Current location: Kathmandu, Nepal, the backpacker-climber-cyclist mecca.
We bussed to Kathmandu for another round of visa wrangling - we have to get a visa to return to India next month to meet friends and Adam's grandparents. Also to find out about the Tibet situatation and the remote possibility of independent cycling from Nepal to Lhasa... very remote possibility...
Kathmandu was a milestone: our first steak in 10 months! Pepper sauce, chips and mashes potato completed our own Shangri-La experience of meat after 2 weeks of camping dinners and local lunches to ward off the cold days: 2 minute noodles and "good for you" but uninspiring dhal bhaat (lentils and rice).
We spent two wonderful, incommunicado weeks in the Terai, the south part of Nepal, cycling with The Basques (Urdin & Izaro, www.1000milla.com). No internet, sporadic electricity for the villages, and a village phone is usually "incoming only". Hence this is a pretty big and overdue update!
Next stop: Bus ride back to Butwal to collect our bikes then cycle up to Tansen and Pokhara, the base of the Annapurna Range and our first glimpse of Himalayas!
Total kms to date: 9185 km. Looking forward to big climbs from here on!
THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU!
We owe a huge thank you to Koga (www.koga.com) and Bigfoot Bikes (www.bigfootbikes.co.uk) for replacing a few parts for our bikes. Cat's rear light, and Adam's stem and saddle. He looks forward to a comfortable next 9000km and Cat looks forward to not hearing the complaint, "I've still got a sore arse!"
Ortlieb (www.ortlieb.com) have donated replacement pannier clips and Vaude (www.vaude.com) sent us a replacement crosspiece of our Vaude Mark II tent (the best tent tall men). For a bright future of secure panniers and our tent being erected without arguments and fear of losing an eye ... many thanks!
And immense thanks to our parcel people, Cindy, Didge & Cat's Mum. And to Jesse & Lyn Baker who will be using half their baggage allowance to Delhi with new tyres, maps and warm clothes for this next leg!
Puncture tally: Adam 12, Catherine 7 - barely a puncture since changing to Schwalbe tyres
Equıpment tally: Snapped bottle cage and crushed waterbottle under the back wheel(Adam 1), ripped pannıer (Adam 3, Cat 2), lost pannier clips (Cat 2), lost rack screws (Adam 2, Cat 3), stretched saddle after losing saddle tension bolt (Adam 1), loose handlebar stem (Adam 1), the rear of padded shorts nibbled at by an unknown animal (Adam 1)
Downhill speed records (kmh): Adam 74.4, Catherine 56.4
Latest update: 30th January 2010
Quote of the week: "Can o' peas?" - one Kathmandu drug tout needs to work on his pronunciation
"It's definitely dull bhaat" - our enthusiasm for Nepal's staple diet has waned
"Water? It's not the season." - our attempt to buy an emergency bottle of water as backup to our waterbags filled from the village pump were thwarted ... not in season? Intriguing.
"Cracked heels are genetic" - this headline from the Himalaya Times relieves one of our many worries...
"My name is Superman. My country? Japan, ah-so, a-Honda!" - Adam tries a different answer to the usual questions.
"Do you some to our country to see the natural beauty?" "Will you come to my house to drink water?" "Catarina, will you take me to Australia?" - Adam books his place in hell for fooling a lovely little boy who stole our hearts with his winning smile and told his neighbours that Adam was from Japan and Catherine from Australia.
Kathmandu
Despite the whispered offer of "Cannabis? Hash?" Kathmandu seems less like a mystical Hippydom than a pitstop for trekkers and climbers. Think we have missed the Magic Bus vibe by a few decades!
Shops selling brightly coloured cotton hippy clothes equal thos selling trekking gear. We've seen more North Face jackets and beards (though none as long as Adam's) than striped cotton pants and dreadlocks - except at the Indian embassy of course. There the great unwashed still reign and we'd usually fit right in but cities mean bathing for us.
Shona's Trekking Store in Jyoti Street has been our second Mecca (after the K-T00 Sports Bar for steak and sport tv). Andy and Shona rent and sell trekking gear, so Adam ordered a customised sleeping bag. They assured us, our sleeping bags will be 3 seasons! They've been doing this for decades, so we're looking forward to some snuggly nights at last. We've been pretty jealous of Urdin & Izaro's sleeping bags.
Our Tibet hope (independent cycling entering from Nepal) was always slim but all hope dashed by the bargain price of "20 days independent cycling tour with a jeep and guide": US $1500. The 'bargain' element is that our 'independent cycle tour' would exclude cook, food, guesthouses and flight... oh good. Short answer: cannot enter Tibet from Nepal on cycle, foot, vehicle or mule without a tour package involving a jeep and guide. So to Plan C to get over the mountains.
Our interview with the Consul at the Pakistan Embassy got off to a slow start. The television on his desk was showing Pakistan vs. Australia in the cricket. After ten minutes of discussing the merits of the gentlemanly Waugh brothers and Pakistan bowlers, and the poor captaincy of Ricky Ponting who led Australia into less gentlemanly conduct of the game, we reluctantly got down to business.
The Consul was utterly thrilled that we wanted to go to Pakistan. "You will have a wonderful time," he assured us. Not that we need assuring because the six cyclists we know who who went through last autumn and winter have all raved about Pakistan and agreed that, like Iran, what you hear on our news channels is not true for all.
The Karakorum Highway into China is closed until April/May so the Consul suggested he give us a two month window to get to Pakistan and then a three month visa that starts on entry. "Then you can take your time, start Karakorum as far as Gilgit then wait for the pass to open."
Leaving the embassy we were walking on air. A phrase often used by Adam's greataunt, Ann, sprang to mind, "So civilised!" What a change to usual embassy offhand procedure. So when we come back to Kathmandu in March The Consul will update us about security and process our visa in 3 days, standard process. And no, it doesn't depend on Pakistan defeating Australia in the cricket ...
The Butwal Bus
Our last day of cycling in the Terai was one of the most beautiful cycling days ever: hill climbing through forests, a glimpse of sunshine and only three vehicles all day - we arrived in Butwal (pronounced Bootwahl or Buttwall - we prefer the latter) to find crowds lining the bridge. If only it was a fanfare for us, Urdin and Izaro (below)
Butwal's an unattractive town and what we thought was simply the last day of festival was actually a strike called by the Communists (more chilled than the hardline Maoists).
This meant everything was shut and we struggled to find a hotel room and anything to eat. It was a glimpse into how things would have been a few years ago during the civil war between Maoists and government. And another affirmation that cycling is preferable to buses!
The next day, Urdin and Izaro pushed into the mountains for Tansen and Pokhara, while we headed on the bus to Kathmandu.
Nepalese buses are characterised by a bus boy hanging from the door and a rooftop crammed with boys, ricesacks and random pieces of household furniture. Inside, we had front seats and the prospect of a clear view of the road. The 52 people and children (no chickens unfortunately) crammed onto the minibus obscured our view. We were happily oblivious to the near misses apart from the people landing on Adam's lap. The views distracted us from the discomfort.
Where else in the world do forested mountains slide down to white beaches lining crystal-clear rivers? We wanted to jump out and run our toes through the white sand.
But beautiful views become mundane after nine hours. Lucky for us there was more excitement: communal travel sickness!
It spread throughout the bus, barely contained by thin black plastic bags. While Adam had been used as a human couch for the duration of the journey, Cat had the equally unenviable position of a window seat. This meant being gingerly passed people's spew bags to drop out the window. However unenvironmental, the alternative of nursing these bags didn't bear thinking about!
Festival Days
We declined the opportunity to go to temple at 1am and indulge in ritual bathing in the freezing river. We cherish our own bathing ritual: a shared bucket of water on the rare occasion we take a room. Hot water from a pipe is a luxury we dare not dream!
It was the last day of the Terai five-day festival and perfect day for cycling: nobody on the roads except cyclists and a herd of goats. It was also the equivalent of Ladies Day at the races. All the girls in their best, making the most of the day with an early start on the roads, walking and cycling in groups. We were held up at various roadblocks by crowds of women, dancing, singing and refusing to let us through until we handed over rupees.
While waiting for us in a village and being surrounded by impossibly excited kids (only a quarter of the crowd below), Adam and Urdin spotted the holy grail of gourmet: a cake cart. Sighting at the the Aussie towering over the Basque and the Nepalese, Cake Boy knew he'd be making a visit to temple to thank the gods for his biggest cake sale ever.
Even on temple day, someone is hapy to cook lunch. Our hostess wandered up the road to find a shop that sold dried noodles and was ecstatic that yes, we wanted a lot of chowmein.
Puhl? (Eggs?)
Chaa, danyabad! (Four, thanks!)
With the village watching us eat, we had a restrained lunch of 8 plates of noodles, 4 eggs, 6 cups of tea and 2 scarily yellow cakes. Our hostess hammed it up for the camera.
Two weeks in the Terai
When we entered Nepal at Mahendranagar, the western border and The Basques, Urdin and Izaro were beside themselves. "No more India! We're in Nepal!" Arriving in Nepal marked Urdin's 1 year on the road. But their relief it was more than this anniversary.
Urdin & Izaro had had a tough time in India and were robbed while camping. Luckily, they got their bikes and gear returned to them, (minus their precious Coco Pops pilfered by the police) but are still shaken.
This two weeks together was all the more precious for being the first time they've camped since the robbery - excluding hotel rooms where they put up their tent indoors to avoid mozzies and unsavoury sheets!
The Terai is the south valley of Nepal. Over 15 million people, half of Nepals' population, crowd the valley, competing for space with the tigers, elephants and rhinos of the national parks. We veered around this little fellow who was sitting on the road.
As we cycled near Bardia National Park we saw spotted deer and black face-white fur monkeys. And tried, unsuccessfully to cross a shallow river without getting wet toes.
We can barely walk a flight of stairs without puffing (we tell ourselves that our muscles are geared to cycling not walking or stairs) so weren't sure about Urdin & Izaro's plan for a one day walk in Bardia National Park.
But it was our first day without fog or rain so we joined them and Hukum, owner and guide from Jungle Base Camp. After 9 hours of trudging through eye-high grass, thorny wet jungle and seeing footprints of just-missed elephants and tigers, we were running out of oomph. Then we saw the biggest arse in the park: a rhino's rear ambling ahead of us!
Even more exciting than the rhino's rectum was that night's inaugural meal, Tortilla de Basques! 2 eggs each, mixed with onion, garlic, sweet potato, white radish, coriander. Adam had great envy. Between campers, envy is all about the size of the pan.
The Terai proved easy cycling, easy enough for even a little comedy car to tackle
Long flat stretches, lots of villages, swathes of quiet forest, gentle hills then a few in the Central Terai for warmup for what's to come. Above the cloudline is hot sunshine and we strip down. Then the downhills bring us into the foggy Terai again.
Cold days mean hot lunches and a two hour lunch break while we wait for lunch to be cooked over a clay oven or fireplace. Our biggest meal so far: 12 eggs, 8 packets of 2-minute noodles, 8 buns, 6 cups of tea, 1 packet of biscuits.
Nepal has given us fantastic camping spots; well-hidden in the wet jungle and open forest. We camped beside rivers that are just wide gravel beds, waiting for the icy spring melt.
We also added to our lit of 'Worst Jobs in the world': chipping rocks that are taken from the riverbeds? Or filling a truck with gravel ... one shovel at a time...?
After a week of cloud we finally saw sun for an afternoon and the meagre mountains of the Mahendranagar Range to our left. Somewhere behind them is the Himalayas - and our thighs tremble at the thought!
Cycling out of India
A grand total of two days cycling was enough for us in India. After all the hospitable countries and good camping countries we've encountered so far, India doesn't fit into this tour. We'd love to come back and cycle the mountains of Ladahk, Leh and Manali ...
We met The Basques, Urdin & Izaro, in Bareilly (we caught the train from Delhi!) and the four of us cycled to the Nepalese border. We have new shirts thanks to our lovely Delhi tailor. Cat has her Cowgirl shirt (perfect for on-bike karaoke of Shania Twain) and Adam looks like a 16th century explorer.
At the last village we stopped before the India-Nepal border we were left alone. Being able to stand and drink water without an unsmiling, staring audience is indescribable! After half an hour, a Sikh gentleman came over to show us the daily regional newspaper and that was the cue for people to come around, a polite mob all patiently waiting to have a look at the picture.
We'd arrived in Pilbith the evening before and been hounded by a reporter. We wished we could read Hindi because his report was surely creative writing.
"How is India?" His eyes sparkled with the thought of this scoop.
"Umm..." We paused.
The reporter was impatient and suggested, "Happiness and different culture?"
"No, not happiness but, yeah, different culture..."
"Happiness and different culture, okay! Difficulties?" There was a hopeful tone.
Terrible traffic? Feeling edgy all the time? Having random men sit in our hotel room? An audience within moments of stopping?
If we came here on a cycle tour for India alone, we might like it better and like it for what India is - noise, inescapable company, forceful touting, entrenched inequality of the caste system, human crap and cows. India is the low point of our trip so far.
Barely a smile anywhere, which is exceedingly disconcerting when we're surrounded by fifty or more unsmiling men. In a village one of us stays with the bikes, the others go shopping. We don't relax and take off our helmets. Just shop quickly and move on from the mob who don't smile let alone respond to our Namaste (Hello). Not even a head wobble but plenty of itchy fingers. Cat usually smiles and threatens through clenched teeth, "Touch my gears again and I'll break your bloody arm ..."
The journo was impatient. "Traffic and bad driving," We agree. It's easier, but far less cathartic to be polite. Such is the difficulty of celebrity!
Half Way
We're now almost halfway through our journey and cycling means thinking too much. Here are our reflections: good memories and niggling worries.
Favourite gear
Both: Our Koga World Travellers aka The Touring Tanks. Thank you again Koga & Bigfoot Bikes for helping with our few niggles! Ortlieb 10 litrewaterbags, Ortlieb folding bowl, mini Katadyn water filter
Adam: The compass on my bike, my pillow and earplugs kindly donated by Terry & Lucile
Cat: Merino wool base layers, wool socks and my Turkish pantaloons - so attractive
Wish we hadn't bought...
Adam: Kathmandu 3-season sleeping bags. After 6 months, just as we get to The Himalayas, they're useless. Lost too much down. Waste of money.
Cat: And the Solar Panel, we haven't used it.
Favourite country
Both: Turkey, Iran and Nepal, equal first place. Sri Lanka for 'the beautiful nature' and people
Stunning Croatia and fantastic camping spots in Georgia and Armenia.
Best climb
Adam: Tatev, Armenia
Cat: The Meghri Pass, Armenia, wow-wee!
And Nemrut Dagi north side in Turkey.
Best camping spots:
Adam: Everywhere we camped in Turkey. And Akrata Camping, Peloponnese - a home from home with the Greek malakas, Manoli & Toula
Cat: First night forest camping in west Nepal, forests in Georgia and Armenia
Worst camping spots:
Adam: on a slope in Georgia. And Nemrut Dagi, Turkey - broke a peg and my patience on those rocks
Cat: the tiny forest in Armenia where we camped in dog and human poop.
Best meal:
Adam: homecooked gnocchi bolognaise, 1kg roasted pork in Croatia; Nol's BBQ lamb in Turkey
Cat: Urdin & Izaro's tortilla! And the stale Russian ration biscuits that we turned into crumble for our stewed apple dessert.
Both: Sema's Turkish breakfasts
Wish we had...
Adam: researched our sleeping bags better
Cat: World Peace and open borders so we could just go wherever we want. Oh and a Time Machine so I could go back and stop that first person who ever gave 'one pen' 'one bonbon' and 'one rupee' to a poor child ... bastard ...
It was overrated...
Both: Pammukale, Turkey (UNESCO entry fees same price as a room!), Shiraz, Iran (uncompelling city)
Go there!
Both: Iran! Esfahan for the incredible Imam Square and best food in Iran. Yazd for beautiful clay buildings and the wonderful Hotel Caravanserai. Hospitality, history and wonderful carpets made us fall in love with Iran.
Lessons learned...
Adam: That I enjoy uphill - unbelievable. Also, get a double-entry visa just in case
Cat: In Iran, ask for a hotel room with a window pane. In Nepal, ask for one with a door... Learning that I generally don't really like men, inparticular those aged between 9 and 99
Looking forward to...
Adam: I've had my steak so my new custom-made sleeping bag from Shona's Outdoor shop, Kathmandu ... catching up with Jesse & Lyn in India, put that first actually ... having another steak ... using my new frying pan ... cooking together at the end of the day
Cat: A hot shower when Kathmandu electricity comes back on ... The next leg of mountains and isolation ... crossing tyre tracks again with some of the cyclists we've met ... Adam's gourmet camping breakfasts of fried eggs and rice.
Road trip!
An overnight bus from New Delhi to Udaipur sounded comfy: our own little sleeping compartment! Getting airborne while horizontal was hilarious the first time. Twelve bumpy hours later ...
We rendezvoused with Terry & Lucile, friends from London, who were doing a three-week tour of Rajasthan. They stayed at the beautiful Poonam Haveli in Udaipur. Havelis are magnificent old mansions, many converted into hotels. Rooftop views of Udaipur palace and lake were only appreciated after hours of catch up. Terry & Lucile are the consumate epicurean travellers, loving a good curry as much as a beautiful building, so perfect company.
And we don't have a guidebook yet, so it was great to travel with friends who actually knew where we were going and what it was that we were looking at! We found the biggest turban in the world at the Udaipur museum
And tried to get in the hippy groove of things, man ...
On our last night in Udaipur it was Moharrem, a Shia Muslim mourning day. It's known to be pretty bloody in some parts of the world, with self-flagellation with whips. Here it was just crowds fo crazed boys, who occasionally got into a frenzy with a stick, and lots of shouting about the street parade of giant towers. Men controlled them on ropes and the lights were powered by a generator on wheels behind. When it passed a building, people leaned out to rip off decorations.
From Udaipur, we took a car to Kh fort, possibly the most amazing fort we've ever seen. The outer walls look like elephants rumps, according to Cat, though our photos don't do the sprawling fort justice.
From here we drove to Ranakpur to see an incredible Jain temple. The Jains have lots of rules the main one being no leather inside the temple. Terry told us that the Lonely Planet said 1044 columns inside the temple, but we lost count. Will take the LP's word as gospel on that one...
The drive to Jodhpur was an eye-opener. Literally. We daren't take our eyes off the road. India takes first place for terrifying driving and we're glad that our bikes are still in their bike boxes from the plane. Not tried cycling here yet. Possibly not daring at all!
Jodhpur is famous for the horsey-trousers, a fact which the dopey pair of us hadn't put together. It's also the blue city, painted with an oxide that repells mosquitoes and looks beautiful from the palace above town.
We didn't think Indian palaces and forts could be anymore jaw dropping, but Jodhpur Fort was another one for the Incredible India list.
The wonderful thing about India, when in a large space that is, are all the Indian tourists on holiday, enjoying their country's history and enabling Cat to get lots of photos of colourful saris. Though the appreciation of fellow man wanes when we're all together in a confined space ...
As always, though, food was a highlight and Jodhpur was no exception. The Omelette Man near the market gate served up masala omelette sandwiches and we signed his 23rd book of appreciative comments verifying that here, indeed, are the tastiest omlettes in the world.
Made all the more tasty by sitting on a plastic stool in a busy, fragrant street, watching the world and sacred cows go by.
Colombo
Colombo is a city with a few nice places to kill time; in particular McDonalds where all the travellers congregate to commiserate the lengthy and lottery-like process of obtaining an Indian visa.
We put our visa application in as soon as we arrived in Sri Lanka, then came back 3 weeks later to collect it, rather than waiting around for 7 uncertain working days. The morning of collection comes with a warning as we hand our passports in, "If your embassy hasn't validated our letter requesting verification of your identity, you will not get your visa today. Come back in 8 hours time."
Our interminable 8 hours was broken up by a great lunch with Asanka, Shaun's cousin. He kindly distracted us from worrying about 'what if''. But we got our visa and headed back to Negombo beach to pack up our bikes and keep our date with fellow cyclist, David from England.
We met David at Ruwini Restaurant, Negombo where we stayed with Ajith and his family. Also, the only good food in the area so as well as attracting tourists, it attracted the freaky Sri Lankan Santa Claus brigade who carolled Boney M-style Christmas songs.
It was great to finally meet after swapping emails over the last month and David's stories about cycling Cuba and other places sparked more dreams of two-wheel destinations ... We hope we gave a good fanfare as he rode from Ruwini to start his Sri Lanka tour!
Ajith's daughters, Charuni and Santali, helpfully jumped into the bike boxes that "Adam Uncle" was trying to use. Sensing Adam Uncle's frustration in a rush to box them in time for our flight the girls left the bike boxes and donned his Size 15 boots and hat instead, giggling "Look! I am Adam Uncle!" Even more hilarious was watching these tiny girls try to ride his bike.
They are forever etched in our memories for our endless games of hangman where the girls beautifully pronounced, trousers as "Trrrowsers!" and hopefully guessed "Papaya Lassi?!" for any word with a P in it, even if the word only had 3 letters ...
A lovely invitation
We had a blissful four days or rest and drying out mouldy gear in hill country town, Kandy. The only excitement, apart from dry knickers and t-shirts, was the arrival of the President who was campaigning for the upcoming elections on January 26th, 2010. He's also released a 'commemorative' bank note to commemorate the end of the civil war in 2009. It has soldiers on one side and himself on the other. Perhaps a subconcious reminder to voters?
It was downhill to the coast and on the way we dropped in at Kurunegala to visit the aunt and uncle of Cat's university friend, Shaun. He'd raved about his Aunt's cooking, "Best in Sri Lanka!" and arranged an invitation to The Abayakoon's for lunch.
It was a hilarious and gut-bursting lunch with our wonderful hosts. We'll forever remember the description and charade of a Sri Lankan dog, surely the laziest in the world! They barely move, snoozing on roads and ignoring trucks and cyclists. (Except the sole athletic dog that caused Adam to swerve, wobble then fall off his bike on a downhill into Kurungela)
We took a drive up to the giant buddha overlooking Kurunegala to walk off our lunch.
And Cat was pleased that monkeys stayed in the forest below, not near the temple. The sight of a monkey has her breaking out in a nervous sweat.
Cycle faster than a raincloud? Impossible!
Our tropical paradise has become tropical indeed: "mmm, what's that fruity smell? Oh that's us!" We bunkered down in French Garden Anton guesthouse for 4 days as rainy season set in with a vengeance. As did kottu repercussions ...
Our first day back on the bike was a slow 40km from Trinco to Kantale where we stopped at the first (and only) guesthouse we saw and watched the cricket. (Fellow cyclists we'll put a list of Sri Lanka guesthouses on our Route page).
South from Kantale was beautiful cycling through the jungle and over a causeway between a "tank" (reservoir) and flooded rice fields. 20km from Kantale we found another paradise: the new bitumen road sealed all the way south. We zipped along, rising from 8m above sealevel to a reassuring 56m, reassuring because when we reached Habarana the deluge had set in again. 1pm, right on time.
Cat, who has a pathological hatred of damp, is nearly beside herself these days. "Nothing dries! We smell like mould!" So much for an easy start to rainy season.
One of the must-see on our route is Sigiriya, an ancient rock fortress, and we took the Polonaruwwa highway east from Habarana, turning onto a backroad at Moragaswena. We had the thick jungle to ourselves, just us and some wild peacocks. The only thing that spoilt our beautiful morning was arriving at Sigiriya and discovering tickets are 2874 rupee each ($28) whether you want to stare from the bottom or climb up. Or $57 for a three-way ticket to Sigiriya, Anuradhapura, and Polonnuwa.
We've been on the road almost 9 months now and exhaustion and extremely tight budget are setting in. We sat outside the ticket office, utterly dejected that Sri Lank'as cultural heritage is four-times the cost of a room and well out of our budget.
Unable to justify $56 to climb a rock we got back on our bikes, took a photo from the front gate, and looked for a shop to shelter from the next deluge. Think we need some time off in a warm and dry place to re-energise and re-motivate! Sigiriya is on our "come back" list.
Barbed wire and beach
When we arrived at the coast, Nilaveli stood up to it's reputation as overpriced. We'd decided to come here to see the white deserted pristine beach (not so pristine after tsunami) and spend our money here in one of the poorer parts of Sri Lanka.
The cheapest room started at $15 for beachside cabins with ocean views obscured by razor wire. Might get the togs snagged on that, we decided and headed off to look for something without a neighbourly army watchtower. When we were told $25 then $40 for a spare room in a bloke's house we rolled our eyes and cycled out of town, south toward Trincomalee. Thank you aid workers for putting these hotels on your expense accounts and driving up prices for the common man.
We wondered about the tsunami as we pedalled along roads 16m above sea level. New bridge being built, the roads eternally in a state of being built. Just past the "Trimcomalee 6km" roadpost, in Uppuveli village, we saw, "French Garden Anton", guesthouse.
From the guesthouse it's a 200m walk along a coconut tree lined path to a beach ( no razorwire though barbed wire seems to be a popular fencing material), goats grazing and cows wandering and crapping along the sand. Our simple room is $10 including dinner. Bargain beach time. Then we got rained in.
Backroads Sri Lanka
Leaving Negombo Beach, cycled north along the A3 to Chillaw then turned off to try the secondary roads via Waripola and Padeniya. After Padeniya, it felt truly "backroads" as jungle took over from ricefields.
The secondary roads aren't perfect, but less traffic and a lesson in appreciation for what you get: a smooth stretch for daydreaming or potholes to keep us on our wheels. To us it seemed "flat": long easy climbs and gentle downhills, though still working a sweat in the humidity and requiring an Elephant soft drink or three. Any hope of a secluded picnic and midday snooze is usually dashed by visitors from the nearest village!
We stopped to visit Paduwasnuwara temple ruins - the highlight being an inscribed tablet and the royal lavatory - then pedalled on to a little place called Daldadagama. Love the excessive use of syllables!
Daladagama had 2 eateries so we ate at both: a chop-chop shop for kotu (meat and veg chopped up by a man who considers himself a two-cleavered musical genius) and a place that made coconut milk crepes shaped like a cup. Gourmet travels abound.
In Anuradhapura we stopped at the first guesthouse at the edge of town, Charm Inn, and it certainly was charming. The locals seem outraged at the price that UNESCO and the Sri Lankan government charge for the temples here ($25) so we followed our tuktuk driver's advice and visited the free or $2 ones.
We've realised over the course of this journey that we are more people-food-markets-travellers than old building-travellers and the plethora of temples at Anuradhapura were no exception. We lost enthusiasm for dagobas (pointy white monuments) after the first two and the second one we were only enthusiastic because we'd drunk belly, a strange drink with brown sugar that makes everything seem positively technicolour afterwards.
From Anuradhapura we cycled east along the Trinco highway to the temple at Mihintale where the highlight was staring down a monkey that interrupted our picnic. Monkeys: a reason against wild camping that we hadn't considered previously. After climbing the long staircase like good sweaty pilgrims, we balked at $5 to look at a dagoba similar to yesterday's lot, and like a pair of philistines we wandered back down the stairs in search of something to eat. this being Sri Lanka, it's bound to contain coconut.
It was the first dodgy day we'd had in ages, but when we shake our heads and cycle away from one person quoting a ridiculous price, the next shop turns out to be friendly and reasonable. The guesthouse in Honowarra was closed so we were taken to a family's house where the starting price was $10. That's beachside prices and apart from an trickle in the gutter-free dirt road out front, there was little to resemble a water view.
We cycled out of town, hoping to pitch our broken tent at an army post or a little shop. We found neither and five minutes after starting out, dusk became pitch-black darkness. No moon to light our way, just our little headlights and the glare of trucks looming behind.
Then another cyclist passes us, and another. Seven students were cycling to the Trincomalee coast and planned to stay at a temple tonight. We joined their convoy, nine cyclists and four lights riding through the night, veering off the road as trucks lumbered past. The road climbed and dipped, and we cycled somewhat blindly. The jungle closed in around us and after an hour of cycling we came to an army post. They warned us to get off the road at a home-shop close by: elephants on the road!
Pitching the tents wasn't without drama: the lads cut stakes with a machete to tether their tent and we discovered our twice-broken crosspiece was now thrice and irreparably kaput, despite our own best efforts at staking it again. At least this time it wasn't a cold, wet and windy night.
Though the humidity makes camping uncomfortable and is already disintegrating our well-worn clothes. Our fragrance has tropical notes: Eau de Mould. Cat's shirt has ripped down the back and there are holes in her one pair of off-the-bike daks. The lovely Turkish pantaloons, now converted to shorts, are the only item impervious to destruction.
Our host helped us pitch our tents as the moon rose. His wife made dinner (dal and bread) and breakfast (roti and chilli) for a princely $1 each. As always, the envelopes for posting photos will come in handy as a thank you for helping us 9 rowdy campers.
The boys rose at 04:51 am and the morning light revealed the jungle and lake where we bathed last night. No elephants.
The Trincomalee highway turned into one-lane in parts and bitumen had been potholed, patched, repatched and repotholed, but it was far from the worst road we've seen (Georgia still holds that illustrious record). This road was all the more sweet for being relatively flat and ending at a beach.
Kicking off in Sri Lanka
The inaugural Carlton Rugby 7's were being held at Sugadadasa stadium in Colombo, a hair-raising hour by bus from Negombo beach. So we stayed an extra day.
Colombo's security is impressive, simply driving around the city there are heavy gates and army galore, so security at the rugby was tighter than a Scotsman pocket: go this gate, no go another gate, pat down, show me your camera, take a photo. Cat resisted the temptation to push the button and say "boom!"
We wondered where the ticket office was - there was none. Free international rugby, great seats, and a bag of fish roti: heaven. Sri Lanka, Thailand and Brunei gave a good show and these "little" countries were more exciting to watch than the big names. The Aussies were disappointing so Cat cheered the other team. Stony silence reined in the seat beside her for the second half. Apparently it's never "just a game"...
Security is also not a laughing matter. Waiting to catch a bus outside the stadium afterwards we were scooted off the road and onto the pavement by stern army boys with tense expressions. First there was Fiji champions' minibus, who nobody cheered so Cat gave them a happy dance and got them waving back.
Then commandos on motorcycles whizzed past, accompanying the VIP politicians at breakneck speed. Just as they passed there was a huge explosion and everyone jumped, looking around in confusion.
Fireworks.
Whose bright idea was that?!
Welcome to our adventure
We are Adam Thomas and Catherine Mojsiewicz, two Australians who by sheer concidence amongst the thousands of Aussies here, met in London.
On 31st March 2009 we set off from north London on our cycling trip home to Australia.
Cat has been dreaming about overlanding home for eleven years, before she even left Australia, after listening to an interview with a motorcyclist on Triple J radio in 1998 and hearing his travelling song of choice: The Triffids, "Wide Open Road".
Adam's reaction of "you've got to be joking!" turned into a concerted research effort into bikes and camping gear, so much so that he missed a flight just to keep shopping at the camping store. Bargain hunting runs in his family which bodes well for our forays into every carpet shop between here and Australia.
Hope you'll join us for our journey.
