A pathway leading to the tip of the sea — in Kundrukadu, Covelong — has exerted a magnetic force on me, drawing me to its soft sands again and again. Discussed in this column, this trail connects to a stone groyne. From here, one can view a parallel stone groyne jutting into the sea. Located quite a distance away, this groyne is found in a space that is identified with Muttukadu. In my mind, together, these groynes represent the neck of a bottle lying on a floor with its contents spattered about. This metapahor is not far-fetched, for this section marks the beginning of the Muttukadu backwaters.
Every time I have walked down the groyne in Kundrukadu, I have been curious about what lay on the other side. Pure logic should have dissuaded me from exploring it — for, it is part of one system and cannot be recognisably different. Our lives are seldom steered by the rudder of logic and so, I found myself on the other side, early this week. I had always had a hint that this section would offer a distinctly different experience, and I was proved right.
Prince Frederick
A body of backwater, not connected to the celebrated Muttukadu backwaters, is integral to this section. Looking at this collection of water on a web mapping service, it resembles a small spill of ink from a fountain pen. But, it is imbued with a character and a charm that are out of proportion to its size.
Located behind the National Institute for Empowerment of Persons with Multiple Disabilities and the experimental field station of the Central Institute of Brackishwater Aquaculture (CIBA), there is access to this body of water as well as the beach that lies beyond it, through a well-laid concrete road. This approach road, branching off East Coast Road and located before the Muttukadu Boat House, also leads to a resort.
This small spatter of backwaters is integral to the work carried out at CIBA’s experimental field station. Aquaculture is practised in sections carved out of it. Paddle wheel aerators are at work, oxygenating these sections. In these waters, modernity and tradition seem to be in a tight clasp, as traditional fishermen in paddle boats range over one part of it, looking for fish.
What’s the takeaway for others, like me? Coupled with a visit to the beach nearby, the walk around the body of water is energising, largely because of the sights and the sounds surrounding it. There are trees on the eastern side, and in the morning, the air quivers with bird calls. In the waters, one can see long-legged waders foraging for food. A good number of painted storks zoom into view. On low-grown marine trees, cormorants are perched with their wings spread out to be dried. Of course, a pensive pond heron will greet your eyes at every turn.
Prince Frederick
The day is slightly spent and I am certain my field notes would have been more exciting, if I had been on attendance at the crack of dawn. As I head to the beach, taking a sandy pathway leading off the concrete road, I notice a mound of sea shells — there seems to be a touch of artistry to how the shells have been piled up.
As I hit the beach, I could see two other stone groynes, which are smaller, in addition to the one I had have always viewed with curiosity from Kundrukadu. The main groyne holds out an attraction for anglers and others looking for a striking view of the sea. I am told that there will be more anglers in the evening, when the possibility of hooking bigger fish is high.
The idea of a peaceful morning walk on the concrete footpath, to the accompaniment of avian music, will lead to me to visit this section, whenever I head to my quiet open-air retreat in Kundrukadu.
( Hidden Trails is a column that shows you how to be a tourist in your own city.)
