The first cool breezes arrive in the Andaman Islands in October, rustling through the coconut palms as if they are whispering the arrival of a new season. The oppressive humidity of the monsoon months has retreated by then, leaving behind a washed-clean archipelago where the light seems sharper, the skies clearer, and the seas less troubled. For those with a rucksack slung over their shoulder, tracing the slow, salt-scented edges of these islands, backpacking in Andaman Island during this time feels like stepping into a world caught between tropical languor and festive anticipation.
October is a month of beginnings here. The days are warm, but not searing; the nights, cool enough to invite you outside. Rain still visits, though only in fleeting, playful bursts, enough to darken the sand and freshen the scent of frangipani in the air. Travellers find themselves wandering empty beaches—Wandoor, Radhanagar, Vijaynagar—where the only footprints are their own, and the horizon is a continuous wash of cobalt and silver.
By November, the islands begin to hum quietly with the arrival of more visitors. It is still early in the season, and the atmosphere remains unhurried. The fishing boats paint their small wakes on the glassy sea each morning, returning by noon with baskets of red snapper and barracuda for the coastal shacks to grill. In Port Blair, the market is bright with fruit—custard apples, bananas, and the first pineapples of the season—and ferries depart for Havelock and Neil with the unflustered regularity of an island rhythm. It is, for many, the best time to visit Andaman, when the sun leans softly on the skin and the water holds the temperature of a long, luxurious bath.
December brings a change of tempo. The festive season arrives, and with it, a gentle surge of energy. Havelock’s beach cafés glow with fairy lights; Neil Island’s sandy lanes echo with the sound of bicycles rolling lazily past palm groves; dive shops are alive with chatter about visibility.