Kanyakumari to Kovalam, Kerala (90 clicks)
I know many of you are wondering where Marcus is most of the day. I'm equally perplexed. He departs sometime in the middle of the night when I'm still in bed, arriving in most towns some time before 11:00 a.m. This morning we both woke at 5:00 with the unusually loud 'call to prayer' and while Marcus hit the road well before 6:00, I ambled over to the Sea View Hotel for a western-style breakfast with Canada.
Today was a turning point in the trip. We were finally moving from south to north from the state of Tamil Nadu to Kerala. Kerala is one of India's smallest states, stretching lengthwise between the Arabian Sea and Western Ghats. It's also the only state in India with a literacy rate of 91%. But the real attraction for visitors are Kerala's trademarks: palm fringed white sandy beaches and ayuverdic treatments.
Under a rising and strong sun, I departed Kanyakumari in a surprisingly nostalgic state. I knew the days of rural India were largely over. I savored every passing kilometer in Tamil Nadu -- the sunrise, the smelly fishing stalls, the pretty churches next to 'milk coffee' cafes. The early morning air and meandering canal made for an idyllic, albeit humid, start.
Some place between Nagercoil and the border of Kerala my trance was broken by the abundant energy of a freckled 20-something Kiwi (who lives in Melbourne). At first I assumed it was one of the Canada boys but his obvious strength and slight build told me otherwise. Kiwi is cycling largely the same route but, upon further scrutiny, I discovered to a certain satisfaction that he's been taking more days off here and there. I say this only because we started to hit some unexpected hills. These were not category climbs but pesky nonetheless and with each successive elevation Kiwi accelerated and I fell back. Clearly it had nothing to do with too much curry but the cumulative effect of 4 days riding without a proper break.
The transformation between Tamil Nadu and Kerala was instananeous and puzzling. On the one side, the roads were smooth and, upon reflection, tranquil as could possibly be. On the Kerala side we were accompanied by poorly maintained roads and a constant roar of traffic of a different kind. The usual buses, cows and goats were noticeably missing and so to the skirt wearing men. Sure there were a few dhotis (skirts) here and there and an elephant wandering about the side of the road, but there was an unusual number of private vehicles on the road -- something non-existent in Tamil Nadu. Adjusting our riding techniques, we stopped in more than a few towns stuck behind a build-up of cars and flying dust. Street signage and kilometer markers were also far between, forcing a few more unplanned stops to discover just where we were.
To be fair, I can't just focus on the negative differences. Through all of this, the vibrant coconut groves and lush paddy fields stood out. So much so that when we descended into it Kovalam, we nearly missed the turn. It wasn't so much the palm trees that distracted us as much as it was the downhill approach. Everytime we started descending, another local pointed us back up in a direction that made it seem like we were back-tracking on a long circuitous slog around. We were so close we could smell the beach so finally, we pointed our wheels westward and literally landed smack dab on the beach. I'm not lying. We looked rather foolish surrounded by holiday makers in their lounge chairs and swimsuits as we trudged through the deep sand carrying our heavy loads.
It took a good hour to find our way across the paddy fields, back into the coconut groves where we found Marcus tucked away in a nice family run guesthouse with a porch and jungle view. Within minutes we could be found bodysurfing in the beautiful Arabian Sea, followed by a slumber of what could only be described as three beached (and possibly dead) seals. Yes, Kerala is very different indeed!
Ride Strong!
