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RJ Kaustubh

RJ Kaustubh

The good folks over at 94.3 Radio One recently had me over as part of their #jobswitch and it was a pleasure being there.

RJ Annie, who hosts Mumbai on Demand, was an absolute pleasure to work with and I could tell right from our first call, where she was excited about being on the water –

…I can’t swim, so I will definitely need a jacket!! – RJ Annie, before we’d even met.

For her jobswitch, she had to hit the water. I naturally wanted her to have a good time, so we took her out to Mandwa. The old training ground, and met up with Prafful at his watersports center on the other side of the Mumbai channel.

I would say the only thing that eclipsed the beauty of the day, was how pumped Annie was on becoming a kayaker. I’d drawn up a list of things she needed to do –

  • Load the kayak
  • Navigate to the beach
  • Kit up
  • Warm Up
  • Hit the water – Hard
  • Load the kayak
  • Enjoy the beach
  • Share her day

She handled everything from putting on a skirt to falling into the water on a rogue wave, like a PRO. Big shoutout to her! <3

You can watch her side of the story here –

Here’s a lovely shot of  her in action.

Annie out for a stroll
Annie expedition-ing

I was down in the offices to do my bit and it came out quite well. Do listen in here.  There were four segments across a one hour show. (Music not included 😉 )

Here’s me in action at the Radio One offices –

Time to hit the console

As always, PaddleHard

There are no roads

There are no roads

I leave Nitin with an unopened box and tell him to stitch things up while I get my gear ready. When I return I find the kayak trolley assembled, but missing the strap to tie a kayak atop it. He runs to get some rope. We never run short of rope. We have a car full of equipment. And everything has been over used. Including patience. If I looked closely, I could put someone on mars with what we have packed in our car. Make Elon Musk’s day. We fasten the kayak to the trolley, and I set down the winding path from MTDC’s lovely cottages down to the beach at Harihareshwar. 100 metres in, the road ends in stairs. 19 feet long, and a fibre hull, is not going down stairs on a trolley.

Nitin and I carry it down. Past the stairs. Through the thorny bush. The pebbles turn to white shells. Each intent on cutting through. Shells turn to rock outcrop. And through it is a small sandy square. 3 metres wide. Launch pad.

I adjust the paddles. Check my watch. Time is always against us. Tide in, Tide out. Winds building up. Sun setting. Sun holding that full frontal position. Lift the skirt. Butt in the kayak. Leg over. Leg in. Two sharp paddle strokes. Turn to wave bye. Two sharp paddle strokes. Cover the mouth of the kayak with my skirt. Two sharp paddlestrokes. Release rudder line. Press hard on the left pedal. Paddle Hard.

You find yourself at a calm beach. You check your course. You scare the gulls with some sharp paddle strokes.

You find yourself at a turbulent beach. You brave the white breakers. You get tossed. A rude awakening in the morning. Water in the kayak if your skirt isn’t on. You tumble out. If the waves aren’t doing it for you, you drag your kayak to shore. Upturn. Check three compartments. Sponge it out. Start again. You get hit again, but you break through. Secure everything. Cap, glasses, cameras, phones, water bottles, food. If it’s not in a bag tied down or in a hatch locked away, you might as well have thrown it in yourself.

You find yourself at a creek. The wind blows, and the tide takes you in directions you haven’t mapped out for the day. You’re 4 kms off your course. You’re veering close to the breakers at the mouth. There is a buoy that probably means something you don’t want to know. There are small eddies set up you can’t navigate past. You recalibrate. You can probably sit there and google it, if everything stands still. But it doesn’t. The only law out here is Murphy’s.

You find yourself at a rocky face. You take in the sheer immensity of it. In Gujarat you wouldn’t find one. In Maharashtra you can’t miss them. Big majestic hills. Sheer face. Brown. Black. There is white breaking foam. And waves are building up on starboard. You surf your way through. You cut through. You recalibrate. Sun to the right, sun to the left. Point right out at sea. You escape, you press hard on the left pedal.

You cross a rocky face protruding at sea. Only you don’t know. Your route says straight. Only the mainland opens out to your left for miles. You have 7 miles to the next knuckle, and you’re suddenly 4 kms off of shore to your left. The wind trumpets your arrival and picks up the beat. Big swells start forming behind you. As one picks you up from behind the one in front hasn’t swept through the 19 feet of white kayak you’re in. Your nose is in the drink and you think you’re coming to a nosedive. A grinding halt. But your speedometer says you’re top speeding.  Your downwind has had a look at your due-south course, but the on-shore waves are from WNW. Another day of choosing the lesser of two evils. You’re doing  a great speed. But where was your initial bearing. Atleast you’re not bored.

You hit a sandbar. Sure they’re lovely islands of sand sitting less than a meter under the sea. This one stretches for miles into Harihareshwar. And its turning. A fishing vessels slows down to see the fun. 4 Kms back, Nitin has climbed up the rock, through the mine field of shells, past the thorny bush, up the stairs, and is watching from the MTDC canteen. The kindly old man who’s serves us food for 2 days has his hand over his open mouth. ‘He knows there are waves there? He’s going to be thrown in.’

I watch the breakers. Paddle left. Paddle right. I don’t slow down. I’ll need the momentum if I need to get out. I watch a wave 10 meters ahead.  Three metres to it’s right is another one. Closer still in a circular arc white tips herald another. You’re living life a meter at a time. I take 500 strokes to a km . A stroke is 2 metres. My kayak is 5.5. I need 3 strokes to take me past a point. And a wave is fairly long. I dart right into the thick of it. Past the wave to the right. Bank hard on the rudder. Take it out to sea. Take one breaker head on. Bank left. A rogue wave takes me on the side. My spray skirt takes a sip of the turbulent sea. I press hard on the right paddle, and take another breaker at 30 degrees. Once I get the tip over, I slow down over the side. One more wave but it’s going to come from behind. I need to get between two consecutive waves. I can’t slow, and I have to time this. As it starts to form, I approach at full speed. It starts to rise and I slip over. It forms a meter to my left. Breaking white surf. The next one starts forming 2 meters to the right. I’m through.

I’ve passed through it. If I knew my audience was to my right now, I would have bowed. I take a second, and I recalibrate. There are no roads out here. Because you’re making them every minute.

Paul’s run

Paul’s run

Day 7. Murud to Anjanwel
Murud, ahead of Harnai has to be one of the nicest beaches we’ve seen so far. Stretching for kilometers of white sand, and the gurgliest green water, it was ideal to sit back on a hammock and let the wind sweep down from up north. So tempting was the idea that I decided to abandon a morning departure for a more suited evening one, when the wind kicked up and I had it behind me.

The place we were staying at was right on the beach and the hammocks hung low on palm trees. Perfect. We’d arrived the night before and enjoyed the solitude of the place. Murud charges you Rs. 20 for car entry, which is a brilliant practice I think. I’m guessing it goes to the cleanliness of the place. The spot we had landed on 5 kms back was in stark contrast. But Harnai was a brilliant place to find fish. And we found that Santosh is from a village here. His friends on a fishing trawler had spotted him coming in with a white ‘hodi’. And he welcomed the switch to the evening as it meant a longer day at Harnai for him. It also meant freshly caught fish for us.

I used the morning to get some rest. Felt good to sleep in a little, though by 8:30 I couldn’t sleep any more. Since today was the first real rest day, minus the avil-sleep-enduced-haze that was day 5, we decided to get the Kayak ready. Shanj was particularly amused when I took a red bucket and red mug out to clean my Kayak. You must understand that my Kayak likes looking sharp. So a good splash and scrub later, she was gleaming in the sun. As we let her soak some sun, I fielded questions from the other guests staying there, and then the owner of the resort. I told him how he should have some kayaks here as he has a pristine beach and brilliant wind to kayak on. He told me he or the manager would come down for the launch in the afternoon.

I went back to my kayak and Shanj and I plastered all logos that hadn’t gotten covered yet onto the kayak. Once we were done, she looked a beauty. Mom and dad arrived, having refilled the petrol tanks for the safety boat. And Santosh had made good on his promise of fish. It was time to get going. After a lovely meal of prawns koliwada and prawn curry and rice, we got my hydration drink and gopro’s ready. It was time to hit the water.


Kayak with all the logos in place
Looking sharp

Our driver was unusually awake, having had a nice night’s sleep on a bed outside in the open at his own insistence. He helped take my kayak to the edge of the water and I started my stretching. The manager showed up with two more friends and a small send off party assembled. A car drove at great speed past me and ran a half-circle around me and my kayak. Everytime this has played out in my head, there were Fast-n-Furious groupies in blue blouses and tinted glasses in the front seat. So I was a little disappointed to see four, obviously afternoon-drunk, gujurati boys with 4 day stubbles.

As the manager took to telling them off for it, and assuring them a good thrashing, I took my kayak into the water. I’d just got onto the water and barely dropped my rudder when Boom. A meter high wave hit me square in the face. I was soaked. As I looked up to laugh into the go-pro, I saw it lying face down. That was a strong wave. I straightened it with my paddle and headed out.

Hit by waves leaving shore



Hello GoPro. Straightening the camera
Hello GoPro. Straightening the camera

That sweet afternoon breeze was kicking in and I could feel it. It evaporated the heat and I felt strong. I paddled past my safety boat that was looking a little undone by the waves as it approached the beach for my mom and Shanj to get on board. I kept paddling and the waves kept getting stronger. I was having a good time. The green water swayed and snapped and lashed out, as I stroked on. It would lift me up and set me surfing, bow in the air. A real surf. I didn’t feel the heat, or the wetness. Just the wind behind me and the sight of the approaching cliff. By the time the safety boat caught up (in true safety boat style, there was more going on there, than on the kayak) I’d completed my first hour. I’d clocked in 9 kms. A great start. And I didn’t want to look back. But the swell was strong, and on three occassions I came close to being in the drink. I put my earphones away and concentrated. When the first go-pro ran out of juice, I caught up with the boat and we attempted a change. It was terrible, as the boat drifted with every swell and I was furious when the Vishal rammed my kayak with the bow of the boat. I paddled past and headed out.

The second hour was not the most pleasant as Mom looked a little rattled on the boat. I decided she doesn’t enter the boat again, a decision that she would crib about later in the day. It was a little unnerving and I kept the safety boat in sight. I was still doing good time and clocked another 7.5 kms in the next hour. By the time we reached what appeared to be Dabhol, I was doing pretty fine. I considered crossing over to Guhagar on the other side of the rock, but chose against it. A decision that proved to be good, as there’s a massive Jetty on the other side of the rock and I’d have had to do a excess 2 kms with the fading light.

Paddling Hard. Staying Dry.
Paddling Hard. Staying Dry.

Coming into Anjanwel, we had a rough time, with the swells getting really strong again. I waited a moment to bail some water out. (The first day I really needed a spray skirt and missed it.) And then I dove in. As the safety boat had headed in first to find a jetty, I was puzzled to see it doing cirles. There was a sandbar. And a flock of seagulls for 300 metres standing in the middle of the water. As Santosh turned the boat around to find a mouth to enter the creek, I made straight for the sandbar. My Skin was lose and I was chafing, so I hit the bar, and took it right off. Then draining the rest of the water out the kayak, I carried my kayak right across the sandbar. It was fun. To be a km out from land and walking. This must be what Jesus felt like. I put the kayak back in the water, just as the boat rounded the sandbar and brought the boat around. I paddled the remaining km through the fishing boats and saw the crowd of people assembled on the road looking at my white ‘hodi’. In the distance, over the hill, I could see the 6 twenty-storey-high chimneys of a Gas Power station and here on the low-tided beach 20 women fishing in the mud.

I’d clocked in 24.5 kms in 3 hours and 13 minutes. And was at Anjanwel.

A little turbulent
A little turbulent

*Paul = Soumik Paul, captain of the IITD and hostel football team, who’s wedding I missed. The stretch I promised to dedicate to you Paulie. Wish you the best in your wedded life.

A slow kayaking day

A slow kayaking day

Another day of training started early and I was awake by 7. A look out at the water though sent me back to the covers. The tide was way out and there was no wind at all. Despite having to tackle the afternoon sun if I lingered, I decided to catch up on some much needed sleep. After a quick breakfast, I slept off for 45 minutes. Re-woke at 8:30 and was on the water by 9.

Conditions had improved marginally, and I set a decent pace down to the rocks just off Mandwa beach. The tide was out and I could clearly see the rocks. Just to highlight their presence, the breakers created white froth as they crashed on them. I steered well clear to the point of pointing towards bombay. Once sufficiently out of harms way, I turned south to coast down the coastline. Rounding the turn the is the north face of the mainland, I turned to find the blue fishing boat from yesterday. Abandonment is a thing. I dwelled on the loneliness of the boat for a few seconds and then carried on. About 4.5 kms into it, I had my first break. I saw a clearing in a beach I’d not docked at and pulled in; If for nothing else, but the beauty of this picturesque house / villa / resort on it.

Kayak against someone's sprawling house on the beach
Not a bad property is it? The house in the back’s not bad either.

I got back in the water quickly and made for Awas once more. This time I met the fishermen of Sasawane and had a quick chat. The sun was coming up quick and I didn’t linger. I was looking to head back after 7 kms but in the distance I saw a group of people playing on the beach. It seemed like cricket, but the love for games on the beach is something I couldn’t resist. So when I drew up alongside, I was happy to see that they were playing a real sport. Football. Before the breakers could toss me out the kayak I was on the beach, ready to join in.*

Football. Not cricket.
Who can resist a good game of football?

In return I let the eldest of the family sit in the kayak for as long as he could. Having had his fill of sea water, he re-enquired about my expedition. I got on with my training and had barely gone 200 metres, when a fish flew straight out the water and back in again. Such sightings are now a common thing, but when I say fish I mean, a fish the length of my arm and the height of my face. Short of a catapult, I could not fathom the power that would propel this, easily 5 kg, beast out the water and a metre into the air**. Barely had I had the time to say ‘Whosbeenfeedingyouyoumonster’ when it had gone back in. I’m not sure what he was doing getting some air time, but I think we both left with the impression that strange creatures abounded in the waters near Awas. As if by mutual understanding we decided to put each other out of our minds and paddle on. Paddle Hard fish.

The rest of my paddle was uneventful except when rounding back to the jetty, the tide had found it’s feet and was crawling up the beach. I hadn’t accounted for it, and at the lovely breakers that were so pronounced, I miscalculated my turn and found myself in the midst of the rocks. Feeling through the rises and falls around me, I gave the rocks the slip, but it was a bit of tricky business with the water falling and rising and waves hitting me from three sides for that minute I was hung. It quickened my heart rate a little and I have to think that Mr. Fly-So-High fish must have had a “that’ll teach you, you white-black-and-orange surface dweller” smile on his Fly-So-High lips.

I returned to a healthy lunch of chicken and rice. A few phone calls to sponsors and media ensued and I spent the afternoon recovering. After a quick snooze, I got back into gear and headed out a second time. I made for the fishing village of bodani aided by the light evening wind, which was a trickle compared to what I’ve had on this stretch in the recent past. The tide had gone back out again, and ahead of bodani I saw teams of fishermen in pairs, out a km from land but standing up at waist length.

Fishermen with their hand nets
Low tide means get the fishing net out to go shrimping

It made for a fun way to unwind with no wind in sight, and I spent some time going from one fisherman pair to the next. Once content they knew what they were doing, I headed back. Job done. The kayak back didn’t offer much excitement, but was an hour of paddling in the wind again. Finally back to shore, I practiced my re-entry without the jacket, and I must say it’s a lot easier. I’m tempted to tuck it in the back and pull it out only in emergencies.

*This is disputable, as the author might have been thrown out of the kayak by a vicious wave that didn’t respect the rules of kayaking. As there were no witnesses to this, (football is a very immersive sport) the author is entitled to deny this allegation entirely.

**No, I didn’t take a picture of this fish. But it would look something like this –

The goatee is a little misleading.