A drive through mesmerizing Konkan : Part 3 – The Ratnagiri picture-perfect postcard

It has taken three days to get here. A day of driving across the road that is the spine of Karnataka to take a break at Hubli.

After the soulful Amboli, the mango orchards and the cashew nut farms were dealt with. After two days of driving, we finally drove into Ratnagiri, the heart of Konkan.

It is the time at the cusp of an interesting time of the day, one where the afternoon is almost gone and the evening is a few laps away from settling in. The smell of dried fish is everywhere.

The view from atop the small bridge is the type that appears in picture-perfect postcards.

Colourful fishing boats are anchored safely in the creek that the retreating sea has formed. Most are standing still while others are just motoring, looking for a parking space. Some are lumbering up, warming up, getting ready to venture into the sea at night.

This is heart of the fishing community. The call of the gulls can be heard. The hum of the motor boats is ever-present and the chatter from the boats down below filters into your ears. This is a community that lives on their relationship with the sea. The sea feeds them and they worship it.

This is no plush yet crappy 9-5 job, it is one that is back breaking and risky. But then, it is all and what they know, are good at and fills their plate. The salty air peppers their hair and wind at sea crackles their skin and gives them the tough look. Simple souls leading simple lives oblivious of the devious world out there.

The sea is a bright blue as the angling sun rays joyfully conjure a visual canvas of stunning beauty. The bridge is a beehive of activity as the fishermen winding up for the day dart around trying to get home. Nets are being wound back, blue plastic drums being put back in place for the next day and small cloth bags with essentials slung on shoulders as they get ready to head home.

We weave our way through and head towards the hotel. The hotel is on the beach, and a light blue tinge this time spreads into the horizon. A pair of boats in the distance is lolling around, probably unable to decide which way to go. Home for the evening or into the sea into the impending darkness.

The afternoon sun is now inching west. We are told by the locals that the best place to watch the sun pack his bags and go down is a beach a few miles north. So be it, I say to myself, and we drive to the Aare-Ware beach.

A few miles of a slow ambling drive, and the beach appears. The road has climbed a wee bit, and the beach stretches away below to our left. A dirt track near a bridge across a retreating backwater flow takes you to the beach.

We have been told that the sunset looks great a few hundred meters ahead after the bridge, where the road climbs again as it goes around a hilly outcrop.
It definitely is good advice.

The sun is fast disappearing into the colourful Arabian Sea. The sky is bright orange in patches and a few clouds float on the horizon. They would probably block the view of the final dip of the sun. The sea lies stretched out, dancing ever so slightly as the slanting rays bounce off it, creating bright and dark spots. The Aare Ware beach lies stretched out slightly south. It looks stunning from a distance, more inviting than when up close.

A cup of tea and a few fritters are in order as one sits on the small stone wall that gives you the best view. It was an incredible sight.

There is something strange about those ocean tides. They are restless, but they have a calming effect when troubled and feverish minds sit watching them. It is probably me, but it is a working theory.

As dusk descends, we get back to the hotel. The two boats are still there, not having made up their minds. We get a closer view of the beach near this hotel. It is muddy and not the cleanest. There are many mean-looking stray dogs around, making it a bit risky to venture onto the beach. We sit on a bench safely away and look out into the distance. All the weariness of the miles of drives through the mango orchard-speckled hills is washing away.

The last of the motorized boats heading home appears in the distance. Soon, darkness descends. A few fishing boats, the nocturnal kind, can be seen with their mast lights on in the dark and humming sea. We settle down for dinner and then for some much-needed sleep.

Ratnagiri and its history await.

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Sudhir Bhattathiripad

Indian Travel and Musings