January brings with her the obligatory annual questions: Why did I eat all those pies, was it really a good idea to remain drunk for the whole of December, who emptied my bank account and as the dawn of a new year breaks, what lies ahead?  Luckily with life in the saddle and on a budget we managed to by-pass the first three of these, though as we waved goodbye to our festive visitors we’ve pondered the last. The beauty of such a rhetorical question is of course that none of us really know, we have faith that all goes well and what will be will be.  For us, the hope is a safe journey on two wheels to this time next year and the acceptance there’ll be moments of bliss, sweaty struggles, the day-to-day, a lost temper or two and perhaps the odd tear (you know what Brian’s like).  But also the understanding that all of these component parts are as significant as the next in getting us to where we’re going.  We’ve no doubt, anyone reading this will have their own adventure to grapple and rejoice with in whatever guise that comes, so bonne chance from us both 🙂

Now we’ve finished our final thought we’ll come back to the beginning!  To say we dodged the first three NY conundrums is perhaps a little rich. Our livers certainly got a workout with our companions on board, the calories came thick and fast with Jack’s cooking and the budget has been going up and down like a street girls knickers. You can pamper yourself like a bond girl, sit down with a large glass of your favourite tipple or indeed cycle around the world but nothing quite resets you like being around those you love. A super time was had by all and it’s been with a bit of a bump our slightly plumper behinds hit the saddle again over the last few days.

Shruti touching down on the 30th set the celebrations off and we toasted her in style at the flat Jack had rented for two nights in Mount Lavania. Jack grew up on the Gold Coast so he chef’d up a winning fish platter on NYE, albeit to a slightly hung over crowd.  Shruti’s mischievous side saw us up on the roof of the building for the countdown and it felt like we were in the middle of a vast stadium as the fireworks lit up the silhouetted panoramic cityscape.

It was adieu to my sister and Jack bright and early on the 1st with the remaining gang  off to central Colombo to catch our train to Kandy. The unseasonal weather over christmas meant trains where only just running again due to landslides and would effect our onward journey for the week to come. Kandy used to be the cultural capital of Sri Lanka and on arrival it lived up to its historic reputation.  A double whammy awaited us as the old president, Rajapaksa, was greeting the masses at the end of his campaign trail.  The town was literally buzzing and after inducting Shruti to the scrumptious wonder of Egg Hoppers, we were back to our hotel for an early night.

The lakes around Kandy. Yum

At the centre of Kandy sits a majestic lake, a remnant from the last Sri Lankan head of state pre colonialist rule.  He even popped an island in the middle for his harem, treat them mean and keep them keen.  As is the way when friends join us on the trip, the day was as refreshing for the sights of the Temple of Buddhas Tooth and tea at Helgas Folly as much as for the ambling, catching up and conversations on Sri Lankan life. As Brian and I have tended to avoid the tourist trail it was a wonderful change that even saw us squeezing in a cultural music show at the end of the day.

Kandy. Note the hareem island to the left of the fountain!

Helgas Folly. Alice in wonderland eat ya heart out

Shruti is ever the intrepid traveller from Burning Man and Ibiza one minute to the Inka trail and beyond the next. So it was an early start the following day to reach the base town of Adams Peak, Dalhousie.  Luckily the train was running half the distance and what a delight it is to travel on these beauties.  As we chugged out of the platform and into the carved path through the jungles and mountains beyond, the morning mist set off the green glass of the canopy to be met by the dazzling blue of the sky above.  It’s standard procedure in this part of the world to leave train doors open in transit and it was quite the sight to look back on the bends and see the matching blue train slice through the voluptuous landscape.   We got as far as Hatton and then it was a tuk tuk ride through the horizontally striated order of the tea hills before reaching the slightly jaded base town of Dalhousie.

Blues and greens (care of Shruti’s iphone)

Striated tea hills and a hot days work

The climb for the peak was to start at 2am that morning and with us being in our 30’s, the latent festive hangovers combined with a day in transit meant it was a welcome relief to bed down at 8pm.  By 2:30 we’d started our ascent with the scattered ant trail of tourists and locals alike to reach the hindu temple at the peak for sunrise.  The summit sits at 2500 metres with 5200 steps as your guide/punishment.  It was a surreal experience racing against the rotation of the earth up the side of a mountain in the pitch black Sri Lankan wilderness.  Suffice to say when we reached it, it felt like the world and their mother had too!  As we sat patiently shoulder to shoulder with the baying crowd we watched as the night sky folded the stars away and the suns rays warmed the clouds and mountains beneath us.  You forget how blinkered ones vision is in the darkness and the descent was another bevvie of waterfalls and breathtaking vistas. 5200 steps don’t come without a struggle and by the time we reached the bottom we felt like John Wayne post a thrashing on a bucking bronco. Heads were down for a well deserved 30 min power nap before we started our negotiations for a lift to Ella, from which a tuk tuk won.

Sunrise on Adams Peak

The descent 🙂

It all started swimmingly with Shruti insisting, ‘what other way is there to travel in Sri Lanka’, but the Chinese would have done well to include this in their torture armoury by the time we reached Ella. 6 hours in a tuk tuk with three people, their baggage and not much sleep = cream crackered. The highlight and saving grace of the bumpy ride was our skilled and ever smiling driver Mia and the luscious and diverse countryside. On arriving at the hill station town we began to see the true devastation of the Christmas landslides.  Many roads where just opening up again from car sized boulders and mud completely obscuring the way.

Shruti giving good coconut

We were blessed with light rain in Ella the following morning that meant it was 24 hrs of guilt free relaxation before heading to the coast for Shruti’s last days.  As we could now appreciate, the train lines didn’t stand a chance against natures muddy wrath so we boarded the bus for a 6 hour trip.  Sri Lanka Buses. Wow.  Not only do they go faster than a cheetah on amphetamines but they come fully loaded with doors left open and bursting at the seams. And by the time it arrived at our pick up it was standing sardine room only.  During the first 3 hours of quiet reflection whilst a young lady vomited in a carrier bag behind me, my legs, knees and feet where wedged together tighter than a pack of malboros and the screaming of an amply lunged child made my teeth chatter, I realised how much respect I have for those who decide to travel around the world using public transport.  For us the bike is king.  It can only hold one person and their bags at its max.  Vomiting passengers are kept at bay and ones legs are free to roll.  Different horses for different courses 😉

A rainy day in Ella

The evening of our last night with Shruti saw the general election and a new president being voted in.  Having spoken to a few locals with mixed feelings on the result we were re-assured by the fact it put Sri Lanka in the light of a true democracy.  Who knows what the future holds for this little island but it seems it’s people refreshingly have a voice.

Another farewell to our last festive fancy, Miss Shruti, and we were back on our bikes the following day.  My Brooks leather saddle had packed in pre Chrimbo and along with one of Brians tyres we had to give the bikes some TLC  before the off.  If you’ve ever broken in a leather bike saddle you’ll understand the pain but for those who haven’t, imagine spending 6 hours of your day with your tender bum bones rhythmically thudding a piece of marble!  It’s one of those agonising but essential moments we started this post about and although a sore bott persists, it will all work out splendidly and is absolutely part of the magic.

Back on the road where we belong and sending you all the best for 2015.

Big wheel keep on turning! Thanks Tina 🙂

Donkey and Horse

xxxx