cave crammed with hundreds of fruit bats hanging one-footed to the roof.

Revving the outboard summoned the eagles that give Langkawi its name - it is said to mean "reddish brown eagle" in old Malay - which soared in lazy circles just below the clouds.

Closer at hand, Brahminy kites swooped for fish scraps, brown and white blurs as they flashed past to snatch the food in their talons.

As a Kelly Tarlton's regular, I hadn't expected much from Underwater World - certainly not to be draped with snakes.

Having dutifully inspected the rainforest exhibits, faced down the massive Amazonian arapaima, which can reach an impressive 3m in length, and inspected the whale display, I came across the most unlikely scene of a 2m black and yellow striped snake being washed, dried and moisturised with Johnson's baby lotion.