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Saturday, February 1st – Velsao Beach to Colva Beach, 17,173 km
Frank and I agree that this part of our respective trips is about leisure. It is warm and relaxing here, just what the doctor ordered. But sleeping in a tent is not conducive to sleeping in. The strange bird sounds and the rhythmic chanting of the waves makes me feel alike and I want to get up. Fernando and Maria have coffee ready but the time we have had our showers and packed up our tent and gear. This is all done in the most carefree pace. Fernando cooks up a great breakfast for us. Although we are paying they come sit with us like friends.
We have a swim before we get ready to leave. We load up our bikes as say our goodbyes. Frank wants to use the beach like a highway, a magical break from dealing with cars, scooters, trucks and buses. Where else have I ever ridden for hours down an endless, empty golden sand beach. In Canada, unspoiled beaches are still littered with seaweed and driftwood, but not here.
But it remains to be seen if this will work. Frank has wide mountain bike tires that resist sinking into the sand, but my tires are only an inch and a quarter (3.2 cm) wide and they sink in quite easily in the dry sand. Frank has to keep waiting for me until I figure where it is best to ride. That turns out to be on the outer edge of the wet sand, where the occasional aggressive wave will reach. Here the sand is packed without being too wet to be mushy.
This is so incredible. The beach is 100 m wide with palms, dunes or the occasional building on the outer edge. There no people here, just tracks of scooters or cars once in a while. A jeep passes us at one point, but generally we are alone in the sunshine. If Indians visit the beach, they come to walk along a boardwalk fully clothed to take the air, but not to bathe or tan and preferable not to walk on the sand. It goes on like this, kilometre after kilometre, with only fishing boats and distant ships on the sea. There is a soft, warm breeze and not a care in the world, no destination we have to reach. Frank just keeps grinning at me like he is in heaven. I am sure I am doing the same.
It feels like it will never end but in fact we are only cycling like this for an hour and a half. Still, it is totally memorable. Then we come across Colva Beach, the first festering sign of tourism that we have seen. It isn’t that bad yet, and in fact I would have thought this would be ideal if I was truly alone. There are fishing boats pulled up on the sand and beach resorts with lots of adjacent cabins and dozens of Western tourists and backpack types lying on the sand or sipping Margueritas on patios in front of the resorts. I have a mixed reaction to seeing all of this casual activity after having the amazing beach all to ourselves. This isn’t real India, or real Goa, but they are not the snooty type of middle class, middle aged tourists either.
We stop at Longuinhos Beach Resort first, the first one we see right out on the beach, but the prices for accommodation are much higher than what we have been used to. We like its thatched roof look though so we have a drink on the patio before continuing on to the town proper, half a kilometre further along a beach side road. There are many places with rooms and cottages, some attached to restaurants or bars. We settle for a place called Vailankanni Cottages, a block further from the beach on the road to Margao, the main town in south Goa. These cottages, being two blocks from the beach, are less than a third of the cost of Longuinhos. They are not as pretty but we don’t need to hang out here.
The stroll around the town, which is mainly resorts, bars, restaurants, places to rent bikes and a couple quiet churches. We find a restaurant with a patio and sip mango lassis at the bar while we wait for a table and our food. It is very easy to meet other travelers. We chat with several, including Germans, New Zealanders, South Africans, Israelis, Canadians and a Belgian woman. We are asked a couple times whether we are looking to share a house with other travelers, much like Mike and I did in Sagres, Portugal, at the end of the second week (Day 14).
But we aren’t staying here more than one night. Frank dislikes the party atmosphere and after our ride on the beach today, I rather agree with him. Still, we make the most of it for one night. We end up walking back to Longuinhos to sit at their beach side patio. The crabs are more obvious here with the brighter patio lighting. They glow white against the black night as they dart back and forth chasing the waves.
When it is time to return to our the cheap hotel we walk along the beach. The noise of the bar, which seemed fine when we were there, seems so loud and vulgar against the rustling of the palms and the slurping of the waves as walk away from the light. Gratefully, we have five minutes of near silence before we get to the next bar. Crabs of all sizes streak away from us, as fast as a frog’s tongue, as we approach, each disappearing into some invisible hole in the sand. They aren’t taking any chances. They wait until we are at least 30 m away before they re-emerge.
PHOTO 1: beautiful Frank
PHOTO 2: looking back north towards Velsao Beach
PHOTO 3: my silhouette (midday) with fishing boats
PHOTO 4: Longuinhos Beach Resort bar late in the day
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