Today was another delightful cycling day – ambling along and along, up and down with a few interesting things on the way, but just about the right length. 95km feels so much less than 110km – although the climbing was almost as much as yesterday.

Continue reading Day 25: Malvan to north of Jaitapur: 95km and 1020m of climbing →

 Today was a day of contrasts and also a day that turned into a ‘mega day’. We started as usual as the sun rose at 7am but Panaji wakes earlier than places further south and this time we were not alone on the road (although I would not say it was busy).

Continue reading Day 24. Panaji to Malvan (not Malvern). 112km. 1100m climbing. →

Time runs slowly on a bike. It is partly that there is so much going on around me and partly that nothing is going on and so there is time to think. It is just one of those paradoxes. It is day 23 but, at the same time, I feel we have only just started and that we have been on the bikes for months. The world I occupied before I left – with all its pressure and responsibility (and the world to which I will return) seems like another planet.

Here there is only the road, the kms clicking away and issues of food, hills, sustenance and the fascinating things to see along the way. That is totally absorbing and enough to keep at least part of the brain fully occupied.

Today we woke and got an early start. The first 12 km had a series of 200m hills which we knew would be tough and wanted to do in the early morning cool. We set off at 6.45am with our back lights and on before almost anyone else was around. But of course there are always early risers, including a group of young school children who were bussed to school to start at 7.30.

The hills did not disappoint – up to 14% in places – but were soon over. This was thick jungle on both sides of the road with little habitation. It is strange how small the tourist beach areas are – just a strip of a few hundred meters – then the natural vegetation takes over and remains in control.

We descended, climbed again and then descended finally to the beach road and breakfasted at Benaulim beach. There we met a retired Swedish man who spent 6 months of the year in Goa and 6 months in Sweden. He extolled the virtues of India as a place to live for part of the year – with which we largely agreed – and said this was his 11^th year! He is far from the only Scandinavian in Goa – we met another from Norway in the evening. Escape from Nordic winters we suspect.

We cycled on and met a friendly English couple on their bikes who were lost. A combination of our GPS and our large scale map broadly sent them in the right direction for Colva beach. We hope they got there!

On we went and, after a while, found ourselves on the road from Vasco de Gama Airport into Goa town (which is called Panaji – Old Goa being 11km further inland). This involved the usual game of “chicken” with larger vehicles as we strove to maintain our right to use 12” of road without having an offensive horn blasted in our eardrums.   However it all passed OK and we crossed the impressive bridge over the Maragoa Bay towards the original places where the Portuguese landed to claim this area for a different European state.

Panaji is a mixture of modern development and ancient waterfront Portuguese style buildings. We could have been in any part of Southern Europe (apart from the saris that is, but perhaps even then). We found our delightful hotel and apologised for turning up early – as we made better time than we thought.

We rested then thought we ought to see Old Goa, so abandoned the luggage and whizzed along the 11km along the river to Old Goa. This was a city which, in its day, was larger than London and Lisbon. The people have moved on – many to Panaji – but it remains with a world heritage site with loads of churches.

Two deserve mention. The Jesuit Church was massive – known as the Basilica of Bom Jesus (i.e “good Jesus” – but that may have meant “good Jesuits” as well). It had a massive statue of St Ignatius of Loyola, who founded the Jesuits, and the star attraction were the remains of St Francis Xavier. For centuries, a good set of relics brings in the crowds, and it was as true today as in the past. We were struck again that the vast majority of tourists in India are Indian – exploring the delights and heritage of their own country. Foreign tourism is a part of the beach business, but only a part because even then the Indian visitors massively outnumber those with tattoos.

Over the road was the largest Christian church in Asia, Goa cathedral. By comparison it was vast but slightly neglected. It had the feeling of a project that was commenced with all enthusiasm but where the money ran out when the structure was completed but before all the internal décor was paid for. As a result, the Church was both impressive and hauntingly beautiful.

Coming back to our bikes we met a couple of delightful and impressive MBA students, Abhinav Agrawal and Ahtesham Ali Sayyed, who we met and had talked to on the Kudle Beach near Gokana. It was a lovely coincidence and we wish them well in their studies and careers. Abhinav is the committed Arsenal supporter who, if he makes it to London, I promise to take to the Emirates (although I am hardly a good luck charm for the Gooners).

The wind was against us on the way back so it was a bit tougher. We then went out for a lovely meal in the old part of the town, in a hotel that was originally part of the Hippie Trail but now sells wonderful food in a room covered with drawings and saying from those on the “trail”.

So as you can see, today was another day when nothing really happened but then again so much happened.

Today was a day of multiple laughs. It was also the day we reached Goa, which seemed significant. Our first few km were not such a laugh, as we immediately had to tackle a steep hill, up to 14%, to climb away from Kudle beach. However, our legs were rested and fresh and it was soon over, and then we were treated to the rising sun as we crossed over the hill back over to Gokarna itself and then on along a quiet back coast road. After 13km we reached another ‘will there be a ferry across the river’ moments.   But as we drew up we could see the ferry on the other side. Soon we were loading up and the ferry filled with a gaggle of schoolgirls – some giggling, some moody, all with rucksacks slung over their backs; just like school children everywhere. Except this was a rather different commute across the palm fringed river.

Soon we were back on the road, peddling through a series of villages. We knew we had to hit the main road after about 30km and took what looked to be a road to cut off the corner. Soon the road petered out but a man by his hut waved us on saying ‘shortcut road’ – through a fence (saying no entry onto military land) and along a sandy path. So rather dubiously, and giggling as we slithered along, we followed the path and sure enough after a few hundred meters we hit the paved road again.

We were now on the main coastal highway but the traffic was fine. There were a few awkward dusty sections with lots of lorries past some quarrying but then we were peddling past a massive naval base (not that we could see anything other than fence and barbed wire) and then into the town of Karwar. There we achieved our objective of getting some money, and our more important objective of a particularly good cup of coffee!

After Karwar there was a massive road-widening project to create a large dual carriageway. The new half had been paved but had yet not opened. It was accessible so, accompanied by a few motorbikes, we had the whole carriageway to ourselves for long stretches and were larking about taking ‘in flight’ photos of each other cycling along.

Then we crossed the border from Karnataka into Goa and almost instantly felt we were in a different ecosystem – much more tropical again. The road was smooth and things felt more prosperous. Goa is a tiny state that was only relinquished by the Portuguese in 1961, long after independence and only after the Indian army eventually walked in to unite the last section of the subcontinent.

The main road did an enormous loop but it looked as if there was a side road we could take with another ‘will there be a ferry across the river moment’. No ferry this time but there was a narrow rusty bridge, not even wide enough to allow motorbikes and somewhat of a squeeze with a bike with panniers, but it looked sturdy enough and we laughed our way across.

We were soon at another ‘river moment’. The road looked as if it looped round but we thought we would check out the jetty that was signposted down a little side road. At the jetty it was a very short hop across to a sandy bar. “Do you want boat” a man called, “how much?” “200 rupees”. Our ferry this morning had cost 10 rupees so we laughed and set off to cycle round. “No, no, bridge is closed for painting” we were told “150 rupees”. Now the bridge may or may not have been closed, and I suspect the latter, but what the hell. So we agreed to the “boat”. We were led away from the large boat to a narrow canoe. They duly loaded on the 2 bikes, 6 panniers and us then said they could take us a bit further to get to a road as we would find it difficult on the sand. We admitted defeat and agreed to the 200 (it’s only £2.50 after all and worth it just for the laugh). Sitting somewhat rigidly to stop the canoe tipping from side to side it set off across the estuary. Half way across the boatman tried to renegotiate the price again but we duly ignored this and were laughing too much at the madness of all our stuff in this canoe. In spite of our refusal to pay more, we were safely delivered to the other side!

It was then just a few km to Palolem beach – yet another “most beautiful beach in India” (again!). It was very picturesque but much busier and more developed than Kudle beach but we happily sat in a beachside café for a drink and a late pasta lunch.

Then just a few kms on the next bay Agonda beach, our destination for the day. Under 100km felt like an easy relaxed and enjoyable day. We were a little nervous about the ‘budget room’ we had booked after our experience at Kudle, but although simple and set slightly away from the beach on the other side of the road, the room was great, nice balcony area and only 1 minute walk to the beach rather than right on the beach. Better for us really as safer for the bikes and quieter. Boiling hot water in the shower gave it top marks!

Agonda beach is a 2km stretch of sand. Although the bay is fringed all along by restaurants and lodgings these were fairly unobtrusive and most development happens behind the beach so not blighted by concrete or high rise. We ended the day bobbing in the waves – a far more enjoyable way to ease the legs than stretching (which we are always very bad at doing). A romantic walk along the beach with another beautiful sunset then ‘beer o’clock’ as the light finally faded. A great, happy day.

Today was a relaxing day by the beach in Gokana. There is no much more to say really – we changed hotels to a decent one, went for a walk to the world famous “Om Beach” – one of the world famous beaches in this area and relaxed. It was pretty and the breakfast was pretty good. But we then walked back as the sun rose up and decided to take cover for a few hours.

We ventured out late in the afternoon to play in the waves. It was a joy to walk into the sea without that Atlantic grimace as the cold water hits you and you convince yourself it can become bearable (another glorious British deception).   Here is feels OK when you first walk into the sea and remains OK. The Indians tend to bathe fully clothed – not sure why – have not yet got that sussed.

The lack of description on the blog should not be taken as a lack of beauty – it was stunningly beautiful. However this is definitely “tune in, drop out” territory and so we, of course, felt under tattooed (in fact totally devoid of tattoos – unlike all other westerners here) and that we were servants to the western gulag system of work. However I did catch a severely tattooed Dutchman drinking beer and catching up with his news via on his mobile – on what looked like Facebook. So maybe not quite so detached from the corporate world of capitalism after all.

We also saw a couple of English women at the restaurant who could have stepped straight from an “Absolutely Fabulous goes to India” script, complete with sensible teenage daughter who looked a combination of bored and appalled by their antics. She did not say “Mum, where have you brought me this time” but it was written on her face. Having said that, there were lots of great people as well but they do not make such good copy.

It was great to relax, recharge the batteries and plan the next few days to Goa and beyond.

Today was a day of ups and downs, in every sense of the word. We were off early in the morning as usual just after sunrise. We were suddenly on the ‘wet’ side of the Ghats and had passed from the dry high plain to tropical forest. Cycling as the sun was rising on the quiet of the morning through the lush landscape was beautiful. Occasional small homesteads had small emerald green paddy fields in the golden early light.

The cycling was tough though with steep climbs and drops, forever undulating through the hills. We had cumulative tiredness in our legs from a succession of days that were a bit longer than we would have chosen. As in most mountainous regions, the route is dictated by a few roads and the stops where we could get accommodation, which is much less profuse than the coastal tourist areas. The scenery kept us going and at last we started a proper descent.

A viewing platform gave great views down to the river that had come out of the gorge. This is the river that was emerged after Jog Falls, and then followed a further 200m descent down to sea level over just 60km.

The map indicated we would be following the river about 30km to the sea at Honnavar, and so we anticipated an easy run. How wrong we were! The road veered away form the river into a series of small (i.e. steep 50/60m) hills but relentlessly up and down, up and down. We were both finding it tough going as Honnovar crept nearer at slow pace. 5km from Hannovar, as we thought we may have done our last hill, David’s gear cable suddenly snapped. We both nearly snapped too as we wheeled the bikes to a shady area but David patiently changed the gear cable by the roadside.

We were now without a spare gear cable. Although this is the first time a cable had snapped in all the time we have been cycle touring, it would be sod’s law that it would happen again. With the wonders of a smart phone and google we identified a bike shop in Honnavar and, at last, did the last few kms into town. It had taken us 5 hours to do 60km and we were mentally and physically exhausted.

We managed however to get a spare gear cable, although not spare inner tubes for David’s 700cm wheels, which are proving very difficult to get. We will need to carefully mend all any punctures as we won’t have the luxury of ditching used ones. Still feeling hot and bothered we stopped for samosas and sugary fizzy drinks to get us going again then back on the road, turning due north again.

We were now on a much more main road but blissfully flat. This was much easier on the legs, but the flat straight roads encouraged ‘mad’ overtaking.   We were often faced with a bus, lorry or car charging towards us as they overtook a slower vehicle. It was like cycling along the outside of the fast lane on wrong side of a dual carriageway! David was not feeling too well (stomach still the wrong side of good) so every km was taking its toll. We were now cycling in the intense heat of the day. Now we were back a sea level this was about 6 degrees hotter than we were used to and, believe me, the difference between 31 and 37 degrees feels a lot when cycling.

At least on the flat we were covering km more quickly and after 20km turned off the main road. We cycled the next 12km with some trepidation and the road should end at the tip of a small peninsular with a “ferry” supposedly available to cross the river. We had not been able to find confirmation that the ferry existed. If it didn’t then we would have to retrace our steps and then go a much longer way round. The last section was so steep we were back to pushing our bikes again in the heat and feeling thoroughly miserable! However, our spirits rose as we turned the final corners as we descended to the river and saw a little boat which operated as a passenger ferry. It was too small for vehicles but could manage a few motorbikes and, of course, bicycles.

After a few minutes wait we crammed on with our bikes with other motorbikes and foot passengers for the short trip across the river estuary. We met a young Israeli couple on a motorbike who were touring India for a year. There is quite a tradition of young people from Israel exploring India, often after completing national service. Some tourists restaurants even offer specific Israeli food on the menu. They were delightful and we chatted about mutual travelling plans as the boat crossed the sound.

We were really flagging by this point and the final kick in the teeth was a last steep hill up and over the peninsular. Only the thought of a comfortable room and some time for R&R with day off kept us going.

We finally descended to Kudle beach, about 5km south of Gokarna. We found the hotel we had booked and walked exhausted into a smart looking place where people were sitting in comfy chairs drinking tea. They did not seem to have our booking though – and then we realised our hotel was actually the place next door – a drab looking establishment. David went to see the room and came back and said “you really need to see it before we decide”. I was exhausted and said anything was fine but “no – you really should see it”. The room was very basic and drab, bits of material at the windows and a separate shared dismal shower and toilet. We have done ‘basic’ quite happily several times but this quite a notch down, Our spirits were at rock bottom but we did not really have a choice (I did nip back next door but they had no rooms available) and we accepted but knew we did not want to stay there the next day.

At least the shower got us clean and we semi revived after brewing a cup of tea and then thought we should at least see the beach today as it is badged as one of the best in India. 100m down the road we came to the path down to the beach and our spirits immediately lifted as we were faced with a beautiful curved sandy bay with waves rolling gently in. We were soon in our cossies and in the wonderful warm Arabian Sea, bobbing away in the surf as the sun went down. The pain in our legs easing and the difficulties of the day receding.

We then had pasta and pizza at a beach side café (we love Indian food but it is great to have a break from it from time to time) and our first beer since we arrived! On the way back we even passed a nice hotel and negotiated to stay the following day with an early check in so we will only have to move a few hundred meters tomorrow and then be in a nice environment for our day off. A good end to a tricky day.

We woke at about 6.30am, which was pretty late – at least by travelling standards. We had not got to bed until 11 the previous night and so slept in. We knew would pay for this later and, of course, duly did!  We checked out, failed to pay by credit card and so used cash. The use of credit cards is spreading in India but cash remains king. Using European based credit cards is pretty hit and miss. I am sure it will be totally standard in 10 years time but this is a transition period.

Continue reading Day 19: Shimoga to Jogs Falls: 108km and 850m of climbing →

We seem to be waking earlier and earlier. Today we were ready to go and it was still dark! We waited for the sun to come up and pedalled out of a now very quiet Chickmalagur, into the hills ahead.

Continue reading Day 18. Chickmalagur to Shimoga. 110km. 850m climbing. →

We left the Amber Castle Hotel before breakfast made an appearance. An attempt to obtain an early breakfast failed but it did not sound too good in any event.

Continue reading Day 17: Hassan to Chikmagalur : 78km and 600m of climbing. →

Suresh and Sheela ensured we left with a hearty breakfast and plenty of tasty snacks to see us on our way. We said our last goodbyes and thanks for their generous hospitality and hope that we may be able to return it in some way in the future.

Our first 15km were on the main road out of Mysore but at 7am the roads were quiet. Traffic lights are not switched on at that time of the morning so we negotiated the “dance” across junctions with traffic coming from all directions.

We then turned onto a more minor and life was immediately quieter. We cruised along a well paved road through agricultural land and then to the banks of a large lake. The road then crossed the corner of the lake on a long, very smart bridge. We paused to take photos and marvelled at how quiet it was.

A couple of hundred meters from the end of the bridge though the road ran out – literally! We were suddenly on a sandy track. We were used to the road disintegrating for short stretches and expected the tarmac to come back soon but all we got was very deteriorated stretches of road that we even worse than going along the sand/dirt track.

David’s Garmin was still indicating we were on a main road but “main” it definitely wasn’t. We resorted to google maps and realised the main road had turned to the left in the village before the bridge, but we must have missed it (if it still existed which seems unlikely as there was only one bridge). Whatever, we were seduced but the smooth straight tarmac road and signs that were only in squiggly writing. We could see the track we were on eventually joined up with the main road, so pressed on. So we bumped along for several km then suddenly hit new tarmac again. Presumably in some new budget year the road in between will also be tarmacked. Even that was short-lived, as the new tarmac finished a bumpy old road took over again, but at least this was more navigable than the last stretch. We played leap-frog with a bus that was crammed with people with several hanging on for grim death from the door, and at last reached the proper main road.

We turned north and the next ‘google maps’ instruction was ‘keep straight ahead for 72km’ so it was easy navigation from there. We thought the road would be busy but in fact it was pretty quiet with very few lorries, the occasional bus but otherwise tuktuks, motorbikes and tractors were the main users. Soon we were eating up the km again but were never bored. There were always villages to pass through the things to see.

From time to time, motorbikes would slow down next to us and match our speed to have a good look. Usually if we said ‘Hi’ or waved the occupants of the motorbike, which could range from 1-5 adults + children – rarely wearing helmets and with women in saris riding side saddle, carrying small children. On being waved at they would almost always break into smiles and wave back. Sometimes they would ask our names or where we were from or where we were going and, after they had had an eyeful of these strange travellers, they would speed on.

In one town we passed a large crowd and group of drummers and then saw a large decorated ‘shrine’. We stopped to take photos but soon were surrounded and we seemed to be more of an attraction than the religious deity, so we quickly moved on.

We brewed up coffee and ate up Sheela’s delicious snacks and later rested under a shady tree eating oranges and apples. The road undulated up and down and was never really flat. The gradients did not seem too bad but perhaps that’s because we are getting a lot stronger. We bobbed up and down around 800-900m altitude so the day never felt too hot (although David noted it was 32C in the afternoon so we must also be getting acclimatised to the heat).

Finally the road continued a more lasting climb up to the city of Hassan, the road topping out just below 1000m. The road was suddenly full of lorries, buses and tuktuks but we are now pretty confident negotiating ourselves through hectic traffic and we easily found our hotel.

We had covered over 72 miles (113km) between 7am and 3pm and felt tired but not totally exhausted. After resting and planning the next few days we strolled out into the city. We were heading for a restaurant recommended on tripadvisor but if it existed any more it certainly was not at the place marked on the map. In fact there was an extraordinary death of eateries. ‘Eating out’ is clearly not in the culture here. We finally found a restaurant under a posh looking hotel and ate ‘Manchurian Mushrooms’ and noodles which were tasty and filling. A final stroll back through the humming centre of town. Hassan seems to be a centre for clothing judging by the number of cloths shops of different varieties we passed.

For an A to B day, it had been remarkably pleasant and we broke our distance record for this trip so far. Legs definitely getting stronger, bodies a bit thinner and exposed parts are browner (but with cyclist’s tan marks extraordinaire).

Having taken on board all the warnings about not cycling in the Game Reserve we had arranged with Jenith that he would take us by jeep to the entry point. So at 6am we were trying to fit 2 bikes and all out kit into a small jeep in the pitch dark with the help of a couple of torches. With everything tied in we set off.  For anyone interested, by the end of today we had cycled 8,170km from Bewdley on this trip!

I tried not to be too disturbed that the windscreen was totally misted up and Jenith was driving with his head hanging out of the side of the jeep to see where he was going, telling myself that he had driven this stretch of road hundreds of times. Luckily it soon started to get light and as it did the windscreen cleared. The road was full of lorries and Jenith explained that the road is closed between 10pm and 6am so the lorries had been waiting at the check point to start driving through. We saw a mother elephant and baby as we drove through and a few deer.

Mudumalai Tiger reserve merges with Bandipur Tiger reserve at the Tamil Nadu-Karnataka border so we had to drive through both to safe cycling country. At the checkpoint at the border there was a huge queue coming the other way as the border guards closely checked each car. We asked what they were looking for and were told it was searching for illegal alcohol. It can be brought cheaply in Karnataka and smuggled into Tamil Nadu and Kerala where alcohol is illegal (yes, we have been ‘dry’ since we left the UK and not missed it at all so far). The delay getting through on our side proved to be due 2 lorries inching across a narrow bridge without jamming themselves completely. An inch by inch process with much gesticulating on all sides.   Once that was cleared, we had an uninterrupted drive through to the edge of the wildlife park.

After about an hour Jenith dropped us at the Bandipur entry point, just as the sun was shining through. The jeep ride put us in easy striking distance of Mysore.

We packed up the bikes and were off. Shortly after David got a puncture (number 2). As he mended it he was soon circled by a group of boys watching intently – all were quiet and polite, whispering to each other occasionally and pointing and giving us cheery waves as we set off again.

The road was wide with a good surface and quiet on Sunday morning. Gently undulating with slightly more down than up so we ate up the kilometres quickly. We first stopped for breakfast at a restaurant that advertised omelettes, only to be told ‘no eggs’. David still could not face curry for breakfast so pressed on and soon stopped at a Coffee chain that we had seen before that mimicked Starbucks at relatively exorbitant prices. However it provided good sandwiches and passable coffee.

At Nanjangud, 20km south of Mysore, traffic picked up and David navigated us onto a parallel side road. As we have found before, 100m away from the main road was like a different country. Small very quiet roads through pleasant rural villages where the fields were ploughed with oxen and farmers dried their hay by spreading it out on the road (a small track either side for bikes and motorbikes but other vehicles just seemed to drive over it).  As we came into the City we saw several cows painted yellow ( we later discovered it was to do with a festival tomorrow)

The approach into Mysore was much less congested than expected and we were soon phoning Suresh, our ‘warmshowers’ host for the night, who came and met us to direct us the short distance to his home. For those new to the blog ‘warmshowers’ is a hosting website for touring cyclists (www.warnshowers.org) that works a bit like couchsurfing. Cyclists offer their homes for hospitality and when touring can prevail on other hosts for a bed.

Suresh and his wife were utterly charming and showed us into a large room with it’s own shower. We were soon cleaned up and chatting over tea. Suresh (who is in his 60s) is a keen trekker and cyclist and trekked to Everest Base Camp a few years ago.

We cut short our initial conversation as we were keen to make the best of the afternoon by seeing Mysore Palace. We walked the kilometre or so to this extraordinary building. Most of the palace in fact only dates from 1912, the previous palace having burned down in a huge fire. The Maharani at the time commissioned a British architect to design and build the new palace with no expense spared (at least to make it fire proof). The resulting building is a huge, ornate fusion between the Colonial Brits and the Maharaja. It felt rather Disney-esque, knowing it was all quite modern but non-the-less was impressive.

That however was not the major impression of the day as we were looking around on a Sunday afternoon the day before a holiday – and the place was absolutely packed. First, we had to leave our shoes at the shoe leaving desk (4 rupees but loose your ticket at your peril). We were then swept into a mass of humanity round the state rooms. Think of the tube at rush hour and then double it, add in children and women in bright saris and everyone taking photos (mostly selfies) and walking round with officials blowing whistles and moving you on. At one point we met a French couple who just said “It’s crazy, crazy, crazy”, which of course it was. There was no choice but to move and at the pinch points through doors and up stairs it felt very crushed. But everyone was chatting and animated and we just went with the flow and absorbed the unforgettable experience.

We also took a side trip round the museum and residential quarters with a moderately interesting audio guide which gave a bit of the history. We did this first and as there were few people in that section and so were totally unprepared for what lay ahead!

Finally we tumbled back out into the open, found the magic footlocker ticket and retrieved our shoes and were able to breath again. The heat of the sun was diminishing as we looked round the outside but were feeling pretty exhausted.

Back at Suresh’s home we were fed a fantastic home cooked meal. I suddenly realised I was famished and we wolfed down biryani, another type of rice dish and home made onion cookies and cakes. All vegetarian and delicious. We chatted some more with Suresh but soon my full stomach and tiredness overcame me. Another memorable day – unforgettable experiences, wonderful hospitality from our hosts and more promised for tomorrow.

Surely one day is much like another on a cycling trip? Well not so far. This was another day with a whole set of new experiences and was forever new and challenging.   Two weeks ago (exactly) we landed in Tivandrum with more than a little trepidation. Two weeks in we have learned so much, gained immeasurable respect for the country we are visiting and relaxed into the trip.

We woke, did bike repair (the Indian roads take their toll but all is back in working order) and had breakfast as the only ones in the Lodge restaurant.   Then we left Ooty and began a descent down a road which had more road signs warning of danger than I have ever seen. The surface was excellent but it dropped about 1200m in about 20km, including 36 hairpin bends.

We negotiated it slowly but, by now, we felt in control of our bikes and did not get spooked by 30% drops on the inside of hairpins – well only a little spooked perhaps. The valley opened up as we descended, with vast areas of arid wilderness with light tree cover exposed on all sides.

About half way down we came to a “police post” manned by an old man who demanded to see our permits. We, of course, had no permits and saw cars passing without having this demand. We got a bit of a stand off and it was unclear whether he had any official status or was just after cash. Total lack of language (other than the word permit) on both sides meant the discussions were limited. In the end we thought we had no choice but just to press on despite his (admittedly fairly half-hearted) protestations. After all, we had already descended 800m and were not, not, not going to turn around and climb back up for lack of a permit on a public road!

We pressed on, waiting for the wail of a police siren, but it never came. As the descent ended we were clearly in a game park area, and pressed on for the next 10km to Tamarind Tree Resort where we had booked a room (for about £15 for the night). We arrived about 11.30am and were met by Rahul who manages the place, spoke great English and expressed considerable surprise that we were allowed to ride our bikes through the game reserve. The major worry was elephants who have been known to charge at things they disapprove of – and cyclists in bright tops may well have come into that category. A competition between a charging elephant and a middle-aged cyclist is, to be frank, not much of a contest. I suspect that Chris Froome might do a little better but my money would still be on the elephant. We resolved to find a way of ensuring that we did not need to cycle through the rest of the park.

The attraction of Masainagudi is that it is in a Mudumalai National Park, and at the edge of the Mudumalai Tiger Reserve. We arranged a jeep to take us to the main government tour point that afternoon. Our guide was Jenith, a local man who had originally studied auto-engineering but was now studying wildlife and ecology whilst working with his own jeep to ferry tourists around. He could not have been more helpful.

We decided to take a minis bus tour of the off-road areas for a couple of hours. It was a good choice as we saw elephants close up, loads of deer, monkeys and some spectacular waterfalls. The highlight was 2 stags in a head to head tussle – no doubt over mating rights for the female deer close-by.

After the tour we visited the elephant sanctuary where captured “rogue” elephants were kept, on show for the tourists but with a chain around one leg. They looked fairly passive but Jenith explained that one had killed 37 villagers and another had killed 28! So the practical alternative to being kept in chains was being shot. Bernie expressed the view that, if it were her, the latter alternative might be preferable! It was a sad place but there was an understandable need for it as these are potentially very dangerous animals.

On the way back we shopped for food for supper and then saw a lovely sunset. A great day all round.

The alarm went off at 4am. Considering we have been altering our body clock to go to bed earlier and earlier and wake earlier and earlier it wasn’t as bad as it sounds especially as we had pretty much crashed at 8pm after our 70 mile ride the previous day. But what on earth were we doing getting up at 4am? The answer was trying to get unreserved tickets for the Nilgiri Mountain Railway, also known as the Toy Train. Yesterday we had been told to arrive at 5.30am and then at 5am and a recent blog advised being there at 4.30am to be at the front of the queue. Given it was going to be more difficult with the bikes, we opted for the 4.30am option.

Continue reading Day 12. Mettupalayam to Ooty. Taking the Nilgiri Mountain Railway. →

Today was a flat amble across the plain which is north of Udumapetta towards the city of Mettupalayam. The main purpose of today was (a) to get 100km further north and (b) to get to a place where we could take a steam train up to Ooty. Not all of you will know our dear friend Malcolm Garner, but, for those who do not, he is a “little bit” keen on steam trains, and would not forgive us if we passed by the chance to take one of famous steam trains in the world – from Mettupalayam up to the hill station of Ooty – a climb of about 2,200m. We both share a part of his enthusiasm – even if we are not minded to invest in owning a train.

Continue reading Day 11: Udumapetta to Mettupalayam: 109km and 400m of climbing. →