Where the Trail Disappears

Offbeat Trails in Matheran — A Summer Sunday

 

the woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

 

Robert Frost

 

Ask anyone who’s been to Matheran on a long weekend and they’ll tell you the same thing — beautiful, yes, but packed. The toy train crawls up full of excited families. Dasturi Point swarms with holidaymakers the moment you step off. The main market is all noise and horse dung and sugarcane juice stalls. Cheerful, festive, loud. And honestly, fine for most people. But I’m not most people when it comes to this.

I like quiet. I like places that aren’t on anyone’s itinerary. So when Chakram Hikers put up a plan for “Offbeat Trails in Matheran” — not the usual viewpoints, not the promenade, but the interior forest paths that most visitors never even know exist — I jumped on it without a second thought.

It was end of summer. Not a whisper of pre-monsoon showers yet, and the humidity was sitting heavy on everything. I wasn’t entirely sure what I was walking into. But Matheran’s forest is evergreen — it doesn’t negotiate with seasons. It stays green and dense whether the rains have come or not. That was reason enough. I registered.

Sunday Morning, 5:40 AM

When the world was still deep in sleep, I was already at the Chakram Hikers office in Mulund. 5:40 am on a Sunday morning. There’s a particular kind of person who shows up for a trek at this hour — quietly excited, no complaints, ready. By 6 am, the full group had gathered. We set off immediately.

Breakfast stop at Chowk, then onward through the ghat section — that winding climb that always feels like the journey shifting gears — up to Neral, and then the drive to Dasturi Point. Even at that early hour, Dasturi was already filling up. Sunday in peak summer vacation. Families, horses, e-rickshaws (yes, they’ve allowed those now, though the horses still outnumber them by a comfortable margin). We found a spot near the parking area, did a round of introductions, and gathered around Rajashri for the briefing. By 9 am, boots on trail.

The Moment the Forest Takes Over

The first trail started right near the parking area. Within minutes, we were in deep forest. Just like that — the crowd, the noise, all the holiday chaos of Dasturi, gone. Like someone had turned off a switch. The path climbed gradually at first, then swung toward an open section where the ridge opened out beautifully. Neral spread below us, the surrounding villages quiet in the morning haze, the mini train route threading through the valley. And to the north, Panorama Point visible in the distance.

We reached Mount Barry, one of the highest points on this plateau — a clearing ringed with green, a moment to catch your breath and take it all in. And then back into the trees.

This is where it got interesting. No marked trails. No signboards. No reassuring arrows telling you where to put your feet. Just forest — and our leader Rajashri.

Matheran’s name literally means ‘the wooded head’ — and standing in the middle of it, you understand why. The plateau is dominated by the Anjani, the Ironwood tree. These are old, serious trees with trunks that look like they’ve been hewn from dark stone, bark fissured and dense, roots that grip the laterite rock like they’ve been making that argument for centuries. Around them, thick lianas loop and drape and cross the path at every angle — some as wide as a forearm, hanging in long arcs like ropes left behind by someone who never came back.

With that canopy sealed above us, the heat never really arrived. Not even in early June. The forest absorbed it somewhere up in the green ceiling and sent back only shade.

Rajashri led us through the unmarked paths with full, unhesitating confidence — the kind that only comes from years in the same forest. No pausing, no backtracking. We followed, picking our way carefully: thick vines at face level, stones hiding under dry leaves, fallen logs that demanded either a step-over or a duck-under. We were the only ones here. Completely alone in the middle of a forest full of weekend crowds two kilometers away. No man’s land, in the best possible sense.

The sounds were everything. Birdsong in layers — multiple species, overlapping, each in its own register and pitch, none of them caring about us. A bulbul somewhere in the canopy above. The sharp, brief alarm call of a monkey that spotted us well before we spotted him — and then the small drama of the troop shifting through the branches. Our own footsteps on dry leaves and stone. The occasional crack of a twig. If we were very lucky, somewhere up in the high branches, the Shekru — the Malabar Giant Squirrel, Maharashtra’s state animal, russet and cream and almost comically large for a squirrel — might have been watching us pass with mild curiosity.

The valley opened to our right as we went deeper. Around 11 am, we reached the pathway leading to Panorama Point. The view from there laid everything out — the valley to the left, Shri Malang gad (situated near Kalyan) floating in the haze in the distance, the Gadeshwar dam near Panvel, the ridge and route leading to Fort Peb with the fort itself visible, and on a cliff face directly opposite us, an idol of Lord Ganesh, known as Kadyavarcha Ganapati.

We reached Panorama Point, found shade, sipped water, and said very little. That kind of quiet doesn’t need filling. By noon we were back near the parking area — about 5 kilometres of trail behind us.

Railway Tracks, a Horse Pond, and the Temple in the Trees

We continued on the railway tracks for a while — the narrow-gauge line the toy train uses, cutting through the middle of everything. Opposite the MTDC resort, we turned right and stepped back into the forest.

First crossing: a pond used to water the horses. Matheran runs on horsepower in the original sense — no automobiles allowed, so the horses are the town’s primary transport, the e-rickshaws being only a recent concession. The horses stood around the pond with a kind of ancient, unhurried patience. This pond is fed by a Simpson tank, little away from this point. Beyond, the valley opened to our right, and somewhere below, the toy train route ran just under Panorama Point. A train went past at some point and we waved at it like children. Nobody questioned it.

PC Rajan Mahajan

Deep forest again. Green canopy again. The same beautiful hush settling back in. By 1 pm we reached the Vetaleshwar Temple.

Next to the temple, a stream runs alongside the path. In monsoon it becomes a proper, roaring waterfall. Right now it was completely dry, with only a few small pools left in the hollows of the rock. We climbed the boulders and followed the waterfall’s memory — the worn channels, the polished surfaces, the way the rock had been shaped patiently over years by water — all the way to the edge where it drops into the valley. The view from there was the ridge to Fort Peb, sharp and handsome to our right. And the forest at this point was thicker, darker, and even in the dry heat it held a faint smell of moisture, like it was keeping the memory of the last rain somewhere in its roots.

We spent a few quiet minutes at the edge, then came back to the temple for lunch. By now everyone was properly hungry. Tiffins came out and got passed around — nobody precious about food on a trek, everybody sharing. The highlight, by some distance, was Rajashri’s walnut banana cake. One of those things that would taste good anywhere but tastes extraordinary when you’re sitting on a boulder in the forest, legs tired, grateful to be exactly where you are, and someone puts it in your hand.

Lemon Juice, Garbett Point, and the Long Walk Back

By 2 pm we were moving again. Back to the MTDC resort junction, then onward toward Aman Lodge. A little ahead, a stall selling fresh lemon juice. That stop required no discussion. Cold, tart, sharp — exactly what a summer afternoon in the Sahyadris is asking for.

We took a left onto the marked trail toward Garbett Point. Thick forest again, the valley visible to our right, the market area and hotel on plateau of Matheran somewhere beyond. Another hour of walking, and below us appeared Garbett Wadi — a small settlement tucked into the hillside like it had been there since the beginning and had no intention of going anywhere. Surely a place to be marked for stay in monsoon and enjoy the mystic cloudy weather away from otherwise crowded hill station.

At 4 pm, Garbett Point. Morbe dam waters shimmering to the right, Garbett Plateau spreading below. We took a few minutes. Then headed back.

Rajashri changed the return trail and brought us directly back to Dasturi Point. Now the Matheran market appeared on our left beyond the valley in Western direction. Just before we reached Dasturi, Mount Barry appeared again , in distance to North. Perhaps waving goodbye to us with an invite to be back in monsoon.

The tiredness had arrived fully by now — that settling weight of a long day on your feet, the humidity, the continuous sweating, the post-lunch heaviness. But underneath all of it was that other thing. The one that’s harder to name. The deep, quiet satisfaction of a day spent on paths that weren’t made for tourists, in a forest that wasn’t performing for anyone.

By 5 pm, Dasturi Point. Lemon juice again, a perfect remedy for tired soul & body. A brief feedback session, and everyone said some version of the same thing: loved every minute, want to do this again, and definitely in monsoon — when those dry stream beds are roaring and the forest becomes something else entirely, with different shades of green and that peculiar aroma brought in by fresh vegetation.

My heartfelt thanks to Team Chakram Hikers , Leader Rajashri and Co-leaders Nachiket and Bhushan. We had a wonderful group of trekkers , witty, helpful and  full of enthusiasm. Thanks to all for making this a memorable experience.

It was a time to head back home , with heavy hearts full of memories.

PC Rajan Mahajan

Total distance:  Approx. 15 km  |  Organized by : Chakram Hikers ,Mulund |  Leader: Rajashri , Co Leaders –Nachiket, Bhushan |  Date/Season: June 7, 2026, Late summer, pre-monsoon