Beyond Backwaters: A Sustainable Journey Through Kerala's Waterways

Kerala is a land whose myriad interlinked waterways create a unique blue-green landscape that we all drool over. With over 40 rivers flowing westwards down its rainforests, the mighty Arabian Sea pushing inland and eastwards, and its celebrated backwaters smack bang in the middle of these two opposing flows, water literally shapes everything here.

The problem though, is that the brunt of the climate crisis is felt even harder. There is increased tidal flooding, rising salinity in freshwater sources and dwindling marine life, all of which impacts on the livelihoods of native communities.

Arriving in Fort Kochi for the first time, I set off on multiple canoe journeys that felt like gripping National Geographic documentaries, each one narrated by these wise waters. As I followed the seawater from the coast all the way inland to the Periyar River, I realised that sensitively planned ecotourism can indeed serve a greater purpose.

Gliding Among Mangroves

It’s dawn on my first day in Kochi. My local guide and naturalist, Gishnu from The Blue Yonder, greets me warmly and introduces me to the day’s mangrove trail in Malappuram on Vypin island—a linear landmass that lies between the Arabian Sea and Kochi’s backwaters.

With the tide low, we set out for a two-hour punting experience. As our canoe glides gently through dense thickets, Gishnu shares insights about the numerous mangrove species of the region and their role in combating rising sea levels. He also highlights the diverse wildlife that inhabits these super forests—migratory birds, otters, crabs and molluscs. As I listen, I also scan the mudflats where I notice a pair of black-headed ibises cautiously tiptoeing through the spike-like roots.

The air in these swamplands seems so still that the only sounds are the pleasant calls of birds. I reach for my phone to capture the moment but our canoe hits something floating. Gishnu pulls it out and grimly says, “These plastics never cease!” He then explains his company’s upcycling initiative, where all the plastic debris is sent to a social enterprise to be converted into pellets for road construction. “Travellers like you directly benefit local initiatives protecting these critical habitats,” he adds. I let that thought fully sink in.

Pleasure Meets Purpose

After a tiring day, Gishnu promises me a refreshing dining experience for the evening. We drive past incredibly scenic landscapes, sometimes on a narrow strip of road flanked by backwaters on either side, other times beneath dense canopies of forests. Finally, we arrive at Ezhikkara, a village further north of Kochi. At a local fisherman’s home, we don life vests to embark on another adventure through the Veeranpuzha backwaters. I immediately notice how the Chinese fishing platforms here stand alone in the middle of the lake, unlike the ones at Fort Kochi which jut out from the mainland. A couple of fishermen are readying up for the evening’s catch as crows and ospreys circle above, waiting to grab their share.

Prasad, the local fisherman, pushes his long bamboo pole against the lakebed to propel our boat. Gishnu starts to explain how the changing ocean ecosystem is impacting local lives. “Fishers are facing reduced catches due to rising salinity, which is leading to a significant decline in their income in recent years. Many are leaving fishing altogether, seeking alternatives to support their families,” he says.

As I contemplate these complex challenges, our canoe glides towards a rustic fishing platform—my dining location! I can see steamed tapioca, pineapple chutney, bean curry, rice and Sulaimani tea, all set under a magical twilight sky. Gishnu tells me the food is lovingly prepared by Prasad’s wife and that my meal is a supplementary source of income for their family. 

I'm humbled. Yet again, I’m seeing firsthand how ecotourism can blend pleasure with purpose.

A Last Ditch Effort

An intimate and up close river voyage which crosses uninhabited islands and moves over the changing course of water is far from my definition of the word “cruise.” But my third canoe ride, this time with Sajeev, a local historian, is exactly that: cosy and enlightening.

We observe the incredible life along the Periyar’s riverbank—birds flitting through the trees, fishermen casting their nets and children playing by the water’s edge. Our boat then changes course, turning into Chalakudy, a major tributary, as we navigate further upstream. From a distance, I notice something odd when Sajeev promptly fills in, “Yes, what you see ahead is literally a mound of sand blocking the entire river. It is a mammoth effort to save the freshwater that lies beyond from mixing with the brackish water that we are on.” 

This is another result of the sea water influx. Desperate times; desperate measures.

Stepping down onto the pile of sand at last, I take a moment to pause and reflect. I spent the major part of the last two days drifting along different water bodies. It has been thrilling and deeply transformative at the same time.

“Water does shape everything here,” I concur. And it has shaped me, too, into a more responsible traveller.