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Lazing in a casuarina grove
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One of the best beaches on the West coast: pristine, unspoilt and you get to see dolphins on a lucky day
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WEIRD FORMATIONS The wind-eroded rocks where the Karli meets the Arabian Sea
Sometimes it's good to miss a turn. You'd be surprised to know what lies ahead. We did and that's how we found ourselves in the gracious company of Sadanand Tondal of Deobagh, Malvan, in Sindhudurg District. We were looking for joyrides in boats recommended by the Maharashtra Government but lost our way and found ourselves at a dead end. And there was Sadanand, in his well-worn Ts and shorts, surveying us without any particular agenda.
"Namaskar. Take us on a boat ride?"
Of course, he would. Some feeble bargaining followed. "You pay me this much if I take you to the dolphins or that much if we don't see any." Dolphins. The magic word that opens a tourist's wallet. We clambered on to his little motorboat along with half a dozen neighbourhood kids. Spouse, who's so phobic he thinks twice before getting into a bathtub, demanded — and got — lifejackets.
Uncluttered beaches
And then we were coasting over the river Karli, flanked by one of the most scenic terrains we'd ever seen. The area is pristine: uncluttered beaches, little islets home to hundreds of seagulls, and the clean sea. The water turned a bit choppy where the river met the Arabian Sea. Spouse turned green and then grey. I turned queasy.
But Sadanand, clearly used to — and amused by — urban softies, steered the course and soon we were on that high which only fresh air can give. There were no dolphins of course but lots of tarli, the local fish; and a lone dhol, a long, lean and black fish that surprised us by skipping over the waves noisily.
Rocks. They were everywhere. Under the water, above it, surfacing as little islands. On the shore, eroded into weird formations. One had to masterfully negotiate between them. Sadanand informed us it was technically possible to walk to Goa if one proceeded southwards from Deobagh beach.
Back on the shore, we asked if Sadanand would serve us lunch. He rushed off to consult his family and soon we were tucking into a typically Malvani repast, complete with sol kadi, fish, vegetable, roti and rice, topped with papaya from the backyard.
"You should have come yesterday. We had caught prawns."
Like everywhere, small fisherfolk like Sadanand are facing the heat from trawlers with their illegal purse seine nets. The nets stretch over kilometres, scooping up everything in their way, a sort of marine strip mining.
"Life is difficult," sighed Sadanand. We parted, paying the dolphin sighting rate, of course.
As of now, the shore here belongs to people like Sadanand. A daily sight we saw at the nearby Tarkarli beach where we were staying. Every evening and night, the fisherfolk came with their catch, hauling their nets and boats to the shore while we heaved ourselves out of our hammocks thoughtfully provided by the Maharashtra Tourism Development Corporation just outside the well-designed cottages.
Perfect chillout
MTDC's Holiday Resort nestles in a casuarina grove, plunging the temperature agreeably by several degrees. There are private resorts too but this one is the best bet. There's a canteen attached that serves decent food.
There isn't much to do except chat with the polite, non-intrusive staff, go to the beach, come back when the sun turns too hot, sprawl around in or outside the cottage, and go back to the beach again. Paradise.
If you feel adventurous, you can drive seven km to Malvan town for a vada pav in the market or a gourmet meal at Chaitanya hotel at non-gourmet rates.
Tarkarli, along with Ganapatiphule, surely ranks as one of the best beaches on the West coast. No wonder it is a pit stop for the dollar tourists who come on the Deccan Odyssey, the posh train that takes them around Maharashtra. This time there were a number of well-heeled passengers on the train, enough to keep the five-star chef and his coterie who accompanied them busy while the visitors lolled on the beach. In one memorable instance, there was just one passenger (this was during the monsoon month of June last year) who must have felt like royalty.
We also felt like royalty, with nothing much to do except being fed and watered at regular intervals.
The day we were leaving, we noticed some excitement on the beach. People were running, pointing to the sea. "Tsunami!" I thought numbly, before having the sense to realise everyone was running towards the water. We looked. And sure enough, at a distance, there was a pod of dolphins splashing around teasingly.
How to get there
Tarkarli is round 700 km from Bangalore. You can drive through Hubli to Belgaum. Overnight stay at Belgaum recommended. This route is part of the Golden Quadrilateral. Great drive with posh gas stations en route (you can dine and shower in them), but little else to see as the route bypasses all villages. Tarkarli is 160 km of slow road from Belgaum.
The other route is through Hassan, Mangalore and Goa. Longer but very scenic. Tarkarli is 100 km from Panaji.
If you're taking the train, take the Konkan route. The nearest station is Kudal, 45 km away.
By air, Dabolim is 100 km away and Kolhapur, 160 km.
There are a number of buses to Malvan. You get off at Malvan and either take a local bus or an autorickshaw.
Tariffs vary according to season. Check out the rates by logging on to www.maharashtratourism.gov.in. You could call R.G. Dabholkar, Resort Manager on 02365-252390. It's also good to keep in mind that the rooms are booked months ahead.
Curiosity
The Sindhudurg cops have suddenly turned musical. They accost you at the border saying they're seeking donation for their band. Minimum contribution is 100 bucks. We coughed up without demur though we saw no saxes or harmoniums lying around. But we did notice that a fellow driver, clearly tone deaf, didn't oblige and he looked as if he was going to stay parked for a while.
Shivaji's Sindhudurg
While you're at Malvan, you could check out Sindhudurg fort located a couple of km offshore, built by Shivaji to keep out the Mughals and the British.
There are palm prints and footprints purportedly that of the Maratha king. There is the usual chest thumping and slogan shouting by visitors overwhelmed by the experience, but the fort itself is in a rundown condition, populated by a handful of impoverished families.
To get there, you take one of the numerous boats from Malvan, which is usually packed with tourists.
This boat ride is also a bit rocky, leading a tourist to cheerfully remind the boatman we were bound for Sindhudurg and not Vaikunta.
SUGANDHI RAVINDRANATHAN
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