kayaking India

Now Christmas and New Year are far behind us, I think I no longer have any excuses not to tell the story of the kayak expedition from Mumbai to Goa. I know many people have been waiting for the report, so I must apologise for the delay and hope you enjoy the read!

The original plan was to spend the European winter in India before returning to England to begin a bicycle expedition from Europe to Cape Town, starting in the early spring. However, one evening while we were sitting around our tents listening to the never ending summer rain, I wondered whether I needed to make something more of four months in India. The idea of spending four months relaxing in Goa was inviting, but I had the feeling that when I eventually returned to England in March I would regret not having made more of my trip. In the back of my mind I had an idea about the possibility of kayaking down the west coast of India from Mumbai to Goa. Ever since I first travelled from Mumbai to Goa a few years ago, I had wondered if a trip of this nature would be possible, but at the time it seemed a bit of a dream!

Nils and I had already booked the air tickets for Mumbai when one evening the idea resurfaced and I immediately knew that the trip must be attempted; I just had to convince Nils. At the time, he had no idea about my thoughts and, I think, had never considered the possibility of doing such a trip. I launched into all the possibilities and told him of the beautiful places we would see and the fish we would catch. The more I talked the more he began to see what a potentially good idea it was and by the end of the evening we agreed we would sleep on it and, if we were both still convinced of the plan in the morning, we would go ahead and start making preparations. When I awoke next morning, I knew we would do the trip so the excitement grew as I started to think about the preparations.

We talked things over for a week and worked out what we would need in the way of boats, fishing equipment and other essentials; then Nils headed off to Germany to join his brother for a two week holiday to Spain. This left me with a lot to organise, but with little chance of discussing things with Nils. I needed to make the right decisions as I knew there would be problems later if I got the wrong equipment. In the end, I realised it was much easier to do things on my own as it was not only far quicker to get things sorted, but also much less stressful. I think my cycling experience helped a great deal in knowing what we needed for everyday living. Most of my thoughts were, of course, focused on the fishing aspect of the trip while any doubts about kayaking such a distance with no experience were pushed to the back of my mind!
The remaining five or six weeks in England flew by as I purchased new fishing rods, reels, line, lures, dry bags, gps and, not least, two sea fishing kayaks. I eventually settled on the Ocean Kayak prowler trident 13 as it fitted the requirements regarding luggage for the plane and is specially designed for sea fishing. What more could we want? A week before I left my job in Devon, the boats had arrived back up in Hampshire and I was already getting complaints from parents that they were too big and taking up too much space in the garage! I sat with a huge pile of fishing equipment surrounding me and was pretty happy that I had got nearly everything sorted - there was just a question of getting an Indian visa and then we would be all set. Nils was due back in a few days and then we could tidy up a few last bits and would be ready to set out. During this week, the realisation of what we were doing hit home and the excitement began to build! I knew we would have to get through a few crazy days to get the boats safely to Mumbai and then into the sea and away from the city. It’s often hard enough moving through Mumbai with a rucksack, let alone two, four metre sea kayaks!

We left England on the 4th of November on a cold, wet, winter day and headed up to Heathrow airport. A good friend, Olly, kindly agreed to drive us in a van we had hired. We drove along the A31 and watched the rain stream from the windscreen as the cars quietly passed us in an orderly manner. We knew this would soon change dramatically when we touched down in the subcontinent and I couldn’t wait! We unloaded the boats at the drop-off zone and piled a huge amount of luggage on top and headed into the terminal while screeds of people gawked at us. I had doubts whether we would be able to load these two huge pieces of luggage for free, but in theory it was possible, so we kept our fingers crossed as we knew we were on, or just above, the weight limit.
The possibility of standing in the queue with our kayaks didn’t seem too realistic so Nils went off to get our passports checked while I stayed with the boats and took some rest because I was suffering badly from a lovely mid-winter cold! After a little while Nils returned and said we could take the boats to the oversized luggage area. There, a lovely South African lady took special care of us. Unfortunately the boats wouldn’t fit on the scales, so we had a little problem - without being weighed the kayaks couldn’t be loaded. (All luggage articles must be less than 32kg in order to avoid the chance of worker injury.) Luckily, at this moment, help arrived in the form of Alex, a 6 foot 4 inch Sudanese guy who calmly lifted a kayak and declared it was very light! Just what I wanted to hear! We relaxed a bit and followed Alex down into the oversized luggage loading area where a very serious Indian guy arrived with a special machine and proceeded to pierce the plastic wrapping and stick the nozzle of the machine inside. The machine sucked out the air from inside the boats and, after a few seconds, gave a reading. I guess by the serious look on the guy's face, that he was looking for explosives. Luckily we had no bombs aboard, so headed back to the check-in area and went through to passport control. We were running a little late and hadn’t had much to eat, so we quickly bought an all day breakfast from a pretty Lithuanian girl in the restaurant and then ran for the plane. The first stage was over and now the tricky bit was in front, but luckily we had 9 hours on the plane to relax a little! Problem was, I was feeling pretty ropey so didn’t savour the prospect of Mumbai and the lovely polluted air!

Santosh, Vishal and Ali from Indianangler.com had very kindly arranged a truck to pick the boats up from the airport and take them down to Powai Lake where we could store them until we were ready to leave Mumbai. This help was appreciated no end because the prospect of putting the boats on a taxi was not too inviting and probably physically impossible. I know, however, that the taxi driver would have had different ideas if the price was right! We collected our luggage and wwere waiting to see where the kayaks would appear when, suddenly, the baggage carousel ground to a halt and a yellow kayak nosed out through the plastic flaps. Two Indians were struggling to push through, so I went over and pulled it down to the floor and then grabbed the other. Nils brought the bags over and we loaded up and made a break for the exit.

It wasn’t particularly easy to blend in with the rest of the passengers, but we tried hard and made a bee line for the green exit sign. For a moment I thought we were there, - just a few more metres and we would be out. Then, from nowhere, a customs man dressed in a smart white uniform with gold buttons stepped in front of us and blocked our escape route! We tried to ignore him and re plot our route, but it wasn’t to be.

We kept our mouths shut after we had exchanged pleasantries and waited to see what he would have to say about our boats. Some more of the customs gang wandered over and had a look at our luggage. After a little while the Customs team announced that we must pay duty on each boat and this would amount to 800 english pounds! This came as a bit of a shock to me and quickly my mind started racing, determined to get out of this without paying anything, or at least paying a much reduced rate. We started to haggle the price down and ask many questions about why they wanted duty: I wanted to see it in writing; I wanted a bank receipt; I wanted the names of the guys etc. etc. They assured me that the money was going to the bank and not into their pockets, but the fact that the price had dropped to 150 pounds showed that these officials were trying their luck. The problem was we couldn’t leave the airport until it was sorted. We had time to waste and knew that eventually they would lose interest and let us go on our way. The question was how long it would take. Meanwhile, one guy was searching in his book trying find the rules about kayaks and duty to be paid. We had told him no duty was necessary as the luggage was sporting equipment. All the time I tried to be as friendly as possible and told the guys all about the trip we were going to make in order to try and get them on our side. Finally, the highest ranking official announced there was no duty to be paid! Handshakes were exchanged all around and we were sent off with good luck wishes for the trip.
After a little wait we loaded the boats onto the truck and then jumped into a taxi and headed down to Colaba in south Mumbai where the Taj hotel and the Gate Way of India are located.
After a long drive we stopped at the first hotel we came too and took a room until we could sort out something better. By this time I was feeling much in need of a few days rest to sweat out my cold. It was great to be back in India, particularly now we had managed to get the boats safely to Mumbai. We relaxed for a few days and then went to the first ever Indian sea fishing competition organised by the guys from Indianangler.com

We left colaba at 3.00 am and met the other fisherman at Sion railway station. When the hire bus arrived, we hauled our mountain of luggage across the road and were welcomed by the warm smile of Ali and then the rest of the crew. Immediately after climbing on the bus I felt completely relaxed in the company of the other 16 fisherman on board and knew we would have a great weekend. Having only ever spoken to these fellow anglers over the internet, it was great finally to meet them in person. Over the last few years these guys have been incredibly helpful to me and have always given an incredibly warm welcome to me when on the forum, so much so that I have often felt overwhelmed! Thank you guys, you know who you are.

The weekend was great and we even caught a few fish, but my cold unfortunately kept me down on the Sunday and prevented me from fishing. Even less help came in the form of a filleting knife which pinned me through the hand. I had put my hand into the bag and recoiled quickly from what felt like an electric shock shooting through my arm, but turned out to be the point of the knife in one of my nerves, deep in my palm. So, between this and the cold, fishing proved a little tricky. For days afterwards I couldn’t move my index finger or grip anything and began to wonder whether I would be able to start kayaking as planned.

When we arrived back in Mumbai, we were invited to stay by Allan, one of the indianangler gang. Allan is from Scotland and works in engineering and has been in Mumbai for around two years and lives just a stone's throw from Powai Lake. When I stepped into Allan’s flat I was imagined that we might be in for a feast because his kitchen cupboards bulged with exotic spices and ingredients! However, it turned out these were all purely for the fish down at the lake! Another crazy fisherman with much in common, I thought! Allan very kindly made us feel at home for a few days and even more kindly sorted us out by printing some google earth images of the Maharashtran coastline that would aid us along the way with feature finding. There are no detailed maps freely available, so these google earth images helped us no end in assessing what we had coming in the next days of paddling.

Ali invited us to fish with him at Powai Lake, and we greatfully accepted. When we arrived at the lake Ali was already fishing and had caught a couple of fish, one tilapia and a mirgal. He was fishing a very nice set up which consisted of a sliding lift float, delicately balanced to register the smallest of bites. As well as a float rod he had a method rod - in the hope of a bigger fish. Ali passed me the rod after explaining his technique and I settled into the fishing. A bite came quickly and was missed, but I then connected with the next which turned out to be a very lively little mirgal of around half a kilo. We caught a few more fish before it went quiet towards sunset, when the mirgal stopped feeding. Ali is a very skilled angler and is constantly refining his technique, so catches many fish. Most of the fishermen at Powai believe the fish are uncatchable on bait, so Ali is trying his utmost to change their ways by developing special methods to hook these wily, big fish.

We fished at the lake the next day with Ali plus Santosh, Babaloo and Allan. We didn’t catch too much, but spent a nice time hearing about the famous Catla that live in the lake. The Catla, which is very similar to a giant Siamese carp, is perhaps the biggest resident in the lake apart from the 4-5 metre crocodiles that also reside there! The Catla is extremely difficult to catch and most specimens now come out by foul hooking techniques! What a crime! Late in the evening, Allan very kindly send us a pizza and some cold beers that were delivered to Ali’s floating house by punt and I must say these went down very well.

After a few days staying at Allan's, we said our goodbyes for the moment and moved down to Colaba where we could make preparations for the trip. We spent a few days running around south Mumbai sorting out pots, plastic boxes, locking systems, last minute fishing items and a whole host of other items that could be bought cheaper in Mumbai than back in Europe. We came to know the area around Crawford market and Masjid Bunder fairly well and found everything we needed, as well as some items we thought would be impossible to find in India, such as fish finders. We also discovered that there were many decent fishing lures available at far lower prices than in the U.K. and, of course, we couldn’t help ourselves and bought many more than we needed.

Three days later we were pretty much sorted and ready to leave Mumbai and head out to sea. Until then we had only tested the unloaded kayaks once in the lake, so we were a little concerned about what might happen when we had loaded our mountain of luggage inside and set off to sea.

There was also the question of whether we would fit everything inside because we had a big pile of equipment weighing around 80 kilos! We returned to Allan's place and, on the morning of the 16 November, headed down to Powai Lake with Vinai, Allan’s driver, and packed the boats. Everything fitted in with surprising ease, but once packed they were very, very heavy and that was still without food or water aboard! The evening before, Santosh had helped me to arrange a truck to take us down to the Gate Way of India, where we planned to catch the ferry across the bay to the village of Mandwe, around 13 km to the south.

Around ten in the morning, we said our goodbyes to the guys at Powai and set off for south Mumbai in a blue Tata truck. Being Sunday, the roads were fairly quiet and we made fairly steady progress, but being Mumbai, it was still slow going at times. We were unsure whether we would even be allowed to put our boats on the ferry and, if this was the case, we would have to row the 13 km across the bay; this was not such an inviting prospect. The drive down to Colaba gave us a good chance to reflect on the past week's planning and time to begin to relax as the stressful part of the trip was nearly over - soon we would be in the water and free to move as we pleased.


We entered colaba and parked as close to the ferry point as possible. From where we stopped it is still a 200 m walk to the ferry, so I went to speak to the police to see whether we might drive over to save carrying the boats. This idea didn’t seem too interesting to the lazy policemen who seemed more happy to remain on their chairs reading the newspaper and drinking tea. They did, however, want baksheesh from us for the pleasure of watching us carry our boats across their square! Come to think of it, everyone wanted to help us for a little bit of money in return. Within a few minutes we had a “fixer” who sorted us a team of porters that helped carry the boats across to where we wanted to go. These guys seemed thoroughly to enjoy the work as it made a change from their usual building labous. After we paid them off they returned to their team in good spirits and bought chai all around for the adults and ice cream for the kids.

We had to wait an hour for the larger ferry that would be able to carry our boats, so Nils ran off to get some last minutes bits, including some petrol for the stove , some Ganesh idols to stick on the front of the boats, and some speakers so we could listen to music during the trip. At the petrol station he struggled to get petrol as we didn’t have a vehicle to put it in! Apparently they didn’t want to sell it to us because there is a big problem with people setting fire to their spouses and enemies! After some persuasion, Nils managed to get the bottle filled and then made it back to the ferry just in time for departure. The old ferry man had been chatting to me while I waited and he told me how we would be OK going to Goa in such small boats as there was a back water (river) which started 20 km down the coast from Mumbai and then emerged just before Goa! So you learn something new every day! I asked him if he remembered me from the year before when I took the ferry with my bicycle and he said yes. We talked about cycling and he asked whether there is a road to India all the way from England and I told him of course. He and his mates really couldn’t get their heads around this fact and spent the next ten minutes debating the subject. Finally, one guy announced that you can catch a bus direct from Mumbai to London, so there must be a road - and the debate was over!

We carried the kayaks onto the ferry and paid off a couple of guys that had helped us carry. One cheeky fellow expected some money for simply walking beside the boat and holding on to a bit of the rigging string. Talk about trying your luck! I told him where to go and he quickly slunk off back up the stone stairs towards the gateway of India. Now we were on the ferry , the hard bit of the journey was done and finally I relaxed a little, amazed that everything had gone so smoothly. The crossing took around 45 minutes to Mandwe village, where we would start paddling. We arrived at the jetty and decided to drop the boats directly off the ferry into the sea and then head under the jetty and around to the beach to sort out our. Launching from the ferry would be much easier than from the jetty because it was lower to the water, but still high enough to make things a little tricky. With a drop of 1.5 m from the ferry to the water, careful handling was needed to get the boats and us safely into the sea. The ferry crew whom we had befriended during the crossing seemed more than happy to help us manhandle the boats into the water and soon we were able to paddle off through the dirty tea-coloured water, under the jetty and up onto Mandwe beach. Amazingly, the boats floated and felt very stable even with our huge amounts of luggage stowed inside.

On the beach we were met by a unmentionable flotsam and a dog with a rabid look in its eyes. A few guys ambled around the top of the breakwater looking bored and fed up, while some young kids seemed to be deeply involved in their game of cricket. I walked up to the small shop and bought a few litres of water and some samosas and then returned to the beach. The tide was on the way out and had already dropped a few metres from where I had left my. We pulled the kayaks into the water and rowed off in the direction of Kihim Beach and, at this point, it became apparent that it was going to be very hard work moving the kayaks up the beach in the evening to reach a camping spot and then down again in the morning to reach the water. I knew that as we headed south the beaches would become shorter and steeper and so make our lives easier, but for the first week or two we were up against shallow beaches that stretched for hundreds of metres at low tide. I would imagine that the boats each weighed between 70 and 80 kg when fully loaded, so to pull them up a beach is not particularly easy, especially when the sand gets dry, deep and soft.

From Mandwe village we were aiming to reach a friend's place in Kihim where I had stayed last year, when cycling through the area. Unfortunately Asaf was not at home, but he had very kindly invited us to camp in his grounds. The sea was a little rougher than we had hoped for, but not to a point where I was worried about paddling. Little waves constantly broke over the sides of the boat and before long we were pretty drenched, but cooled at the same time by the gentle southerly breeze. The water was shallow and many small rocky walls had been built in the past to aid fish catching; these proved a little hazardous to us as the rocks were generally just below the surface and hard to spot in the choppy water. After half an hour we were still afloat and learning quickly about paddling. While trying to cross one of the stone walls, the water level dropped for a moment and I became beached on top and unable to move. I sat tight and after a few seconds the water rose and released me from my perch and I quickly moved off again and took more care and time to spot underwater hazards! The conditions weren’t ideal for learning to sea kayak, but I guess its good to get thrown in at the deep end (!) - and things could only get easier.

After paddling for an hour or two, we started to look for Asaf’s house up on the beach among the palm trees. Asaf was a little concerned whether we would be able to get close enough to the beach below his house, as at low tide there are many rocks that are exposed and run far out to sea. After a while, I thought I could see the house and it appeared possible to get the boats through the rocks and on to the beach. We pulled up on the sand and I went to see if we were in the right place. We were, but the little hitch was that the tide was so far out that we would have to pull the boats nearly 300 m! We started off together pulling one boat at a time and then returning for the other after 50 metres, or so. Halfway up the beach we were both exhausted and completely out of breath. We slowly continued and took a rest every 20 m to catch our breath and, finally, after 30 minutes, we pulled the boats through Asaf's gate, into the garden and then collapsed for twenty minutes.

My boat seemed much heavier than Nils’ and on inspection I discovered that it has shipped water, probably during the launch from the ferry. This wasn’t a problem apart from the fact I had stupidly forgotten to close one the dry bag that contained my camera. I hoped that maybe no water had got inside, but, of course, this wasn’t to be. I emptied everything from the boat and hung it in the trees to dry while Nils went in search of some food. After the long pull up the beach I was a little frustrated that everything was wet, but it gave me a chance to repack things properly, after they had. It was a great shame that my camera was wet and I decided to leave it to dry until the following day before seeing if it was still functioning. During the evening we moved all our things up onto the verandah and relaxed while we cooked a curry. Asaf's gardener helped us with our things and watched closely to see what we were doing with all our strange items. For a few days, his usual routine was forgotten as he studied our funny habits!

Asaf’s house is in a beautiful setting next to the beach at the far end of Kihim village with a garden full of coconut palms, papayas and Casuarinas, as well as many beautiful flowers growing around the house. We decided to stay for a few days and sort our things out properly while also taking some time to relax after the previous busy weeks in Mumbai. It also took a couple of days to realise what lay in front of us. It was nice to sit back and wonder about the coming weeks and what lay ahead of us.
Completely shattered from a long day, we slept soundly, but still woke early with the sunrise on the 17th November. A lazy day was in order for organizing our equipment. It would take some time to work out where everything should be placed in the boats in order to get at things efficiently when needed. The kayaks are completely hollow so a box that slides to one end takes a great deal of effort to pull out and usually means lifting the end of the kayak to slide the item towards one of the hatches. After a week or so, everything found its place and things became easy to find - with so many bags and boxes, it gets a little difficult to remember where a small item might have been put.
We were both desperate to go fishing, so around lunch time we set off to an island that lay ~ 3 km offshore. We trolled lures behind our kayaks, but had little hope of hooking anything thanks to the dirty water. After 40 minutes, we had circled the island, but still without a single bite. On the island is a huge fort, unvisited by tourists and a little overgrown with fig trees and tall grass, but still in perfect condition and complete with many huge cannons lying around on top of the high walls. A small Ganesh idol, set into the wall, welcomed us in as we walked through the door arch and up the steps. I don't think I have ever seen such walls and skilled stone work. The walls are around 8 feet thick and made of huge rocks in a myriad of dull browns and reds and fit together perfectly, like a jigsaw. I could only imagine how much time and effort would have been needed to build this amazing structure - and to think that it was constructed hundreds of years ago before any modern technology was available. And, the fact that it is stuck 3 km out to sea on a rock, must have complicated things somewhat.

We had a look around the fort, feeling privileged to be able to reach a place like this, that few if any tourists would ever get to see. Fig trees clung to the walls, holding on with a mass of entwined, grey roots. Below the figs, waves crashed over the rocks while big, red crabs scuttled back and forth looking for scraps of food. I climbed to the top of an old, gnarled tamarind tree and found the remains of a couple of sea snakes that must have been brought to their perch by the resident sea eagle. Fish bones picked clean by the ants sat in between the cracks of the bark and a few Indian Coels flew amongst the trees, searching for the small plump figs.

Around sunset, we realised that we were running out of time to get back to the mainland before dark, so we quickly headed off and paddled full speed for 30 minutes, landing on the mainland at dusk, just in time for the long drag back up the beach to the house. Again, we reached the verandah completely finished after the long pull. Back in England we had nearly bought kayak carriers (a wheeled system), but because of weight issues on the plane we decided against it and now we were really wishing we had them with us!

On the 18th November, I decided that a trip back to Mumbai was needed in order to purchase a new camera because the thought of being without one for the next two months seemed like a crime. The thought of returning to the city was not too inviting, but as we were still close enough to be able to make the trip in one day, I set off accompanied by Nils, who jumped out of the rickshaw at Kihim town to pick up some food for the coming days, while I continued to Mandwe jetty. When I arrived, the ferry was about to depart, so an hour later I was in a taxi and on my way to hotel Prossers to get a paper signed which would hopefully enable me to get my camera covered by the insurance when I returned to the U.K.. The guys in the hotel were surprised to see me again and were a little reluctant to sign the paper because they thought it might come back to haunt ! Luckily, two guys who were searching for Bollywood extras gave me their signatures, written in Hindi.

Then the search for a camera began. Allan, being an expert in these matters, provided me with sound advice so I already knew the model to look for - the problem was just sorting out which shop to buy it from; no easy task! After visiting ten shops I had ten different prices and ten different stories about why I should buy from them and not the others. Prices varied by 5,000 rupees depending on whether a warranty was offered. Some shops told me a warranty was useless as it was only valid in India and that as I was not a citizen it would be no use to me. The next shopkeeper told me the opposite and then the next guy told me a new story, and so it went on until I was completely and utterly confused. In one small shop the guy was convinced that if I gave him 12,500 rupees he would have my camera fixed within four hours, but I politely declined his crazy offer. I found it hard to believe him because he hadn’t even looked inside to see what the problem was and I had a feeling I would definitely be the loser in the deal! In another shop, the guys offered to check the camera for free and see if they could fix it. This sounded much better than the previous offer, so I left the D70 with them and continued the search for a new model which I could by buy later if mine was kaput.

For a break from cameras I headed over to Masjid Bunder and spent some more money on fishing equipment that I thought I might need in the coming weeks. I also got my locking cables for the kayak lengthened because they had turned out a little short. After lunch, I went in search of the shop where I had left my camera. It located somewhere down a back alley which looked the same as all the other alleys in the area, but I soon I found the right one where they told me that the motherboard was fried and that they didn’t have the correct spare parts. I’d narrowed the search for a new camera down to three shops, so I headed off and tried to find the best deal. The problem was that only one shop actually carried the camera in stock, while the others said they would get one brought over if I decided to buy from them. If I chose this option I would be agreeing to buy the camera before I had even set eyes on it, which, as you can imagine, I wasn’t too keen on. So, eventually, I settled for the shop that had the camera in stock. I haggled over the price and, when the shop owner seemed ready to throw me out onto the street, I felt the deal was good and bought the camera, along with a few extras, and hightailed it back to the ferry.

The ferry was leaving just as I arrived, so I hopped on and headed back to Mandwe, tired but pleased with how the day had turned out. The ferry guys were surprised to see me again and looked after me well. At Mandwe they appointed a guide to accompany me on the bus to Kihim, where I caught a rickshaw back to the beach. Unluckily for me I had chosen one of the most annoying rickshaw drivers in all of India. Every time he spoke, I had to stick my fingers in my ears because he spoke just like a dying rat and, of course, he didn’t have any intention of keeping quiet. To top it off, he decided that my end of the beach was the wrong end of the beach and that he would need more money than we had agreed. Eventually, I could bear the torture no longer and leapt out of the door, thrust some rupees in his hand, and strode off through the cool evening air. I could still hear him whining when I turned the next corner. The evening air was thick with the sweet scent of frangipani blossom and I arrived back relaxed and content that I wouldn’t see Mumbai for a long while!

On the 19th, our rest was over and it was time to make some progress in the direction of Goa. After a lazy morning we fetched water from the village and eventually decided to set off around 2 o’clock when the tide had come some of the way back up the beach. Because of the late start, we didn’t expect to get too far, but just needed to get moving again because it's far too easy to become stuck in a comfortable place. It's O.K. to rest for a few days, but considering we were only 25 km from Mumbai, we felt like we needed to get some ground behind us and find some clearer waters where we might catch a fish! Before we left, we watched the locals racing their bullock carts down the beach, while they watched us and our strange boats. After paddling for around two hours we pulled up on a beach near a small village, intending to get a drink and some smokes. A small group of colourfully dressed children came to pester us and demanded to see our fish, which, of course, we couldn’t show them, because we'd caught nothing. I wandered up through the village of Thal, found a shop and bought some bits and pieces. Half the local people completely blanked me while the other half greeted me politely. I got a bad feeling in Thal and quickly decided it was a dirty hole of a village and was glad we were heading far away from it in the next weeks!

The feeling changed when I arrived back at the boats as a nice guy came down to speak to us. His name was Narindra and was a fisherman, so it turned out we had a lot to talk about. He invited us to stay up at his place under the coconut palm and we gladly accepted because it was already getting a little late to paddle on. Narin and his cousin helped us pull the boats up to his ground and we decided to sleep next to his net house where there was a convenient tap and table for us to use during the evening. Narin took care of us well and told us that if there was anything we needed, just to shout and he would see what he could do. While we sorted our things out we saw Narin cleaning out a concrete tank and start to fill it with water. The bath (net washing tank) was down under the palm trees with a view out to sea. When it was full we headed down and, in turns, took a very pleasant evening bath while the guys from the village played cricket on the beach. It felt a little strange when one group of young guys that had heard about us, came to say hello and take some photos of the strange foreigners! I sat in my bath tub while they crowded around and took turns to snap photos with their mobile phones.

Now feeling clean and refreshed, we chatted to Narin about fishing and entertained some of the locals who came to see us and the kayaks. A little later, Nils cooked our evening meal and Narin's family came to watch and see how we did things. Three or four women and a couple of guys stood around the table and watched Nils’ every move until long after dark. As soon as the food was served up, they said goodnight and headed off happy to see we had enough food to eat, amazed that we cooked Indian style food! Later, I went to the local shop, guided by Narin. The typical village shop consists of someone’s front room and sells all the important items, such as vegetables, rice and biscuits. Without some local help it’s usually impossible to find the small shop, but with a guide often everything needed can be found in the smallest village. Back at the beach, Narin insisted that we sleep in his net room, but I preferred to sleep on the table on some comfortable fishing nets while Nils put up his tent.

In the morning I was woken by a mischievous crow that was sitting on the wall by my side and eyeing some biscuits I had left out. To quieten him down, I tossed a handful of biscuits over the wall and then tried to get a bit more sleep. A few seconds later he was back up on the wall with four biscuits stacked neatly in his beak. After a few more words from him, perhaps to say thanks, he left me in peace to sleep for a few more minutes before Narin appeared, carrying a bucket with the morning’s catch inside, which he kindly offered us for breakfast. For me it was still a little early in the day to start thinking about eating a little crab, a pomfret and a squirming little catfish, so I thanked him and said I would make some coffee first and wake up a little. Eventually, we settled for vegetable fried rice minus the sea food for our breakfast and, a while later, with the help of some of our new friends, we dragged the boats down the beach to the water.

After a kilometer or so we pulled up on the beach and made some new wire traces as ours had mysteriously gone missing before we left Narins place. The sea was relatively calm and the clarity started to improve but was still looking a bit low for lure fishing. Around eleven o’clock hundreds of two inch long fish started jumping around the boats! Everywhere we looked showers of little silver fish shot out of the water in all directions and eventually one jumped into Nils boat. I congratulated him on his first catch . The fish stopped jumping as suddenly as they had started and we wondered if there had been something big chasing them.

Many permanent nets are being used along this area of the Maharashtran coast and combined with the dirty water we weren't too hopeful of striking any fish just yet but knew soon enough we would be in cleaner waters. Later in the day we passed the seaside town of Alibag and Kerlaba Fort where we stopped to buy some cold drinks and a few snacks. The tide was low meaning the water between the mainland and the fort was only a few inches deep. Tourists walked the kilometre through the shallow water to the fort, while others hired horse drawn carts and raced through the water whooping and shrieking as they passed our kayaks. A Small boy ambled over to see what we were doing but being a little shy he wouldn’t let me see the two shells he had found. After a few minutes he let me have a look and I noticed two hermit crabs were living inside. I asked him what he would do with them but he looked at me like I was mad so I figured the crab’s days were numbered! As he walked off we saw him pause after 20 metres and then turn around and walk back to try his luck at a free offering. As I was feeling generous he got some crisps and then once again skipped off.

We left the fort and headed south through the shallow water wanting to push on and get to the fishing grounds. From Alibag to Revadanda , where we planned to camp, is one continuous beach around 12km long and this took us the rest of the day to cover. As usual the water became choppy in the afternoon and made for more challenging but also interesting paddling. A large river enters the sea just the other side of Revadanda and after a short break we paddled up the river looking for a camping spot, as well as trolling, hoping to hook a barramundi. A little way up the river was a big ship moored in the middle of the channel which looked good for a base for the night. The ship looked like it had been hanging around for many years and was nearly rusted through but it looked like a great place to put up the tents and then to spend the evening fishing. We pulled up and took a look around to see if anyone was on board. Upstairs I saw some pots and pans and a few cloths hanging to dry so peeped through the doorway and saw a guy sleeping on a metal bed frame. I retraced my steps and told Nils that maybe it wasn’t a great idea to stay but maybe we could wait and see if the guy would come down. We sat down and had a smoke and soon the sleeper came down to see what the noise was.

The man had a vacant look on his face and didn’t return our greeting or change expression. He simply stood and stared at us while we smoked our cigarettes. I tried to make some small talk but it was all in vain as the guy stared into space obviously wondering why the hell there were suddenly two strange foreigners sitting on his boat. I asked whether we could sleep on the deck of the boat and in response got a tiny head wobble that seemed to mean he didn't care one way or another. It seemed this poor guy had landed the job of guarding this defunct boat and possibly hadn’t had much company for the past few years and we imagined in that time had become a little despondent. Not keen for a visit from this fellow in the middle of the night we jumped in our kayaks and headed up the river and into the mangroves to see what we could find.

We entered a small channel that ran through the mangrove trees and after a few hundred metres came to a small lagoon where two mango Canoes were tied up. As we tried to wade through the sticky black mud to shore little mudskipper fish hopped in all directions and disappeared down their holes. A Dyke ran along behind the mangroves dividing the river and the low lying land running up to the river. Hanging from a post on top of the bank was a sun dried stingray that gently swayed in the sea breeze and on the stony ground laid a few small fish discarded by the canoe owners. A grim place but for some reason Nils had the idea to spend the night here so after a bit of persuasion we headed back to the river mouth and pulled up below the walls of the old fort and cooked some dinner. I had camped in the same place the year before while on the cycle trip so felt quite comfortable to be back but for some reason found it difficult to sleep, and so went fishing until late in the night.
The sun sapped our energy during the first week of the trip. Not used to being under the hot Indian sun all day we were hit pretty hard and some evenings I felt completely wasted and felt like sleeping directly after landing on a beach for the evening. Knowing it wasn't a good idea to sleep without eating we always tried to get a good meal cooked before we slept. I think the main problem was dehydration as I was not drinking anywhere near enough water during the day. With the sea water splashing on me all day I usually felt comfortably cool and didn’t realize how much water I was losing through sweating. I vowed to drink more water and so over the coming day’s things got better. Our bodies quickly adjusted to our new exercise regime and after the first week our aching muscles started to get used to their new work. From never kayaking to paddling for 6-8 hours a day was definitely going to affect us but we seemed to cope fairly well and soon we were feeling pretty fit.

Soon we slipped into a daily routine that saw us rising with the sun to make a morning coffee. Slowly we would get our things together while entertaining any curious onlookers who usually come to gawk at the strange foreigners. After a breakfast of omlettes or veg fried rice we would pull the boats down to the water’s edge and begin paddling south towards Goa and after perhaps three hours would again stop for a rest and have something to eat and take a short siesta in a shady spot under a tree. Most days we would cover around 15km before finding a suitable looking camping place at the top of a beach. We were able to carry enough food to keep us going for 2-3 days but water would need to be replenished every day. We carried two twenty litre water bladders and had capacity for another five litres but after a day of drinking and an evening of cooking the majority would be gone.
We mainly ate vegetable curry and rice as well as you can guess much barbequed and fried fish. Lunch usually consisted of tea and biscuits, dried coconut, Bombay mix and what ever other snacks we could find in the villages.

On the 21st we camped at the top of a little deserted rocky beach. At the far end was a little fishing shack with a coconut leaf roof but no people were around so we had the whole place to ourselves. As the tide came to the top of the beach we had to sleep up on some small rocky ledges above a small stream that dropped down from higher up the cliff. With no mattress and just a blanket it made for a hard bed and in the night I migrated onto a sand patch on the beach at low tide but then was forced back up to my ledge in the early hours when the water rose. In the morning instead of being woken by some locals a troop of monkeys came to see what we were up to. As we got up they departed leaving us to make breakfast. By the time we left the water was dropping so we had to pull the boats over the slippery rocks to get to a suitable launching place before we could depart.

Later in the day we pulled up to Kashid beach where many Indian tourists come for a day out. We drank fresh coconut water and ate some omelettes while watching the tourists jump about in the sea. The locals offered horse rides down the beach but there seemed to be few takers. One local walked past with a fine looking horse which later decided to give him the slip. As we climbed into the boats we saw the guy chasing his beast at full speed through the throng of tourists. The horse had no intention of being caught and after a few seconds it disappeared into the casurina forest behind the beach.
We had paddled a little along the bay when Nils suddenly shouted that a big barramundi had just jumped clear of the water in front of us. I missed it but a minute later another big one of around 10kg shot out of the water leaving a big patch of white water behind where it re entered. We both quickly set up an additional rod and paddled on hoping to get a take but nothing happened. At the next set of rocks we could finally celebrate as we caught the first fish which turned out to be a mangrove jack of around a kilo. So excited we pulled the boats up on the rocks and cooked the fish before he had much of a chance of knowing what was happening! It tasted so good we were soon back in the water trying for another.
We stopped on a small beach at the mouth of a small river to camp. On the far side was a fishing village and many moored boats. The fishermen waved us over but we stayed on our quiet side looking for some time to relax. A family of sea gypsies came to see us and asked whether there was anything we needed and if we would like to camp down by their place. We stayed put and made some chai while the people poked our boats and tugged at the lines, while discussing us at length. In the morning I woke and noticed a scorpion sitting on the rock beside my head. Usually I prefer not to sleep in a tent but the thought of getting woken in the night by a scorpion persuaded me to put the tent up more often. As we packed up, a boat passed up the river and the guy aboard shouted to us that he had a big fish and that we should come see. I wandered up and had a look and was greeted by a lovely barramundi of 14 or 15 kilos! Now we were keen for some barra action !

I put on a Halco scorpion and we set off around the rocky headland. After a little while we passed a nice looking break at the end of a rocky headland. As my lure entered the white water the rod arched over and the line began peeling from the spool at high speed but before I could even get the rod in my hand the line parted on the sharp rocks. As Nils pulled up by my side I looked round and saw a big barramundi flying far above the water aggressively shaking its head. As Nils grabbed his rod the rubber fish shot out of the fishes mouth and the line went slack. Two fish and two escapes! We pulled up on the rocks and attached long mono leaders to our braid in an effort to try and stop the line being cut so quickly on the rocks. Back in the water I pulled the lure over the break and again the rod wrapped round and line peeled off the spool. This time I managed to grab the rod out of the holder and started to play the fish although quickly I realised I was pretty helpless to slow its first run. I could see the back of a very big barramundi sticking out clear of the surface while it powered away. Luckily it was staying high in the water and clear of the sharp rocks below! 20 metres of line was gone and more was vanishing quickly and then it was all over and my line went slack. I tried trolling the spot again but had no further luck!

Later I hooked a nice mangrove jack of a couple of kilos just before we entered Murud bay. The water in the bay was lovely and clear and great looking reefs and shallow breaks scattering the area. I saw Nils hook into what looked like a good fish so went over to give him some help. Unfortunately for him but luckily for the fish he played it very badly and lost it while it was close to the boat. Somehow the lure clip released and the fish made off with his lure. We paddled on and I landed another good sized Mangrove Jack before we arrived at Murud beach. We planned to stay In Murud for a few days rest before we continued further south.

I wandered up the beach, found the place we wanted to stay and sorted a room and some cold beers ready for when we got the boats up from the beach. The tide was out meaning it was a long pull up to the room, so I managed to exchange a mangrove jack with the guys from the hotel for their help carrying the boats up to the room. A Goan guy called Victor sorted us out during our stay. He brought us chai, cold beer and food when needed and also made sure we didn’t strain ourselves in any way. Every time he walked past he asked whether we were ok and told us to relax and take it easy , which we were usually already doing! Victor provided us with much entertainment because he was usually wasted by ten in the morning and so found his work duties a little taxing. Somedays he had passed out by lunch time!
The fishing looked good around murud so for sunset we decided to go out to the Kasa fort that lies around three kilometers east of Murud beach. We trolled lures to the fort but had no takes but were hopeful that around the fort we would get lucky. We decided to do one round of the island before stopping on the little beach for a rest and a look inside the fort. I had no take on the way round so came to the beach and climbed to the top of the walls to take some photos of Nils arriving in his kayak. When I reached the top I couldn't see Nils anywhere so waited a while as I figured he must still be on the far side fighting a fish. Ten minutes later when he arrived his smile said it all! He pulled a string from under his boast and brought out a lovely Mangrove jack along with a barramundi. After we had taken some photos we had a quick look around the fort then got back into the boats to catch the sunset .

We headed back to the nice looking water where Nils had hooked his fish and trolled around for a while. After a few minutes my rod whipped round and the braid started peeling quickly from the spool. I managed to get my hands on the rod quickly and began to fight a good fish that was taking line at high speed. Using 50lb braid and an 80lb leader I was able to play the fish hard in an effort to try and keep it away from the oyster covered rocks. After the first run I gained some of my line back and after a few minutes had the fish close to the boat. Nils paddled us away from the dangerous white water and kept close to give me some help if I needed. I now had the fish very close when suddenly the water erupted and a huge barramundi flew into the air, mouth open and gills flaring! It shook its head vigorously in an attempt to throw the hooks before dropping back into the bubbling water. Luckily for me the hooks were firmly set and a few minutes later I was pulling the fish aboard my boat. A big smile spread across my face when I saw the fish as this was one of the main reasons I was here!
Nils linked his kayak to mine and we took some photos before letting the fish recover for a few minutes before releasing her back to her home. I estimated the fish to be around 25lb. In a state of excitement we trolled for a few more minutes but then started to head back as darkness was nearly upon us. We trolled our lures back to the beach and only managed to catch a fishing net along the way and by the time we got back dusk had passed and it was dark.
When we reached the beach we tried to figure out where we were staying by looking at the lights along the waters edge. In our excitement we raced in, forgetting about waves and such things! Big mistake! While we had been fishing the waves had grown considerably in size compared to earlier. We looked round to see a big wave approaching us fast and pointing the wrong way I only had one option and that was to go forward and try and catch it into the beach. To surf a sea kayak is not the easiest thing in the world, particularly at night with no prior practice. I paddled hard and tried to match the waves speed to catch it and ride it in. For a few seconds I rode along on top but could feel the speed of the water was too much for the boat and the next thing I knew the boat was over and I was in the water. I quickly righted the boat and tried to figure out what was going on. Everything was tied on but had fallen from its places. I quickly checked the rods and other items that I thought might have gone. Then I realised one of the lures had detached itself from the rod and was now sitting on my shoulder, one treble in my life vest and the other on my shoulder. Luckily the hook on my shoulder hadn’t pierced the skin but if another wave hit me it would surely hook into me as the rod was on the boat and I was in the water. The wave would take the boat and I would get pulled behind by the line attached to the lure. I couldn't really see what was going on because of the darkness but knew I needed to escape quickly as the time to disaster was not far away. Instinctively I slipped out of the life vest and chucked it on the boat just in time for the next wave caught me and pushed me in towards the beach. I grabbed the boat and pulled it into the beach and then ran to see what had happened to Nils. Luckily he had been behind me and the wave hadn’t broken before it had reached him and when he had seen me get swept away he had taken more care to get in to the beach.
Back on the beach I assessed the losses and found my hat and sunglasses had gone. We pulled our boats up to the guest house and went for a shower, happy we still had our two fish to cook. When we got back to our hut a group of Bombalites that were staying at the resort rushed over to inspect our catch. They jokingly asked whether we had got any fish, probably expecting to see nothing. So when Nils pulled the Tam (MJ) and Jitara (Barra) from the boat the Indians looked astonished and then became very excited! Hundreds of questions followed but after a few minutes we took our leave and went for dry clothes and a shower.
Afterwards the guys wanted to buy one of the fish from us but we told them they could have one as a present. We just told them we wanted to keep half to barbeque for ourselves and that they could do what they wanted with the other half. This seemed quite simple to me but over the next hour they questioned us about what we wanted to do with the fish. I told them again and again until I got sick and tired of them asking and so went for a sleep in the hammock! I’m not sure what they ever did with the fish but we were constantly invited to eat with them and tasted some very good food over the next couple of days.
During the first few days of our stay in Murud a procession of visitors came to see us. A newspaper crew came and interviewed us and made a short film about the trip and then later the cousin of the King of the district (Jaigad) arrived and asked us whether we wanted to go fishing with him. His name was Zafar Khan and it turned out he is an avid lure caster, having been taught by the king himself many years before. He mainly catches Barramundi, Threadfin salmon and Mangrove jacks from the rocks that surround the town and his photo album showed some stunning catches his previous trips. One evening we headed down to the rocks and cast for salmon and Barra but the water was very rough which made fishing a little tricky and hazardous. Just after dark I caught a small MJ much to the amazement of Zafar and his cousin Mustafa. They usually don’t fish lures after dark so I told them they might be missing out on some very good sport! Later we drank whisky and ate fresh fish from the fire while talking a lot about fishing and related things.
A couple of days after we arrived in Murud we suddenly heard about the terrorist attacks in Mumbai. Ali called us and recommended that we stay put for a while until things calmed down so we decided to stay for an extra day or two and spend the time making some wheel systems for the kayaks. We were shocked at what was happening as we had been there just a week or so before. I didn’t however realise quite what consequences it would have for us and the remainder of the trip to Goa.

On the 27th November we finished building the wheel systems for the kayaks and bought a few more bits and pieces that we would need in the coming weeks. A group of English guys and girls had arrived to stay so we spent the evening with them talking and drinking beer. They had hired a car to drive them from Mumbai to Goa and seemed to be having a lovely time. Confidence rose through the evening and soon, Monty was off up a coconut palm, declaring he would bring us a coconut! 10 feet up he became well and truly stuck and had to be helped back down to solid ground! Luckily three of the girls were doctors so he would have been in a good place if he had fallen down. One of the doctors said her favorite job was to remove embedded fish hooks from people! And so I thought it might be a good idea to take her with as a precaution for the coming weeks!

We left Murud On the 28th October and again headed south. The beauty of kayaking from Mumbai to Goa is that route finding is pretty easy and as long as you head south one can’t get too lost! The google earth images Allan had helped us arrange were proving invaluable for feature finding and to figure out where we could camp for the coming evening.

Across the bay we passed below the lighthouse and then stayed close to the rocky coastline as it looked perfect for a fish or two. I was surprised that we didn't hook anything in the first kilometre but then a little later Nils pulled in a barramundi of around 4kg. Soon I had a lovely run and got into a barramundi of around 8kg that quickly jumped clear of the water. Being close to the breaking waves I had to put the rod down and paddle away to a safer spot from where I could play the fish. Unfortunately during the I was paddling the fish threw the hooks and was gone when I picked the rod up!

At one point during the day Nils was behind and got his lines snagged on a shallow rock so had to return and try and unhook the lures. The lines became entangled within one another and made the job much more difficult than it should have been. The lures were stuck in a shallow area so every few minutes big waves would break over the rock. Nils stayed too long here and soon a big wave came across him side on and nearly washed him onto the jagged oyster covered rocks. Quickly he got to safer water, having to cut a line to make his escape. Another important lesson learned! After this we took more care as the prospect of getting dumped onto a sharp rock wasn't too inviting. The problem is, big waves arrive in sets usually with a spacing of five or ten minutes between each set. So water can look pretty safe and calm for a few minutes before a huge waves suddenly comes to wash the innocent sea kayaker away. We quickly got good at recognising where we could and couldn't go and tried to resist the urge to chase fish into dangerous breaks!

Later I hooked a good MJ but at the moment I started playing the fish I got the most severe cramp I have ever had. I had to put the rod in the holder and stretch my leg out while I writhed around in pain for at least a minute, completely debilitated. When the cramp had gone, the fish was still there so I pulled it in and quickly released it before taking a rest to allow Nils to catch up. We decided to take a short rest on a beach that was coming up where the rocks ended.
When we came to the beach I headed over to the shallow water as a fishing boat was approaching and I wasn't in the mood for chatting to the guys aboard. I went up onto the beach and took some photos as the boat pulled up next to Nils. What I didn't realise was that Nils had 4 machine guns aimed at his head and was being told to go directly to the shore. Sitting on the beach I started to see many people streaming over a nearby hill, making a bee line for the beach. Their movement didn't seem normal. There was excitement and anticipation in the way that they were moving and I knew something was wrong. At that moment Nils pulled up beside me and told me that the fishing boat was full of very serious looking policemen and that we must wait on the beach.

Soon a big crowd of villagers stood around us and asked questions. A few minutes later two policemen arrived and introduced themselves. They asked us many questions, took our details and searched our boats. They asked us our movements and tried to determine whether we were terrorists or not! The crowd became excited as more people joined the throng. The policeman’s helper blew his whistle hard and chased everyone back away from the boats but soon they moved in again and so next time he blew his whistle harder and sent the people further back. This continued for a while until the atmosphere lightened and some people started to drift away when they began to realize we were tourists and wouldn't be facing the firing squad.

There was now the question of whether we would be allowed to complete the trip as we had no permission from Mumbai. Thanks to the terrorist attacks I strongly expected the authorities to tell us to halt there and stay on land. The local mayor arrived and asked us some more questions and then told us we must go out to sea and speak to the custom guys who were waiting on their boat. We paddled out and tied our kayaks to the customs boat and climbed on board. We were welcomed on board by a smartly dressed guy with a kind face. He offered us coffee and apologized for the inconvenience but told us it was necessary in light of recent events. We told him we understood fully and took a seat to drink our coffee. After another session of questioning the superiors were called in Mumbai to make sure we could be released. Understanding a little Hindi I could make out the the customs official was fully on our side and trying his best to smooth the way for us with some very uneasy officials in Mumbai. For a while I thought there was going to be bad news and that we might need to return to Mumbai for papers. But finally after many phone calls we were allowed to go on our way. I asked whether he could write a paper for us with his phone number in case we were checked again in the future. Unfortunately he said this wasn't possible because of the full terrorist alert.

We had to head back to shore to meet the special police service who was coming to check and search the boats for a second time. The special police turned out to be OK and after a long questioning about the boats and whether we had any arms they seemed pleased that their work was done. However they did seem a bit amazed at what we were doing and confused that we had brought the boats all the way from England and hadn't paid duty or needed papers for them! Before they left they asked where we would sleep and of course now it was dark we planned to stay exactly where we were. After three hours of questioning we were tired and fed up and just wanted to cook and sleep. The Police declared it was unsafe for us to stay on the beach as it was far from the village and no people were around in case we had trouble! We told them this was exactly what we wanted and that now it was dark we didn't feel safe to paddle a km around to Adgaon village. The police couldn't understand this but after a long speech about the ins and outs of camping and the danger of paddling at night, they seemed to be nearly convinced. Still they weren't completely happy with us staying there so I told them to row the boats around themselves, and that we would walk and meet them there! This convinced them and soon they said goodbye and left us in peace to cook a mangrove jack and get some sleep.

In the morning we had a slow start with coffee and fried rice and then collected some nice shells from the beach. A fisherman had walked past early in the morning and now returned carry a small trevally that he had caught in his net. A cow herder came by to see us while his herd of cows and water buffaloes grazed the short brown grass. The mayor came to check on us and then we set off to sea. In the bay we came across about 15 dolphins. We slowly crept up close until we could hear them breathing and see the detail on their skin. Some were jumping clear of the water and I tried to get a photo of an airborne dolphin with Nils in the frame. I nearly had it when an incredibly noisy fishing boat came steaming in from the horizon making a beeline for us. As it got close the fisherman aboard waved and shouted and jumped for joy! A second later one of them hurled a dead sea snake at us and they sped on past. The dolphins had vanished and we cursed the fishermen for the disturbance!

A little later I spotted a small bird flying past my boat, but after a second I realised it was a flying fish trying to escape a predator. I shouted to Nils but by the time he looked it had gone. A minute later I saw another emerge from the water, flick its tail a few times and then open its fins ready for the flight ahead. It landed at least thirty metres away after an aerodynamically perfect flight, just a few inches above the water! I couldn't believe the distance it covers with so little effort.

During the next few weeks we saw many beautiful birds as well as some very nice sea life. Everyday we saw Sea eagles, Brahminy kites, Pariah kites, ospreys, peregrine falcons, black shouldered kites, plovers, various sea gulls, curlews, egrets, herons and too many other species to mention. We saw many sea snakes coming to the surface to take air but unfortunately also many dead ones discarded by fishermen after they had become entangled in the nets. We often saw the sea snakes a few kilometers out from the beach. Turtles were a common sight and the first one I saw nearly gave me a heart attack! I was paddling along the rocks waiting for a fish to bite when suddenly no more than two metres ahead of me a huge head appeared from the water. It was as big as a human head and that was what I thought it was for a split second before my brain registered it as a turtle. As quickly as it was there it was gone and this was usually all we saw of the turtles. Usually they were pretty big specimens, measuring at least one meter from head to tail.

We came through flocks of sea gulls that blackened the sky above us. At Divegar there must have been at least ten thousand birds in the flock which all took to the wing as we paddled past their daytime roost. We Saw fresh otter tracks at the mouth of a river as well as evidence of hyenas, civets and other smaller cats but never actually saw any of these creatures in the flesh as we were usually too busy sleeping when they were about! A couple of nights we were lucky enough to camp below the nests of pallas’ sea eagle. The eagles seemed unconcerned with two kayakers cooking and sleeping below their nest and continued their business regardless but were kind enough to wake us at first light with their morning calls!
In the next weeks the fishing picked up and we caught many fish, including Mangrove jacks, Groupers, Barramundi, Garfish, Sea Bream and Barracuda. The Mangrove Jacks were the most obliging when it came to swallowing our lures and seldom disappointed us with the fight they put up. The biggest Mangrove jacks pushed the scales round to 5kg and these we released, but sometimes we kept a smaller one for an evening meal. As we travelled further south the waters became clearer and clearer until snorkeling became possible. The reefs were full of beautiful colourful fish as well as the Jacks and various other species of interest to the angler. We saw big crabs, crayfish, sea cucumbers and sea urchins. In one place trevally shoaled along with, mjs, black drum, bream and groupers and the occasional puffer fish.

HOOK UP
As often as possible we would try and camp by the mouth of a river to enable us to cast our lures at night for barramundi. Sometimes it was fruitless but more often than not we hooked into some nice barramundi and small barracuda. One night we fished a small river mouth and after a few bites I hooked a nice small barra of around 3kg which gave a nice fight before I could pull it up onto the sand. Not thinking I reached down to remove the hooks and at the same moment the fish jumped sending a hook through the knuckle of my index finger. The fish jumped and turned leaving my hand twisted at a funny angle, but also firmly attached to the fish. This wasn’t too good considering I was trying my best to look after my hands to make kayaking easier. I suddenly had visions of having to rest up for a long time before my hand would be OK to hold a paddle again. I reached over and grabbed my pliers and cut the hook just above where it entered my finger. I called Nils over and showed him the damage and asked him to unhook and return the fish while I assessed the damage to my finger.

Luckily for me the point of the hook had broken through the skin and had just missed the bone. It also seemed to have missed any important tendons and nerves. I thought of a trip to the hospital but knew it was better to get it over with there and then so took the pliers and gripped the point of the hook and started pulling. The hook didn’t want to move so I pulled harder until my finger was under a lot of tension. At this point Nils asked whether I wanted him to have a go but I knew it just needed a sharp jerk and then it would surely have to come out! A hard tug and suddenly the hook was out, but now the blood started to squirt out pretty fast. I cleaned it and dried it, and then super glued the two holes shut. When I was happy that the glue was dry I tested to see if my finger would still move. It worked and seemed pretty ok considering what had just happened so I grabbed my rod and went back to the barramundi fishing. After five minutes I had another bite and connected with a fish a little bigger than the previous one. But this time I took a little more care with the unhooking!

The fishing varied from day to day. Somedays we would do well and have 4 or five good sized fish while others we wouldn’t even have a bite, even when the places we trolled looked perfect. One day we had 7 mangrove jacks, a couple of barramundi, a bream and two groupers for a total of around 50kg but then we had 3 days where we only caught one small garfish. I think the moon phase had a lot to do with this but we can only guess. The trip was however a very good learning experience into the habits of fish.

BARRAMUNDI CORNER

I think if we had fished more early morning, evening and night sessions we would have landed a lot more fish, in particularly barramundi which seem to be feeding more actively at night in clear waters. However one morning we left our camp spot and paddled out along the rocks to a small rocky headland. At the break I wanted to try a bit of lure casting for trevally but had a look over the edge of the boat before I started fishing to see if I could spot any fish below me. As I looked over I saw a few small reef fish and mullet swimming below me. Then my eyes met a sight that would get the most seasoned fisherman a little excited. Swimming around below me were at least twenty big barramundi . They looked to be around 9-12kg a piece and seemed pretty unconcerned by my presence. I panicked and tried to get a rubber shad from inside my boat to drop down to them but by the time I was sorted they had moved off. A few minutes later I found them again and dropped the shad down but again they slowly vanished. For sure they were still about the area so I clipped on a deep diver and trolled around the break. It didn't take long for a fish to nail the lure and make a break for freedom. I grabbed the ocean master rod and played the fish, all the while able to see it fighting to take line. After a couple of spectacular jumps I pulled it in and Nils took some photos before we released it and moved on.

As the days passed we often ran into the authorities who made their routine checks. These check could vary between half and hour to 4 or 5 hours and became a little tiresome by the time we reached Goa. At kelshi The local customs official came to our camp site in the early evening and questioned us for a while before asking us to accompany him to the customs office to speak to his superiors from Dapoli. After posting a couple of guards by our boats we the three of us climbed on the inspector's small Yamaha motorbike and headed off down the beach towards the office. to cut a long story short, we were released at 4 am after a statement had been taken and the boats had been searched on three separate occasions by various officials.

The guys had been very kind to us and arranged for us to eat with a local family in the village. The meal turned out to easily be one of the best meals we had had the pleasure of eating in India. It consited of a lot of locally made mango products as well as some delicious curries typical of the Konkan area. By the time we were allowed to return to our campsite everyone was very tired and glad to be done. The Customs officials presented us with a letter to allow officals further down the coast to see that we had been check and were all above board. In the coming weeks Dapoli customs office must have recieved many phone calls in connection with us and so would have been able to track our progress until the end of the trip. By the time we reached our finish point we had got to know virtually all the customs officials along the Konkan coast as we had been checked no less than 16 times. The last check was in Vengurla where the customs official turned out to a very jovial chap who sent us on our way in record time.

GIANT TREVALLY

Back to the fishing and one day our dreams came true when we caught the biggest fish of the trip. Trolling around a likely looking headland Nils' reel began to sing and he got into a good fish that was taking line very quickly. The Daiwa Opus bull reel had already seen better days and wasn't making the job any easier but after a very good fight of a few minutes we saw a big silver fish rising from below the kayaks which we both took to be a Barramundi until we got a better look and saw it was a huge trevally. It was hooked well but once we had it aboard we saw the split ring was nearly completely open. If the fish had given one more run it would have no doubt been lost. We quickly put a string throw the fishs' lip and let it swim around below the boat for around ten minutes to recover before weighing the fish and taking some photos. It weighed 20kg.

Thinking everything was fine we tried to release the fish but after holding it for a few minutes we began to suspect something was wrong. I juped in and tried to swim with the Trevally to revive it but after some minutes it was clear that it had died. Our happiness suddenly turned into a dark mood as we couldn't quite believe what had happened. The last thing we wanted was to kill such a beautiful creature that had made us so happy. Both agreed we would have rather have not caught the fish for this to happen.

We now had the dilemma of what to do with 20kg of Giant Trevally. Normally if a fish died we would have eaten it in the evening and even saved some for breakfast if it was large. Of course we couldn't waste the fish so decided to return 2km to the village where we had stopped at lunch and try and sell the fish to the locals. When we pulled up to the beach a guy came running towards me carrying my life vest which had fallen from my boat while we had been leaving. luck continued to be on our side as the local customs inspector came down to the beach to see us. He very kindly helped us sell the fish and then to find us a camping spot in the village. The evening was spent talking with various villagers and discussing what went wrong with the fish and how we could prevent it in the future.

The next morning we replenished supplies in the village, drank some masala chai and then headed off into the waves. In exactly the same spot where Nils had the Trevally the day before my rod arched over and a good fish stripped the 25kg braid from the reel. After a run of around 50m all went solid as the fish reefed me. I quickly rowed over and positioned myself above the fish and tried to coax him out. I could feel the braid grate on the rocks and then my heart sunk as the line went slack. I looked down into the clear water and a couple of meters below a Giant Trevally of 20-25kg slowly cruised away out of sight! That was the first and last chance I had at a bigger specimen of one of these magnificent fish.

SHARK BAY

This reef was productive and after catching a couple of Nice mangrove jacks and a lovely reef cod it was time to move on to the south and try and get to our evening camping spot. We soon came to a small bay with a beautiful beach and a reef separating the bay from the sea. We couldn't resist a stop to have some lunch and do a bit of snorkelling. I tried some popping for trevally but ended up with the 40kg braid in a huge birdsnest. While I sat on the beach picking at the line Nils swam away into the bay to see what fish might be around. Ten minutes later he was perched on a rock that was sticking out of the reef, waving his arms and shouting something about sharks. a little while later he was still there so i jumped into my kayak and headed out to see what the problem was. The water was beautifully clear and from the yak i could see many reef fish darting about below me as I rowed over to the rocks. Nils announced that he had just seen 4 two metre long sharks swimming around the bay and there was no way he was getting back in the water. I imagined the sharks to be some little reef sharks and wondered why Nils was so concerned. We made it back to shore without any shark attacks and Nils seemed quite happy to make some tea while i went to have a look for these monster sharks.

Around near the Entrance to the little bay i climbed down the rocks, put on the snorkel and dropped into the water, careful to keep some cover close by encase i needed to retreat. Sure enough after a few moments something came into my peripheral vision and as I turned a shark of around 130-150 kg cruised past. I'm unsure what species the shark was but a few moments later I saw the speed these creatures can attain while hunting. Two mangrove jacks weighing around a kilo apiece swam in front of me heading out towards the centre of the bay. One second there was two, next second one way gone. The shark had passed so quickly all I saw was a grey streak, but that was enough to persuade me to leave the water and retire to the beach for some chai.

As the bay was such a lovely spot we decided to spend the night there, giving us time to spend the rest of the exploring the area. In the evening we trolled the surrounding reefs hoping for some good fish. By this time the sea had become pretty choppy and the bites we hoped for weren't forthcoming. A barracuda of 3kg was the only fish that hit the lure before we returned to the beach to cook and set up the tents ready for the night.

A few nights later we came to a lovely estuary that cried out Barramundi so we rowed a little up the river and found a camping place in amongst the sand dunes. We were low on drinking water so Nils headed across to a house on the far bank to see if it was possible to replenish our supplies. as he reached the far bank I saw a police jeep arriving along the road on the hilltop. A check was inevitable so i joined Nils to show our papers and passports to the police when they arrived at the river. It turned out the police weren't too bothered about us and seemed more interested in testing out the kayaks. the tide was ebbing fast and i had visions of them getting washed down the river and out to sea. With a little help they completed some rounds of the river and seemed very pleased with the experience.

The guys from the house on the hill were incredibly helpful and kind and filled our water bottles and joined us later in the evening at our campsite to hear about the trip. They brought fresh chapatis and pickles that finished off the vegetable curry and rice perfectly. We cast for barramundi when the tide was rising, around 1am but apart from many bites and one lost fish we had nothing to show for our efforts. In the morning the guys invited us across the river for breakfast. A big pot of water was boiling away on the fire specially for us to have a hot shower. It was very pleasant to wash all the salt away from previous weeks at sea. We left with arms full of guavas and papayas but wished we could stay to spend some more time with these lovely people.

At the mouth of the estuary we stopped to look a dead whale that had washed up on the beach. Apparently it had been there for a couple of months so most of the flesh had rotted away, leaving a few patches in-between bones on which the local dogs were still feeding. On the other bank an old fishing boat lay rotting in the sand. A sad sight. The villagers had told us they had given up fishing around years before as not enough man power was availble and catches hadn't proved reliable enough.

We planned to try and sleep on one of the rocky islands near Malvan and so the night before found a spot on the beach on the mainland, close enough to the islands to give us time the following day to find a suitable island. We found a nice camping spot under the casurina trees and took some rest as it had been a long day of paddling. Neither one of us was too keen to go and search for food but as we were running low we tossed a coin and it ended up that i would go on the search. A lady informed us that the nearest shop was 15km away in Malavn but we found this hard to believe. After 30 minutes i had found nothing but the a small boy, Vijay offered to show me where i could find eggs, potatoes, onions and biscuits.

We wound through the beautiful village passing through gardens dripping with hibiscus and jasmine flowers. Colourful small temple stood in amongst the coconut palms and langurs jumped through the trees looking for chiku fruit and other such delights. Vijay threw stones at the monkeys and chased them from the garden of the house we were in. We stopped and a kind old lady sold me some milk and eggs. At another we found the potatoes and onions ans then biscuits at another. The people all looked a little surprised when I arrived as I'm sure they don't get two many foreigners buying supplies from them.

Back at the beach Nils had met a bunch of lads who had been throw netting in the waves. they told us that just down the beach was a small resort where we would be able to get some food in the evening. Sure enough we enquired and ordered a thali which went down very well. The guys kindly charged our phones for us before while we told them about our trip.

ISLAND CAMP

In the morning we paddled out to the islands. We were greeted on the fist island by a perigrine falcon and some worried looking pigeons. the area looked great for fishing but the fish wern't playing ball so we stopped for a rest on a tiny golden beach. As i walked across the rocks a rat fled and vanished into the undergrowth. Either he was a very good swimmer or had been a stow away on a boat as we were over 2km from the mainland!

Around lunch time we came to the maingroup of rocky islands, a little way and closer to the shore than Burnt island. In a fisherman's paradise we paddled about and tried to find a suitable place where we could get the boats safely up onto the rocks. It was low tide so we had to choose carefully to avoid getting washed away during the night. After a a while a suitable place was found and we hauled the kayaks up onto a rocky ledge a couple of metres above the water. It would definately not be the most comfortable nights sleep ever but we were contented by having our own private island for the night.

The island consisted of jagged rocks, rising to a pinnacle 10metres above the sea where fish and sea snake skeletons lay, the left overs of sea eagles and ospreys. The shallow waters around were rich in marine life. Sea cucumbers, sea urchins, crayfish and corals met our eyes when we dived under with the snorkel. Colourful reef fish abounded along with many mangrove jacks and different grouper species. In sandy areas between rocks small crayfish excavated their holes where blennys also took up residence.

While i snorkelled Nils caught and released 10 Boneacki groupers after just twenty minutes. coloured with vivid ultramarine stripes they couldn't leave orange rubber shads alone. Nils cast his lure to me so i could jiggle it around in front of one of these aggressive little fish. The grouper would make a beeline for the lure and try and gobble it down even though it was far too big for him. We snorkelled until dusk and then tried to catch a mangrove jack for dinner but as hard as we tried we couldn't managed it. The change of tide seemed to completely switch the fish off from feeding so instead of fish and chips to eat we had to settle on omlette and chips.

The night proved to be as uncomfortable as we expected. The rocks were bumpy and sloped towards the sea so a wrong move could mean a night swim. It was going OK until 2am when the tide reached its highest point. I woke to a face full of water from a breaking wave. I checked on the kayaks and found that the waves were moving them about enough to cause some concern. The idea of waking up to an island minus two kayaks wasn't too inviting so we made sure they were firmly attached to the rocks before returning to a fitful sleep. occasional woken by the odd shower it was great to sea the sun rising above the mist shrouded islands.

A couple of guys in their fishing canoe spotted Nils sitting on the island and came over for a look. they approached from the side opposite to where the kayaks were sitting and so naturally deduced we were ship wrecked . The look on their faces told it all and they quickly relaxed and offered us a lobster for breakfast when we explained that we were in no danger. After a morning omlette we paddled back towards the mainland and on towards Goa. Christmas was rapidly approaching so we paddled hard to aim to arrive by the 24 December.

BOAT CRASH

We passed some beautiful coastline on the remainder of the trip and stopped to camp on the beach at Kondura village. For the second time of the trip I wasn't paying attention to the waves when coming into the beach and got flipped. The breakers didn't seem anything too special as we came into land on the beach but when we fairly close we looked around to see a set of monsters coming towards us. Nils being a little further back managed to escape but I couldn't turn in time so decided to try and surf the wave in. Paddling as fast as possible I managed to catch the wave and sped along at great speed, perched up on the top. I couldn't control the boat well enough and slowly it turned and became parallel to the wave crest. I was close to the beach now and thought that I might just make it but then I rolled over and got a mouth full of water. Luckily we were stopping for the evening so I had a chance to dry my things through the evening.

The village was situated behind the beach in amongst a grove of palm trees. Behind the beach lies a lagoon where egrets and sit on boats preening themselves and along the beach around 10 traditional fishing boats are stored. At the southern end of the beach a small temple lies under the palms and attracts people from surrounding towns. The People of the village came to see us and as usual were extremely kind and friendly. Were interested in our petrol cooker and watched us prepare fried mangrove jack and veg fried rice. one kind man brought us some eggs and kerosene and in return we offered him half of the mangrove jack which he gladly accepted.

We were up early and watched the guys from the village come in from their early morning fishing trip. It was great to see everyone working as a team to safely bring the boats in through the waves. Everyone helped empty the nets which were full of sardines, crabs and many other species of small fish. we had to turn down many offers of fish breakfast as we finished our veg fried rice from the night before.

one more night would see Goa with in sight. At Vengurla we stopped for breakfast in a restaurant that overlooks the bay, got checked by customs, and then headed on to "paradise" beach near the village of Shiroda, where some good friends came to meet and camp with us. After a great evening we left for the final day and arrived into Goa across the Tiracol river just after lunch, ready for a celebratory beer. Old friends welcomed us and after a few beers a lot of effort was needed to pull the kayaks up the beach. We were extremely pleased to make it and were ready for a few days of rest to let our severly damaged hands and bodies recover from 45 days of paddling. For now will have to see what happens on the next trip and where the kayaks might take us as this trip has given me a big appetite for more paddling.

Scott

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Konkan kayak trip plans

Over the past week Nils and I have been running around Bombay preparing things for our kayak trip to Goa. Finally nearly everything is organised with only packing left to do and finally transporting the boats to the launch site.

When we decided we would come to India a few months ago we had no idea we would be bringing two sea kayaks and 60kg of fishing equipment with us. One evening, maybe after too many beers ,I had the idea of trying to paddle the Indian coast from Bombay to Goa. At first Nils didn't seem convinced but after some gentle persuasion along with stories of the giant fish we would catch he agreed to go for it.

It got a bit hectic with only a month to sort everything out but as planned we landed in Mumbai on schedule with the kayaks on board with us. As we waited for our baggage we began to wonder where the boats would appear, when all of a sudden the conveyor belt ground to a halt as an India began to heave a big yellow kayak through the plastic covered door. We left the airport and narrowly avoided paying "dodgy duty " of £400 per boat.

Angler Ali from IndianAngler.com very kindly let us store the boats at Powai Lake, which is located in central Mumbai (see google earth). We also met another fisherman, Allan, while attending India's first ever sea fishing competition. Allan has very kindly let us store our mound of equipment in his flat near the lake.

Tomorrow we plan to truck the boats down to south Mumbai and then get them on a ferry across Back Bay before we start paddling and fishing. This ferry trip will hopefully save us a lot of hassle with harbour authorities and lower the potential of getting run down by an oil tanker!

We are planning to reach Goa for Christmas, at which time I will do a full write up of the trip giving all the details and photos of any fish we have been lucky enough to catch.

until then Adios, Scott

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The Konkan coast

In Mumbai our bikes smelt decidedly fishy after we had taken them out the luggage compartment of the train. I don’t know why the compartment was full of sardines; I could only guess that the train had originated from Kolkata and the fish was destined for Delhi. Before leaving the station I repaired my rear tyre that had mysteriously gone flat while the bikes had been on the train. We were then soon in the tourist area of Colaba where we found a room in Hotel Prosser. Having been in Mumbai six times before I was glad to be back but not too keen to go sight seeing. We did however take a ride around to India gate to view the expensive Taj hotel and check where we could catch a ferry from. After we took a trip to the famous Chowpatty beach that seemed relatively subdued compared to when I was there a few years before. The police even tried to throw us out for pushing our bikes about the beach. Considering this beach was Mumbai’s main public toilet a few years ago the changes have been huge. These days every evening rich Indians descend, to eat kulfi and watch the sun settting over the Arabian sea.

After a day or two spent in the city we loaded our bikes onto a little wooden ferry down by the gateway of India and headed over to Madwe, a small village fifteen minutes south, across the harbour. After a scrum getting off we cycled away from the ferry ramp and were immediately passing through small villages and countryside. This definitely beat taking the road route out of Mumbai which would have taken us a day or two to escape out of the city limits. After ten minutes we stopped outside a small shop to drink a cold coke and enjoy the sudden peace and quiet. There were still intricate Diwali designs made from coloured powder spread across the floor. The Diwali festival had been a couple of days previous so we were happy to be out of the city as the last few days had been like a war zone with all the fireworks popping around our heads. A few times the locals had nearly blown me up with atom bombs when I walked innocently down the street at night. They seemed to be enjoying all the festivity but after nearly jumping out my skin a few times I lost all interest. But now we were out of the city we all relaxed and looked forward to the coming weeks of cycling.

At the end of the first day we sniffed (literally) out Kihim beach and took a ride along the hard sand looking for somewhere to pitch camp. The beach wasn’t as beautiful as we had hoped but being so close to Mumbai we had suspected it may be a little grubby around the edges. Dotted along the top of the beach are big holiday houses belonging to rich Bombalites who must often come down for weekends. In one of the gardens we spotted a nice looking tree house that looked perfect for sleeping in. Next thing Hayato marched off and obtained permission for us to spend the night here. It was a perfect spot with a great view of the sun setting through the coconut palms. We fished for a while but caught nothing so went back to our cabin and cooked a vegetable curry all hoping the fresh fish would come sometime in the next week. Hayato and Brain each bought a rod and reel in mumbai but had little prior experience with fishing so i was hoping i could put them on some fish in the coming weeks.

We met Asaf Fakih who lived a just along the beach from where we were staying. Asaf invited us to join him in the morning to show us about. The next morning after a good sleep we stopped in at Asafs and had a fascinating tour of the local area and found out all about the history of his family and the surrounding houses. Asaf lives in a beautiful old half mansion, filled with the original old teak furniture. Unfortunately due to his business in Bumbay (as he likes to call it) he gets precious little time in Kihim.

It took us around three weeks to cover the 700km or so from Mumbai to Goa. We covered around 50km each as we were taking it fairly easy and wanted to enjoy the beaches. as planned we managed to follow the coast road all the way down to Goa and stayed off the highway. Our map was pretty much useless apart from giving us the names of the villages that we wanted to go to next. After we had worked out the next destination we wanted, we would constantly ask for directions from the locals. This proved tricky and usually a few people would have to be asked before we found the right way. We gave up asking distances because, as from previous experience they would vary wildly from one guy to the next. One man might say it was 30km whereas his mate down the road would claim it was 70km. This is most frustrating to the cycle tourist so it’s much better to see what comes along.

Cycling along the Konkan coast is by no means easy. The Western Ghat mountains to the east give rise to many rivers that drain down west into the sea resulting in many valleys spread out down along the coast. So from one valley a climb takes one back onto the relatively flat parched plateaus that separate the valleys. These plateaus are pretty bare as far as vegetation goes thanks to a lack of soil due to the basalt that makes up the parent material. During the day the rock radiates heat onto the passing cyclist and makes him heat up until he is lucky enough to drop down into the valley below and find relief under the shady palm trees.

We were in no rush and enjoyed the cycling. It was hard work at times, with some very steep hills to climb. The beautiful sea views from the top and downhill into the next valley made up for all the sweating. Many of the rivers had no bridge near to the sea where we usually needed to cross, the bridges being far up the river where the highway ran and this would mean a hefty detour for us. Luckily somewhere down nearer the mouth of the rivers small ferries plyed people across the water for a small fee. Between Mumbai and Goa we had to catch around ten of these small boats, ranging in price from 20 to 300 rupees. The cheaper boats were regular services, while it got more expensive if we needed to hire a private boat to carry us across a river. There was never a problem crossing the rivers although a couple of times we wondered whether the little rickety boats would manage with the three of us and our loaded bikes aboard.

We aimed to sleep on the beach as much as possible on the way down and we managed this for many nights. After a few days and a good distance from Mumbai the beaches become clean and beautiful and made for good camping. One of the first places we camped was near a place called Revandanda which is on the Kundalika River. We slept below the walls of a beautiful old fort that had long since been abandoned. The waves must have lapped at the base on spring tides but we had soft sand to relax on, shaded by a big fig growing from the wall. We fished in the river while the young Indians played their evening cricket game on the beach. Again no fish were coming to grace the beach! After a nice meal I stretched out on the sand and watched the waves gently lapping at the beach under the bright moonlight. Soon I slept but was woken with a start as a rat ran over my face. I was now awake and the moon had set an hour previously. Mosquitoes now bothered me, intent on sucking out all my blood but eventually I started to drift off only to have a crab scuttle over my stomach! Soon my tent was up and only then did I sleep well.

The next day we left after a leisurely start and after a few km Hayato realised he had left his trusty stick behind. We waited and after twenty mintues he returned minus his stick which had acted as his bike stand. I had carried this bread rolling stick all the way from Kashgar in North West China and had given it to Hayato when I cut a new one, so it was a shame to lose it after so long . From the start the day went downhill. After a couple of hours the cable attaching my bar bag decided to suddenly snap and as we left the road to make repairs Brian got a huge thorn through one of his tyres. Luckily I had a spare brake cable that could replace the snapped cable and soon we were on our way again. But not long after my front inner tube decided to pop for no particular reason. My luck had changed after 11500km with no flat tyres. Since then when I arrived in Tajikistan I had had over 30 blow outs and now I was starting to get a little bored by them. They only came every so often and usually the tube split. It was the same story when I had had 21 flats in two days in the mountains of Tajikistan. I can only assume the tubes were too narrow for my tyres and the heat caused the splits to occur.

We stopped this evening on an extremely long beach, completely deserted apart from a guy on a sand cart pulled by two huge white Zebus. He called us over and insisted we jump up and take control and ride for a bit down the beach. At first these huge cows weren’t too sure of their new boss and decided to bolt off into the sea, but after a few seconds I got control and we trundled off down the beach. After a few minutes I jumped down and Hayato climbed up and had a ride about. We expressed our thanks and the driver moved off down the beach to load some sand. It was a beautiful moment and really made our day. The kindness of the people along the trip has been overwhelming. This guy had wanted nothing in return for his gesture, he just wanted us to be welcome in a foreign place and his big warm smile said it all.

The next day after some seriously hot stretches of cycling up on the sunburnt plateau we crossed a river in a small wooden boat. We just managed to squeeze the bikes in but it was tight. The ferryman hoisted his sail while his sidekick pushed us off with his long bamboo pole and we sailed to the far side drenched in golden light from the setting sun. After hauling our bikes across the beach we found there was no road or path to the village of kelshi. A group of guys playing cricket pointed us across a little stream to a sandy track on the far side. After a massive group effort of pulling and pushing the bikes through the very deep sand we made it into the lovely little village. Here the people were extremely friendly and after stopping with one kind family to taste a local dish, we bought some supplies and headed back to the beach. We took a different track and discovered that there was no need to nearly break our backs earlier pushing through the sand. The track took us down towards the river where we found a beautiful shady camping place under the feathery Casurina trees.

Before I had done much I was running down to the river fishing rod in hand, convinced we would be cooking fish this evening. Brian and Hayato soon joined me and we stood watching the red sun dip below the horizon on the Arabian Sea. We cast our lures into the river and waited for the inevitable bite which didn’t come. Shortly after dark the others left but I stayed as the spot which looked better and better for a fish as the last of the light vanished. The tide was on the way up and conditions looked perfect. I lay a cast far into the flow and slowly started reeling the little vibrating yo zuri lure. After a few turns of the handle the rod lurched forward with incredibly power. My heart nearly stopped as I began to play my first Indian fish of 2007. After a minute or so I realised from the fight I must have a nice mangrove jack. He shook his head and battled for all he was worth but after a few minutes I pulled the beautiful fish onto the shore and gave him a kiss. What an amazing feeling, my heart was pumping and hands were shaking. Five minutes later my rod arched again as I hooked into something else. It fought differently to the MJ and turned out to be a lovely Flathead of around 1.5kg. In my excitement I had to stop fishing and head back to the camp site to show the others.

As I arrived I hid the fish behind my back and waited for Hayato and Brian to ask about what I had caught. As I whipped the fish out both their mouths dropped unable to believe what I had caught. Hayato quickly had a big smile on his face as he was particularly looking forward to eating some fresh fish. They had just been discussing whether I would bring a tuna or some other species! Unfortunately not a tuna, but it was definately as good. I quickly cleaned the fish while the others cooked some rice and made a fire. Twenty minutes later we sat around our fire and enjoyed fresh jack followed by the flathead. It really was a great meal and we hoped the fishing gods would be kind to us in the coming months!

The next day we took a rest and stayed in our camp spot as it was such a beautiful spot. In the afternoon I noticed all the small sail boats returning up the river from their fishing trip. I was dying to get some bait for fishing so ran down and signalled a small boat over to the beach. The guys aboard kindly sold me ten small fish for twenty rupees before going on their way. That evening after catching one small flathead that I let go, I tried some bait to see what I might get. Of course by now the bait fish weren’t so fresh and I doubted whether something might eat them. After 20 minutes I felt a small tap on the rod followed an angry fish pulling hard. Soon I had a five foot long slimy slithering eel on the beach that was determined not to give me back my hook. After a struggle I was covered in slime from head to toe but safely had my hook back. I ran up the beach and woke Hayato and Brian so they could see my magnificent specimen. Brian’s head popped out his tent quite quickly but Hayato took a little longer to wake. As he unzipped his tent door the eel broke free and decided to have a look in Hayato’s tent. The problem was Hayato has an acute fear of snakes so his first thought was that a huge snake was coming for him. He quickly retreated but had no where to go as his tent is not so spacious! The eel was on the move and so was Hayato. I seem to remember him screaming something, possible in Japanese. Quickly I grabbed the eel and wished the two of them sound sleeps before returning to the river to release the traumatised fish.

After a week or so of lovely cycling we reached the village of Ganpatipule where I had stayed on a previous trip in India. In this village there’s a beautiful beach and a Ganesh temple that draws in many Indian pilgrims from the surrounding areas. We could stay at the far end of the beach in a quiet tented camp. It was pleasant to have a shower and eat some half decent curries for a change as the food had been a little hit and miss since leavingMumbai. We swam and relaxed and had a nice time joking around with the guys that worked in the restaurant.

I had noticed the last time I had visited that there were many guitar fish in the waves as well as many other species of fish swimming about. So the first day we took a ride up to the fish market and bought a big bag of mackerel to use as bait later in the day. Late afternoon I wandered down onto the beach to try and catch some live mullet to use as livebait, while Brian stuck a piece of mackerel on his hook and cast into the waves. A few minutes later brain’s rod suddenly bent over as something big took off with his bait. However it was short lived as the fish quickly bit through the line. We raced back to the tent and were soon back on the beach armed with wire traces and the whole bag of mackerel. Very quickly I had a bite and a fish around three or four feet long jumped three times at the back of the breakers. Unfortunately the wire wasn’t long enough and the line parted above the trace.

In the next couple of hours we all caught fish. Brian had a couple of guitar fish, while Hayato had one guitar fish and a black tipped shark and I had three black tipped sharks. All were released back into the waves after a quick photo. Hayato was over the moon as he had never caught a fish bigger than a few ounces so to catch an Indian shark was pretty special. When he got his shark on the beach he jumped about overjoyed at his catch and ran around shouting “shark shark”. For the next few days we caught many more sharks and Brian became the king of guitar fish. He was unable to catch any other fish, just one guitar fish after another. I however couldn’t catch one however hard I tried!

After all the sharks we fancied catching something to eat so moved to fish in the river. Hayato was the first to catch, which turned out to be a nice mangrove jack. He then had one more great bite before the tide dropped so we decided to go cook our fish as it was too late in the night to put it in the restaurant fridge. We walked back down the beach and made a little fire by some rocks where we cooked the jack. It tasted very good and all the time the camp dogs tried to muscle in on our meal.

The three of us stayed in Ganpatipule for the next few days and really enjoyed the fishing. We caught many more sharks and I landed a fairly large sting ray that took me for a long walk down the beach and with no help to land him I struggled as every time I gave slack line he would take off from the shallow water and shoot back into the waves. Eventually with a good grip I hauled him ashore all the time staying out the way of his poisonous tail. The other guys couldn’t believe what I had caught when I came running out of the darkness, two arms supporting the big ray and rod held in my mouth!

Every evening as the tide became right we would head up to the little river and have a go with bait for the mangrove jacks. As we worked out the movements of the fish we had some great catches of up to fifteen nice sized jacks. One evening it was early in the evening and the tide hadn’t yet pushed high enough to bring the in jacks so I decided to try a very small rubber shad suspended under a bubble float in the mouth of the river on the incoming tide.

Second cast and I had a bite and then quickly three or four more taps. I was a little surprised I hadn’t hooked any of these but then very next cast I hooked a small fish that turned out to be an undersized Jack. In the next ten casts I hooked a very big mangrove jack and two barramundi around 3kg a piece which I decided to keep for meal the next day. Forced to retreat because of the incoming tide that would wash my fish away I headed back to join Hayato and Brain.

When I arrived with my arms full of fish and a big smile on my face they were a little surprised as still they hadn’t had a single bite since I had left thirty minutes before with my trusty lure. Soon Brian’s rod arched over and we started catching fish for the next three hours until the falling tide saw the end of the bites as the fish moved quickly out of the shallow river to the sea.

We ended up with a good haul of a mixture of 15 jacks, bream and barramundi which we kept and ate the next day kindly cooked by the guys in the restaurant. We gave some of the fish to the cooks for their trouble and traded the rest for an evening curry.

All too soon we left and were back on the road heading south towards the larger town of Ratnagiri that lies around 250km north of Goa. Some anticipation was now building about reaching Goa. With only four or five days to go we were all dreaming of relaxing in Arambol in north Goa , eating good food and seeing beautiful girls strutting around in bikinis! The beaches seemed to be more beautiful everyday and screamed for us to set up camp but of course if it wasn’t late in the day we would push on. Some fishing spots that we saw looked so perfect I almost gave into the curiosity and stayed behind but the prospect of arriving in Goa with Hayato and Brian made me keep going.

The Further south we went the more familiar the local people became with Goa and the tourist scene. Fisherman started reeling off names of the famous beaches and declaring which one they thought was best, sometimes disagreeing and arguing about this important subject with their friends. They all gave a nod when we told them where we were going to stay.

We had all bought a pair of sandals while we had been in Kathmandu as we figured they would be perfect for cycling and walking about on the beach. We all bought these from different shops and agreed they looked pretty good for the money we spent. In the four weeks following how wrong were we proved? Mine broke two days after I bought them and then Hayatos went but with a few packets of five rupee feviquick super glue they were up and going again. By the time we reached Goa I think I had spent more money on glue and cobblers than I had actually paid for the sandals and so threw them away at the first chance I got.

Not a day would go by when one strap or another wouldn’t break and leave me pedalling cock footed and ending up in the evening with big blisters. One day I let an Indian cobbler fix them who was conveniently sitting under a big tree by the side of the road. Happy to be comfortable again we carried on only to realise a few kms later that we had missed our turning. I was already fuming because my newly fixed sandals had broken where the cobbler had sewn them. Unlucky for him our road was right by his tree and as I pulled up he had a look of shock on his face but still pretended to be surprised when I launched my sandal to land on to the ground at his feet. After another repair that only lasted a day I was quite ready to invest in a pair of Indian flip flops that would give me months of faultless service!

We passed through Malvan and along the beautiful Tarkali beach and down the 5km long spit where Devbag village lies. On one side of the spit is the Arabian sea and the other is Tarkali River, with the village running along the 200m wide piece of sand shaded below coconut palms. I made a mental note to come back to this beautiful spot in the future as we were hiring a boat to take us across the mouth of the river to the lovely Bhogva beach where we set up camp for the night. After eating a great meal cooked by a local lady we helped the fishermen bring their boats up the beach and watched while they emptied the nets. While the kids played the evening cricket game the adults discussed these funny ‘Saikal wallas’ who had set up camp on their beach!

The next day we Raced towards Goa, stopping in Vengurla for a good lunch in a restaurant overlooking the beautiful sandy bay. The last few days had been getting warmer and warmer and after our big lunch the heat put a stop to us moving any further than the beach. After a nice siesta and swim we got back on the road and furiously pedalled towards goa intent on crossing the border before evening.

We then saw our first “western tourist” who lent out of his jeep window and congratulated us on our efforts. Later we saw another European who ignored us as we passed and waved. Later still some more westerners on scooters who also ignored our waves. I now realised I was a little disappointed to be arriving in a tourist area again and I guess we would miss all the attention we had been getting. I also new it would take a while in the coming weeks to get used to all the tourists we would be sharing sharing the area with.

With twenty kilometres to go I started recognising things and saw paradise beach where I had fished on a previous trip. We passed the big Iron ore mine and factory that you can see from Goa and then dropped down into the little village of Terekhol before climbing the last hill. From the top we stopped and had a beautiful view across the Terekhol River to Querim beach and on south along the Goan Coastline. I could see the sand spit sticking out into the river where I had caught so many big fish two years before. Set along the beach was Babu and Sujits little beach restaurant where we planned to spend the night and I wandered if they would remember me!

We raced down the hill and sped onto the waiting ferry. I was was over the moon to at long last, after ten months and 15000km reach my destination but also sad that possibly my cycling was over for the next few months as I had no plan of where to go next.

As I cycled to the restaurant and started pushing my bike up the beach I saw my good friend Sujit peep out from around the corner of his shack and exclaim “Scott?” . I shouted my greetings and shook hands while greeting Babu and Kalpesh. It was good to be back and we all spent a pleasant evening relaxing with a much earned cold beer or two.

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Kathmandu to Mumbai nov 07

Wanting to spend Christmas in North Goa, I had decided to get to Varanasi as quickly as possible and then take a train to Mumbai. This meant longer could be spent cycling down the Konkan coast from Mumbai to Arambol in Goa and so would maximise my fishing time. Hayato and Brian would be joining me and I was very pleased to have their company.

The three of us booked a bus down to Varanasi where we planned to spend a few days before taking a train west. Leaving early in the morning we tied our bikes to the roof and as the bus was pretty full we decided to stay on the roof and make the most of the fantastic views while we travelled down to the plains. Usually I’m not too fond of bus rides but sitting on the roof through Nepal can definitely be recommended. Often buses passed travelling in the opposite direction, the roofs crowded with Nepalese who shouted and waved as they sped by. As we descended the guys on the roof of the bus behind us provided the soundtrack as they sang away merrily. For hours we watched sparkling valleys unfold beneath us as we dropped further down out of the highest mountain range on earth. Just a week or so before we had been in the sparsely populated land of Tibet but soon we would be thrown into India along with its’ billion or more inhabitants. I was excited but knew it would take some time to get used to the squeeze.

Speeding along on the bus we were soon on the plains nearing the border town of Birganj. The landscape was now flat and divided into many small fields holding a variety of different crops. Bananas sprouted everywhere and growing in uncultivated patches the ubiquitous Lantana and Castor oil plants could be seen. People were busy harvesting the first of the rice crop, as they had been back up in the mountains.
Before the border we left the bus and cycled the few km to the immigration office before passing on into India to catch the night bus down to Varanasi. The actual border seemed pretty non existent and we had to search hard to find the little Indian immigration hut amongst all the buzzing shops and restaurants. After being congratulated by the Indians for cycling so far, we continued down the road to find our bus. All the time we were determined not to get ripped off, as everyone knows that upon entering India ‘thou shalt get ripped off’. Having spent seven months in India before, I felt pretty confident no one would have any of my money away without my full consent. Of course some sly Indians had other ideas.

As we reached the bus, the guy who appeared to be the conductor reckoned we should each give him several hundred rupees to have the pleasure of putting our bicycles on the huge empty roof! We weren’t so keen to part with our money as we had our tickets and had been assured the bikes could be taken for no extra charge. I knew from previous experience that what the guy selling the tickets said meant nothing. We had expected to pay a small luggage charge of maybe 100 rupees but this con artist wanted over 400 each. I stalled in giving the money and got the bikes on the roof and then we all jumped on the bus, ready for an argument. After ten minutes of heated discussion we finally paid up as we decided there was nothing to be done. The bus wouldn’t leave without us paying and if we didn’t want to pay we had to get off. Simple. We were stuck. No more buses left that night so if we got off we would have to take a hotel and pay for another bus in the morning and probably still have to pay for the bikes! I nearly came to blows with the guy but eventually we paid up and left on one of the worst bus rides of my life.

The guy jumped off the bus 500m down the road and happily went off with our money. I brooded, not so much about the money but the principal of the whole thing. I regretted getting the bus and wished to be back on my bike completely free from buses and touts. We all soon forgot about the border as the bus bumped down a road so bumpy that it could have been in Tibet. Actually it was even worse. I seemed to spend most of the night flying around somewhere above my seat hanging on for dear life. Somehow Hayato managed to get some sleep. Every time I tried the same I ended up being smashed onto the floor, after getting chinned on the handrail. And all the time I was wondering whether there was the smallest chance that our bikes were still on the roof. Maybe if we were lucky a couple of bungees would still be there on arrival in Varanasi.

The bus pulled into Varanasi around six in the morning and upon inspection we were all absolutely amazed to find all our bikes and luggage still on the roof. As we cycled down to the Ganga and the Ghats, the city slowly woke all around us. It was a great feeling to be back at one of the most sacred and famous rivers in the world. Yet still I didn’t have the impulse to run and jump straight in - maybe next time though! After hauling the bikes around the ghats for a while we checked into the Puja guesthouse and had a pleasant breakfast on the roof while watching boats ply tourists up and down the mighty Ganga. After having a shower and getting robbed by a monkey I promptly got ill and spend the next two days flat out on my bed.

Once I recovered, we roamed around the city getting lost in the alleyways and enjoying the special thali at one of the local restaurants. For 50 rupees, a dish would appear made up of five curries, two rices, chapatis, dahi, papads, pickle, raita and some other delicious treats that was nearly impossible to finish! We ate well and often. We took a trip to the cinema to watch a bollywood blockbuster which was fairly amusing. Unfortunately our Hindi skills weren’t quite developed enough to really understand everything that happened. On the way home I came very close to being killed by an irate bull but luckily my surefootedness saved me, but only by a whisker.

The next day we loaded our bikes on the train and departed for Mumbai. After making sure the bikes were put on the same train we climbed into our carriage, settled down and started to drink chai while enjoying the north Indian landscape. After cycling, travelling on trains, particularly Indian trains, is for me the most enjoyable way of moving about. To sit on the doorstep, legs dangling in the breeze and watch the rich landscape pass can take up many hours of every journey. Entranced by the rhythm of the train, I will often be stuck on that step late into the evening watching the country folk turn in for the night. Women in bright saris carry home fuel for the evening meal along with big silver urns of water that appear to be stuck to their heads. Cattle and goats are brought in for the night while young boys fight with the light to hit just a few more cricket balls. The crickets begin to chirp and India sleeps once again but the train races on into the night.

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Return to England

After 14 months away from England i have finally returned, but as you may have guessed only for a limited period. Because i enjoyed this trip so much, already my little brain is whirring away and coming up with some plans for the coming years. In the next week or so i will have some updates of the past four months along with some unpublished photos from earlier in the journey and also some forthcoming plans.......for the minute a few piccies of the last month or twos fishing...



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