Pilgrims, Frogs and the west
06-03-2010
After seeing Mary off safely (well, she went home with 95% of her skin after tripping over one of those invisible speed humps) we headed back inland with a view to visiting the disused Sri Lanka fer ry port cum pilgrimage centre, Rameswaram and further north, Pondicherry, an old French colony. On the way we relished the sublime tarmac, lovely positively cambered twists and rivers meandering past dams and waterfalls until the usual truck would come unexpectedly on two wheels round a blind bend on the wrong side of the road. Oh well, keeps you awake. 250 miles later we arrived at what seemed to be the end of the world, home to one the most important temples in India, on an island, rammed with pilgrims, joined to the mainland only by an amazing bridge described as one of India’s great engineering wonders, they aren’t far wrong. 
"350" height="263" /> India is almost connected to Sri Lanka by Adam’s Bridge, a 33km chain of reef and sand islets and used to have a ferry se rvice until it turned ugly in Sri Lanka a few years back, shame, it would have been one of our destinations. The beginning of the reef, 4km from any kind of road, can only be reached by what I assume to be disused cargo trucks across deep sand in amongst fishing shanties (probably housing Sri Lankan refugees) made up of woven palm leaves, a few shacks selling refreshments and remnants of the devastating 1964 cyclone which flattened virtually everything apart from the nearby temple. 
Next stop, Pondicherry, an apparent French oasis on the Bay of Bengal, we weren’t too hopeful as in the past other travellers’ take on certain places have varied somewhat to ours. The road in was the usual nightmare but the grid map was true to it’s word and we found the promenade straight away lined with resplendent hotels called “Sea View” complete with windowless rooms. That evening we wandered the quiet streets or “Rues” (no, really, they have French names) admiring les grandes maisons and found a steak house, full of tourists, as usual. Both of us got homesick at this point, we could walk/ride down an empty tree-lined, cobbled boulevard with out any hint of honk or gawp, we could get lovely salty butter on homemade bread, not the sugary rubbish they toast here and fantastic service from the restaurateurs, heaven, I wanna go home. The place reminded us so much of ol blighty
"350" height="263" /> India is almost connected to Sri Lanka by Adam’s Bridge, a 33km chain of reef and sand islets and used to have a ferry se rvice until it turned ugly in Sri Lanka a few years back, shame, it would have been one of our destinations. The beginning of the reef, 4km from any kind of road, can only be reached by what I assume to be disused cargo trucks across deep sand in amongst fishing shanties (probably housing Sri Lankan refugees) made up of woven palm leaves, a few shacks selling refreshments and remnants of the devastating 1964 cyclone which flattened virtually everything apart from the nearby temple. Next stop, Pondicherry, an apparent French oasis on the Bay of Bengal, we weren’t too hopeful as in the past other travellers’ take on certain places have varied somewhat to ours. The road in was the usual nightmare but the grid map was true to it’s word and we found the promenade straight away lined with resplendent hotels called “Sea View” complete with windowless rooms. That evening we wandered the quiet streets or “Rues” (no, really, they have French names) admiring les grandes maisons and found a steak house, full of tourists, as usual. Both of us got homesick at this point, we could walk/ride down an empty tree-lined, cobbled boulevard with out any hint of honk or gawp, we could get lovely salty butter on homemade bread, not the sugary rubbish they toast here and fantastic service from the restaurateurs, heaven, I wanna go home. The place reminded us so much of ol blighty we didn't take any photos. 
After our sojourn with the expats of Pondicherry we did a bit of soul searching and made a decision to hotfoot it back to the West coast, catch up with a few good friends made on the way and chill out. 
My rear brake line was also to be delivered in Bombay and the sooner that could be installed the better, well that was our excuse anyway. The return to the west started out well, good roads, minimal traffic and the lifestyle we preferred on our minds, 
we even managed to get on the expressway (forbidden for 2 wheelers.) Then the roadworks started, and potholes mixed with 1:7 decline and sand/gravel is not fun with no rear brake, a few girly tears, a diet coke and takeaway tandoori chicken later and I was ready to take the world on. 
The sea was in sight and a beer beckoned and I drastically decided to comb my dreads out, strange to want to do that now, I know, but after the stresses of the day and with the locks pushing into my forehead, I could take the pain no longer. They had served their purpose and given me many months of maintenance (i.e. wash) free days and still looked ok in the photos, but as our return to the UK looms (and hopefully a job and parties, not necessarily in that order) I started to miss my ex-long blonde flowing barnet, meeting Gemma and Mark probably had something to do with it! 
Another chance meet with people of the same, well you know the bike thing, ilk. Mark bought an Enfield in India ten years ago and rode it home, pre Ewan & Charlie stuff, when doing it was unheard of. We're just taking up the slack. The pair of them have been coming to the north eastern reaches of india around the Himalayas to ride the difficult stuff on bikes since, and oh what rubbish we talked over a few beers, fantastic. Dropping out completely (sort of), selling up, spending the winter in Goa and then the summer running a campsite in the south of France, I can't believe there's one of you that thinks that's a bad idea.
After our sojourn with the expats of Pondicherry we did a bit of soul searching and made a decision to hotfoot it back to the West coast, catch up with a few good friends made on the way and chill out. My rear brake line was also to be delivered in Bombay and the sooner that could be installed the better, well that was our excuse anyway. The return to the west started out well, good roads, minimal traffic and the lifestyle we preferred on our minds, we even managed to get on the expressway (forbidden for 2 wheelers.) Then the roadworks started, and potholes mixed with 1:7 decline and sand/gravel is not fun with no rear brake, a few girly tears, a diet coke and takeaway tandoori chicken later and I was ready to take the world on. The sea was in sight and a beer beckoned and I drastically decided to comb my dreads out, strange to want to do that now, I know, but after the stresses of the day and with the locks pushing into my forehead, I could take the pain no longer. They had served their purpose and given me many months of maintenance (i.e. wash) free days and still looked ok in the photos, but as our return to the UK looms (and hopefully a job and parties, not necessarily in that order) I started to miss my ex-long blonde flowing barnet, meeting Gemma and Mark probably had something to do with it! Another chance meet with people of the same, well you know the bike thing, ilk. Mark bought an Enfield in India ten years ago and rode it home, pre Ewan & Charlie stuff, when doing it was unheard of. We're just taking up the slack. The pair of them have been coming to the north eastern reaches of india around the Himalayas to ride the difficult stuff on bikes since, and oh what rubbish we talked over a few beers, fantastic. Dropping out completely (sort of), selling up, spending the winter in Goa and then the summer running a campsite in the south of France, I can't believe there's one of you that thinks that's a bad idea.
The route we took in Iran caused us to come across a great deal of building works and the remains of a distinct lack of it. The war between Iran and Iraq had certainly left it's mark along the Persian Gulf, but the people we met seem to be moving on and taking advantage of the economic success the country is experiencing at present (in some cities by charging us rates we would have expected in a reasonable hotel in central London.)
Bit of a disappointment really, UNESCO had got their hands on it 
These images are better than reality 
but we had a good picnic 
with a nice view
Landslip on the Black Sea Coastal Highway 
Feels like we're on a 2 week holiday still