“Only time in my life I’ve had to pull over because there’s a wild elephant on the road”
“Sri Lanka? Where’s that? Oh, the old Ceylon, off India right? Ride bikes for a fortnight? Yeah, sure, I guess…”
Thirty years ago I was a tour guide with Aussie Motorcycle Adventures, mostly taking Japanese riders bush on TTR250s. Ayers Rock, the Canning, the Cape, laps of the Outback where we bush camped nights and rode dirt tracks all day.
Up before dawn with 20 chains to oil and filters to blow. Cooking breakfast; lots of eggs, bacon and toast for people used to seaweed and fish. Packing away tents and cooking gear while our terrorists cleaned their teeth and donned armour. Helmet on and then, “Norimasu!” – let’s ride. Actually, it might have meant “follow the idiot” but they got the message.
Hard work, not much sleep, but anything to spend a day on a motorbike, right? And what a way to explore the bush. When the creeping bitumen threatened the usual routes, a couple of us would poke out on XT600s to find new tracks, dropping in on stations and riding fence lines. No GPS, just a compass and map.
So when my old mate Matt Natonewski asked if I’d like to go on tour with Nevermind Adventures, I had the old days in mind. Then he suggested Sri Lanka was a good trip to bring Karen too.
Hmmm. “Why’s that?” I said, visions of the wife’s smile after a night on a bed roll swatting mozzies.
“Mate, the accommodation’s first class. We’ve nailed some outrageously good places to stay. And we’ll be on Royal Enfield Bullet 350s for the most part; great pillion bikes when they’re set up right.”
Matt was right, our digs ranged from beach resorts to mountain retreats. Nevermind’s been in this game long enough to know all the best places. But, I hear you giggle, how much excitement can you have on a 350 single? Well, the old Classic 350 is about the biggest bike on the road when the national limit’s 450cc. And since the war ended only a dozen years ago, Sri Lanka is still one of the poorest countries on Earth. There’s 40 motorbikes on the road for every car, and 175cc is considered big balls. The tuk tuks that carry whole families are 200cc. I only saw a handful of trucks with dual wheels, possibly one of the reasons why most of the sealed roads are lovely and smooth. Then there’s the roads that look like they’ve had bombs rain on them, which they probably have, and we took plenty of back tracks too. But more than once I looked back to see Kazza leaning down hard as we scooted up a tight, twisted mountain road with the throttle to the stop. Matt’s crew had chosen well; the bikes were sorted with loud pipes and big saddles. With the whole pack mounted on big singles it was like the cafe racer days of old – other than cold beer and curry instead of tea and scones.
Sri Lanka’s slightly smaller than Tasmania but with a population the same as Australia. It’s a tad crowded, especially in the urban areas and along the coast. It’s mostly Buddhist too, which means everybody’s friendly even if they’re not fast – why rush when there’s plenty of time in the next life, right?
It’s total anarchy on the roads, buses stopping wherever they want, tuk tuks pulling U-turns, cars passing buses passing cows and all the confusion of a thousand horns tooting “I’m here!” with wild dogs and monkeys thrown in. And elephants. Only time in my life I’ve had to pull over because there’s a wild elephant on the road. On average, with coffee stops, meals and rubber necking, we’d put in five or six hours riding to do a couple of hundred kilometres. It was more condensed than tinned milk.
The riding was intense and as incredible as the views. One day in a couple of hours we climbed from the coast to Nuwara Eliya, an old British resort town from the days of the Raj some 2000m high. Back tracks, dirt roads, smooth dual lane and the most first-gear corners I’ve ever done in my life.
Seriously? Most fun we’ve ever had. We all know motorcycling sharpens your appetite for life, but when you tour with a pack of bikes in a country that’s just nudged the tourism wheel, well, it doesn’t get any better. We’ve made new friends for life and memories that make us laugh out loud. Nevermind…
Sign me up, Matt, your style of touring is bloody wonderful!
