Stunning scenery. Guaranteed sunshine. The potential for mind blowing encounters with wildlife. A welcome so warm you would have thought you were at a Disney theme park. And the widest variety of different gravel trails that we have ever encountered in one place. Sri Lanka really is the tropical Shangri-La of the gravel riding world. Olly was fortunate enough to have been invited out there in September. If you want to find out how he got on, then you’d better read his story…….
TL; DR – Sri Lanka is a tropical paradise for gravel riders seeking a new experience. The Ride Sri Lanka course created by Sri Lankan Airlines and MTB Worldwide is incredible and the event is worthy of inclusion on anyone’s gravelly bucket list!
Olly’s trip to Sri Lanka wouldn’t have been possible without the incredibly generous support of Sri Lankan Airlines.
The sound is familiar, but somehow alien. Deep in the recesses of your jetlag-addled brain some cogs whirl slowly, trying to process what it is that you’re hearing. The noise is tinny and synthetic, but it brings a huge smile to my face – it is the sound of an approaching ‘choon paan’, essentially a mobile three wheeled bakery and it means just one thing. I was back on the beautiful island of Sri Lanka.
Coming to Sri Lanka as a Brit is an unusual yet strangely familiar experience. The first thing you notice as you leave the airport is that everyone drives on the left. There’s a strange mix of Japanese micro cars, mopeds carrying multiple generations of the same family, ancient Lanka Ashok Leyland busses, expensive looking pick-up trucks and tuktuks laden with people or goods.
As we headed north from the airport, witnessing the somewhat relaxed attitude most drivers had to traffic rules and lane discipline was a little disconcerting. But as a vital part of my support crew for the trip, my driver Sanjeewa wasn’t at all fazed and drove so carefully that I was soon lulled into a sense of relaxation. My overwhelming sensation was of happiness to be back in this amazing place.
"The word elephant cut through my subconscious with scalpel sharp intensity and I was suddenly very much awake."
“There’s an elephant in the road ahead on the left-hand side.” said Sanjeewa. If I’m honest I think I had fallen asleep, but the word elephant cut through my subconscious with scalpel sharp intensity and I was suddenly very much awake. Just in front (and I do mean ‘just’) was one of the most incredible sites you will ever see – a wild elephant, nonchalantly standing in the road, its legs lit up by the headlights of our minivan. I had been in Sri Lanka a matter of hours and already we had seen an elephant in the wild. I decided that was a good omen for my trip.
When I told my friends and relatives at home that I’d invited back to the island by Sri Lankan Airlines, the consistent comment I received was that I was a jammy git! This was my third visit to the island, the first (without a bike) was way back in the mists of time more than 15 years ago, but the last was just over a year ago. It was one of the most fantastic experiences during my life as a cycling journalist, so when a repeat invitation arrived, I jumped at the chance. The plan was for me to ride each of the stages of the 2025 Ride Sri Lanka gravel event to both get an impression of what the event would be like, but also to give my feedback on anything that I thought might need finessing.
The event comprises five riding stages with some strategically placed rest days to allow participants both to relax and explore some of the island away from their bikes, but also to help strike a balance between Ride Sri Lanka being a full-on gravel-fest and a holiday. The holiday aspect of the event has been looked after incredibly well by event sponsor Sri Lankan Airlines. It’s hard to write this without making it sound like a cheesy American TV advert, but the airline are incredibly pro-cycling and their logistical and financial clout is what makes the event work so well. With everything from subsidising the headline price to offering extra weight allowance to riders bringing their own bikes, the airline have gone above and beyond to help make the event a success.
When I met up with Saminda Perera, the marketing director from Sri Lankan Airlines, at the end of my week to discuss how it had gone, Sami mentioned that his aim for the Ride Sri Lanka event was for participants to experience the same level of warmth, hospitality and safety as the passengers on the airline would encounter. This was 100% the experience that I had on my press trip too. Details had been well thought through, a beaming smile seemed to follow me everywhere and the support team and hotel staff treated me like I was some kind of rock star!
“Would you like to have your bike brought up to your room sir?” said the uniformed member of staff as I checked-in to the hotel. Despite my protestations that I could do it, a few minutes later there’s a knock on the door to my palatial room and my bike is delivered. When you’re on a press trip, everyone involved is essentially trying to create as positive an experience as possible for the attendees, as they obviously want a good write-up in exchange for their investment. We all know that this is how things work and so I have to remember this when the room I’ve been allocated is bigger than anywhere I’ve ever stayed in before and has facilities better than I have in my own home. But having read the feedback from participants in previous versions of the Ride Sri Lanka, my experience is typical - everyone basically gets treated like VIPs, whether they’re a member of the cycling press or not!
Before I left home, I regularly checked a variety of weather forecasts. All of them promised high temperatures and thundery showers so I packed appropriately. When I woke up on the first morning, the sky was such a vivid blue that it looked fake and the sun was positively forcing its way through the curtains of my room. So far, so good. My first day was scheduled as a rest day - time to get over the flight, get my bike built up and relax, ready for some big days ahead. With the end of summer having arrived with a bang in the UK before I left home, I decide to make the most of the sunshine and to head out on a shake-down ride. I’d already plotted a couple of options in a rough figure of eight shaped route, heading first south into the nearby small town of Trincomalee and then if I had the energy, north to explore some of the gravel trails that I’d identified.
As I rolled out of the hotel’s grounds, it was already low 30s centigrade and it was only just after 9am. Everywhere were the sights, sounds and smells of the tropics. Palm trees swayed in a strong southerly wind, exotic sounding birds called to each other, enticing scents wafted out of the numerous small cafes that lined the first part of my route. Something you will need to get used to when riding in Sri Lanka is that when you cycle past local people, they will look initially shocked, but it changes to a smile and a friendly wave almost instantly. For anyone who has ever seen the film The Truman Show, you initially wonder if everyone has been placed there by Central Casting, their role to make you feel welcome on their incredible island, but this is not Hollywood schmaltz, they do seem genuinely pleased (if not a little shocked) to see you.
My impromptu tour of Trincomalee took in a variety of the sites, not all of them typical tourist destinations – a large Hindu temple, a beautiful white sandy beach, the fish market, the bus station and variety of small backstreets were all included in my route to help me avoid as much traffic as possible. The surface was mainly paved, but I managed to find sections of cobbles, sand, concrete, chunky gravel and broken tarmac along the way. As I finished the southern section of the route and head back north towards my hotel, I drafted for a while behind a tuktuk – another bucket list box ticked!
The northern part of my loop was selected to include a higher proportion of off-road riding and despite the heat, I decided to head on. By a combination of sheer good luck and possibly some divine intervention from the trail gods, I struck gravelly gold straight away – an incredibly smooth and fast sandy singletrack led off into the distance, all the while being shaded by towering palm trees. If I looked up, the sky was so blue it looked like a painted backdrop to a movie. In short, I had found gravel riding paradise, located just a few minutes ride north of my hotel. The trail didn’t last all that long, but was so fun that when I got to the end, I turned tail, went back to the start and rode it again :-)
Once back at the hotel, a cold shower and some rapidly inhaled super-chilled fizzy pop (again, something that would become a bit of a trend over the next few days) meant I soon felt a lot more human again. I spent the afternoon getting to know Sanjeewa and Sampath, my support team for the week and exploring some more of Trincomalee.
Day 1 – Hot-hot-hot-hot
The first scheduled day of riding was a relatively big one - 120 km and 700m of climbing. We decided to set off early and rolled out of the hotel grounds on the dot of 8am, bound for our end destination at the hilltop village of Avudangawa. We set a pattern for the week right from the world go. Sampath was going to be my mobile support unit, shadowing my every move and riding out of his socks, at times pushing his little Honda motorbike way beyond its design remit. Sanjeewa was to be the mother ship, meeting us at regular intervals to provide additional food, water and moral support. I turned on the route sharing function of my Wahoo, so that Sanjeewa had a good idea of where we were at all times and we hit the road.
The profile for the day showed that it started flat and got progressively hiller as it went on. I thought this sounded ideal, as it would give my body time to acclimatise, but actually I found riding solo through the morning to be a harder challenge than I had expected. Back home, I can maintain a 25 kph average on a flattish gravel ride without too much of a struggle, so I thought I would try something similar. The combination of high temperatures and a fairly strong headwind in places proved to be pretty hard work and made me wonder initially if I had bitten off more than I could chew!
For the first two hours I put my head down and despite the strong headwind, made good progress. When I look back, it’s pretty obvious though that I pushed myself pretty hard. I can tell just by the lack of photos on my phone and the patchy memories of the route that I was focusing on pedalling, rather than anything else. Luckily, I do have some strong mental vignettes. Water buffalo being used by farmers to help cultivate the fields. Ladies shading their skin from the sun with brightly coloured umbrellas. Alternating palm trees and rice paddies. Roadside vegetable sellers carefully laying out their wares. British style road markings, complete with zebra crossings. Tantalising glimpses of singletrack and ribbons of dirt roads diving off into the lush greenery which lined the roads. Egrets balancing in small shrubby bushes, poised waiting to pounce on something unseen in the rice paddies. Peacocks pecking in a field covered with freshly cut hay.
Despite the heat and the headwind, there were some incredible moments on Day 1, but perhaps the most memorable was this. While we didn’t encounter any wild elephants on the trail, there was some obvious evidence that they were close by. Seeing as big piles of elephant dung aren’t exactly a common occurrence on my rides in the UK, I decided I would try and hop one of the finest examples that we found. Sampath, as well as being a champion cyclist and motorbike rider par excellence also turned out to be a super handy photographer and videographer, so he captured the moment for posterity.
The day finished with a number of small (but surprisingly tough climbs), which nearly finished me off, but Phil (the route designer) had an ace up his sleeve with the final part of the parcours. Just as I was getting to the point of being completely cooked, the terrain levelled out and we turned off the tarmac onto some glorious dirt tracks. Not only was the gradient better, but the trails were shaded by some beautiful broad-leaf forest. Instantly my mojo was back in the building, my speed increased by 50% and all was ok with the world again. You can tell by the size of the grin on my face, how buzzing I was when we arrived at the hotel. And then when I saw the view from the hotel terrace, I was an even happier (but also very tired) gravel rider!
Day 2 – Due south
After an amazing buffet dinner looking out over the infinity swimming pool, followed by sleeping like a proverbial log, I was ready to go for Day 2. Weirdly having done relatively little climbing on Day 1, my legs felt quite heavy as we set off, but the inspirational view from the hotel, the fact there were significant numbers of gravel ‘sectors’ straight from the off and the great scenery all helped to give me a little more ‘pep’.
Whenever you set off straight from the hotel on a rust red dirt road, you know you’re going to be in for a treat. Phil had done an amazing job of finding little sections of gravel trails and the parcours kept rolling from paved road to unpaved track, with plenty of variety in the surface too.
The most memorable trail from the morning was the champagne gravel of the Elahera Canal. Nearly 5km of pan flat, velvety smooth gravel track which ran alongside an irrigation canal. Sampath and I flew – kicking up a dust trail in our wake. It was still super-hot and unfortunately the headwind was still very much with us, but now Sampath and I had our cooling strategy off-pat, which helped no end. His experience as a former champion pro road cyclist meant he could ‘read’ my body language on the bike and he knew (or could see) exactly when I was starting to flag from the heat. Just at the right moment, he would roll smoothy alongside, a sponge dipped in ice-cold water from his fuel tank mounted cool bag in one hand. When the trail was smooth, even at speeds of around 25-30 kph, I was managing to cool myself off by dousing head, neck, shoulders and legs with super refreshing ice-cold water squeezed out of the sponge. Having an individual support rider made me feel not only like a superstar, but it also helped keep my legs turning and my brain from frying!
Like Day 1, the route profile started relatively flat and then ramped up figuratively and literally as the day went on. After riding for 3 hours or so, I realised that despite eating regularly, my energy levels were dipping, so I asked Sampath if we could stop in the next village and find some cold drinks and some more food. One of the joys of travelling anywhere by bike is the interactions you have with local people. We stopped in a very small village and after some quick discussion between Sampath and a couple of locals, he figured out which was the best shop to call into. Parking my bike outside in the shade of a small veranda with a woven palm-leaf roof, the shop owners beckoned us inside. I was instantly given the best seat in the house, a slightly rickety plastic chair (carefully cleaned by the owner before I was allowed to sit on it) towards the back of the shop which gave an excellent view out onto the minor street outside and which offered me some shade.
A bottle of cold, super-sugary pop was removed from their ancient and highly treasured fridge and placed in front of me, alongside a plate of freshly made rolled pancakes with a sweet, but unidentifiable filling. Unlike the typical Sri Lankan sweet tooth, my body was starting to crave salt, so I asked if I could have a couple of packets of the corn snacks hanging up on a wire just above the shop counter. Sampath looked a little aghast – why the hell would I want to eat processed crap like that, when I could be eating local pancakes was obviously what he was thinking, but he was far too polite to say it!
As we sat there, at frequent intervals a local man would come into the shop, put a small amount of money on the counter and be given in exchange a wrap of newspaper containing a large leaf and something unidentifiable which was spooned carefully onto the leaf. With Sampath’s help as a translator, it turned out to be a betel quid (known in many places as paan) - a combination of a tobacco leaf, the seeds of areca catechu (betel nuts), some betel leaves and finally some shell lime. It acts both as a stimulant and a narcotic and is chewed by the purchaser, before the remains are unceremoniously spat out! I knew of it, but had never seen it in the flesh before. I was tempted to try it for the stimulant effect if nothing else, but decided to keep my stimulants limited to local pop and crisps instead! Three packets of snacks, a bottle of pop and some pancakes later I was feeling a little more human again!
In early afternoon, the route was just entering the lumpiest section. Short steep tarmac ‘rollers’ were cool, thanks to the tree cover, but were steep enough to see me resorting to granny gear in places. At the top of one of them Sanjeewa had found a shady spot for a re-group. His chosen spot was immediately next to a small roadside clearing where a group of local men were busy harvesting some timber. As I sat on the back step of the support vehicle, trying to reduce my temperature and regain my composure, I watched with interest what they were doing. While they did have chainsaws to help with their harvesting, essentially everything else was done by hand. Clad in shorts and wearing flip flops on their feet, the men used communal brute force (with the occasional assistance of gravity) to bring the timber down from the forest and load it onto their flat bed truck. Their strength was mind-blowing. I couldn’t even hazard a guess at the weight they were lifting, but when they deposited the logs on the back of the truck, the suspension compressed alarmingly.
Despite being a relatively short day (76 km and 900m of climbing), by mid-afternoon I was pretty cooked. I realised that I was focusing my attention on a fairly limited area of the road ahead, rather than maintaining a broader awareness. Suddenly, Sampath pulled alongside me on his motorbike and proffered a bottle of cold Sprite. I hadn’t even realised that he had dropped off my wheel, but he’d obviously spotted that I was flagging and had decided I needed a boost for the final section of the ride. A cold bottle of pop, delivered while riding was one of the most amazing experiences of my cycling life! Not long after, we met up with Sanjeewa for the final time and I was able to hop off my bike. The end of stage two was a small village adjacent to a fast-moving river. Here my bike was packed into the support vehicle and once I had cleaned myself up, we set off on the three hour drive to Nuwara Eliya.
Although as the crow flies, the distance was relatively short, the route was unbelievably sinuous and we gained over 2000m in height. The timing of my visit coincided with a four-day religious festival and during the drive to Nuwara Eliya, we met thousands of pilgrims and festival goers returning to their homes. The road was pretty full in both directions which limited our speed dramatically. Fortunately, the view was incredible and as we wound our way slowly up the 2000m high point, we drove through a number of different climatic zones, eventually reaching the altitude where tea plantations took over as the predominant crop.
We arrived in the dark to our hotel in Nuwara Eliya and received an incredibly warm welcome at the hotel. Instead of the normal chilled welcome drink, we were offered a cup of hot, freshly made, richly spiced soup and a delicious nugget of local bread. I decided that the change from the heat of the lowlands to the cool of the highlands was going to be something to savour!
Day 3 – From the ridiculous to the sublime.
I woke up early and opened to curtains to find an unusual sight – a small gaggle of school children walking past the hotel all wearing coats and woolly hats on their heads! The sun was, as normal, beaming from a bright blue sky, dotted with small white fluffy clouds, but when I stepped outside to test the temperature, it was low 20s Centigrade – quite a change from the few days previously.
Delicious buffet breakfast inhaled, we set off for what was destined to be the biggest stage of the event. Our official start point was located roughly 10km to the south of our overnight hotel, but rather than taking a transfer there, the night before I had quickly plotted a route going straight from the hotel. Again, miraculously I had picked some good trails. A short but rocky climb led away from the hotel and up into a tea plantation. All around was a sea of vibrant green tea bushes. The grin on my face was so huge it must have been visible in space as our route threaded up and over a number of hills, the trail’s slightly lumpy surface encouraging ever greater speed, while the stunning views enticed frequent stops – always a conundrum to battle!
For the first 20 km, the route stayed mainly above 1800m of altitude and short sharp climbs were followed by fast swoopy hairpinned descents. There was an extremely strange feeling that I was actually riding in the south of the UK on a hot summer’s day. There were lush, verdant hills dotted with black and white Holstein Friesian cattle, dairy farms, wind turbines and houses with chimneys wherever I looked. It was only the regular tuktuks and local women dressed in brightly coloured saris that reminded me that I was still in Sri Lanka.
My first big challenge of the day was the climb up to the Horton Plains National Park. Starting at the 23 km mark, the route climbed tortuously up from 1867m to 2194m over the course of just under 4 km. While that might not sound too hideous, there were pitches of 15% gradient and recent rains had liberally sprinkled the road with gravel on some sections, which meant that grip was often at a premium. Fortunately, the higher elevations meant the temperatures were a little lower and the views were stunning.
Once I’d been registered with the park authorities, I was allowed to proceed through the park. The park is abundant with wildlife – everything from sambar deer to purple-faced langur monkeys to Sri Lankan leopards can be found there, but what you encounter will depend on how lucky you are. On the day I passed through, the wildlife wasn’t quite as visible, but the sight of a group of visiting Sri Lankan tourists clad in brightly coloured bobble hats completely made my day! It was a balmy 25 degrees when I crossed the plains, but to the visitors this was cold and many could be seen wearing thick jackets and woolly hats! The descent off the plain is incredible and incredibly horrible at the same time – the initial descent is more than 20 km in length and has some amazing hairpinned bends at the top. The surface was pretty lumpy though (unusually, compared to the remarkably smooth road surface that I had experienced elsewhere) and there were places where I needed to stop to shake the stiffness out of my arms, neck and shoulders!
"Never underestimate the restorative powers of salty snacks."
If my saviour on Day 2 was a bottle of super-chilled Sprite, the metaphorical oasis in the desert on Day 3 was a small shop, which felt to me like it was literally in the middle of nowhere. It had an impressive selection of salty snacks dangling provocatively over its front counter and a homemade wooden stool right next to it. Never underestimate the restorative powers of salty snacks – that was going to be my new motto from now on! As I sat outside the shop, literally shoving handfuls of snacks into my mouth, numerous slightly bemused locals came to say Hi. One particular chap, riding past on his highly treasured motorbike practically skidded to a halt as he spotted a westerner sitting outside his local shop. He spoke very competent English and we chatted for a while about what I was doing there, what I thought of Sri Lanka and why I was eating so many snacks! In a very hilarious manner, he kept taking surreptitious photos of me with his smart phone. Eventually he plucked up enough courage to ask for a selfie together. I’m not sure what I had done to be of such interest, but I guess that tells you a lot about Phil’s genius route plotting taking the Ride Sri Lanka event through areas not normally visited by tourists.
I misjudged my calorie intake quite badly on Day 3. The repeated short, sharp climbs (some of which were up to 20%), the hot temperatures and presumably some calorie deficit from the first couple of days meant I got increasingly hungry as the afternoon wore on. Some slight communication issues with Sanjeewa meant that we kept missing him, so the mother-ship’s bounteous supplies of fresh fruit and snacks wasn’t available in the afternoon. A stop at a second village shop selling long-life chocolate cake and more salty snacks held off the hunger pangs to some degree, but by the time we reached our final destination of Ella, I was pretty cooked and ‘running on vapours’. When it turned out that the final section of road up to our hotel was a long concrete ramp of more than 20% gradient, I did lose the will to live a little and actually got off and walked for one section.
When we finally arrived at the hotel, Sanjeewa, to his immense credit, listened to my energy-deprived rant (sorry!) and then very patiently and calmy drove me straight back down to the hill to the town, where I sat in my cycling kit in a very fashionable and funky restaurant and absolutely shoveled in some mid-afternoon calories. I was probably pretty dirty, sweaty and not smelling particularly sweet, but the restaurant staff were lovely and the food was delicious. All was soon well with the world again.
After a quick shower, we headed out again to watch the sunset at a local attraction, the Nine Arch Bridge, an impressive colonial era railway bridge which has turned into a well visited attraction thanks to its stunning location and photogenic nature. Locals and tourists alike flock there, trying to time their visits to coincide with the infrequent arrival of a passenger train. We finished off the evening in style with a celebratory beer or two in a local bar.
Day 4 – Alpe d’Huez, Furka Pass, Paris-Roubaix, Strada Bianche in all one day.
“Go on buddy, keep it going!” came the shout from an open window of a local taxi as it inched its way carefully past me. A twentysomething Australian tourist with a broad smile was not what I was expecting to encounter halfway up a steep, hairpinned climb, but the encouragement was incredible and definitely boosted my morale. The day had started brilliantly with a stunning view from my hotel balcony, followed by an excellent breakfast outside on a large terrace. The route from the hotel was initially an incredibly fun 10 km descent on a wide, smooth, tarmac road. I knew that this initial descent was soon to be followed by more than 600m of height gain over the next 10 km. The shock of going from a fast downhill to inching my way up a steep climb was a big one and it took me quite a bit of time to get myself back into climbing mode.
Fortunately, the stunning views, lack of traffic and the ever-patient support of Sampath and his Honda made things easier. My legs felt pretty heavy on the first climb, but Sampath kept encouraging me to keep going and telling me I was doing well.
At we reached the top of the first climb the higher altitude meant we were back into tea plantation territory, something that was going to be my companion for the next few hours. From the top of the pass, the route descended on tarmac briefly before branching off, up into the Leangawela Estate.
The climb was around 3 km long in total and gained just over 400m in height. It was mainly vehicle width, but the surface had been stone-pitched. It dated from the colonial era and presumably was created to allow all-weather access to the tea plantations for the workers and to make taking the picked and packed tea out at the end of each shift. It was not crazy steep, but the surface was pretty irregular and you had to concentrate and pick a smooth line on the way up. We stopped at points to chat with some ladies who were taking their lunch break and also for me to have a go at riding down a set of steps (not recommended on a gravel bike!) For anyone who doesn’t fancy such a technical challenge, there is likely to be a road bypass option, but if you love climbing and want a challenge, I can’t recommend it highly enough!
The last section before you rejoin the road was pretty overgrown when we went up it. It was a good challenge for Sampath on the motorbike, but he seemed to love it and his infectious laughter could be heard echoing across the valley as we successfully exited the final section. A perfectly placed village shop was located at the top of the climb and there was an incredibly friendly resident cat, who it turns out was a *big* fan of salty snacks. The descent from the top of the pass was an astonishing 40 km in total. Unfortunately, a lot of it was on shockingly bad roads and if I’m being honest, it wasn’t that much fun! The views were stunning and you will see some amazing sights on the way down, but you might find you need to stop at points on the way down just to give yourself a rest from the juddering!
Despite (or perhaps because of) the shaking, I had some incredibly vivid mental snapshots of the descent. A tuktuk descending through tea plantation. Small children with faces pressed to a chainlink fence around their school excitedly saying hello. Ladies carrying huge bundles of firewood on their head. A bell being rung at a Buddhist temple. A boy proudly wearing a bright pink shirt. Everywhere incomprehension then smiles. Cows, chickens, goats all over the road. The heavily mustachioed guardian of a ruined property giving my bike a good check-over.
"A buttery-smooth, sandy road was like balm to my soul after the juddering of the damaged tarmac on the long descent."
“Here is too much wild elephants” said Sampath, which focused my mind a little. We’d finished the bumpy descent, screamed along a section of pan flat tarmac with a howling gale blowing from behind and then suddenly, we’d been transported to the Sri Lankan version of the Strada Bianche. A buttery-smooth, sandy road was like balm to my soul after the juddering of the damaged tarmac on the long descent, but there was an extremely strange sensation while we traversed this section. All the hairs on my arms stood on end and I had the distinct feeling of being intently watched. The landscape was the perfect cover for a herd of elephants – both sides of the road being populated with trees and bushes. I didn’t see anything, but as we flew along at wind-assisted speeds I could have only dreamt of the day before, I had the distinct feeling that we were not alone.
Riding at speeds of between 35 and 40 kph on the flat, I knew I was burning all my mental and physical candles. With 80+ km and nearly 1800m of climbing already in my legs for the day, riding so fast was obviously an error, but also mentally I knew that there was no way I was going to complete the full 136 km pencilled in for Stage 4. At lunchtime, I had taken a decision that I would stop at the end of the final off-road section. Even though the terrain was by now basically pan flat, the thought of riding an additional 45 km of tarmac roads held limited appeal, so I decided to go out in a burst of glory instead. Sampath and I flew along, a howling tailwind boosting my speed dramatically, often riding side by side as he tried to capture the speed and the scenery on my phone.
Despite Sampath’s best efforts to keep me going with some freshly harvested sugar cane, as my bike computer ticked over the 90 km mark, I decided I was done, so we called up Sanjeewa and the mother-ship, loaded my bike into the back and set off for our scheduled rendezvous with the next hotel.
If I had completed the full route for the day, it would have been nearly 140 km and the final section would have taken me through Yala National Park, home to large herds of Sri Lankan elephants and a resident population of Sri Lanka leopards among other amazing wildlife. Although I was disappointed not to be able to finish this stage on my bike, Sanjeewa drove the same route that I would have ridden and he said there was a good chance of seeing roadside elephants. Sure enough, not long after we entered into the park, Sanjeewa spotted an elephant casually standing beside the road up ahead. As we drove up towards the elephant and then edged slowly past, the graceful animal barely batted an eyelid. Being so close to a widl elephant is an incredible experience whether you are on a bike or inside a vehicle and I felt very privileged to have had this opportunity.
Our overnight hotel was another amazing experience. Dining outside, with the moon rising over the vast swimming pool, insects chirruping and a warm breeze coming in off the nearby ocean, it felt really like being in paradise.
Day 5 – Go by bike
The final ride was also my shortest. The official route was 56 km, but I’d decided to finish a little earlier and miss out the final section of flat tarmac. Almost as soon as we left the hotel the route was on dirt roads - always a perfect way to start the day.
It was only after I tried lifting my initial pace a little that I realised quite how tired my legs were! Fortunately the route profile was basically flat and the route constantly zigzagged which meant I was never riding into a headwind for too long at one go. The initial part of the route took Sampath and I alongside Yoda Lake, a huge inland water body, the margins of which were covered with water lilies. The route was absolutely perfect for the final day – stretches of smooth, fast, flowing gravel track were separated with stretches along narrow, traffic-free backroads. Peacocks called to each other in the bush, palm trees swayed overhead and a warm breeze wafted in off the ocean.
This is Emin, a rice farmer who lives immediately adjacent to one of the tarmac sections of the route. I’d seen in a number of places grain crops laid out in large rectangular blocks on the road, often taking up all of one side of the road - farmers using the natural heat of the sun to dry them. As we approached Emin’s house, I spotted the grain drying on large sheets of plastic and decided to stop and chat with him. It turned out that he owned a number of rice paddies nearby where he specialised in growing red rice. Using Sampath as my translator, I chatted with Emin about his life, working as a farmer and what he loved about living so close to the ocean. After a few minutes, he invited us into his garden for a cup of tea. It was one of those occasions where travelling by bike offered an utterly unique experience and gave me an incredible insight into the culture and way of a life of a Sri Lankan.
Sampath and I sat in the cool shade of Emin’s garden, drinking Sri Lankan tea which Emin’s wife brought out to us in beautifully decorated bone china cups. She also brought out a bowl of cooked red rice which had been chilled and mixed with honey from Emin’s own beehives. The rice had a delicious nutty texture and the honey had a fragrant, slightly bitter note that reminded me a lot of chesnut honey that you can find in Northern Italy. The combination was absolutely delicious and made the perfect mid-ride snack. Emin was intrigued to find out what I was doing and why I was cycling past his house. He said that no tourists normally came that way, because it was quite a long way from the main road and not near any typical tourist attractions. He quizzed me on how my bike computer worked and was visibly astonished when he picked up my bike to test its weight. While we sat, drinking our tea, I kept getting glimpses of some tiny children peeking curiously around an open door that led into Emin’s house. There was also an older lady, who appeared to be in her 80s or 90s, half hidden in the shadows, but looking out with interest at the strange sight of a lycra-clad western tourist sitting in their garden drinking tea. It was one of those slightly surreal experiences that was an absolute highlight of my trip.
I could have very happily sat there all day chatting with Emin and drinking tea, but we still had some distance to cover, so Sampath and I set off, again following a mixture of smooth, sandy trails and stretches of twisty minor road.
Less than 10 km before the end of the ride, the route took us along a section of main road. There was almost zero traffic, but off to my right I kept getting glimpses of a minor roads leading off into the bush. A quick glimpse down at my bike computer showed a grid system of tracks and minor roads, so I signaled to Sampath and we swung off to the right, in search of the unknown. What we found was a tiny, paved road that wiggled between small village houses and which was regularly decorated with one of the most amazing warning signs I’ve ever seen. I can’t think of anywhere else in the world where a warning about elephants being on the road would be necessary! There weren’t any elephantine blockages on the day we rode it, but there were some super smiley children on bikes who happily followed me down the road, laughing and practicing their English on me as they rode along.
Sadly, all good things must come to an end! As my bike computer ticked over the 38 km ridden mark, we came to a T-junction with a main road and there sitting opposite, parked up under the shade of a tamarind tree was Sanjeewa and the mother-ship. The temperature displaying on my computer screen was 37 degrees. My legs were cooked and actually it was quite a relief to be able to step off the bike and know that I’d finished riding for the day.
Over the course of five days of riding, I’d covered 455 km and climbed a total of 5256m. Despite having been in Sri Lanka for a relatively short time, I’d experienced some of the best gravel riding I’d ever done, met some incredible people and witnessed things I would previously only have dreamt of. As we packed up the van for the long drive to Colombo, we said goodbye to Sampath, who headed off home on his trusty Honda.
Arriving into Colombo in the late afternoon was quite a shock – after the mainly rural nature of the majority of my route, arriving into a big city was quite a shock to the system. Luckily, the final hotel proved to be a haven of peace and tranquility. As the sun set, I wandered down to the ocean and watched families fly kites, take a stroll and spend time together in the warm evening air.
It was a fitting end to my trip. When I look back now at the photos of my time in Sri Lanka with Sanjeewa and Sampath they bring back incredibly happy memories and I can’t wait for my next opportunity to head back to this incredible island.
Olly’s trip to Sri Lanka wouldn’t have been possible without the incredibly generous support of Sri Lankan Airlines. They operate regular direct flights between London and Colombo and are one of the most cycling-friendly airlines we've ever had the pleasure of travelling with!