An upset stomach, a missed ferry,
an afternoon sun seemingly hell-bent on roasting you alive and tempers running
high do not make for an auspicious start to a journey. Add to that a
perpetually snippy engineer who momentarily seemed to have forgotten how
much people hate being constantly told “I told you so”, someone who is not
really much of a beach person (that’d be yours truly), a woman terrified of the
water and her boyfriend who was ready to do little more than shrug and our
Alibaug trip had disaster written all over it.
We reached Gateway on a Saturday at
2 pm, fifteen minutes after the last ferry had left the jetty. But then good
luck prevailed and we got the 3.30 pm ferry from Gateway. It was crowded but
nevertheless we got four seats on the top deck. It was a gorgeous Saturday
afternoon with clear sky, cool breeze over the sea and the constant screeching
of seagulls swooping down to grab by the beak pieces of bread of chips thrown
at them by the passengers. The ferry ride wasn’t particularly enjoyable to
everyone though. My friend got seasick and looked green and ready to explode
into a sick pile of puke for most part of it and it was hell inside my head as
I kept nursing a bad headache.
From Mandwa jetty you have about
half a dozen options-Versoli, Kihim, Alibaug, Nagaon and Kashid to name a few. All
of them are well-connected with an excellent network of buses and autorickshaws
so beach hopping is really not a problem here. We chose to spend the night at
Nagaon beach. The people here are friendly and welcoming and despite their initial
suspicion towards us, heavily Marathi accented Hindi and inability to make out
my atrocious Hindi (I don’t blame them of course) they settled for one thousand
rupees for one room. (Of course middle aged Marathi matriarch arched her
eyebrows at us two girls and insisted we take two rooms. When we refused
politely she looked even more confused and hassled and proceeded to assure us
that she had extra rooms and we need not pay a nickel more than a grand
for the night.)
Nagaon beach is a far-cry from the filthy beaches you get to see in Mumbai. It is not pristine white and abso-freaking-lutely clean; the Mumbaikers and Puneites who flock to Nagaon almost every weekend have made sure of that. But you can walk here barefoot for more than five minutes without shuddering at dirty black patches so prevalent on say, Chowpatti; you can even sit on the sand for hours. Long story short, on a scale of ten for cleanliness, Nagaon scores well above 6.5.
It was pitch dark (this, is an understatement) when we
reached the beach and all we could hear was the roaring waves and a
semi-inebriated group of tourists singing out of tune. A few yards into the
beach and I tripped on a loose branch and tumbled. We couldn’t even make out
the edge of the water in the dark. Nimesh and I tried to find our way to the
edge-the silence broken only by the crashing waves and the darkness were
unbearably creepy-the kind of creepiness that makes the hair stand on end. At times
I swear I could feel someone creeping up to me. We lit a bonfire and sat on the
beach for hours till the old man whose daughter-in-law is the aforementioned
Marathi matriarch came looking for us with a lamp, fully convinced we were either
lost or indulging in some unspeakable debauchery on the beach (The look on his
face was half-way between concern and disgust. )
The next morning we took a bus to
Kashid. One word of caution: you can take
an auto to Kashid but the autowallahs will charge exorbitant rates. So unless
you’re prepared to spend thirty minutes haggling with them in super outrageous
Hindi (Again mine. Apparently I was the only budget traveler in the group. The others
were willing cough up that sum and hence unwilling to convince the autowallahs why
they should treat us like their children and reduce the rates!) you should take the bus. Kashid is only a thirty
minute bus ride away. The tickets cost only Rs. 75/- and after fifteen minutes
and when/if you have faked the
constantly-falling-on-passengers-because-bus-is-pulling-the-brakes act really
well you will manage to get a seat.
The road to Kashid is brilliant and picturesque. You will spot the ongoing process of industrialization, the power lines, the under construction bridges and quarries. Despite all that the place has retained its rustic charm-God even sent a herd of really undisciplined goats out of the blue and stalled the bus for fifteen minutes to prove this point.
The beautiful white beach of
Kashid is also home to some of the immensely popular water sports like jet
skiing, banana boats, posse and paragliding to name a few. The colorful flags
on the equally colorful boats fluttering against the white backdrop and the
cornflower blue sea make for a glorious sight. The beach is lined by shacks
that sell everything from rubber balls to chips to cigarettes to soggy Maggi
and soft drinks. I have never been to Goa but from the descriptions and the
photographs, I can safely say this beach can pass for Goa’s poor neglected
cousin who not a lot of people have heard of.
G decided to go for the jet ski
ride but wasn’t brave enough to do it alone (given that she can’t swim and standing
in knee-deep water she squealed like a stupid sissy teenager and ran away); so
she dragged me along. I had never jet skied before; as I said I was never much
of a beach person. Before we set off, the trainer briefed me on what to do when
if/when we fall off the jet ski. I could already see G having second thoughts about
the trip but after a collective scowl from all of us she stopped whining and
decided to come with me.
Those who have jet skied before
you all know the glorious feeling that comes with the experience-the knots in
the stomach and the initial dizziness as you try to get a clear view of the surrounding
amidst the splashing waves. To those who haven’t I have no words to describe
it. You have to experience it; there’s no other way you can go about it.
Also G’s boyfriend ensured that I
almost got to meet my maker. We were playing catch-catch in the water and he threw the ball so hard that I had
to swim further away from the shore to retrieve it. And for no fault of anyone’s
except perhaps God’s, I had these terrible
muscle cramps and almost drowned. Nimesh pulled me out of the water and I spent
the next fifteen minutes nursing the throbbing pain in my neck, shoulders and
knees and hatching elaborate murder plans to bump S off.
Getting a transport while
returning to Mandwa is a big problem post 12. We had to wait for at least an
hour before we found an autowallah who agreed to take us to Alibaug from where
we again have to find an auto. As per the unwritten rule amongst autowallahs he
charged a hefty amount but we decided to split the cost with an equally harried
family of four. The ferry trip from Mandwa to Gateway is simply breathtaking in
the evening. If you are lucky enough to find an empty seat on the deck you can
enjoy the gorgeous sunset, the flickering lights at a distance which look magical in the dark and the cold sea
breeze lashing against your face making it almost impossible to keep your eyes
open. Of course the trip back wasn’t fun for me-post my near-drowning experience
I kept getting a constant buzzing headache and waves of nausea and spent the
entire trip back as I had spent it while coming-nursing a terrible headache.
Alibaug makes for a perfect weekend
getaway for people who don’t have the luxury of time (or money as is almost always in
my case). You don’t even need to plan an itinery; just pack your bags and hop
off on the ferry.
Word of caution: If you’re someone who swears by whatever the internet has to say when you’re traveling, do not at least go by the ferry timings mentioned anywhere online. They are almost never updated. Always double-check.
Also the beaches are home to a
handful of shacks that have decent food to offer; we even found this deceptively
shady shack that sells sinfully delicious seafood at surprisingly cheap rates. (We
even thought this must be a front for some local human trafficking trade and
they’d drug us etc.). But the area around Nagaon and Kashid are pretty
desolate; there isn’t any shop around (except shacks selling cheap trinkets and
gaudy floral printed shorts); post sunset you won’t even find much transport
(unless you have your own transport). The nearest ATM, we were told, is at
Alibaug town, some 14 kms from Nagaon. So stock up medicines and munchies
and everything else you’d require.
I clicked some perfectly blurred
photographs with my cellphone camera. They make a glorious effort to pass for
travel photography, which of course, they are not. But what the heck.Will upload them later.
