Traveling, in my opinion, is about more than just crossing places off a list. It’s about those unforeseen moments, like the fragrance of damp soil after the first rain, the impromptu discussion with a stranger, or the warm cup of chai at a roadside shop. And during the 2024 monsoon, my heart guided me to Coastal Karnataka, a region I had only ever seen on postcards.
I didn’t have a big plan. No ten-day schedule with locations and times color-coded. “I want to see the sea in the rain,” was all that came to mind. And I did precisely that.
The First Sight of the Arabian Sea
Mangalore, a city that smells of the ocean and coffee beans, is where my trip started. The rain came in sheets so heavy that the platform resembled a moving picture, and the sky was a heavy blanket of gray as the train rolled in. To go to my hotel close to a beach, I drove. The driver kept telling me on the way that the sea was “angry” during the monsoon, but I believe he was exaggerating.
That first evening, I walked down to the beach, barefoot. The sand was damp, cool, and peppered with tiny shells. The waves crashed with a rhythm that felt both chaotic and calming. There were no tourists with selfie sticks, no beach shacks playing loud music. Just fishermen pulling in their nets, their silhouettes sharp against the fading light.
I sat there for hours, watching the tide rise, feeling the mist stick to my skin. I knew then that this trip would be about slowing down.
Taking a Bus Ride
I got on a rickety local bus that was going south toward Udupi the following morning. A bus full of schoolchildren, vegetable vendors, and drowsy office workers is, in my opinion, the best way to get a sense of a town. The air smelled of fresh jackfruit and damp raincoats, and the windows were foggy.
Coconut groves, flooded paddy fields, and small temples painted in vivid reds and yellows were among the constantly shifting landscapes outside as we drove. Every time we came across a river, it was aThe Island That Called Me and Maple Beach.
Malpe Beach and the Island That Called Me
Malpe Beach in Udupi isn’t the most peaceful location; it’s crowded, well-liked, and frequently lined with food vendors offering fried fish. I observed the fishermen fixing their boats as I strolled along the shore. I was then informed that St. Mary’s Island was only a short ferry journey away.
Regretfully, the ferry does not operate during the monsoon. I stood on the beach, disappointed, looking at the island’s dim silhouette in the distance. Desiring to go there but being unable to do so also had a certain beauty. I made a self-promise to go back during the dry season.
Food That Feels Like Home
Food in India is more than simply food; it’s a hug on a plate, as anyone who grew up there knows.I ate one dosa after another for the whole afternoon while I watched the rain outside a small restaurant. The proprietor, a gracious woman in her 50s, insisted that I had more food. My heart was as full as my stomach by the end, but I was scarcely able to move.
The Road to Gokarna
I traveled north to Gokarna by train from Udupi. The journey through lush forests, rivers, and cliffs, made the trip itself a delight. The hills in Gokarna have been rendered an unattainable shade of green by the rain.
Om Beach, Kudle Beach, and Half Moon Beach are the beaches that most people associate with Gokarna. Swimming is dangerous during the rains, so I chose to explore the town instead. The narrow lanes were lined with old houses, each with a red-tiled roof and a verandah dripping with rainwater.
I also went to the Maha Ganapati Temple, where the sound of bells and incense filled the air. Life here has a slower cadence. Even the store owners appear unhurried, happy to sit and converse over endless cups of tea.
One of my favourite days in Gokarna wasn’t about any landmark at all. I simply wandered — down dirt roads, past small farms, into forests where the only sounds were the chirping of insects and the occasional call of a bird.
I met a farmer who offered me freshly cut coconut. We stood under a tree, drinking the sweet water, talking about the weather and the price of rice. Neither of us asked the other’s name. At that moment, it didn’t matter.
That’s the thing about travel, the best memories are often born in moments you couldn’t have scheduled.
The Return Journey
When I finally boarded my train back to Mangalore, I felt the familiar bittersweet pull of leaving a place you’ve just started to understand. Coastal Karnataka had given me more than I expected, not in terms of attractions, but in quiet experiences.
I had seen seas that roared and whispered, eaten food that felt like family recipes, and met people whose kindness was effortless. I had learned to walk slowly in the rain without rushing to find shelter.
If you’re reading this in 2025 or beyond, wondering where to go next, maybe don’t chase the “best season” or the “most popular spot in India.” Instead, follow something smaller, a craving for rain, a whisper of the sea, or the promise of a plate of dosa. You might just find a trip that lingers long after the photos fade.
Share your unforgettable trip with us and let’s witness the beauty of India together.
