India Bike Tour

Danielle writes: All of my fears about biking in India have been for naught. To Matt, Richard’s riding partner in 2024, I am sorry you are missing biking in Kerala. So far, it’s been delightful. Drivers, for the most part, stay on their side of the road. The dogs ignore or are afraid of two neon-vested riders. There are no sacred cows in the middle of the road refusing to budge. And thankfully, the homestays and hotels have been great – huge beds, hot and cold water, ceiling fans, sometimes even heat pumps for air conditioning, and toilets that flush!

We are a sight, the two of us, in our neon vests and helmets, our pool noodles across the backs of our bikes. We get our fair share of stern stares. Men barely crack a smile when greeted by my cheery “hello” or “good morning” as we go whizzing by. Girls and women return the greeting and smile with big ones of their own. Richard has been getting in on the action. It’s fun to see if we can get a stern face to light up a little. In order of ease: young girls and boys, teenage girls and boys, women, young men, old men.

Da Brim, my bike helmet sun visor, must be the reason for the schoolgirl giggles we hear from women and girls alike! Or maybe it’s just me – a woman riding a bike, wearing a pink kurta with cotton pajama pants and what looks like a neon flying saucer on her head. I never ever thought I’d wear one of these ever in my life, but it is da bomb! It shades my face without blocking those critical helmet vents. Thank you, Sonia, for this awesome Christmas present. Richard, somewhat jealous of my stylish yet practical topper, is planning to use it for the second half of his trip.

The riding is fantastic. I’m glad for the slightly wider tires we have because of the various surfaces we encounter. But generally, the roads have been good and some have been amazing. It’s crazy to wax poetic about asphalt, but when you have a nice smooth section of it, your entire body is grateful.

We’ve been weaving our way along country roads, which sometimes feel more like rural neighborhood alleyways (wide enough for two scooters to pass each other). Our pool noodles can make passing us quite hard. “What is THAT?” is asked quite often by curious men on scooters as they point at the back of Richard’s bike. Everyone gives us a wide berth, which they certainly didn’t give us that first day on our test ride (without pool noodles) in Kochi. Pool noodles are also da bomb!

But not every part of every day is perfect. Yesterday we biked 16 miles on Route 66(!), which is under construction to become a 6-lane highway, during rush hour. And it was a rush, both crazy and exhilarating to experience how traffic flows like water. The order from the edge to the middle is based on speed: bikes, scooters and tuk-tuks, buses and trucks, and then private cars (of which there are many). It’s just like a river, slow at the edges where there’s friction and faster in the middle where there’s none. And if you want to turn, the flow slows and merges around you. It actually feels quite safe (scary thought). It must be that sharing the road with tuk-tuks teaches all the drivers to be on high alert. Those little two strokers are a menace: they stop, pull out, and spin around without much warning and you better adjust your speed to accommodate them.

What were we thinking, riding the most insane section of Route 66? Between Alapuzzah and Kollam, there are canals and inland waterways, all picturesque, but they can hem you in. Komoot (the bike app that Matt and Richard used) is spot on and way off. We did plenty of backtracking before deciding it was time to just get on Route 66 and get to our destination.

There’s so much more to say: about food (not much veg food here), stray dogs (heartbreaking), burning garbage and tropical plant matter (incinerators and composting), black clouds of exhaust (I hold my breathe), education (a two outdoor room college that teaches science and commerce), enormous houses (a burgeoning middle class), sweat and more sweat (!), the benefit of cotton and the false advertising of my tropic-weight pRana pants that do NOT breathe, coir mats, and the Finnish cyclist we met today.