I’ve travelled through Igatpuri by train between Mumbai and Nashik enough times to think about stopping there once. It was only on a spur-of-the-moment weekend trip when I found the time to experience its genuine beauty.
Getting there was part of it
The train journey from Mumbai to Igatpuri is one of those routes where the scenery earns its own attention independently of the destination. The Western Ghats announce themselves gradually as you leave the city behind. By the time the train begins its climb through the Kasara Ghat section, the hills are close enough on either side that the windows frame individual trees rather than a distant landscape. I’d seen this stretch dozens of times, and it still managed to hold my attention for the full 40 minutes it takes to climb through.
Igatpuri Railway Station has its peculiar charm of a hill-station stop. Most of the people passing through seem to be going somewhere else. Once I got off the train and stepped onto the platform with a bag in hand, I felt like I was somehow privy to some information that the other passengers didn’t have.
The mist was not optional
I arrived in July, which in retrospect was either a very good decision or a very wet one depending on which morning you asked me. The monsoon here is not the occasional shower variety. It is the kind of persistent, purposeful rain that rearranges your plans without asking permission. My first afternoon was largely spent watching water come off the roof of the guesthouse in a continuous sheet while eating a very good plate of poha the owner had made without being asked.
The other important feature of the scenery was the mist. The mist would sweep through the hills, turning the scenery every 20 minutes and closing off a valley, coming up, disappearing, and then closing again. I must admit that I spent too long standing there, observing this amazing spectacle.
Walking when the rain allowed
On the second morning, the rain slowed down momentarily for an actual walk, and I decided to follow the road leading to Vaitarna Lake with no special purpose in mind, apart from discovering where it led. While travelling along the road, one can see very unusual shades of green. Not the tree or the grass colour but something brighter.
The lake itself, when I reached it, was full and slightly ominous-looking under the cloud cover, with the hills on the far bank appearing and disappearing in the mist at intervals. I sat on a rock near the edge for a while, got progressively damper despite not being in actual rain, and decided this was still one of the better mornings I’d had in recent memory, which says something about what Igatpuri does to your standards for a good morning.
The tea situation in Igatpuri
Tea in Igatpuri is taken seriously, as a functional necessity rather than a lifestyle choice. Along the way, I noticed small tea stalls working all the time. During the two days of travel, I stopped there more often than I should have, just because it was very pleasant to be under the roof made of metal and drink tea when the rain started falling.
I did not find any remarkable restaurant or meal to report on, which is an honest thing to say. The food I had was simple and wholesome as expected in small Maharashtrian hill towns, without being particularly distinctive.
Why I’d go back to Igatpuri in the monsoon specifically
It is commonly known that travelling to hill resorts during the monsoon season is not recommended, as the weather would not be suitable for beautiful photos. However, I would strongly disagree with that concerning Igatpuri. This is because the fog and rain are not just some obstacles here but an important part of the landscape, without which the beautiful green hills wouldn’t look that impressive.
Several hotels in Igatpuri sit close enough to the main road and the lake route to make the walks I did easily manageable. Staying centrally also meant I could return to the guesthouse quickly whenever the rain coincided with my afternoon plans. That flexibility mattered more than I’d anticipated going in.
I left after two nights feeling like I’d arrived somewhere rather than simply passed through it, which is more than most train window impressions ever deliver.