I woke to another day of high humidity and even stronger sun so I decided to push off early to beat the afternoon oppression.  Circling the wharf I found a piping hot milk coffee with flies before boarding the 10 minute and 1 Rs ferry ride to Wipin Island, just to the north. 

Stretching lengthwise against Kerala's mainland, Wipin Island is about 35 km long and boasts Fort Cochin's nearest beach, Cherai.  It's also, allegedly, the most populated island in India, all of whom were attending the multiple and elaborate Catholic churches this morning.  Most of the churches had large open entrances and, peeking in, I could see a few plastic chairs but the majority of the people sitting on the floor.  Those that couldn't fit into the church spilled over onto the perimeter.

I was blessed with virtually empty streets but this also meant that all potential breakfast spots were closed for the day.  I had it in my mind that Cherai Beach would be a good stop but when I got there I was sorely disappointed.  There was only one open shack made of palm fronds and blue plastic tarp where two ancient ladies with no teeth were serving up some local rice and coconut specialty.  Just as I was taking my pass, a British bloak appeared excited to see another westerner on a bike.  He and his buddies were apparently riding the interior and recently landed on the west coast of Kerala via a multimodal network of transportation.  To be couteous I stopped and shared a Chai with him but between his swollen unexplained black-eye and hand-rolled cigarettes, I really preferred to be making forward progress. 

The beach road along Cherai turns into a single-lane ghost land and I wondered whether there would be a bridge at the other end.  When I got to the northern tip, I saw a few fishermen cleaning their nets who I considered asking for a lift.  But a nice gentlemen on a red motorcycle shared with me a network of dirt walking paths zig-zagging between coconut groves and large empty vacation homes.  I would have never found it if he hadn't let me follow him but eventually the dirt road dropped me right at another ferry stop.  The boat hands banged up my bike pretty good because the little passenger ferry is really not designed for bikes or motorcycles.  But, unlike other transportation systems in India, it didn't stop them from loading at least 10 large motorcycles and a few bikes up and over the water and into the tiny low-ceilinged dingy.  The 5 minute journey felt like a lifetime as every eye on the boat simply stared in silence at the funny looking blonde girl.

I really had no idea where I had landed other than it was west of the N17 and a small quiet road.  It also turned into one of the more exclusive residential areas I have ever seen.  From Azhikid all the way up to Thalikkulam, it was a fine example of serious wealth.  Between the lush green trees and grandeur of the homes, I felt like I was in Hope Ranch, Santa Barbara, only with coconut groves.  I never really saw any people around or cars on the road so I can only conclude that these are vacation homes of Kerala's upper crust.

On several occassions the road would intersect with a hard T where I had a total uncertainty about where to go next.  But, as is typical at nearly all Indian towns, within seconds locals are pointing me in different directions.   Needless to say, the riding was a bit slower than usual but I was perfectly pleased to be off the highway experiencing Kerala at its best.  One note about this highly recommended diversion from N17, places for food and water are scarce.  In most places they didn't have bottled water and I had to force down some yucky sugar soda for hydration.  I finally found some cold fizzy water a few kays later and some new baked muffin goodies that I hope I can find again.

About 20 km out from Chaavakkaad, I swung east and arrived at N17.  I think I could have extended the serenity of the other road a bit longer but I started getting really lost down some streets that turned into dirt trails and, eventually, into nothing.  Once on the smooth surface of the mainroad, it was a fast flat straight into Chaavakkaad and right to Guruvayoor.

I wanted so badly to have a hotel just call me out, I was tired and soaked through and more than ready for a cold shower.  But Guruvayoor is an important Hindu pilgrimage town because of the 15th century Sri Krishna Temple and hotels were everywhere.  One thing I've learned, if nothing else, the exterior of a hotel in India often bears no relation to their rooms.  After an hour of hotel shopping I finally landed in a relatively clean and inexpensive place just 1 km from the temple (read: lots of noise and tacky shops around).

I had dinner with strangers again, Hindu pilgrims from Mumbai.   A roving black-out necessitated an end to some all-female festival and early time to bed.

Ride Strong!