A Weekend Getaway to Lonavala

We hadn’t travelled within India for the past eight years. We spent most of our trips back home (from Seoul) with family and friends. Back then, our aim was to explore as many countries internationally (given how horrid the visa-waiting time and process is) and it’s quite possible we got a bit carried away. We always knew we’d get back someday and make up for the lost time. However, those who knew about our travel stories couldn’t see what the fuss was about because we’d already been to some of the most secluded (off the tourist trail) and physically challenging parts of India. Honestly, that’s how we knew there was so much more to explore in our own country.

After our rather bitter-sweet homecoming from Seoul in December 2021, I had to patiently wait for another nine months to think of a trip. While my friends shared stories and pictures of their babies taking their first steps, I silently prayed for my parents to take theirs (without a walker). Honestly, there were times I thought I’d never be able to travel again without suffering from separation anxiety or the guilt of not being omnipresent. I’m thankful that my parents realised how important travel (writing) is for me and cut some slack on the string that bound us. These trips wouldn’t have been possible without their support.

I also understand that a lot has changed while we were away and there would be much better blogs on the places that we choose to visit. I don’t think I could (or want) to match them. I’m not in my thirties anymore (the time when I started this blog) and I cannot keep up with the pressure of statistics and clickbait headlines. Then again, most of our trips will be covered by road with our trusted ‘Voyager (Thar)’ and will be journeys of self-discovery and an attempt to reconnect with our country and its diverse people. In the process, I hope to seek travel-therapy for my mind that feels so lost despite being in a place that I should feel at home. I will keep digressing, and occasionally — get choked with emotion. I understand that these emotions might not be what most travellers are looking for. The only thing I can offer that’s different is — perspective. And shouldn’t that be what travel is really about?

Westen Ghats (Sahyadri Mountain Range)

The Western Ghats (or Sahyadri Mountain Range) run parallel to India’s scenic west coast and Arabian Sea. This 1,600 km stretch of pure mountain cuts through six states, starting from Gujarat in the north and ending in Tamil Nadu in the south, whilst bypassing Maharashtra, Goa, Karnataka and Kerala. I vaguely remember learning about the Western Ghats in school. However, I can’t believe that I had forgotten that they are older than the towering Himalayas of the north. The Western Ghats are a melting point of natural biodiversity, jaw-dropping vantage viewing points, and remnants of the checkered history of the region. Not surprisingly, the Western Ghats have made it to the UNESCO World Heritage Site list and is also one of the 36 Biodiversity Hotspots in the world.

Every monsoon (June – September), scores of trekkers set out on treks to conquer some of the highest peaks of this mountain range. Although the mean altitude is about 2000 m, these treks are not to be taken lightly because I’ve known people who’ve got badly injured with a slight slip. My fear of heights stopped me from accompanying Basil on most of his treks in the Western Ghats (in the state of Maharashtra). However, I did have my own taste of the perils of the winding ghats, in my childhood, during our bi-annual, inter-state bus ride from Mumbai to my hometown in Karnataka. The word ‘ghat’ loosely translates as mountain/winding road/hillside in most of the local languages (Kannada, Malayalam, Tamil, Marathi). Honestly, it’s a nightmare for a person with motion sickness and can give even the most confident traveller a run for their money.

Mumbai to Lonavala

When international travel re-opened in India, most of our friends started going on overseas trips and an equal number migrated abroad. We were one of the very few who had done the opposite. I had lost most of my confidence in travel and couldn’t think of a road trip in the wettest season of the year — the monsoon. We chose to visit the hill station of Lonavala because it is barely two hours away from Mumbai (Bombay) and is a treasure trove of memories for us. We’d either continue staying in Lonavala for the rest of the week-long trip or head to the next hill station in the Western Ghats of Maharashtra — depending upon how my spirits lifted. I had a tough time keeping my anxiety in check on the night before our road trip. It’s not that I didn’t trust Basil’s driving or the capabilities of our new car, I just didn’t trust my own instinct anymore. It’s as if my travel memory had been wiped clean and I was doing the first trip of my life.

Getting out of Mumbai is quite complicated and time consuming because of the traffic and changing routes. We started around 6:00 a.m. in the morning and didn’t get much rain in the city or on the Mumbai-Pune Expressway. The route is quite scenic in the monsoon and almost every leaf was painted green after a fresh downpour. We stopped at Panvel (about an hour later) to have vada pav (a traditional Maharashtrian snack of bread and potato patty) and a hot cup of chai (tea). Honestly, that vada pav hit the spot and I could feel my excitement slowly return.

Getting budget accommodation, with picturesque views, in tourist spots that surround Mumbai can be quite hard. It’s easier to get budget accommodation in scenic locations in Shimla or Manali (northern mountain towns) instead. That’s how unbridled tourism changes the fabric of a place. A couple of new budget hotels have cropped in recent times and they’re all right for a night’s stay — if you’re okay with basic amenities and no view. Since a sizeable chunk of tourism in these hill stations comes from Mumbai or Pune, you’d always find an international food chain — even in the middle of nowhere. It was hard to ignore the stark contrast between the derelict village road and the signboard screaming for our attention.

We reached Lonavala with no plan in mind and and plenty of time to kill before check-in. We were starting to experiment with slow-travel and this trip would set the template for the rest of our trips across India. I’ve visited Lonavala on multiple trips before, and yet, I was totally taken by the calming view of the nondescript road and fog over the mountain tops. Back in the day, when we were just starting out, and struggled with money, Basil and I had made a day trip to Lonavala using the local state transport bus (ST) . We had surely come a long way since then.

Marathi is widely spoken in the state of Maharashtra. We studied Marathi, as a second language, right upto high school; Hindi being our third language (I opted for French just before college). I’d say I’m reasonably fluent in spoken Marathi and whenever I travel within Maharashtra (barring Mumbai) — I’m happy to put my skills to the test. Although, these days I struggle with being multi-lingual, and Korean is the first language that comes out of my mouth after English.

Movies have always been my window to understanding the finer nuances of a culture and a tool to get a better grasp of the spoken language. India’s rich linguistic heritage is echoed in its thriving regional cinema (e.g. RRR). I dislike the word regional, because that’s a sloppy way to differentiate between local language films and their more popular big brother — Bollywood (or mainstream/commercial Hindi cinema). Marathi movies have certainly evolved from my childhood days. Directors such as Nagraj Manjule, Chaitanya Tamhane and Avinash Arun have proven to be harbingers of change and have paved the way for a new age of Marathi cinema. When it would in rain in Seoul, I’d sometimes watch a Marathi film and reminisce my life back in Mumbai. Avinash Arun’s semi-autobiographical movie, Killa, was one such movie that’s etched in my mind and captures the magic of the rains and rural Maharashtra through the eyes of a 11-year-old boy.

Lonavala Lake & Waterfalls

The monsoon is the best time to experience the natural beauty of the Western Ghats. We thought of enjoying a bird’s-eye view of Tiger Point before heading to our hotel (near the highway). It’s hard to miss Lonavala Lake just next to the bridge. A carpet of green had enveloped the ground that surrounded the lake and the skies had their share of drama with grey clouds.

After a spell of heavy rain, water trickles from the neighbouring hills and gives birth to waterfalls We were early and had skipped most of the tour vehicles and tourists from the neighbouring cities. On the way back, we weren’t as lucky and we didn’t stop for that long. Parking is hard to find here — especially when the traffic picks up.

Tiger Point

The route to Tiger Point was quite an adventure. The visibility had reduced significantly and it was hard to see beyond a couple of meters. Most of the local shops were closed and there weren’t many cars on the road.

The village road took a steep turn upwards and each hairpin curve had me holding on for dear life. The fog did an excellent job of hiding whatever was below those curves. I didn’t want to think about what lies beneath the fog. It’s always good to have a reference point whilst driving in the fog. Normally, nobody wants to follow a state transport (Aka ST) bus. However, we didn’t mind having a bright red bus to show us the way to the hill top. This bus brought back old memories of me travelling from Mumbai (Dadar East) to Panvel (Kalamboli) for my weekly Space Physics lectures at the Indian Institute of Geomagnetism (IIG). Most of my friends would never believe that I travelled by ST buses in my life.

The view at Tiger Point was a no-show. I wasn’t disappointed though because the fog had created quite a unique atmosphere at the location. I’ve learned that you cannot control nature, the weather, or local disruptions during travel. Situations can change in a matter of minutes. Rather than having regrets — it’s wiser to be grateful for the experience you’ve had.

What makes Tiger Point a top tourist draw? It has to be its jaw-dropping mountain views. In summer, on a clear day, the cascading peaks and blue skies make it a sight for sore eyes. I hadn’t been as lucky as Basil who had managed to capture these views in the month of May.

There was only one stall open in the morning and we were feeling a bit cold and hungry. I was hesitant to eat from a street stall and wasn’t sure how my nervous stomach would handle it. However, fried onion bhajjis (pakoras) and chai are perfect for a chilly, rainy day in the hills.

We didn’t have the ST Bus as a reference point on the way back. Thankfully, a white car became our beacon in the fog. We tailed it right till we reached a point where we could see without any problems. Most cars and even autorickshaws had turned on their headlights/emergency lights and were following lane discipline. The local rickshaws were the true rockstars because the road can be slippery when wet and driving in these conditions requires some amount of bravado.

Bhaja Caves

The weather gets very wet in the month of August and it didn’t make sense for us to explore other tourist points in Lonavala. I was reasonably confident about hopping to the next hill station: Panchgani. However, it wouldn’t be fair to write off Lonavala this quickly. This hill station is known for its caves, trekking courses, and adventure resorts. Bhaja Caves have always been on the top of Basil’s list and he’s visited it on multiple occasions. Strangely, I’ve never visited these stunning caves. Last May, he took his younger brother, sister-in-law, and 5-year-old nephew to his favourite tourist point in Lonavala. I’ll try recounting their experiences.

While summer might be perfect for those clear views of the hills, it might be a bit hard for tiny tots to climb up to the caves. Basil’s nephew made it to the top much to the surprise of his parents. I believe there’s a well demarcated trail to the top, but it could get slippery during the monsoon.

I’ve always been amazed by India’s diversity in terms of geography, people, language, and history. Bhaja Caves are a fine example of ancient architecture and history. I find it hard to imagine a collection of ancient Buddhist rock-cut caves about 400 m above a hill top. These caves date as far back as the 2nd Century BC and offer important insights to the beliefs and practices of the people of that era.

Stupas (monuments holding relics of Buddhist monks) are a prominent feature of the ancient monastic complex. I haven’t visited any Buddhist caves (barring Kanheri Caves) in Maharashtra and these pictures have piqued my interest in visiting similar sites in the future. The neighbouring caves of Bhedse and Karla (not in pictures) are also quite a tourist draw. The Archaeological Society of India (asi.nic.in) is a good starting point for planning a cave exploration trip in the region.

Pawna Lake

Pawna Lake is a scenic getaway that’s quite popular for camping these days. Last April, Basil had a marketing offsite at a Resort near Pawna Lake and that’s how I heard about it. It was one of the options we were looking at initially, but camping in the monsoon could be uncomfortable and I’m not sure if most camps are operational during the rains. Pawna is also about 20 km from Lonavala and is perfect if you want a tranquil getaway.

Our journey in Lonavala (Aug 22) was pretty short and the rain made it impossible for us to go outside again. After staying for a night at a hotel near the highway, we drove down to Panchgani on the next day.