Karnataka’s - Bouquet Of Beaches

Whether you're a beach person or not, Hugh & Colleen Gantzer assure you that the unexplored beaches of Karnataka are simply to die for

Dev Bagh Beach

Are you a beach person? If you are not, you should be: even if you can't swim. Beaches are the best, ozone-rich, wide-open spaces left in our land. And the widest variety of beaches are on the little-known… and therefore, the least crowded… Arabian Sea shores of Karnataka. We know: We have just visited six of them, and one of us does not swim!

Dev Bagh Beach – If it wasn’t a natural beach, Dev Bagh could have been a designer beach : designed for effortless unwinding. We drove past the high wall of the new naval port being built on the wide sweep of Karwar's Bay. From a jetty, under a bridge spanning a creek, we caught a speed-boat and skimmed across an estuary to a casuarina-whispering island. Technically, Dev Bagh is a promontory, connected to the mainland by a narrow strip of an isthmus but virtually no tourists come across that terrain so, in effect, Dev Bagh is an island cut off from the world. And what a gentle, lonely, island! We lived in a bark-clad, thatched, cottage raised on stilts; lunched in an open sided 'Gol Ghar' beside its twin Conference Hut, also at branch level; strolled on a wide beach where a blue sea stretched to low, blue, hills; and had a barbecue dinner on a starlit strand while the sea shuffled its luminous surf a soft whisper away. It was quite magical.

Then, one morning, donning swimming gear, we sped to a tiny secluded cove on Lady's Island where even non-swimmers are encouraged to snorkel, wearing life- jackets. Sadly, low tide was setting in and the water had become a bit murky thanks to the earthmovers in the Naval port, but the minuscule beach is very quiet, very private. Had it not been for a visiting American couple we would have had it all to ourselves. We did, however, follow a pod of dolphins gambolling in the water on the way back. These mammals, that had returned to the sea millions of years ago, were clearly enjoying themselves, showing off their incredible torpedo swift skills. We weren't quite up to matching their agility but, in the evening, IT programmers at a residential conference, leapt and writhed at beach volleyball to loud shouts of "I shaaa!" while a honeymooning couple walked on the fringes of the surf, lost in their own world. Dev Bagh can be many things to many people!

Gorkarna Beach – Gokarna, on the other hand is, essentially, a paddlers' beach: wet saris, rolled up trousers, and screams as the surf silvers in. Most of the paddlers, we learnt, had come as pilgrims to the famed temple and had then decided to take a dip in the sea. At least two families from Bengal told us that such an ablution cleansed them of "Impurities": we didn't ask if those pollutants were physical or spiritual; probably a fair amount of both. Pilgrim towns in our land tend to attract stressed out youth from other parts of the world, seeking escape by various means! And in the labyrinthine alleys around the temple, drop-outs from the west subsisted in doss houses and hovels, drifted around in scruffy undress. In beads and beards the alleys also infest the beautiful twin scoops of Om Beach. It's a fairly long, possibly sweaty, trudge from the crest of a scrubby ridge down to the shore. Both Gokarna and Om are interesting strands if you like your beaches a bit down-market and slightly gamy! Incidentally, the coconut vendor we encountered on Gokarna was a scalper used to rooking firangs.

Murudeshwar Beach – We came to the beach of the temple-town of Murudeshwar in the evening when dusk gilded the promontory dominated by its Shiva temple, with a heroic statue of the Mahayogi enthroned on the ridge. The beach leading up to the sacred hillock, thrusting out to the sea, is wide and long, dotted with occasional fishing boats. Viewing the sun sinking into the gilded sea at dusk, from the headland of the promontory, is a favoured activity with visitors. We stayed in the low-rise, lawn-centred, Naveen Beach Resort. It is separated from the beach by a coastal road and so we ambled across to the beach, and walked briskly down it, early one morning. The statue of Lord Shiva was resplendent and women in bright saris stood in their own reflections, as the tide swept in, dabbling for shellfish.

Fishermen assured us that it's a safe beach and we did see a few brave swimmers but it's not quite the Goan-Calangute scene. Murudeshwar is, essentially, a very laid-back, beach with very few tourists when we visited it and, thanks to the presence of the temple, which dominates it, still very far from the bikinis and bronzed hulks set. We view it as a serene, do-nothing, escape by the sea with the bonus of acquiring spiritual benefits during your holiday. And if you care to stroll across to the fishing harbour in the morning, when the catch comes in, you could persuade your hotel to serve you your favourite sea food, hopping fresh. The fare served in the Naveen Beach Resort was delectable. We also liked the simple, homely, food we had in the understated Turtle Bay Resort. It's just off the dramatic coastal highway with its impressive seascapes: sandy coves guarded by rocks fringed by snarling surf; mysterious wooded creeks winding into the hinterland; unexpected, red-tiled, fishing villages snuggling under palm groves. One such village is Trasi.

Trasi Beach – Planter Abraham Chacko and his wife, driving past one day many years ago, fell in love with this beach, bought land in a grove, planted a cactus fence to demarcate their land from the strand, and in course of time, built Turtle Bay Resort. We could have stayed in one of their A/c cottages, but we opted for a wood and board, sea facing semi-detached `cabana'. It stood on stumps, was very basic and very comfortable and the wind off the sea blew through it with ozone-rich vigour. The beach is broad and lonely and everyone in the resort plunged into the sea; It's difficult to resist the world's biggest swimming pool at one's front door. Abraham Chacko is also a qualified yoga instructor and a keen scuba diver: he arranges diving trips for enthusiasts to the reefs of Pigeon Island. For those who are not so gung-ho about physical activities, there's also a boat cruise down a creek, particularly enchanting in the sunset. But why are we talking about a resort when we've been asked to write about beaches? Because, without this resort you wouldn't be able to enjoy this lonely beach, and assuredly, the beach is very enjoyable.

Malpe Beach – This beach is quite different. It's a long, broad, town beach, undeveloped but likely to grow when a large beach-hotel, under construction, is completed. It's in the area famed for its restaurateurs. Udipi - naturally, when we were there, we did sample authentic Udupi fare, and learnt that it does have its many variations. But we will keep those culinary experiences for another time. A short drive from an Udupi restaurant in the town, brought us to the fishing harbour where we boarded a tourist ferry. We chugged across a bay, towing a speed-boat behind us. We were heading for the uninhabited St. Mary's Island. When the ferry anchored off-shore, we climbed into the speed-boat, beached on the island, and hopped ashore. Its unique rocks are black and thrust up out of the golden sand like stacked Turkish cigarettes as defiantly dramatic as they are ancient. Millions of years ago, these rocks emerged from deep within the earth, molten and glowing. And, as they cooled, they assumed these strange polygonal shapes. We walked on the soft sand of the beach, touched the rocks, and then had a picnic snack in one of the thatched gazebos. This is neither a swimming nor a strolling beach. It's a beach to be gazed and wondered at; and it's the only one of its kind in India.

Ullal Beach – And, finally, there's our favourite beach in Karnataka: Ullal. It's on the outskirts of Mangalore and served by the green, serene, Summer Sands Beach Resort. The resort's architect-owner has designed it like an exclusive little colony of tiled cottages served by a long, palm-shaded, road. We like it because it's comfortable, quiet, has its own swimming pool, and no bar. And so its clientele is both up-market and low profile: no noise, no glitter, and no razzmatazz. Your neighbour could be a captain of industry and his wife, or a writer collecting his thoughts and seeking inspiration, or a family who has `been there, done that' and now just wants to be left alone to re-establish its bonds of togetherness. It helps of course, that Summer Sands' Mangalorean and western cuisine is both creative and well worth mentioning. And the last time we walked on its beach, there were only our footprints in the sand.

And now it's up to you to mix and match, creating your own corsage from this Bouquet of the Beaches of Karnataka.