022 CYCLE TOURING INDIA (1) - PART 2

 

INDIA (1) - Part 2

Mumbai - Kanyakumari
3 November 2008 - 17 January 2009
1756 Kilometres - 75 Days 

MAP

PHOTOS

INDIA (1) - PART 2

INDIA’S KONKAN COAST WITH AMANDA

MUMBAI TO KANYAKUMARI

3 185 km – 75 Days

3 November 2008 - 17 January 2009

 

 

3 November - Cape Town, South Africa – Mumbai, India

Two weeks after arriving in South Africa, I once again felt mentally and physically strong, well-rested, and excited to return to India. My sister Amanda decided to join me on this adventure, and we planned a three-month cycling holiday in India. Until now, Amanda had neither tried cycle touring nor participated in any substantial exercise. She was also a picky eater and disliked camping. I couldn’t help but wonder how all of this would play out.

 

4 November – Mumbai

After Amanda's bike was reassembled, her first test ride ended in disappointment as she returned with a broken derailleur. My heart sank as I inspected the damage, harbouring a strong suspicion that it had occurred during the flight. It felt like a catastrophic setback in a town where bicycles with gears were rare. Undeterred, we embarked on a quest, wandering through the crowded streets and vibrant marketplaces, searching for a bike shop that could help. Despite our determined search, we couldn’t find a solution, leaving us both drained and demoralized.

 

5 November – Mumbai

Exhausted from jet lag, we were jolted awake well past ten o’clock by the raucous cries of crows shattering the tranquillity. Bleary-eyed and with a sense of urgency, we embarked on our quest for a new derailleur, diving deep into the chaos of a traditional Indian bike shop. Although the quality of the parts was far from reassuring, we reminded ourselves that beggars can't be choosers in a foreign land.

The day unfolded in a whirlwind of activity, as we darted back and forth between the shop and our temporary home, each trip marked by our rising desperation to solve Amanda's cycling crisis. Along the way, we received an unexpected invitation to step into the limelight as extras in a local film. Amanda's disappointment was palpable when I declined the offer. My thoughts were consumed by worry over her bike, leaving no space for thoughts of cinematic adventures.

 

6 November - Mumbai

Eventually the bike was fixed and we set out to immerse ourselves in the heart of Mumbai, eager to wander through the enchanting old quarter.

Our adventures took us to the iconic Gateway of India, where we boarded a ferry for Elephanta Island. The Elephanta Caves, with its ancient temples, hewn from solid rock between the 5th and 6th centuries AD, are dedicated to the deity Shiva. With archaeological evidence dating back to the 2nd century BC, the caves boast striking artistry and hold UNESCO World Heritage status—a testament to their historical significance.

Despite her struggle with aquaphobia, Amanda faced her fears and managed the boat ride to the island and back.

 

7 November - Mumbai - Alibag - 20 km

Disaster again struck sooner than expected when Amanda's bike chain broke before we even rounded the first corner. We returned to the bike shop to get it fixed, and then took a ferry from the Gateway of India to Mandwa.

The trip was a blessing, saving us from biking through the busy city centre. Despite being nervous, Amanda handled the boat like a pro. Our adventure began with a twenty-kilometre ride to Alibag, a small beach town. It made for an ideal first-night stop, with overnight accommodation conveniently located right across from the beach. The place was basic, but it had a fantastic sea view.

We wasted no time and swam in the lukewarm waters of the Arabian Sea, fully clothed like the Indian ladies. At sunset, the beach became crowded with families strolling along the sand, enjoying the cooler temperatures and giving us curious looks. Foreign women in Alibag seemed a rarity, as our every move were observed with great curiosity. Supper was from a beachside street vendor and, like all food in India, it was delicious.

 

8 November - Alibag - Murud - 55 km

Our first full day of riding started with near disaster as we were barely on our way and Amanda fell off the bike. Luckily, she was uninjured although a little shaken. The new derailleur was for a different setup, causing the gears not to change smoothly.

Despite the humid weather, the day was good, and the scenery along the Konkan Coast was beautiful. After cycling forty-five kilometres, Amanda felt weak and chose to take a tuk-tuk (auto-rickshaw) to the next village.

In Murud, we planned to camp on the beach, but the high tide made it impossible to pitch a tent. While looking for a suitable spot, a fellow cyclist from Hungary joined us. Together, we found a semi-official camping spot in someone's yard.

 

9 November - Murud - Harihareshwar – 55 km

From the coastal village of Murud, a five-kilometre bicycle ride led us to the historic Janjira Fort, a spectacular fortress perched on a small island just off the coast. To reach it, I took a delightful 15-minute sail on a traditional dhow. While I eagerly explored the fort's imposing high walls and the remnants of its old cannons, Amanda found a cosy spot at the harbour, choosing to relax and soak in the views.

Back on the mainland at Janjira, we hopped on a ferry that took us across the river to Dighi, where our route extended further south. Feeling unwell from the sweltering heat and possibly the water , Amanda decided to hail a tuk-tuk for some much-needed respite.

Meanwhile, I continued biking along a rugged and hilly path that led to the temple and beach town of Harihareshwar. The scorching heat made the sharp climbs particularly challenging for a novice, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of relief that Amanda had chosen to take a ride in the tuk-tuk.

 

10 November - Harihareshwar - Harnai – 57 km

From our overnight accommodation in Harihareshwar, we boarded a ferry, with Amanda's nerves clearly hanging by a thread. Once across the Savitri River, it became evident that there was no shortcut to Kelshi, and Amanda made the call to take a bus while I opted to bike.

Arriving in Kelshi, I searched frantically for Amanda, but she was nowhere to be found. She couldn’t have overtaken me, so I decided to cycle on to Harnai but she wasn’t there either. With no other option, I chose to stay put.

After securing accommodation, I was grateful when the owner’s son offered to take me on his scooter to scour the area for my sister. Hardly out of town, fortune finally smiled upon us as we spotted a rickshaw carrying a bicycle.

To my astonishment, Amanda had indeed discovered a shortcut to Kelshi, after an unsuccessful search for a bus. Her path included a ferry crossing and an arduous trek across the sandy expanse. She had a stroke of luck when she crossed paths with Gabor, a cyclist from Hungary. United by circumstance, they made their way to Harnai.

 

11 November - Harnai

As Amanda battled her illness, we decided to linger an extra day in Harnai, hoping she could shake off whatever had taken hold of her. She stayed in bed for the best part of the day, gradually regaining her strength. By evening, a spark of energy returned, and we set off to explore the vibrant fish market.

Stepping into the market was a riot of colours and smells. The excitement was palpable as countless boats returned from their day at sea, their hulls brimming with the day’s catch. Traders bustled about, ready to barter and trade for the fresh bounty of the ocean.

 

12 November - Harnai - Guhagar – 57 km

The following morning, Amanda declared that she felt strong enough to tackle the 13-kilometre journey to Dapoli. Upon reaching Dapoli, she hopped onto a bus, where she became an instant point of curiosity among the locals. I crossed the Vashishti River by ferry, and we arrived in Dabhoi almost simultaneously.

Once across the river to Dhopave, we pedalled along a hot and hilly road to Guhagar, where the salty breeze of the Arabian Sea filled the air.

To our delight, we stumbled upon a charming spot behind a quaint house that doubled as a shop and a restaurant. The rhythmic sound of the waves created a serene ambience, inviting us to set up camp. With the promise of a night under the stars, we eagerly pitched our tents, ready to embrace the beauty of the coastal paradise that surrounded us.

Camping in a public area sets you up for constant visitors. The Indians are a curious nation, and we were peppered with questions. Swimming in the lukewarm waters as the sun set over the Arabian Sea felt like the perfect way to end the day. The shop owner prepared a delicious home-cooked thali, and I thought life couldn’t get any better.

 

13 November - Guhagar – Ganpatipule – 60 km

Few things rival the joy of waking to the sound of the ocean, and before departing we were treated by a home-cooked breakfast. Then, still nauseous, Amanda decided to take a bus to Ganpatipule and rest before proceeding. Once again, she was a novelty and photographed from all angles.

I rode along the uneven and hilly path to Ganpatipule, where our arrival was roughly simultaneous. A misunderstanding led to each booking a room and that night, we each had a place of our own.

Amanda, who rarely eats ice cream at home, suddenly craved it—a curious effect of a few days spent cycling. After a successful search, we tucked into the local cuisine. By then, Amanda claimed everything, including the soda, was masala-flavoured.

 

14 November – Ganpatipule

We remained in the coastal town of Ganpatipule, where we dedicated our day to exploring the remarkable Swayambhu Ganpati temple. This revered site, known for its stunning seaside vistas, features a massive statue of Lord Ganesh, gleaming in a vibrant shade of orange. The temple, thrumming with the energy of pilgrims, provided a serene yet lively atmosphere as devotees offered prayers and sought blessings.

Afterwards, we shifted gears and spent the rest of the day lounging about. We hoped that this time by the sea would help alleviate Amanda's nausea.

 

15 November - Ganpatipule - Ratnagiri – 30 km

The rest did Amanda a world of good. She cycled the entire 30 kilometres to Ratnagiri without requiring a tuk-tuk. Ratnagiri was the perfect place from where to explore historic Kolhapur with its intensely fascinating temple complex.

 

16 November –Kolhapur visit

The four-hour bus ride to Kolhapur was a hair-raising affair. Upon our arrival, we immediately set off to explore the renowned Mahalaxmi Temple, a magnificent structure surrounded by hundreds of devoted pilgrims, all seeking the blessings of Lakshmi, the goddess of wealth and prosperity.

Nestled along the serene banks of the river Panchganga and cradled by the majestic Eastern Ghats, Kolhapur felt like a hidden gem, far removed from the usual tourist paths. The town's rich history came to life as we marvelled at the ancient temple complex, dating back to 10 AD. The temple, dedicated to the revered four-armed goddess adorned with glimmering gemstones, radiated an aura of sacredness and reverence.

 

In light of the harrowing bus journey, we had endured, we eagerly opted for a more tranquil return by train.

 

17 November - Ratnagiri - Nate – 60 km

We got underway early for the cycle from Ratnagiri to Nate, a ride that included short, little lung-buster hills. Amanda threatened to flag down a tuk-tuk, but none was available, and she had no option but to hang in. Occasionally, I could hear her swearing about another f***ing hill under her breath.

Finally, with rain pouring down and no sign of the ferry across the Vaghotan River, we weakened at the sight of an abode near the Jate Jetty. My dear sister later insisted she needed to disinfect herself.

 

18 November - Nate – Devgad Beach – 46 km

Our day started promisingly, and we rode along an excellent road sporting English signage, which soon turned into a dirt track. It took us up and down small hills, and as the map showed no path, I couldn’t work out where we were. Thus, it remained best to follow the dirt track, and in the process, we crossed rivers by ferries of all shapes and sizes.

Eventually, our path led us to serene Devgad Beach, where pitching a tent was easy because the area was a popular picnic spot. Amanda was understandably tired after such a challenging day and fell asleep after a dip in the ocean. A woman from the village prepared a meal and had it delivered to us by taxi, still piping hot!

 

19 November - Devgad Beach - Kunkeshwar – 25 km

Waking to dolphins playing in the ocean, one could tell the day would be a scorcher. We intended to pedal to Malvan, but Amanda found the heat and hills debilitating. The weather wasn’t only boiling but humid too, so one sweated buckets.

The first turn-off was towards tiny Kunkeshwar, which provided a room with a fan. At least Amanda could shower and rest under the ceiling fan for the rest of the day. In addition, our abode offered an excellent opportunity to do much-needed housekeeping. Kunkeshwar, a tiny village, consisted solely of a temple, a few restaurants, and a hotel. Built around 1100 AD, the temple boasted a beautiful beach-front location, making it an ideal place to watch the sunset. Our supper was a plate of good Indian food, our single option—this was, after all, India.

 

20 November - Kunkeshwar – Malvan/Tarkarli – 55 km

By morning, our route headed over more hills following a regular Indian curry vegetable and bread breakfast. The oppressing heat made it a sweaty ride but, with renewed energy, Amanda zoomed past me while I sat under a tree waiting. I didn’t notice her, so I returned to the previous settlement to locate her. Two European-looking women travelling by bicycle stuck out like sore thumbs, and enquiring about her whereabouts was pretty easy. Villagers reported she had already gone past, and I found her not much further, resting under a tree.

We reached Malvan shortly after lunch, but continued our journey and discovered a most idyllic beach midway between Malvan and Tarkarli. A white sandy beach, palm trees, hammocks, and lukewarm water made our spot a true paradise. Our “resort” consisted of a property with a single bungalow. The owners were super welcoming and offered to prepare food. In addition, they provided cold beer accompanied by snacks, which we enjoyed on the beach while watching the sunset and fisherman pulling in their nets.

 

21-22 November - Malvan/Tarkarli

So good was our spot, we spent two full days on the heavenly beach. We ate, drank, trundled along the coast, swung in hammocks, and floated in the ocean. This was a holiday, after all, and not boot camp.

 

23 November - Malvan – Vengurla Beach – 40 km

As idyllic as the place was, we loaded up and, four kilometres further, found a ferry operating across a river. As envisaged, the day was marred by blistering heat and steep hills. Amanda claimed she had to push her bike up six hills within twenty-five kilometres, and kept mumbling, “This isn’t for me” and “I’m going to take a bus”. By then, I had heard those statements so many times they rolled from me like water off a duck’s back and I was sure she would do just fine.

Vengurla offered lodging, albeit below our standards. Still, we booked in because I feared Amanda would throw her bike in the ocean if she had to cycle up another hill. Apparently, the beds were good, as we barely set foot in the room before my sister was fast asleep. After her nap, it was beer o’clock, and we headed to the seafront to enjoy the sunset.

 

24 November - Vengurla – Arambol – 18 km

Seven kilometres of cycling brought us to our first hill, followed by an excellent descent to the ferry at Terakol. Once across the river, there remained a further 11 kilometres to Arambol. But, again, Amanda was in top form and never wanted to throw in the towel or dump her bike. She didn’t even have her usual nap.

At first, taken aback by the place due to the masses of tourists and tourist trade, we soon warmed to laidback Arambol. Touristy Arambol had its upside, as many restaurants served Western food and we could do with a pizza or anything, not masala.

A shack directly behind the beach at IR 200 suited us fine. Although our abode only had an outside toilet and shower, there were no bed bugs or other biting things. By then, we were so bitten and invested in a can of insect killer, which bared the slogan “laser fast action”.

 

25-27 November - Arambol

As our shack was made of woven palm leaves, we hoped for clear skies. One could see both in and out of the shack and it didn’t offer a great deal of privacy. Arambol was utterly different from the rest of India—one could scarcely believe it was the same country. Coming from the more conservative countryside, it was surprising to see ageing foreign men jogging along the water’s edge in no more than a G-string. Still, this was the beauty of Goa. I loved Goa for its freedom to be yourself and it was thus home to many alternative minds.

The beach was a fascinating place where everyone went about their own business, from morning exercises to yoga. Amanda and I even invested in bathing suits. We stayed and stared, ate, drank, and swam until it was time to move on.

 

28-29 November - Arambol – Anjuna – 30 km

From Arambol, a short bike ride took us to Anjuna, where Mary’s offered decent digs a short amble from the beach. So, our lazy existence continued, walking along the seashore, swimming, and eating. At night, we frequented the adjacent restaurant, which showed movies and was extremely popular.

 

30 November - Anjuna – Panaji – 20 km

A shorter than expected ride led into Goa’s capital. Surprisingly, the Portuguese influence of yesteryear was still clearly visible in the architecture. An old Portuguese house at Rp300 became home that night. Amanda wasn’t impressed and became fed up with places that did not smell like roses.

Wandering the streets of Panaji, one could easily imagine being in Portugal instead of India. Narrow alleys were lined by colourful houses decorated with mosaics and shells. By evening, Amanda braved the water for a cruise on the river—my sister is immensely courageous!

 

1 December – Panaji

Our day in Panaji was spent finding a suitable derailleur for Amanda’s bike. Even though there was a Firefox bike shop in Panaji, the derailleur would take ten days to order. My brand-new iPod, bought in Cape Town, packed up following barely one day of music pleasure. Luckily, Panaji’s Apple store offered to order a new one. As the replacement would take a few days, I decided to collect the iPod later. My laptop was also virus-infected and needed sorting out.

 

2 December - Panaji – Colva – 36 km

In the habit of getting underway early to escape the sweltering midday heat, biking out of Panaji was around 8h00. The traffic along the main road was horrendous, and we veered off onto the coastal route, which made for a lovely, stress-free ride.

Once a sleepy fishing community, and part of the hippie trail of the ’60s, Colva had lost most of its hippie vibe but remained a lovely place sporting a great beach. Finally, we found the perfect spot outside the core tourist area but still on the beach.

The rest of the day was spent on the beach (there's nothing like swimming after a hot bike ride). After a quick shower, we returned to the beach for supper. By evening, it started raining, cooling temperatures to near perfection.

 

3 December - Colva – Agonda – 40 km

The ride to Agoda became another “push-up-the-hill” day for Amanda who had her first flat tyre. Shortly afterwards, the derailleur gave problems again. Even the smallest roadside repairs brought hordes of helpers. Finally, a ride was organised to Agonda, where a bike repair shop fixed the problem in no time at all.

Our abode was an excellent spot on the beach, where we sat chatting with our neighbours for the evening. Low-key Agonda (a generally seasonal hut village) was one of the better beaches, with few tourists, many of whom were long-term travellers.

 

4 December - Agonda

Agonda’s beach stretched wide and inviting, framed by lush palm trees and soft golden sand, creating a serene and picturesque escape that felt like paradise. It was an ideal spot for a few restful days of relaxation. As we settled into the tranquil atmosphere, we found it to be a perfect base from which to explore the renowned ancient ruins of Hampi, located nearly 300 kilometres inland. With our bicycles securely housed at the guesthouse, we finalised our arrangements and booked a train to this UNESCO World Heritage Site.

 

5 December - Hampi

An early morning taxi took us to the train station, and a short train ride took us to Margoa, where sleeper trains departed for the seven-hour journey to Hampi. The train was a relaxed affair and food was sold at regular intervals. Hampi’s train station was at Hospet, where taxis carted people to Hampi, leaving enough time to inspect Hampi before darkness fell.

 

6 December - Hampi

Once the seat of the mighty Vijayanagara Empire, one of the most significant Hindu kingdoms in the Indian subcontinent, the magnificent ruins of Hampi are today a World Heritage Site. Legend has it that it was here that the goddess Pampa, daughter of Lord Brahma, impressed Lord Shiva to such an extent with her devotion to him that he married her. Today, centuries-old relics and ruins are scattered everywhere.

More than 1,600 monuments have been identified in Hampi. The surrounding areas include statues, carvings, forts, temples, shrines, mandapas, royal enclosures, baths, and gateways. An auto-rickshaw (tuk-tuk) made for easy sightseeing around the ruins, which impressed us with its scale. Everywhere one looked, old ruins were cut into massive boulders surrounding the town. Unfortunately, the weather has taken its toll, and many boulders are precariously balancing on the mountainside.

 

7 December - Hampi

The following morning, instead of by tuk-tuk, the remainder of Hampi was investigated on foot. A substantial part of Hampi was situated on the opposite side of the river. The sole transport across the Tungabhadra River was a traditional round woven basket (or coracle). Amanda put her foot down and refused to climb into such a precarious craft.

Instead of crossing the river, we spent most of the day at the Virupaksha Temple. This 50-metre-high temple gateway remains one of Hampi’s most identifiable landmarks. The temple was a bustling place still used to worship Lord Shiva, as it has been for centuries, and we thought it an honour to be part of the masses.

 

8-10 December - Hampi - Agonda Beach (by train)

We were all Hampi-ed out and we hopped on the morning train to Margoa, a seven-hour journey plus a bus to Agonda. Luckily, our beach shack was still available.

The next day was spent in typical Goan style—chilling at the beach. It became clear why many stayed here and never left.

Nevertheless, I had an iPod to collect, so I hopped on a bus while Amanda stayed behind. The sad part was that I had a brand-new iPod but no music.

 

11 December - Agonda – Karwar – 56 km

Finally, we mustered the energy to leave Agonda, eagerly heading south to experience the rest of Goa. On our way, we made a stop for lunch at a quaint little eatery, where the prices were a fraction of what we had encountered in touristy Agonda.

As we continued on our route, we passed stunning Devbagh Beach, a hidden gem that beckoned us with its untouched beauty. Unfortunately, our accommodation search yielded nothing but a lavish resort far beyond our budget. The surrounding area felt like paradise, its remoteness adding to the allure. With no roads leading to the resort, we found ourselves riding along the soft sands of the beach. Ultimately, we decided to keep moving and crossed the bridge over the vibrant Kali River, making our way to Karwar.

 

As we arrived in Karwar, Amanda, exhausted from the day’s ride, quickly succumbed to sleep as soon as we settled in. She was struggling with the rigours of cycling in India. Being a selective eater, Amanda found it nearly impossible to find meals that suited her taste. In an attempt to steer clear of the ever-present masala, her diet came down to boiled eggs and Coca-Cola.

 

12 December - Karwar – Gokarna – 40 km

The pleasant weather made for an early start, but 10 kilometres before reaching Gokarna, Amanda succumbed to vomiting. My heart ached for her as I knew that feeling all too well. With no choice but to push through the discomfort, we finally arrived in Gokarna. We found a cosy haven that fit our budget perfectly, providing a comforting respite after the ordeal.

Gokarna is not just a sacred pilgrim destination, it also draws a low-key, laid-back beach crowd that adds to its charm.

At the heart of Gokarna lies its main temple, dedicated to Lord Shiva. It proudly houses what devotees believe to be the original Atma Linga—the very essence of Lord Shiva. Recognized as one of the seven most sacred Hindu pilgrimage sites, the temple buzzes with spiritual fervour, drawing countless pilgrims who embark on this sacred journey. The blend of spirituality and tranquillity in Gokarna makes it a truly unforgettable experience.

 

13-15 December - Gokarna - Om Beach – 6 km

We took a short but extremely hilly six-kilometre bike ride to Om Beach, a small cove nestled behind cliffs. The beach was bustling with backpackers, and it's easy to see why—its beautiful scenery and delicious food attract many visitors. There were numerous guesthouses, making it easy to find accommodation, and we decided to book a room at Namaste Guesthouse.

 

16 December - Om Beach – Murudeshwar – 60 km

The previous night, a boat was prearranged to take us across the estuary instead of us biking the six kilometres over the hill and then a further 10 kilometres to the main road. At 9 a.m. sharp, our boatman was waiting. Amanda had a panic attack, mercifully stopping short of jumping overboard. On the opposite side, a small wave lifted the boat’s rear, at which Amanda yelled and threw herself, face down, onto the deck. The boatman (understandably) was astonished. Finally, we were safely off the boat with our feet firmly upon terra firma.

A sandy path proceeded to Murudeshwar, where a gigantic Shiva statue atop a little hill dominated the village. Murudeshwar was off the tourist trail, and swimming meant staying fully clothed. An inexpensive hotel left us with enough money to enjoy supper at an upmarket resort, allowing my dear sister to have a meal without masala.

 

17 December - Murudeshwar – Marawanthe – 57 km

Despite the fact that we explored numerous stunning beaches, we found ourselves without any accommodation. Unintentionally, we stumbled upon a charming lodging option right across the road from Marawanthe Beach. It felt like a serendipitous moment. Unfortunately, our stay was marred by frequent power outages, which hinted at a rather makeshift electrical system. Nevertheless, the owner was super friendly and eager to ensure we were well-fed. He generously offered to bring us a meal from a nearby restaurant. When the food arrived, it was nothing short of delicious, adding a comforting touch to our stay despite the inconveniences.

 

18 December - Marawanthe – Udupi - 57 km

Breakfast came 10 kilometres outside Marawanthe and consisted of Puri (curry puffs). Although we encountered no hills, the traffic remained hectic, with roadworks adding to the chaos, creating a nerve-wracking cycle.

Still, our arrival in the holy town of Udupi, famed for its Krishna Temple, was reasonably early, leaving us with plenty of time to wander around these historic temples, believed to have existed for over 1500 years. We were lucky enough to catch a drama/musical and wondered if the shows were a daily occurrence.

 

19–22 December - Udupi – Mangalore (Mangalura) – 60 km

By following the highway to Mangalore (not the same connotation to “highway” as most are used to), the traffic was, as they say in India, “very congested and oll”. All one could do was hope for the best. We had to dive out of the way to avoid traffic that overtook disregarding oncoming vehicles. Amanda claimed she wasn’t cycling any further and was taking a bus but always got back on the bike. Ultimately, we safely crawled into Mangalore, albeit in horrendous traffic and following a wrong turn at one of the intersections.

The next day was spent exploring the city, which, due to the lack of important temples (which turned out to be hectic), had an “off-the-beaten path” feel.

Ernest sent a message stating he wasn’t far away and was going like the clappers to catch us as he was entirely out of money. I knew this wasn’t a good idea but sympathy made Amanda and I stay an extra night to let him catch up.

Ernest arrived a tad worse for wear—dirty, sweaty and minus a few kilograms. Unfortunately, he was completely broke, and we pitied him, so we invited him to share our space. We even had a cold beer ready, though he was disappointed we only bought him one.

Our lives weren’t our own anymore, and as Ernest wanted to rest and watch cricket, we did nothing the following day but lay around while our guest watched TV.

 

23 December – Mangalore, Karnataka - Kappil Beach, Kerela – 64 km

The rest must have done Amanda good, as she was strong as an ox, and we made good time. The route was relatively flat, and the weather was pleasant.

However, disaster struck, as Ernest’s front tyre was so smooth that it wore right through, causing yet another puncture. A few tuk-tuk trips back and forth to the previous village followed. Then, with a new tyre fitted, we set out to Kappil Beach. Camping was at a secluded beach under palm trees, where Ernest cooked the ingredients Amanda and I had bought earlier.

 

24 December - Kappil Beach – Bekal – 6 km

The day’s first stop was to inspect the 300-year-old Bekal Fort, one of the few built solely as defence. Soon afterwards, we spotted a beach resort. Even though we’d just biked six kilometres, it didn’t take much convincing before we decided to stay put. The high price included three meals, and the staff allowed Ernest to squeeze in. The setup consisted of luxury-tented accommodation, an en-suite bathroom, and a glorious view of the setting sun, ocean and swaying palms.

The entire day was spent swimming, lying in hammocks and doing little except laundry.

 

25 December - Bekal – Payyanur – 43 km

Feeling a bit sluggish after enjoying a satisfying breakfast, we continued along the breath-taking Konkan coast. The scenery was captivating, with shimmering backwaters and colourful houseboats drifting lazily by.

However, in our daze, we missed a crucial turn and found ourselves in Payyanur, nestled along the serene banks of the Perumba River. The town is renowned for its esteemed astrologers, known for their insightful readings and predictions. To our dismay, we soon realized that it was Christmas Day, and our search for one of these skilled astrologers proved fruitless, as many were likely celebrating the holiday with their families.

 

26 December - Payyanur – Kannur – 52 km

Our late departure was due to Ernest needing a bike shop. Once underway, and what has become our daily habit by then, brunch was 20 kilometres beyond Payyanur. Most of the day’s distance was spent trying to find the beach.

Eventually, we located the beach, but we settled for the Savoy Hotel (which didn’t live up to its name but was comfortable enough). By then, finding a place to overnight became more difficult as a three-bedroom was required. Ernest had no money (or so he claimed), and our meagre daily budget had to accommodate three people and his bicycle spares. Supper was at a diner and, as usual in the smaller towns, a power failure brought out the candles, lending a romantic vibe to an already excellent but inexpensive meal.

 

27 December - Kannur – Payyoli – 64 km

The Kerela coast was flat, the weather pleasant, and the going significantly more manageable as the route led past palm-fringed beaches and the 16th-century St. Angelo Fort.

Coming across an idyllic beach, we pitched our tents and enjoyed a peaceful afternoon. As our camp was near a sizable village, we had hordes of spectators, watching keenly from the moment the three of us arrived. The word must’ve spread as soon more came. Once Ernest lit the stove to start cooking, the women watched in amazement. The MSR stove could’ve been the Apollo 11 due to the attention it received.

 

28 December - Payyoli – Calicut – 48 km

This wasn’t Amanda’s day, as she was sick shortly after breakfast and was nearly knocked down by a bus. Soon afterwards, she dropped her camera bag, which almost got flattened and it was a miracle that Ernest retrieved it from the traffic. There was, however, no rest for the wicked, and we pedalled to Calicut. The seasonal holidays further complicated our hunt to find an abode. Eventually, a guesthouse with four beds was discovered. The remainder of the day was spent doing the usual chores.

 

29 December - Calicut

Getting underway shortly at 8h30, we discovered the traffic already heavy. Ernest returned to the shop in town, and I wondered what he had bought, as he was so reckless that a truck squashed him against a stationary bus. He escaped with barely any injuries, but the truck drove over his wheel, destroying the rim. Eventually, we had to return to Calicut to allow Ernest the necessary repair work. The trip was becoming a costly one.

 

30–31 December - Calicut - NC Gardens Beach Resort – 24 km

Our early departure was due to our desire to beat the traffic. Ten kilometres further, a smaller path took us along the ocean. Hardly underway, Amanda spotted a resort. We pulled in but thought the price slightly touristy. A plan was made, and the staff offered us a tiny spot (plus a mattress for Ernest) at half the rate. Staying two nights came easy—the place was magnificent, right on the beach with loads of palm trees, and it was New Year’s Eve, after all.

 

1 January - NC Gardens Beach Resort – Chavakkad – 72 km

Amanda felt energetic and we settled into a good rhythm, stopping twenty kilometres later for our regular roadside breakfast. I was immensely impressed with my sister gaining fitness and we pushed onward to the highway town of Chavakkad. Only once did I hear her swear under her breath as her bike zigzagged through the loose sand and then veered towards the bushes. Soon afterwards came another ferry crossing, water phobia and all, she pushed her bike on without saying a word. How brave is this woman!

 

2 January - Chavakkad - Cherai Beach – 64 km

Along a smooth road we made our way to Cherai Beach, which turned out closer than anticipated. Cherai Beach, situated on Vypin island, was one of the most popular along that stretch of coast. Its popularity is reflected in the room rates. Eventually, we found a hotel that could accommodate three.

The beach was packed with holidaymakers, mainly Indian families. In India swimming in a bathing suit was a pretty daring thing. Amanda and I walked far along the beach to have our swim, but spectators (cell phone camera in hand) still appeared in no time. By then, our pictures must’ve been on half the phones in India. I must add that I wasn’t looking particularly good, bed bug-eaten and half bald. My hair was falling out at an alarming rate and I was shocked at how little hair I had left.

 

3 January - Cherai Beach - Fort Kochi – 28 km

Cherai Beach was an excellent spot to hang out, but the accommodation was a tad pricy and we felt it best to move along. A short and enjoyable ride ran to Kochi, with the Arabian Sea to our right and the Kerala backwaters on the left.

A short ferry ride brought us to Fort Kochi island. Kochi had a relaxed feel and our early arrival gave us plenty of time to wander around and watch the famous Chinese fishing nets in action—contraptions resembling spider webs repeatedly dipped into the water at high tide.

We were lucky to catch a Kathakali show, which was told through drama, music, dancing, and hand gestures. The costumes, make-up, and headgear were extraordinary, and the show lasted at least an hour.

 

4 January - Kochi – Alleppey – 66 km

A ferry ride took pedestrians to Ernakulam, Kochi’s twin city. Being Sunday, the traffic wasn’t too severe and getting through town was no problem. Our route passed the familiar sights of palm trees, temples, and shrines until Alleppey, known as the Venice of the East. The area is famous for backwater cruising and houseboats, and we stayed to find information regarding a trip along this favourite 900-kilometre network of waterways. Our abode was inexpensive, and one couldn’t expect a great deal at the price, but the bedding was clean.

 

5 January - Alleppey

We discovered public ferry-taxis operating to Kottayam along the backwater. Amanda and I took this option, which gave us an interesting insight into this watery world. The ferry stopped numerous times to transport passengers. We cruised past tiny hamlets, rice fields, and palm trees, where boats were still the main form of transportation, as they had been for centuries. We hiked around Kottayam for almost an hour and a half before boarding the ferry for the return trip, a three-hour ride—all at a few rupees.

 

6 January - Alleppey - Kollam - By ferry

Instead of doing a houseboat cruise, Amanda and I took the State ferry south along the backwaters to Kollam, while Ernest preferred to cycle. What a picturesque and leisurely way to get to the next town. The boat ride lasted the entire day and stopped once for lunch and once for tea. Again, we saw many villages with villagers going about their daily tasks. These waters are used extensively by the people living in the area for bathing, laundry, dishes, and fishing. Fishing seemed the general activity, and the methods varied from Chinese fishing to hand nets. The boat arrived in Kollam at six-thirty, where Ernest was preparing food.

 

7-8 January - Kollam – Varkala – 36 km

From Kollam a leisurely ride ran to Varkala, 36 kilometres away. Once in Varkala, we began our usual search for budget stays and were lucky to find just what we needed. The following day was spent in Varkala, allowing us time to do the usual rest-day laundry and internet activities.

 

9 January - Varkala - Kovalam – 59 km

The route to Kovalam followed a coastal path through numerous settlements, which meant our way came with a ferry across one of the many river mouths. The boat was a little wooden affair resembling a dug-out canoe, which two crew members propelled with long poles. Amanda was nervous about this arrangement until I pointed out the water was barely more than waist-deep. Still, she clung on with knuckles white until we reached the opposite bank.

The last 20 kilometres were along the main road, bypassing the capital city of Kerela, Trivandrum (an abbreviation as most can’t pronounce the proper name). At Kovalam Beach, and after locating suitable digs with three beds, Amanda and I headed towards the beach to swim, snack, and have a beer. By evening, we splashed out and ate at one of the beachfront restaurants.

 

10 January - Kovalam – Takkalai – 54 km

The day turned out reasonably hot and, following the Western Ghats route, we passed villages engaged in festivals complete with music and flags. What an interesting place India is.

Upon spotting serious-looking mountains in the distance, we nervously wondered whether our road would cross them. It was an exceptionally scenic ride though and, in the end, the hills tapered off, and there was no need to bike over any mountains.

 

11-12 January - Takkalai - Kanyakumari – 36 km

After the ride from Takkalai to Kanyakumari, Amanda reached her destination. She was pretty pleased with herself, and rightly so, achieving her goal and India’s most southerly point. Three oceans met in Kanyakumari: the Indian Ocean, the Bay of Bengal, and the Arabian Sea.

Ernest stripped Amanda’s bike to hunt for usable parts, replacing it with his old, worn components. It must’ve cost her a fortune to fix the bicycle once home. By evening, we had a meal at one of the better hotels as a farewell meal.

 

13-17 January - Kanyakumari - Chennai - by train

On the afternoon of the 13th, Amanda and I took the train to Chennai, where she was to fly home. The train pulled into Chennai early in the morning of the 14th, where we packed Amanda’s bike and organised her belongings for her flight to South Africa. Fortunately, enough time remained to visit Chennai’s famous temples. Then, with my sister gone, I caught a train for the return trip to Kanyakumari.