බයිසිකලෙන් ලංකාව වටේ

[rochel1977]

බයිසිකලෙන් ලංකාව වටේ

මේ ට්‍රිප් රිපෝට් එක හම්බුනේ අන්තර්ජාලේ කැරකෙනකොට. මේ අවුරුද්දේ ජනවාරි වල ලංකාවට ආපු බ්‍රිතාන්‍ය ජාතික රොබ් එයින්ස්ලි තමයි මේ සංචාරය කරලා තියෙන්නේ එයාගේ බයිසිකලෙන්. ලංකාව වටේ යන අතරේ ලංකාවේ ලස්සන තැන් තොරතුරු ඒවා ගැන ලස්සනට විස්තර ලියලා තියන එයාගේ බ්ලොග් පිටුවෙන් තමයි මේ උපුටාගන්නේ. එහෙනම් බලන්නකෝ එයාගේ බයිසිකලේ සංචාරේ.

-----------------------

Rob's Sri Lanka trip 2015

Cycling the island's End to End: Dondra Head to Point Pedro

Day 0: Flying to Colombo

I spent a sleepless 36 hours getting from York to Colombo, the idea being to cycle the Sri Lankan End to End

Etihad's seatback entertainment didn't entice me, and I spent most of the 12 plane hours staring at the live map. But I was disappointed when I clicked on 'Cycle Maps'. It didn't show me any bike maps at all. It just cycled through the four styles of map.

Day 1: Clothesless in Colombo

I arrived safely in Colombo at four this morning. My luggage didn't. Etihad managed to lose it somewhere en route last night.

Most of my bike did turn up, though that's more of a hindrance than help: the pedals and tools to reassemble it (and mend the minor damage such as trashed mudguards and bottle cage) are in that fugitive baggage. As well as all my other clothes.

So, with my bike left at the airport, I bussed into Colombo and checked into the hostel for a frustrating day of waiting. At least I used the morning efficiently, walking to the (luckily nearby) Ministry of Defence to get my permit to visit the north of the country. It involved picking my way through the crowds jammed along the seafront for the open-air mass by Pope Francis (pic, nicked off the web).

With the rest of the day I did a few tourist essentials – visiting a Buddhist temple with a relic (the actual Buddha's actual hair), scoffing a fiery devilled chicken and rice (under £1) from a local cafe, getting ripped off by a tuk-tuk driver etc. And a delicious coconut juice (25p), sucked through a straw from a fresh nut macheted open on the spot by the friendly stallholder (pic).

All very nice. But until they deliver my bike, luggage and clothes, I'm knackered, smelly, and stationary.

Day 2: Colombo

A day of walking around the centre of Colombo, waiting for my bike and luggage to be returned to me. I was quite taken with the old building, now almost empty, that used to house Cargill's department store (pic). The colonnades still help shoppers dodge the monsoon rains or the noonday sun, but not English travellers who've been stuck in the same clothes for four days because their other clothes are still in the Baggage Incident Room in Bandaranaike Airport.

However, the central area, Fort, is being rapidly modernised, as this curious sculpture shows. It is of someone who has been on hold to Etihad Airways since 1993.

I strolled along the beachfront (pic). This was rammed with a million people yesterday attending Pope Francis's mass Mass. Apparently at one point he had to take an unscheduled break because the heat got to him. Or perhaps he was simply fed up of tuk-tuk drivers pestering him with 'Hello sir, want taxi? Go to nice place. Temple? Shopping? Massage?'

In most other countries, young men would be playing football or volleball. Not in Sri Lanka: the popular activity in the water was cricket practice, and the aquatic diving catches (or unsuccessful attempts) could be quite balletic (pic).

There was drier cricket being played on many places elsewhere (pic). This is the nearest your typical Sri Lankan batsman gets to a forward defensive. No wonder Geoffrey Boycott never settled here.

I sauntered around South Beira lake, which was full of sweet young couples, popped into the waterside temple (pic), and enjoyed a cream soda. It was a very pleasant sight...

...but not as pleasant as the one that greeted me back at the hostel: my bike and bags returned at last. Finally, a shower and change of clothes. My roommates will be pleased.

Day 3: Galle

I'm desperate to get cycling, but with admirable restraint, I got the train this morning down to Galle, a tourist must-see. In Sri Lanka, you book your bike as a parcel, and it costs three times as much for the bike as for a single fare. But with the single fare costing under a pound for a three-hour journey, that isn't too much of a problem. The Parcel Office (pic) was reassuringly old-fashioned, with not a computer in sight: all was biros, carbon paper, pasteboard tickets and handwritten ledgers. I rather liked it.

The train itself (pic) was a gorgeous ride, south from Colombo along the coast with constant views of palm-fringed beaches on one side and somebody's rucksack on the other. (It was pretty crowded.)

Galle is a gem, a Portuguese-Dutch-English-Sri Lankan hybrid of colonial and local, on a tiny walled old city facing the ocean. This is the entrance to the historic centre, through those walls. It felt great to be doing it with my bike. There are quite a few locals on basic Indian- or Chinese-made bikes, too (pic). Clanky, ludicrously heavy, and cheap, my bike was clearly a source of fascination to them.

I walked around the walls and enjoyed the fabulous views (pic) before splashing out on a fish curry in a touristy local bar. Well, I think it's important to interact with local wildlife.

Day 4: Galle to Dondra Head to Tangalla

At last I got cycling today, starting from Galle at 6am with only the sound of birdsong, and of my rattling mudguard that was trashed by Etihad's baggage handlers. I followed the A2 south, stopping off for a typical Sri Lankan breakfast en route (pic): rice; fish curry; dhal; and something evidently consisting of coconut, chillis, and nitric acid. It was brilliant. And all for 250 rupees (£1.25).

Thirty-odd miles of lovely, flat, waterside cycling later I was at Dondra Head, Sri Lanka's southernmost point, marked by a lighthouse. This is where the End to End starts in earnest. Here's a picture of me, partly by popular request, partly to prove I actually went there, and didn't just snaffle an image off Flickr.

You can climb to the top of the lighthouse for spectacular views of the Head itself, and the island's vibrant green interior (pic). All the kids outside were trying to cadge a cigarette off me. Perhaps this is what they always do to tourists in this touristy spot. Or perhaps my wheezing and puffing, after all those stairs, made them think I was a smoker.

I passed a local bike shop not long after (pic). All the kids inside were trying to cadge a cigarette off me. Perhaps this is what they always do to tourists in this non-touristy spot. Or perhaps my wheezing and puffing, after cycling into a brisk headwind, made them think I was a smoker.

Cycle-tourists are very few, but I saw two touring couples today. Dominique and Vivianne from Canada (pic) are cycle-camping round the island, with rather less luggage than I could manage.

There are plenty of local cyclists on the roads, though, usually chugging along on clunky, rusted old single-speed jobs. Sometimes they are ferrying cargo (jumbo boxes of fish or fruit are a favourite), other times various family members (pic).

One of the most common bike brands you see is the basic and robust (ie built like a tank, and handles like one, but infinitely repairable) Indian-made Hero. I couldn't resist snapping this bloke who was very proud of his newish model.

Lycra is rare, but there was the odd road cyclist out. This chap (pic), like the entire population of Sri Lanka, was friendly and curious and wanted to know where I was going and whether I was married and whether I thought Kumar Sangakkara or Sanath Jayasuriya was the greatest batsman.

As it happened, later on I saw a sign pointing to 'Sanath Jayasuriyagama' ('gama' means 'village'). It's one of two villages set up by cricketers (the other being Mavan Atapattu) that provided homes for 100 families whose houses were destroyed in the 2004 tsunami. Having a bike meant I could detour to visit the village (pic), whose streets are all named after cricketers.

Sri Lankans are a friendly, smiley people, and keep waving to me and saying hello as I pass them on the road. This lovely family in Sanath Jayasuriyagama (who must have lost their house in the tsunami) were no exception. The children were gigglingly delighted to ask me questions about my trip, and they asked me in for coffee. There was no question in their mind who was Sri Lanka's greatest batsman.

In the evening, outside my beachfront hostel in Tangalla, there was an informal cricket match going on with a tennis ball and a chair for the wicket between some Australian backpackers and Sri Lankan locals. I was corralled into batting for the Australians. I wasn't as good as Sanath Jayasuriya, but I did show the Sri Lankans something they very rarely see: a forward defensive.​

 

[rochel1977]

Day 5: Tangalla to Udawalawe

More glorious cycling on a hot day, relieved by cream sodas and excellent curries.

Heading north from Tangalla I visited the Rock Temples of Mulkirigala. They're up this rock (pic).

In the long climb to the top you pass five temples that contain enormous reclining Buddhas (pic). They rather put me in mind of the Ron Mueck sculptures I saw in São Paulo in November. I don't expect you find that particularly enlightening, though.

In the temple courtyard, a school lesson was taking place (pic). I'm always intrigued by the fact that the further away you get from England, the more spotlessly white the children's uniforms.

After all that climbing I rehydrated with the Sri Lankan roadside staple: the juice of a fresh coconut (pic), dramatically macheted open for you on the spot for 25p.

After pit stops at Embilipitaya I got to Udawalawe, ready for a day off the bike tomorrow, visiting the National Park here.

It was a blisteringly hot day that needed plenty of water breaks, but the lush, gentle scenery, and constant smiles and waves from locals, made it another lovely day of biking. There was lots of this sort of thing (pic).

Day 6: Udawalawe to Balangoda

Along with my guesthousemates, I went out on a morning safari. Udawalawe National Park (pic) is one of the world's best places to see elephants in the wild. Apparently they drink 200 litres of water a day, which is what I felt like doing once I got cycling later on.

But we also saw loads of other interesting animals. This is a green bee-eater (pic). I know they like their food hot in Sri Lanka, but this is going quite far.

This is a jackal. Clearly it was his day.

And this is a changeable hawk-eagle. It does look rather moody.

But the main thing was the elephants, and we saw zillions of them, lumbering around and munching vast clumps of vegetation. Many were family groups, such as this mother and baby (pic). We also spotted kingfishers, mongooses, painted storks, peacocks, serpent eagles, buffalo, crocodiles, various fat lizards, and two chameleons, but obviously the photos of them didn't come out because they blended into the background as soon as they saw us.

Clearly the elephants are happy here, because they all look like they're smiling (pic).

Anyway, after all that excitement, it was still only ten in the morning, so I could get back on my bike. Not being able to start early meant I had to cycle in the full heat of the day, though. Luckily, Sri Lankan roadsides abound with food and drink stores, and fruit-juice stalls like this. 'Cool spot' means a cold-drink opportunity, though I did feel pretty cool, having delicious iced wood-apple juice served by the friendly owner (pic).

For the first time in the trip I had some climbing, coming into Hill Country, through loads of little villages and towns on quiet back roads. There was lots of this sort of thing. Only with 1 in 4 ascents. Some very sweaty pushing may have been involved.

Finally I got into Balangoda, a totally untouristed town in the beginnings of tea country (pic). I found the only hotel, which has stunning views over the lush hills and mountains. There is little light pollution here – probably because, if my room is anything to go by, hardly any of the lights work.​

 

[rochel1977]

Day 7: Balangoda to Haputale

A short distance today – just 30 miles, whatever that is in km – but very strenuous ones, into Hill Country. There was around 1500m of climb, whatever that is in feet. But the dawn start from Balangoda was a delight, cycling through sunrise rice paddies to the sound of birdsong. Lots of steady climbing, and several downhills that were exhilarating but lost all that height-gain. Though with views like this, I didn't mind too much. (pic).

We're in tea country here, a Sri Lankan speciality of course. One plantation had a cafe where you can try their product, factory-fresh (pic). It was stronger and more tannic than we're used to in England; I liked it very much. Tea-factory bike tours of Sri Lanka could rival distillery bike tours of Scotland, and you wouldn't have to worry about how much you were drinking.

On and on uphill went the road (pic), with lovely vistas over the lower-lying valleys and distant hills. They're so unused to seeing tourists here that all the stallholders selling me water, cold drinks and curries forgot to overcharge me.

I rolled up at my destination, the hilltop town of Haputale, not long after noon (pic). I checked into a hotel, where they are used to seeing tourists.

They're clearly sticklers for accuracy here, giving the elevation of the place to the nearest millimetre (pic).

Day 8: Haputale

A rest day today, but I was still up early, rewarded by some stunning views of the hillscape mists (pic). It's chilly at night up here in Hill Country: there are actually sheets and blankets on the bed (elsewhere there's nothing), the windows had condensation this morning, and I needed my fleece to go out for breakfast. It was windy, too ‐ given the rather whiffy open drain running down the street outside my room, that's just as well.

Anyway, I took a local bus up an improbably winding and steep narrow lane to visit Dambatenne Tea Factory (pic), founded by Sir Thomas Lipton in 1890 – yes, as in Lipton's, the famous English tea, which you seem to see everywhere in the world except in England.

I had the guided tour. The factory was a spotless state-of-the-art unit full of computer-controlled robots. No, I'm joking. It was rickety, full of clanky old machines, there was no tasting, and the visitor toilet had no water at all. Or toilet paper. I had to improvise, using up the drinking water I was carrying. (I still shudder at the consequences of a similar incident in Filey in 1969, when I didn't have the serendipity of liquid on hand.)

From there I hiked 7km up to Lipton's Seat (pic), a pleasing anagram of Lipton's Teas, where Tom would apparently survey his empire. There are stunning panoramic views from the top, but more important, a tea room where I enjoyed snacks, tea, and water to replace the stuff used in the earlier emergency.

On the way back down through more tea plantations, I saw some pickers at work, picking (pic). For an eight-hour day, they earn 650 rupees (about £3.25). And I complain about writing being low paid...

Back on the bike tomorrow.

Day 9: Haputale to Nuwara Eliya

A beautiful, tranquil dawn start, with awesome views of Hill Country peaks sticking up like islands above the layer of cloud a thousand feet below (pic). Down there in the clouds, at Bandarawela, it was cool and damp and felt more like England, except my breakfast muffin from a bakery only cost 25p.

It was downhill most of the way to Ella, a touristy hill village. I was here to take the train (pic) to Nanu Oya, a famously scenic route through the mountains. It was half an hour late and took three hours to do forty miles. Sri Lankans are not impressed by Superman being able to run faster than a speeding train: most people can.

The views from the train were indeed grand, as it ambled its way round Hill Country mountainsides (pic). Though, actually, the views I've had from my bike have been better, if anything. Still, there was little excuse for all those backpackers sharing my carriage who spent the entire journey ignoring the scenery and Facebooking on their smartphones.

I left the train at Nanu Oya, and cycled up the long steep road to Nuwara Eliya, 1900m up. En route I saw this rather hopeful sale (pic). It's not the only old-fashioned British thing here: Nuwara Eliya is called 'Little England' by Sri Lanka's tourist department. I'll be here two nights, with another day out of the saddle tomorrow. As you can see, my speed is hardly breakneck. Maybe that train wasn't so slow after all. ​

 

[mano3989]

TFS machan.
lankawe idan api monawada karanne kiyala duka hithuna meka baladdi

 

[rochel1977]

Day 10: Nuwara Eliya

A day off the bike exploring Nuwara Eliya today. Created by the English, it's still got a colonial feel to it: racecourse (pic), golf club, half-timbered villa houses, High Tea at the Grand Hotel (more of this later). And the A5 goes right through it, though the one from London to Holyhead probably doesn't go past many Buddhist temples.

And lawned parks: Victoria Gardens was a delight to stroll around this morning. Not quite up to, say, Harrogate's Valley Gardens, but it had a nice line in formal notices that you don't really get in England these days (pic).

In my morning forage for breakfast – or 'breakfirst' as it is often spelt here – I went past this second-hand car pitch. It also sold three-wheel taxis (pic), a snip at around £1,500. They often come with mottoes painted on. These range from the stirring ('Simple life makes a man successful') to the gloomily downbeat ('Life is Not a Flower Garden') to the commercial ('Pick Your Own Favourite Pizza!') to the engagingly realistic ('I may not be the best but I'm trying my best').

An afternoon walk round Gregory Lake (pic - hang on, wasn't he in Emerson, Lake and Palmer?) proved sociable, chatting to a couple of people about cricket, and involved more fresh fruit juice. I had a haircut too, a very professional job involving a complex series of oils, pomades and head massages, with the salon telly showing England getting caned by Australia in the cricket ODI.

Finally came that High Tea at the Grand (pic). The clientele consisted of perky young middle-class Chinese taking group selfies with sticks (75%); bored-looking middle-aged Europeans swiping through their tablet photo-library of Wildlife Park snaps (23%); and fragrant, well-coiffured cyclists in faded trousers continually ordering top-ups for their tea (2%).

All good fun (and tasty), if not exactly exuding that colonial ambience. And the brusque alacrity with which the bill arrived, unasked – before I'd even started my last cake – suggested a less than deferential attitude. I'll be glad to be back on the bike tomorrow...

Day 11: Nuwara Eliya to Kandy

Today was a treat: 50 miles of mostly downhill – cashing in on 1400m of descent – including 20 of freewheel. There were more hairpins (pic) than in a hairpin shop that sells a lot of hairpins after a fresh delivery of hairpins.

Progress actually wasn't that fast, despite the hurtling downhill speeds of up to 30mph, because I kept stopping to admire the views (pic).

The scenery was pretty awesome all morning (pic). I stopped for breakfast at a friendly little shophouse and had fierily delicious hoppers (conical thin pancakes) and sambol (red-hot tomato and chilli salsa) and a cup of tea. The toilet was the house's own, an outside tin shed down the bottom of the garden past some chickens. It's little moments like this that delight me about bike touring. No, really.

Given the lush tea-plantation scenery all around, all this free downhill, and that 40p breakfast inside me, it's no wonder I looked happy (pic).

I got to Kandy by noon, and had time to visit the excellent Botanical Gardens on the edge of town before finding a hotel. I was particularly taken by the avenue of pine trees that look like they're staggering home after a particularly sociable party (pic). Apparently they're all wonky because their roots are weakened by chomping termites, and as they grow they get bent by the wind.

In Kandy I visited one of the city's famous dance shows (pic), which includes (for the female dancers) elegant and subtle gestures and (for the male dancers) somersaults, fire-eating and fire-walking, all accompanied by loud drums and snake-charmer wind instrument. Bewilderingly fast, noisy and danger-defying – but fun – it was curiously similar to cycling amid Kandy's traffic bedlam.​

 

[a2mdb]

තෑන්ක්ස් මචං බෙදාගත්තට.

 

[dilshanjvc]

ela ban
tfs
9+

 

[nishanemb]

maru machan

 

[rochel1977]

Day 12: Kandy

A day biking in town, going past Kandyesque sights such as this GR-period British post box in front of a Buddhist temple (pic). So you can pray for good luck, for instance that the postcard you've sent will actually arrive.

I cycled up a steep back road into the hills to the well set-up Tea Museum. I hadn't realised that the Scots, along with inventing most useful things such as television and phones and whisky, were also the pioneers of both of Ceylon's tea plantations (James Taylor) and its mass tea production and marketing (Sir Thomas Lipton). The enlightenment was finished off with a free pot of tea on the top floor (pic), which afforded excellent views of the rainclouds.

I had an afternoon stroll round the city's famous lakeside (pic), gamely trying to walk off my enormous lunch of a Sri Lankan special, kottu (a huge plateful of chopped-up roti with bits of, in this case, chicken). I washed it down with some fresh fruit juices: soursop and nelly.

Cricket continues to be a big thing, both in conversations and in being played out on in parks and streets. En route back to the hotel, I saw these lads playing on the pavement with a home-made bat (pic). The bowler's arm, as so many seem to do in SL, did rather stray from the linear. I resisted the temptation to call 'NO-BALL' though. Extending an arm suddenly sideways to signal it, given Kandy's upredictable surges of street traffic passing within six inches of you, would not have been a good idea.

Day 13: Kandy to Sigiriya

Thanks to another very early start in the cool Kandy dawn, and a cloudy daytime keeping the temperatures down, this was the most enjoyable cycle so far. I'm now following the A9 up north for the last section of my End to End – a concept familiar to domestic LEJOGgers – and out of Kandy it went pleasingly downhill through unpretentious little towns.

In one of them, I got chatting to a local cycling enthusiast (pic, stripey top) and his police officer chum. Sri Lankans are really a very friendly lot.

In one village I saw this steamroller (pic). Thankfully it was going the other way. Otherwise I might have suffered the embarrassment of it overtaking me.

There were a few rainshowers, most of which I managed to sit out in handy roadside eateries. This is how the locals coped (pic).

On a Sri Lankan road, you're never far from a banana, thanks to the plentiful fruit and veg stalls (pic). Or indeed a tuk-tuk. Or a clanky but reliable town bike.

At Dambulla I did the obligatory tourist thing and paid a whopping £7.50 to visit the Rock Temples. At least you get plenty of Buddha statues for your money (pic) – dozens of them, including some giant reclining versions.

Anyway, I'm now in Sigiriya, with another day off the bike tomorrow, visiting Sri Lanka's version of Ayer's Rock...

Day 14: Sigiriya

Sigiriya is Sri Lanka's big-ticket tourist attraction, its equivalent of both Australia's Uluru (being a rocky outcrop of national identity) and Peru's Macchu Picchu (being a ruined hilltop capital). It towers over the forested plains (pic) with a breathtaking, almost arrogant, size – just like the admission fee.

There's a very steep walkway glued to the side of the rock that takes zillions of tourists a day up to the top (pic). Those big paw sculptures used to belong to a mighty lion gateway statue, in Sigiriya's heyday from 500 to 1400.

One sign on the way up advised us to keep still and quiet in the case of a wasp attack. This wasn't hypothetical: a few minutes after I finished my visit, the whole rock was closed for a few hours because of one. The admission fee and the tuk-tuk drivers weren't the only way some tourists got stung...

Anyway, this is the view from the top (pic). You can see why the ancient Sri Lankan kingdoms wanted to build their HQ here, because you can spot troublemakers coming a mile off. Also, there's no chance of an overcharging tuk-tuk driver making his way up here.

In the afternoon I trundled round the Sigiriya area on my bike, down little dirt roads to villages (where more games of cricket were bring played) and up tiny lanes through forests. One of them took me to Pidurangala, another rocky outcrop which you can walk to the top of, to get fantastic views of Sigiriya's rock (pic). There were hardly any tourists here, nor even wasps, and for 15 minutes I had this view to myself.
​

 

[පැටියා]

 

[rochel1977]

Day 15: Sigiriya to Anuradhapura

Another pre-dawn start, as I slipped through cool dark forest roads, accompanied by the remarkably diatonic calls of Sri Lanka's melodious birds. This is the sort of twitter feed I like.

And it wasn't just the birdsong that proved I wasn't in Britain: it may have been the A9, but you don't get road signs like this in Scotland (pic).

I'm into the flat north of the country now, and there's noticeably more bikes on the road. I was pleased to see this little gathering having a joke outside a shop which sells... well, the sign's self-explanatory.

I got to Anuradhapura by lunchtime. The town – the ancient capital – is home to extensive and evocative ruins, which I'll visit tomorrow. For this afternoon I was happy just to trundle round the three local lakes (pic), sightsee some of the eye-catching temples, and practise shooing stray dogs away. (They're all bark and no bite. All you have to do when one chases you is point at it suddenly and shout 'GO HOME!', and it runs away.)

During which I also enjoyed seeing this lad cycling home from school against a typical Sri Lankan backdrop. As you can imagine, the school uniform doesn't need to specify a sweater or jacket.

Day 16: Anuradhapura

A pleasant, easy day on the bike, exploring Anuradhapura's extensive ancient ruined sacred city, dagobas and stupas. I wasn't sure what a dagoba was, but here is one (pic). When this was built, about 1200 years ago, only two Egyptian pyramids were bigger. I'm still not entirely sure what it is, but it's solid, and made of an awful lot of bricks. Enough, it's calculated, to build a wall ten feet high from London to Edinburgh, which would make the A1 even more difficult for pedestrians to cross.

Lots of monkeys live around the dagobas, and like to climb up the steep walls. It all looks very precarious (pic).

The ruins are spread out over several square miles, with living villages in between, making a bike the best way to explore them (pic). I was glad not to be in a tour coach, or a motor-trike taxi, constantly stopping at handicraft stalls. I was more interested in fruit juice.

I was rather taken with this pair of swimming pools, built around 800 and used by monks. The deep end is 17 feet, so they must have had a pretty high diving board.

And I liked this frieze of elephants guarding yet another dagoba. But by lunchtime I was dagoba'd and stupa'd out (and had seen the Famous Two Thousand Year Old Sacred Bodhi Tree, which looked like, well, a tree). It was time to go back to town for a cheap and delicious curry, eaten with fingers, in a local restaurant, and some more fruit juice. (No pic - my fingers were too sticky to use the camera.)

Day 17: Anuradhapura to Vavuniya

A short day today, entering the flat, green Northern Province (pic). Until 16 Jan this year, you needed a permit from the Ministry of Defence in Colombo to enter. I queued up there to get mine, and two days later they abolished them.

The checkpoints are still there, but the army officers now spend the interview time asking questions such as Is this your own bike, What is the weather like in England, Do you think Ian Bell is strong enough against the short ball, etc.

There are lots more people on bikes in this region than elsewhere in Sri Lanka, some of them carrying enormous loads. This was one of the most extravagant (pic). I wonder if the army guys stopped him to ask him how he kept his balance.

Log Man was pretty fast. I overtook him, then when I stopped for a swig of water he passed me. It wasn't until the busy town of Vavuniya, my overnight stop, that I caught him up again (pic).

Day 18: Vavuniya to Kilinochchi

The A9 reminded me of its Scottish namesake: in my 1997 LEJOG, it was also the most tedious part of the trip, with scenery unchanging from hour to hour, and an irritating headwind. The Vanni, as this northern part of Sri Lanka is called, is flat scrubland punctuated by small scruffy towns, with the A9 cutting a long, boring, straight swathe through it. Still, I did get some amusement: seeing a group of local road cyclists out on a run (pic).

Our paths crossed again later and we stopped for a chat and a snap (pic). They're the Sri Lankan Army Team, riding cut-down versions of the town clunkers you see everyone riding round here: 28 inch wheels, rod brakes, single speed. They were still a lot faster than me.

In hot sun, with little sleep last night, and no food bar a breakfast muffin thanks to a mildly upset stomach, I was tired. I had to stop every mile for water as I approached Kilinochchi, my target for today. This is very much Tamil territory, as the technicolour Hindu temples show (pic).

I wasn't too interested in the finer points of polytheistic representation in Hindu architecture though. I was just desperate for a comfy hotel bed, for an afternoon nap. Fortunately I got one.

Day 19: Kilinochchi to Point Pedro

This was the hardest day so far, thanks to a strong headwind, hot sun, and weak legs from two days without proper food because of a gippy tummy. It was only 39 miles, but felt three times that, with around a dozen stops for water, shade and rest on the way. It started OK, with another dawn departure, and the traverse of Elephant Pass (pic): a rail-and-road causeway across Jaffna Lagoon that was the only access to the far north until recently. As a consequence it was fought over very hard in the civil war, and there are memorials to some of the battles here. My battles were trivial in comparison.

I took some remote, pretty back lanes (pic) up towards Point Pedro. These went through tiny villages where curious locals all wondered what on earth I was doing here. Given my feeble physical state, struggling along a bumpy dirt road in the heat, so did I.

This area was a war zone until hostilities finally ended – after 30 years – in 2009. Military presence is still heavy, with several checkpoints, and there are many areas not yet cleared of mines (pic) – it's not a good idea to stray from the road. And I already had explosions of my own, internal, kind.

I arrived at Point Pedro, the town by the northernmost point, at noon, but was too exhausted to do the official finishing stuff and photocall. That will have to wait till tomorrow, after I've slept about 18 hours. The only available guesthouse was the shabbiest, filthiest, most ramshackle place I've ever stayed. Washing my hands in the sink (pic) was likely to make them dirtier. I was a little worried about bringing my bike into the room, because it might have ended up covered in filthy marks. The bike, I mean. Not that it mattered: I was only there to sleep, with my ceremonial end tomorrow just half a mile away.
​

 

[crazybuddy]

අඩෝ පට්ට..
​

 

[rochel1977]

Day 20: Point Pedro to Jaffna

An easy, enjoyable day, completing my Sri Lankan End to End by bagging Point Pedro, followed by a delightful coast-road, wind-assisted ride to Jaffna.

First I had to visit Point Pedro lighthouse to complement my ceremonial start back at Dondra Head lighthouse. Unlike that one, it's cordoned off and watched over by a (very friendly, actually) guard.

Photographs are not allowed (pic).

Point Pedro itself is marked in traditional extreme-point fashion with a signpost (Madagascar 4760km, Thailand 2349km etc), plus a tableau-map (pic). A small quay juts out with, presumably, the most extreme point. A group of young guys were there having motored up from Kandy, taking pictures and having a great laugh, and we had a very pleasant chat.

Anyway, here's the publicity shot: me with bike at Point Pedro (pic). The End to End aspect of this particular trip is done: 470 miles from south to north, an (almost all) delightful and trouble-free ride through a fascinating, friendly country. But a cyclist is never finished, as anyone knows who's heard one in a pub talking about rubbish local facilities. There was more biking to be done...

It was still only half seven, and the beaches were full of fishing boats returning with their catch (pic). They were also full of bikes, the standard mode of transport round here. For £62.50 from one Jaffna's many cycle shops, a shiny new Lumala town model (28 inch wheels, rod brakes, single speed, weight approx. three tons, indestructible) is all yours. I'd be tempted to buy one and take it back with me, bar the fact that the excess baggage would outstrip the cost of the flight.

There are also fish markets along the coast, selling the catch straight off the boat (pic). In a hot climate like this, speed is of the essence.

The area has suffered a lot recently. Not only was it ravaged by civil war for a generation until 2009, but the 2004 tsunami caused widespread destruction. It was very sobering to see ruins of houses such as this up and down the coast.

A feature of the Jaffna Peninsula is the technicolour temples of the Tamil inhabitants (pic)...

...with towers exuberantly colourful and detailed, extravagantly decorated with images of the Hindu gods (pic). I wonder which one I should pray to in order to clear up my gippy tummy? Dhanvantari, the god of Ayurvedic medicine, I expect.

After that beautiful coast road, I headed inland through little villages and across causeways over the much-lagooned landscape (pic) to Jaffna. Direction signs are virtually non-existent on Sri Lankan roads, so it meant a lot of asking locals the way. Reassuringly, they always agreed with each other. Sri Lanka is a different country from India, you know.

Finally, as I came into Jaffna, I saw this man on a bike taking his cow for a walk. As you do.

Day 21: Jaffna Islands

Linked by causeways (pic) and ferries, a chain of low-lying islands surrounds Jaffna. I spent today exploring some of them by bike – not an entirely easy experience, given the high winds and endlessly dug-up roads. This photo is a rare shot of smooth tarmac.

Here's another extreme rarity: a direction sign. You usually have to guess, or try to make sense of a deluge of instructions in Tamil from a bemused passer-by. This local doesn't look entirely sure where he's meant to go, either.

Some of the island scenery was pleasant enough (pic), but the village of Kayts ('capital' of the island of Velavai) looked ravaged by war and tsunami, with ruined buildings and abandoned shells of houses everywhere. It wasn't especially uplifting.

Tiny ferries, run by the military, connect the smaller islands with each other (pic). This one – with a single 40hp outboard motor struggling to cope with a car, taxi-trike, three motorbikes, six bikes and two dozen people – was the slowest I've ever experienced, taking quarter of an hour to go a few hundred yards. Well, the pace of life is slower here.

Fishing is the main activity (pic), though everybody was on holiday because of the full moon. Or perhaps, with it being so windy, they'd just stayed in. I wouldn't blame them: my into-headwind progress across the causeway back to the mainland was slower than the ferry.

In fact, it was so windy that even some of the local cyclists had to get off and push (pic).

Day 22: Jaffna

With no train out available until the night after tomorrow, I've ended with a couple of spare days in Jaffna. Today was a delightfully relaxed affair: everything was shut because it was a public holiday (hence the full trains) and it poured down with rain. So, after a cursory bit of biking round town, I had every excuse to stay in my cosy guesthouse room. Specifically, my personal covered courtyard (pic), enjoying a beer to celebrate finishing the End to End at long last. Cheers!

Day 23: Jaffna

With an evening train to catch, and my bike entrusted to the Railway Parcel Office, I had another easy day. Most of the activity consisted of reading books and magazines in the British Council library (I could get into Adam Mars-Jones, you know), drinking tea and smoothies in local cafes, and enjoying delicious Rs200 vegetarian thalis (pic).

Finally, around six, I set off for the tedious night train back to Colombo. It's been lovely staying at Morgan's Guesthouse – a real treat after my cut-price lodgings of the previous weeks. It used to be a UN guesthouse (and Angelina Jolie, whoever she is, stayed in my room when she was here on envoy duty, apparently). I presume this explains the sign on the gate (pic).

Day 26: Negombo

The previous two days, Day 24 and Day 25, I've been in Negombo doing delightfully little except eating, drinking and washing. I started exploring the old Dutch canal running north out of the city, but the towpath and adjacent roads soon run out. In any case, the paths are something of an obstacle-course of fishing gear (pic). Which gave me enough excuse to return to the eating and drinking.

But I got out for a decent day's cycling today, heading south along the coast road that eventually leads a back way to Colombo. It's very agreeable scenery (pic) of old Portuguese churches, fishing boats, and local schoolchildren who greet you with a cheerful bye! due to a mistranslation.

The road skirts Negombo's big lagoon. From that lagoon, heading south, is the other branch of the canal. It runs all the way to Colombo, and has paved lanes alongside virtually all the way – to my delight, as you can see (pic).

It's utterly delightful, going through villages, past fishing huts and well-to-do houses, and gently busy with cyclists (pic). I notice that the Dutch didn't get as far as installing windmills, which is a pity, because today they'd have been whirling like billy-o in the headwind I had on the way back to Negombo.

Anyway, I took a birdwatching boat trip into the lagoon's marshes. Not that much to see – we saw a few green herons and kingfishers (pic) among others – but a fine relaxing thing to do on a hot day. My eye for spotting avians may not be great, but en route back to Negombo, I was pleased to find that my eye for spotting fresh fruit juice bars is as good as ever.​

 

[rochel1977]

TFS machan.
lankawe idan api monawada karanne kiyala duka hithuna meka baladdi

අනේ ඒක තමයි මචෝ. දුකේ බෑ.

තෑන්ක්ස් මචං බෙදාගත්තට.

ස්තූති මචන්

ela ban
tfs
9+

ස්තූති මචන්

maru machan

එළ මචන්

අඩෝ පට්ට..
​

ඔව්. පට්ට තමයි මචන්

 

[hancok]

ade patta machan mama thama kiyawanawa. maath bike eken yanawa mehema ekak

niyama suddage english . balanna hari aasai

Sri Lankans are not impressed by Superman being able to run faster than a speeding train: most people can.

 

[Hobs]

පට්ට...
Rep+++

 

[kaotic]

Maxxa..

rep ++

 

[MihiCherub]

pissu hadenawa. mara gatak thiyenne one ne ohoma bike padinna.. 10+ TFS

 

[mAjIc hAt]

මේක නම් නියමයි බන්

Rep +++++​

 

[-LotusMoon-]

wow!

Thanks for sharing!