A place of death, grief and horror

A man searches for the name of a loved one who had gone missing since the tsunami on Sunday. Picture / Reuters

An eerie silence and an aching sadness blanket the once plush Sofitel Holiday resort at Khau Lak.

The tsunami rampaged its way through every room, trapping and smashing the people in them.

At least 800 people, mainly Swedish tourists, are thought to have died here.

The waves' ferocity was such that a big red inflatable boat has been swept into a corridor and up the stairs.

Clothes are strewn everywhere. A hairdryer dangles from a balcony.

From the rubble someone has lifted a woman's makeup bag, still with lipstick and powder, and has placed it on a pillar.

The woman who owned this makeup may be lying blackened and swollen out of all recognition in a Thai temple not far away.

The temple has been dubbed "the body farm".

It is a place of horror. Yesterday, in 31C heat, 1000 of Thailand's estimated 2000 dead were here, at Takuapa town outskirts, and aid workers were waiting for another load to arrive.

It is unwise to go near the temple without a mask, such is the stench from the bodies lying in rows on the ground.

The masks are provided free at the gate to all comers, from journalists to grieving families.

Many bodies are in body bags, but some lie naked. They are covered with ice, or hosed with water as Thai workers in masks and protective suits race against decay.

The bodies are being kept in as good a condition as possible for international forensics teams.

Stray dogs are hard to keep away. A puppy lies sleeping among the corpses, then gets up and sniffs a body before it is shooed away.

Most of the workers are Thai, but holiday makers have come too, the survivors drawn to help the dead and grieving.

Canadians Sarah Brown and partner Carl were staying at Railay Beach, hours to the south of here, and were unharmed.

They answered a call for volunteers and have spent two days "packing bodies" into body bags or hundreds of stacked wooden coffins.

It has been gruesome work, says the 31-year-old.

"It's brutal. The smell is horrendous, I just didn't sleep last night, I just don't think there's any way you can."

"The babies are the hardest."

Thai authorities believe 6000 people are missing.

It is easy to see why. Along the stretch of coast around Khao Lak, the Sofitel is one of hundreds of hotels and homes demolished or ruined.

The bodies have most been removed now, but the cleanup has just begun.

Pulverised cars lie where the sea threw them. Mounds of wreckage show where Thai villages stood this time last week.

But tough coconut palms still stand; they saved people who clung to their trunks as the tsunami raged around them.

At Ban Numken town a huge three-deck fishing boat is rammed up against a house; the house is still standing.

A man who lives here tries to explain what happened.

He cannot speak English, so he lifts his arms over his head indicating the water height and pointing away from the beach.

He holds up three fingers; he lost three loved ones.

A young Thai girl believes 1000 people died here. Her aunt and cousin are missing.

It is a common enough story. An Australian man, another body farm volunteer, spoke of meeting a Finnish man searching for 19 missing family members.