Cycling Sri Lanka

Yes, yes—I know. I started this blog so you could follow our travels (and so I could remember what we’ve actually done). And yet, more than two weeks in, I’ve written exactly one post. About a monkey. That’s it. Sigh.

In my defence, the first few days were written off to jet lag and some exceptionally good Ayurvedic massages. Then our Exodus cycling trip began in Sigiriya and, for the past two weeks, we’ve been riding hard all day and collapsing into bed at night. I’ve read four pages of the book I brought, my Garmin keeps demanding between 50 and 90 hours of recovery, and it has repeatedly accused me of “over-reaching.” Rude—but fair.

Now that the cycling is over, it’s time to catch up.

This was our fifth cycling trip with Exodus Adventure Travels—and easily the best. The riding was challenging, joyful, occasionally terrifying, and deeply rewarding. Our group of 14 (with Gary and me the only non-Brits) was fit, funny, and fantastic. I know some people scoff at organized group travel, but trips like this give you access to places, people, and experiences you simply wouldn’t have on your own—plus you learn a lot and burn off at least some of the calories you consume. Cycling is a wonderful way to see a country.

Over two weeks we cycled around 500 km, climbed more than 4,500 metres, visited five UNESCO World Heritage sites, learned to play cricket, cook Sri Lankan food, and make sisal rope. We saw elephants, monkeys (three kinds, still bitter), deer, giant snakes, crocodiles, and more birds than I knew existed. We waved to hundreds of kids and adults, watched fire-walking ceremonies, visited temples and ruins, and ate heroic quantities of excellent food.

So what’s it actually like to cycle in Sri Lanka?

Exodus partners with a local company—in our case, Nkar from Colombo—and our guide, Wajira (“Waji”), was extraordinary. At 34, he’s led 15 Exodus cycling trips and appears to know everyone in the country. Culture, politics, wildlife, food—ask a question and Waji had the answer. Supporting him was a small army: a bike tech/sweep (Dinuka), a bus driver and assistant, and a truck team carrying our bikes. At first it seemed excessive. By the end, it seemed essential.

The bikes were the best we’ve had on an Exodus trip—solid hybrid/gravel touring bikes. Gary and I brought SPD pedals; most of the Brits rode hills in running shoes, unclipped, which remains deeply mysterious to me. Each day’s route arrived via Ride with GPS, complete with mileage and elevation profiles—sometimes encouraging, sometimes… not.

Sri Lanka inevitably involves highway riding, but I was genuinely impressed by how respectful most of the drivers were. Tuk tuks, buses, and trucks generally gave a polite beep and plenty of space—far more considerate than anything I’ve experienced back home in the GTA. The red public transit buses are another story - like the black pick-up trucks on the roads near home.

On the highways and trickier sections of riding, Waji led the way while we followed, single-file, behind him. However, on climbs and quieter roads, everyone rode at their own pace, with Dinuka and the truck always bringing up the rear. Absolute Marine Code: no one left behind.

One of the most entertaining and thrilling moments on every ride came when Dinuka suddenly sprinted from the back to the front. As he passed us, we all knew that imminent danger lay ahead. In fact, you could practically hear everyone thinking: “Danger, Will Robinson.” This usually meant a tricky right-hand turn at a busy intersection (they drive on the left here). Dinuka and the bus assistant, Ranishka, would stop traffic in all directions so we could sail through like VIPs. Then Dinuka would casually drop back to sweep, and Ranishka would hop back on the bus. Rinse, repeat.

With that level of care, we could stop thinking and just ride.

We had snack breaks every 15–20 km—rice crepes with sweet coconut, endless fresh fruit, refilled bottles—and afternoon tea or coffee stops that delighted the Brits to no end. We were rather like children, following our team around and waiting for snacks. And yes, lunch too. Despite all the cycling, I’m fairly confident none of us lost weight.

Thanks to early starts (usually riding by 8am to beat the heat), we often finished by early afternoon, leaving time to explore, rest, or do laundry—sometimes urgently. On one rainy ride along red dirt roads, we arrived looking like elite mud-covered mountain bikers. Everything went straight into hotel laundry bags. Bliss.

The most challenging days involved long, steep descents. One from Nuwara Eliya toward Ella passed areas badly damaged by flooding and landslides—sobering and sad, with narrow roads and washed-out homes. Speed control was essential. The next descent, from Ella to Tissa, was steeper, wetter, and led firmly by Waji. We took it slow and survived, dropping nearly 2,000 metres and emerging into noticeably hotter, drier air.

Our favourite days? Quiet canal roads, bird sanctuaries, and parkland—easy riding, wildlife everywhere, and frequent stops just to soak it all in.

So that’s a (still not that brief) look at what cycling Sri Lanka was like. You don’t need to be an elite cyclist to do a trip like this—four people rode e-bikes and had just as much fun, with considerably more energy at day’s end.

Enjoy this video I made of our second big descent, as well as the photos in the Collected Moments Gallery. Next up, I’ll share more about the remarkable places and moments we’ve experienced along the way.