Cross Island is an uninhabited island located in Mumbai harbour, India, between the coast at Dockyard Road, and Elephanta Island. The island is host to an oil refinery and several large gas holders.
Coordinates: 18°57′N 72°51′E / 18.95°N 72.85°E / 18.95; 72.85
Cross Island, bearing the ruins of a fort is located about 400 m from Ferry Wharf on the east coast of Mumbai. The island is locally known as Chinal Tekdi.
It is sparsely inhabited by fisher folk although it seems to have no natural source of fresh water. At the base of the fort, some brick and mortar construction lies in dilapidated condition. It is obviously more recent as compared to the fort and seems to have been deserted by the occupants for unknown reasons. While there is no guided tour or regular transport available to reach the island, it is possible to get such a service from local fishermen around ferry wharf for about Rs. 1000 for a 6 seater boat.
The fort occupies almost the entire island and was perhaps built by the Portuguese or the British settlers. There are several cannons strewed across the fort which includes one very large gun. The top of the fort is much like a mound with one solitary large Ficus (Peepal) tree. From here one can see a unique and spectacular view of the Mumbai's Harbor precinct in the foreground and major buildings in the south end of the city in the background.
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Famous quotes containing the words cross and/or island:
“Passion is here a soilure of the wits,
We’re told, and Love a cross for them to bear;
Joy shivers in the corner where she knits
And Conscience always has the rocking-chair,
Cheerful as when she tortured into fits
The first cat that was ever killed by Care.”
—Edwin Arlington Robinson (1869–1935)
“The shifting islands! who would not be willing that his house should be undermined by such a foe! The inhabitant of an island can tell what currents formed the land which he cultivates; and his earth is still being created or destroyed. There before his door, perchance, still empties the stream which brought down the material of his farm ages before, and is still bringing it down or washing it away,—the graceful, gentle robber!”
—Henry David Thoreau (1817–1862)