Three days in Oman

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While researching for places to go to during the recent Holi and Good Friday long weekend, I recalled the favourable reviews given by a couple of friends who had recently visited Oman. With only a 2.5 hour flight to Muscat, and the weather still not being too hot in March, it seemed an ideal candidate. I booked onward flights using miles, and the return fare was only 5k per adult. Ishaan was still under 2 years and all our tickets put together costed less than 20k!

 

 

 

 One of Jyoti's friends from her Delhi days, Aditya, had now been living in Muscat for a decade. The two tried to see if others in their gang could also visit around the same time and constitute a nice reunion, but due to prior commitments no one else could make it. Initially we had planned to stay in a hotel, but Aditya insisted it would be more fun if we stayed with them.

The visa process for Oman is a bit complicated. If one applies in Mumbai itself, it has to be done through a travel agent who also has to handle your hotel booking, airport transfers and at least one tour booking. And it costs a staggering 11-12k per person ! Alternately, someone staying in Oman could sponsor your visa - but the latter has to show a family relationship with the applicant. So Aditya got an application made through a friend who shares his last name with Jyoti, and then got Ishaan and me added to it. A day before departure, we realised that my nationality in the visa was stated as Singapore - it was a clerical error, as my Indian passport was issued in Singapore. Thankfully an update was made by the authorities in a couple of hours, and Aditya sent us the updated scans of the visas.

Our flight departed from Mumbai at 10 pm and due to the 1.5 hour time difference, landed around 11 pm local time. There was a long queue for immigration. Jyoti waited in the line while I sat on a nearby bench with Ishaan nicely asleep in my arms. 15 minutes later a co-passenger suggested that families needn't wait in queue and when Jyoti requested an officer, we were bumped upto the head of the queue. When we met Aditya at arrival and narrated the incident to him, he said this was typical of Oman: folks were nice and babies were treated specially, but they were lazy too and one just had to nudge them to get their attention. His home was only 10 minutes away and we got a warm welcome from his wife Ranju.

The next morning we got a nice glimpse of Muscat as Aditya took us for a drive.It was situated right between the sea and the barren mountains. The roads were wide, and the buildings either white or the color of sand. There were some modern glass buildings, but a majority of them, especially the important ones, were a mix of Middle Eastern and classical architecture - domes and minarets fused with Corinthian columns. Jyoti instantly fell in love with the place, and remarked, by comparison, that Dubai, just a few hours drive away, was such a concrete jungle .

We visited the modern Sultan Qaboos  Mosque, named after its current progressive monarch who has been in power for decades and is widely considered the force behind the country's modernisation. The mosque is one of the largest in the world, and it's beautiful interior contains the second largest chandelier ever made. The mosque's grounds were huge, and Ishaan and Aditya's daughter Avani had a blast running around.

For lunch, Aditya suggested a local Indian joint having a great biryani and Jyoti wasn't about to give up a chance for some. We stuffed ourselves with kebabs, paneer, dal and biryani.  A much needed nap followed the heavy meal.

In the evening we drove around a bit near the seaside. Working as a risk officer in Bank of Muscat, Aditya's knowledge of companies and politics of the Middle East, especially the Gulf countries, was prolific. In a day, we seemed to know as much about Oman as it would have taken us weeks had we been traveling independently. For dinner, we headed to Kargeen garden restaurant - the evening fare included falafel sandwiches, lentil soup, a Yemeni vegetable dish, some crispy delicious Yemeni bread and sheesha. The ambience was top notch - the evening air had a little nip, pretty lanterns lined the pathways and hung from the trees, and locals and expats enjoyed a lively conversation. I wish there were more garden restaurants in Mumbai, but where's the space and where's the clean air ?

The next morning I went scuba diving. Aditya dropped me to the dive school situated at one of the numerous bays in the Muscat area. The site was 15-20 minutes by boat from the mainland, and the boat ride through the blue water surrounded by barren hills was a delight. Unfortunately there had been some unseasonal rain across the country the last couple of days and thus the visibility was quite poor. Moreover, the coral at the reef was neither plentiful nor colourful and I got bored in the water after a while. The others in the group were quite enjoying the dive and when we surfaced after 50 minutes of water time, I was feeling a little sick and skipped the second dive which was in the same area.  As a consolation, a couple of the dive instructors on the boat were hilarious and I had a few good laughs. The boat ride on the way back was rough and we had water spraying all over us no matter where in the cabin one was seated.

I took a pre-arranged taxi back to Aditya's place. The rest of them had decided to laze around in the morning and "do nothing", which works quite well for Jyoti on her vacations. We had delicious home made lunch, and then relaxed for a bit more.

Ranju stepped out for  a bit in the afternoon to run some errands and brought back some falafel rolls. They were made just the way I like them - sans any salad, just a filling of falafel balls and tahini.

In the evening we headed to the famous Muttrah souk, the oldest market in Muscat, situated right off a crescent shaped bay. We bought a coloured glass lantern and a glazed earthenware pot with a distinctive Omani shape. It struck me that as Ishaan was running around obstructing other pedestrians, everyone still had the inclination to make way for him and smile at him.

For dinner, we went to Rumba Latino at "The Cave", a group of restaurants built inside a natural cave with some man made extensions. We ordered nachos, tacos, arepas, enchiladas and a couple of fusion dishes. This was the best food of our trip so far. We wished Mumbai would have a Mexican / Latino restaurant just as good.

The next morning, Aditya took the three of us for a half day trip to Nizwa Fort, about 1.5 hours away. Avani wasn't well so she and Ranju couldn't join us. It was a picturesque drive through a wide highway cut through the hills. We first spent some time at the well known Nizwa souk and bought a clay jar. The adjacent fort and castle weren't mind blowing for someone who's seen plenty of them in India, but they contained some interesting exhibits and the tower provided a good view of the town and the surrounding hills. We had an Indian lunch again at a local restaurant and headed back to Muscat.

In the evening, before we headed out to the airport. we went to a coffee shop by a seaside promenade. Aditya and his family were flying to Mumbai as well the same night for a vacation in Coorg, albeit in a flight just tend minutes after ours and thus we headed to the airport together.

There is a lot more to Oman than just Muscat. Given time, one can go and stay in the mountains and trek, or stay at one of the numerous beach resorts along the coast. Nevertheless we had a fun three days, especially thanks to having a friend show us around. It's not a country that needs to be put on a bucket list,but if you live within a few hours of it, it's definitely worth a visit.

Cycling Trip from Mumbai to Goa

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The Plan

 

I had barely rode my cycle during the latter half of 2015 and the first couple of months of 2016. I was spending most of my weekends either paragliding at Kamshet, learning badminton or sailing the waters of Bombay harbor. During one particular March afternoon sail, with Shanjali and Kaustubh, I casually asked them if they had any particular plans for the summer. They mentioned they planned to cycle one way from Mumbai to Goa in April.

 

Now I would hardly take these words seriously coming from most people. But I figured that for Kaustubh, who is the only person to have KAYAKED from Mumbai to Goa, cycling the stretch would be a piece of cake. And Shanjali had recently completed the challenging Chadar trek without breaking a sweat. I had been itching to get back on the saddle, had just got my Trek serviced and was looking for a challenge. And just like that, we had a plan.

 

 The aim was to cover the 600 km odd distance to Goa, via the lesser-known coastal route, in 9 days, averaging about 65 a day. I averaged 20+ during rides in Mumbai, and making some allowance for poor roads and uphills, we felt we could average 15 ish during our trip. This would mean about 4-5 hours on the road daily, ideally 3-4 in the morning and 1-2 in the evening. 

 

 

Training and Packing

 

Kaustubh and Shanj simply showed up and went the distance, but I dont think I could have done it without the preparation I put in. In the 3 days following confirmation of the plan, I cycled 80km a day in Mumbai, about 50-55 km in the morning and 25-30 km in the evening. At night I rounded it up by playing tennis or doing yoga. Thereafter I continued to bike 30-40 km atleast 2-3 times a week. I started sleeping in a separate room without an AC to condition myself. A few days before the trip, I stopped pushing myself at racquet sports or at the gym, lest I develop a niggle in my weak knees or back.

 

I had got the bike fitted with a pannier rack and bought a 2 x 9 litre bag to carry all the necessary knick-knacks that would be needed en route. The idea was to pack stuff that we were sure to need on a daily basis (a couple of pair of clothes, a bedsheet, a towel, sunscreen, phone charger) and stuff that we hoped we would not need (puncture kit, spare tubes). Beach slippers, books and battery packs were a luxury that had to be left back home. 

 

 

The Roadblocks

 

Till I actually left home on the morning of April 12, I had the gnawing feeling that the world was conspiring to derail the plan.

 

First up were bike problems. I had four punctures within a span of 10 days late in March during my practice runs. Three of them were due to valve failures, all involving expensive Bontrager tubes, and all involved the rear wheel. I got a new tyre, installed the front tube that had lasted me 3+ years into the rear wheel and left the service station feeling confident that I had solved the problem. And within 2 minutes of mounting the bike, the tube that had lasted me all these years split open at the valve! 

 

I had enough of the expensive Bontrager tubes, and decided to try the local made GRL ones. I also installed a liner between the tube and tyre to provide an additional layer of protection. The bike ran fine for the next few days, and I hoped it would continue to behave on the trip.

 

Thereafter, on one of the morning rides, as I tried to overtake a bus, I sprained my lower back. I was always worried if my weak back would last for 9 days, and now I had sprained it badly 5 days before the departure date. I stayed indoors the next day, watched a few episodes of BBC's Sherlock on Netflix and thankfully felt better the next morning.

 

The weekend before the Tuesday we were slated to depart, a bunch of us headed up to Pawna Lake to a friend's villa. I was a little careless in watching Ishaan. He fell from the swing and had a nosebleed. It stopped in 10 minutes, the timeframe that various webpages stated it should in order for it to be harmless, and I was relieved. However, on Monday, a day before departure, he had another nosebleed at his preschool. I took him to an ENT specialist, who diagnosed that there was nothing to worry about and prescribed some drops. So finally, with my son, my bike and myself all in good health, I could set out.

 

 

Day 1: Mumbai - Gateway - Alibag - Kashid (80 km)

 

I hadnt sleep well the previous night due to excitement. I met Shanj and Kaustubh at the Mankhurd turnoff on the Eastern Express Highway at 6 am on April 12, and we headed off towards Gateway of India using the Eastern Freeway, a route I have often used for morning rides. concede that cycles are not allowed on the freeway, but neither were the Indians allowed to make salt  during the British rule. I have half a mind to gather fellow cyclists and perform a "cycle satyagraha" to claim all the roads open to motorists for cyclists too. How else are we to promote healthy and pollution free commutes? As luck would have it, we were stopped by a policeman, who seemed to have sympathy for us, but nevertheless politely asked  us to take the freeway exit at Wadala and use the truck road. In hindsight it provided us a chance to see the dockyards and warehouses along the harbor route from a different perspective than we were used to while using the freeway.

 

 Covering the 25+ odd km to Kalaghoda in 1.5 hours, We had bun-maska at Yazdani bakery, a joint I had never visited before in all my years spent in Mumbai. We hadnt even left Mumbai and I had already had a couple of new experiences. We took the public ferry to Mandwa and it was time to bid goodbye to heavy traffic for the next week. It was late morning as we made our way to Alibag on a flat, paved road flanked by trees. Reaching there by noon, we had lunch at one of the restaurants in the main market: I opted for Palak Paneer while Kaustubh and Shanj ordered Surmai Thalis. Our plan was to start our evening ride at 4 pm, so we stuck around at the restaurant for a long time even after our meal was over until the waiters made it evident in their expressions that they expected us to leave.

 

We cycled a couple of kilometers out of Alibag town and found shelter in a temple. The bedsheet I was carrying became our mattress, I used the towel as a pillow and having secured our bikes to a pole, we took a nice nap. Sleeping in a temple precinct was another first for me. 

There was a small ghat between Alibag and Kashid, our final destination for the day. It wasn't very steep though and our fresh legs managed it in the evening breeze without difficulty. The modest uphill was rewarded with a fast downhill with an enthralling sea view to the right and we reached Kashid  around 6:30, just in time for a beautiful sunset at the sandy beach. We got modest accomodation at some place called Nirmal guesthouse which was right off the beach, ordered Maharashtrian Thali for dinner and put our feet up to relax. My veggie Thali consisted of a couple of chapatis, a mixed veg. dish, sol kadhi and dal rice. This standard fare was repeated quite often over the next few days. Kaustubh and Shanj got a Surmai fish thali again.

 

We had covered 80-85 km for the day, well above our overall average target. We were tired of course, but only to the extent one is after a moderate run or a game of squash. I began to think we just had to repeat this day's routine and we would get to Goa easily!

 

Day 2: Kashid -  Diveagar - Shrivardhan (65 km)

 

Shanj woke up with a stomach infection, and she conjectured it was the Surmai she had the previous afternoon. We left Kashid at 5:30 with our front lights showing us the way and backlights warning overtaking vehicles. An easy morning 20 km ride took us past the Nandgaon and Murud beaches into the village of Rajapuri from where we had to take a ferry across to Dighi. We had a breakfast of puri bhaji and bread omlette at Rajapuri village. There was no ramp at the jetty and 3-4 men had to carry the motorbikes to be ferried across, down the stairs to the boat. This made the loading process quite time consuming and it was late morning by the time we unloaded our cycles at Dighi.

 

The next couple of hours gave us a good idea of what was in store for us next few days. A long ghat stood between Dighi and our lunch destination, Diveagar. The sun was close to its zenith and the road was getting progressively worse. Shanj realized that her MTB didnt have low enough gears to push through some steep slopes and had to use a lot of back strength to manage it. When the slope got even steeper, she had to walk the bike through a couple of short stretches. The view of Diveagar beach to our right as we came down the slopes was breathtaking, but our excitement was countered by the shocking realization that the downhill leg could be even slower than a flat run due to the potholed roads. This was especially true for Kaustubh and me who were riding hybrids and had to be careful not to damage our tyres. 

 

Inspite of the stomach bug, Shanj kept going and we reached Diveagar beach around 1 pm. Kaustubh had made landfall at various places along the coast during his kayaking trip with Shanj sailing alongside him in a safety boat, and thus the duo were quite well versed with some of the coastal towns. They vividly  remembered having come across a beautiful sandstone temple at Diveagar and we tried to find it, but instead found another sandstone temple, and by their estimation, grander than the one they had visited. Shanjali was understandably exhausted and decided to take a nap there, while Kaustubh and I cycled to town to have another Maharashtrian Thali for lunch. Kaustubh liked the aloo methi a lot, and remarked that his mother makes an even better preparation. We got some dal rice packed for Shanj, headed back to the temple and got some rest.

 

Before heading out for the afternoon ride, we hit the beautiful Diveagar beach and I jumped in the water for a bit. It was disappointing to see the beach strewn with some rubbish, and we encountered the same situation at many other public beaches. While the Maharashtra coast is touted as "unspoilt", its only to the extent that tourists from the major cities havent discovered it yet. The locals have littered the locally well known beaches somewhat, and presumably nothing is being done about the garbage simply because it is only beginning to build up.

 

We also found the temple that we were looking for earlier, and this time Kaustubh got a picture in front of it with his cycle to complement the one he took with a kayak a year ago. The evening routine was a 20 km run from Diveagar to Shrivardhan. The hard work of the day  found reward in gorgeous views of the Arabian Sea as we came down the ghats. A few km before Shrivardhan, the road ran alongside the beautiful and deserted Aaravi beach, in my book the prettiest stretch of sand we came across during our trip. We found our usual modest hotel and had the usual Maharashtrian Thali. The meals were beginning to get monotonous though they certainly were tasty. However, given how hungry I got at lunch and dinner time every day, food disappeared fast from the table.

 

Post dinner, I had the pleasure of washing my dirty clothes. This was the first time in life that I had done so without using a washing machine. I felt embarrassed that I had never done it before, but also felt lucky at having had material comforts all my life.

 

    

Day 3: Shrivardhan - Kelshi - Murud (80 km)

 

We reached Shrivardhan on day 2 post sunset and left on day 3 before sunrise and thus didnt get a chance to see its well known beach. The early morning ride was a 20 km run to Bagmandla jetty. Ghats and poor roads had become a regular feature now. We gave Harihareshwar beach a miss too as it involved a slight detour and we wanted to cover good distance before the sun came overhead. 

 

 The vessel taking us across from Bagmandla to Veshvi was a car ferry that ran right as per its schedule and took us across in 10 minutes. At Veshvi, we had a hearty breakfast - Kaustubh and I had 3 vada pavs each and got a few packed as well. The late morning 25 km run from Veshvi to Kelshi was the most difficult one of the trip. The sun was baking us, the ghats were challenging and some roads were so bad that we had to walk our cycles downhill for fear of damaging tyres or rims. The road ran inland and there were no sea views to provide any respite. We gobbled up the packed vada pavs during a break. Shanjali was recovering well from his stomach bug and braved on in these conditions. We clocked an unbelievably low speed of 6-7 kmph during this stretch. 

Reaching Kelshi almost at 2 pm, we first had some sugarcane juice and then the usual Thali at a family run joint.

We stretched our legs and put up our wet clothes (washed the previous night) for drying at the local temple. We couldnt get any sleep  as the place was poorly ventilated. We hit the juice center for another round of hydration before starting our evening run around 4:30 pm.

Here we came across the only cyclist we met during our trip: a Chilean fellow who was riding from Madurai to Bikaner, and carrying his overnight camping gear in addition to other provisions. We thought what we were doing was brave, but were novices compared to this guy. All alone. In a foreign country. Wasnt fluent even in English, let alone Hindi or Marathi. Had already covered 1500 kilometres with as much to go. He asked us where he could get some food and we rode alongside him towards the restaurant we had visited earlier, and then headed out towards (another) Murud.

 

The ride ended up being longer than expected as one of the locals guided us to a longer route, which involved a steep climb too. Since 3G availability was infrequent, and we werent carrying a physical map, we had to rely on the locals for directions - unfortunately, they  were usually quite off the mark about distances. As compensation for the extra pedaling, we got a sweeping view of the sunset, but we ended up riding in the dark for half an hour before reaching Murud.

 

The seaside hotel we stayed at had an a la carte menu as well. A small bowl of paneer mutter cost 160 bucks, compared to the 100 I had got accustomed to pay for an entire meal - but it was a much needed change to the dinner menu.

 

 

Day 4: Murud - Dabhol - Guhagar (60 km)

 

Day 3 was expected to be the toughest and we were glad it was over. We started feeling that we were halfway there, and decided to go just a little easy on day 4. We spent half an hour at Murud beach around dawn rather than pedal off at daybreak as was the norm. 10 km of uphills brought us to Dapoli around breakfast time and we had some poha and vada pav.

 

The mid-morning run of 30 km from Dapoli to Dabhol had the occasional stretch of straight road, but our legs were feeling the pain and we were riding a gear easier than usual. The tree cover was getting progressively scanty as we headed south, and at times we resorted to riding on the wrong side of the road, especially on ghats, if the other side had a few extra trees to shield us from the sun. Hydration was key, and a sugar rush was welcome. I probably ended up drinking more Sprite and Maaza during this trip than I have in the entire past year.

 

From Dabhol, we took the car ferry across to Dhopave, and continued riding to Guhagar, about 20 km away. We reached there around 2 pm, just in time for lunch, and I spotted a place that served idlis, wadas and pau bhaji! Needless to day, that was one hearty meal. A conversation with the neighbouring table provided us the much valued information that the quality of roads from Guhagar to Goa was much better than what we had encountered so far, and that there werent many ghats going forward. Little did we realize that the definition of a ghat differs whether you are on a cycle or in a car!

 

I went for a dip in the sea  post lunch. The beaches had started to seem repetitive by now. One major difference between Maharashtra and Goa beaches are that the former are lined with Casuarina groves while the latter have a predominance of coconut trees. Guhagar beach also had a handful of food stalls, reminiscent of Juhu beach.

 

As a reward for the hard work of the past four days, we treated ourselves to an AC room for the night. The temperature control wasnt working and the AC filter wasnt cleaned for months. As a result, while I had so far escaped any damage from the summer heat, an attempt at luxury gave me a minor cold, and I reverted to the fan in the middle of the night.

 

 

Day 5: Guhagar - Ganapatipule -  Ratnagiri (80 km)

 

Bike - rest - eat  - drink - repeat. We had got into a routine. The early morning ride on day 5 was a 30 km stretch from Guhagar to Tavsal jetty. Roads were better paved as we had been promised. The ghats were getting flatter but our legs were getting slower too, so there was no respite on that front. And the tree cover kept  dwindling.

 

 

The ferry ran every hour, and as we got closer, we aimed to make it for the 9:40 am crossing. With only 4 km to go, a smooth road ahead and having 40 minutes in hand, we seemed well in control. But then we hit a badly cratered patch, followed by a work-in-progress treacherous downhill that I had to walk my bike through. Only the smooth last km strectch ensured we still got to the ferry in time.

 

The ferry, the last one of the trip, took us across from Tavsal to Jaigad, and Ganapatipule was another 25 km away. The first half of the run was through a barren high plateau running parallel to, but without a view of, the coast. The last 10 km afforded us a great view, first of the pristine, untouched Malgund beach and thereafter that of Ganapatipule.

 

For lunch, I got another break from the regular Thali and ordered some palak paneer at one of the tourist restaurants. The fish here was quite expensive: 300+ for a Surmai / Pomfret plate compared to the 150 odd we had been paying at the previous few meals. The prices were reflective of us being momentarily back on the tourist track.

 

I had fond memories of my previous visit to Ganapatipule. Back in 2001, I had gone to Goa with my IIT friends, and we stopped at Ganapatipule for an afternoon on the way back. I  still remember how we were awestruck by our first view of the beach as it suddenly appeared over a small hill. With clearer water, softer sand and none but us on the beach, all had agreed that it was a better strip of sand than any in Goa. Imagine my rude shock when I headed there post lunch, to find it crammed with people and food stalls. I felt I should have rather stopped 5 km earlier at Malgund and lazed there for a bit. I realized that even without the crowd, the beach wouldnt look as pretty as I remembered it. Perhaps it was the effect of visiting many other beaches round the globe since then.

 

The initial plan was to spend the night at Ganapatipule, but we still had some energy left and decided to push on to Ratnagiri. The road was relatively flat and well paved, and we got probably the best views of the trip.

Slowly making our way through the crowded town center of Ratnagiri, we found a hotel on the outskirts on the other side of town. We got a strong recommendation to have our dinner at a nearby restaurant called Amantran. After having rode through 80 km of mostly empty roads, we were in no mood and no physical shape to navigate bumper-to-bumper traffic even for a mile, and thus used an autorickshaw to get there. Kaustubh and Shanj got some good, albeit expensive, fish, and I had some paneer bhurji. 

 

Day 6: Ratnagiri - Nate - Padel Canteen (85 km)

 

We had reached Ratnagiri a full day ahead of schedule, but given how tired we were, we expected to slow down over the last few days and reach Goa in the scheduled 9 days. On day 6 however, we had a different kind of problem. There was a long stretch of inland road onwards from Ratnagiri, and both google maps as well as local knowledge suggested that there wasn't any accomodation available for the next 90 kilometres. Some guys mentioned there were small hotels, but the feedback wasnt consistent enough to be reliable. Ambolgad beach was an ideal 60 km away, but it involved a detour and we had begun to hate that word.

 

 

One of Kaustubh's friends who had cycled the same route a while back had ended up spending the night at a temple at Nate, 50 km from Ratnagiri. Resting at temples during the day was one thing, but we didnt fancy spending the night at one. Shanj reassured us that if we didnt cover the 90 km during the day or find a hotel earlier, she would be able to convince a helpful villager to allow us to spend the night at his or her place!

 

The morning stretch was a 30 km run from Ratnagiri to Purnagad. During his kayaking expedition, Kaustubh had faced the same challenge of finding a place to stay, and had stayed at the sarpanch's home in Purnagad. He remembered the house close to the river bank as we crossed the bridge over it, and went down to say hello, only to find that she wasnt around.

 

By now we were well and truly into Mango country, with numerous fenced orchards flanking the roads. There were no major ghats, but the road followed a cyclical pattern: 2-3 km uphill, 2-3 km high plateau, 2-3 km downhill, 1km through the village in the valley that included a bridge over a dry nallah or a flowing river, and then repeat the whole thing again.

 

A big shady tree came once in a few km, and we made good use of it whenever we got one. Occasionally there was a bench beneath one as well, and this for us was the equivalent of the Presidential Suite at a 7-star hotel. As we were resting at a nice spot between Purnagad and Nate, a gentleman from Mumbai traveling with his assistants in a Jeep distributed pamphlets to us opposing the construction of a Nuclear plant at Jaitapur nearby.

 

 Plodding our way along, we reached Nate around lunchtime and continued onto Jaitapur across the river for lunch in a tiny family run place. There was a certain Vrindavan farmstay a km away, but someone told us we could find accomodation at Katradevi, about 20 km away, and feeling not completely exhausted, we continued to move on after a short break. This stretch of road was as flat as a pancake and we did our fastest 20 km since leaving Mumbai. On reaching Katradevi, we were told there was no accomodation there and we had to go to Padel Canteen, 15 km away. As we enjoyed a 15 rupee not-so-special special chai (the most expensive on the trip) under a banyan tree at the Katradevi market, the anti-nuclear protestor arrived there and started setting up a booth to distribute and display information about the dangers posed by potential nuclear leaks. 

 

At 6 pm, we left for Padel canteen, confident that if there were no hotels there as promised, an MTDC hotel was just another 2 km away. We did however find accomodation at a certain Vijaydurg hotel, named after the nearby fort. The room was basic as usual but the the balcony afforded a clear view of the sunset into the surrounding hills. I so wanted a beer but it would have to wait! 

 

Day 7: Padel Canteen - Achara - Malvan (65 km)

 

Given our extended run the previous day, we now set our sights on reaching Goa a day before schedule. Our legs were tired and the progress was slow. Even flats were covered in very low gears. We winced at the sight of every climb, and whereas we could have cycled them in the lowest gear a couple of days earlier, we choose to walk a few now, especially as the day got hotter. I had some soreness in the knees, but amazingly enough, after cycling 6-7 hours daily for 6 days, my back was trouble free. Either it was the enthusiasm of the trip or the outdoor environment or a bit of both.

 

 

Prodding and pushing along, we reached Malvan around 1 pm. The last 20 kilometres were flat, fast and sheltered. At the outskirts of town, we stopped for sugarcane juice. The vendor mentioned that lots of cyclists came that way from November to March, but we were the first group he saw in April. Even with the tan that she was carrying, he asked Shanj was which country she was from, and was surprised to hear she was Indian. I think he was taken aback that an Indian girl had cycled all the way  from Mumbai in this heat.

 

We had lunch at a restaurant called Atithi Bamboo. The only vegetarian option again was the usual vegetarian Maharashtrian thali - I ordered the special version, which also got me two small pieces of gulab jamun. I had made a habit of ordering an extra papad or two the last few days, especially as  the first one served with the meal got soggy by the time I had dal-rice. I would also pass on the solkadhi, something I didnt like much, to Shanj who relished it.

 

In the evening we headed to the famous Tarkarli beach by autorickshaw. I found it no better or worse than others we had seen, and given its reputation, felt a little disappointed. I swam for a bit, while Kaustubh and Shanj took some nice pictures aboard a fisherman's boat parked in the sand. We then walked through a small village to the riverside and had hot batata bhajjis with schezwan chutney. For dinner we headed back to the same restaurant as Kaustubh and Shanj had loved the seafood and mutton they had for lunch earlier in the day.

 

 

Day 8: Malvan - Vengurla - Arambol - Mapusa (95 km)

 

The last day. Goa was calling us. The border was 70 km away and Arambol beach another 5 beyond it. Given our quick ride into Malvan the previous day, I was hoping that the road would continue to be flat on the way out as well. No such luck. After  another tiring morning, we reached Vengurla by lunchtime. Our last afternoon nap was at Sangameshwar temple, just a kilometer further from Vengurla town. I went for a swim at the adajacent crescent shaped beach. In my book it was prettier that Ganapatipule or Tarkarli, but unfortunately it was also a dangerous one to swim in, and I stuck to knee-deep water. 

 

 

We started at 4:30 pm from Vengurla, got an easy run for the first 20 km, and after a small ghat, finally reached the narrow river that formed the border between Maharashtra and Goa. It was time to take a group shot, alongside our cycles, and open up a beer at the first joint we came across on the Goa side.

 

It was also the time to bid farewell to Kaustubh and Shanj. Deservedly their plan was to spend the next few days in Goa recovering and relaxing, having some beers and getting some massages. I would have loved to do so as well, but I was away from the family for eight days and was sorely missing my son. I thus headed straight to Mapusa bus station, one beer down and very tired, after crossing the border. I got myself the last seat available in the Atmaram Travels Volvo Sleeper leaving Mapusa at 9:30 pm, and paid the extra charges for carrying the cycle on board. It was the upper seat in the last row, and as the bus jumped and veered around, I felt an ache in my back and legs much worse than I'd felt in the past eight days !

 

 

Some thoughts

 

We had severely underestimated the impact of ghats. Had we known that the coastal road was but an endless series of uphills and downhills, we might have taken the highway, or perhaps not made the trip at all. But once we started thinking of them as an unanticipated challenge, it pushed us to finish the course a day earlier than expected.

 

Would I do something like this again? Had you asked me around days 6-8 or right after the end of the trip, I'd have said no. But now having had a week to absorb the experience in, I'd say yes, I'd do it again.

 

How difficult was it really, from perhaps an objective standpoint? I think half the battle was won once we decided we wanted to do it, and set aside a time to do it. I think anyone who can say endure an extended strenous yoga session or run a half marathon has enough physical fitness to go the distance. Whether one has the inclination to spend hours on a cycle in the heat and whether those who have the inclination have the passion to set aside the time required for this sort of expedition is another question.

 

Needless to say, it was a fulfilling, confidence-boosting experience. Here are some of the thoughts I came back with.

- Water is the sweetest drink, and one of the pillars of life. 

- Trees are the best air-conditioners, and another pillar of life.

- Life is ironical: those who commute by cycles want to upgrade to cars, and those who have cars want to cycle in the woods.

- Heat is much less oppressive, if the air is clean.

- When you race against yourself, people, even strangers, support you wholeheartedly.

- And, last not definitely not the least, LIFE IS OUTDOORS.