No laughing, sneezing or coughing.... but otherwise good to go.

Its pouring with rain.

I sit at my desk, in my air-conditioned office and I stare out of my window in disbelief. We rode bicycles around the country for 10 days, in blistering heat; not one cloud in sight, not one patch of respite from the searing, brutal, skin scorching, mind numbing heat and now, as I sit in my temp controlled, comfortable room, it rains??? I think its a good thing I don't believe in a god, as he/she/it would have had a belly full from me right about now.

ATP 2016 is now history. We did a 'ceremonial' ride in from Negambo, joined by some friends and kids of riders, ending our ride at Park Street Mews, where a CP camp was being held. Many friends and family members were there to greet us and it was particularly emotional to see the recipient children ( of wheel chairs we raised funds for) there to greet us.

The last two days of proper riding were two tough legs; Sorely testing most of the riders as the distance and the heat combined made these the longest and hottest of the entire journey.

Day 8: After suffering my mishap on day 6, and attempting, but not making it more than 6km's on day 7, I got back on my bike for the 160km's from Jaffna to Marichchakatti. I had tanked up on painkillers and was reasonably comfortable as it was a flat ride on good road for most part of it and I didn't think my rib and shoulder would get too much of a jarring. Yasas had taken a painful fall on Challai and he too was nursing a badly bruised and painful rib. Yasas and I 'cracked' a few jokes between us and decided to push on.

In addition to my rib and shoulder, it appeared that my poor bike had suffered some injury as well. Sadly, it did not survive the crash. I didn't realise the time but the impact had snapped one of the carbon tubes and basically, that was that. Fortunately for me, there was a van being driven up to Jaffna that night and I managed to get my old bike sent up.

Setting off early morning, I was probably the most comfortable of the riders as for one, i was tanked up on some pretty serious meds ( the world was a happy place) and two, I had spent an entire day, lounging in the luxurious rooms of Jetwing Jaffna, and was well rested.

Charlene had picked up a nasty gash on her leg and needed medical attention. Under normal circumstances this would have required a few sutures, but nothing about Challai is normal, so she had wrapped her leg up in Jehan S's sun protection sleeve, and it was only on completion of the day, that any attention was given to it. I have to say, she is one tough cookie, with an incredible resolve.

Chantal had a pulled glute muscle, Chenthu had planted his head in the sand and was being checked for concussions and Aneesha had damaged the ligaments in his wrist in another fall, which meant the 'sick list' was pretty long. Chenthu and Aneesha decided not to ride but the other walking wounded gamely hopped on and with the aid of some 'happy pills'  to numb the pain, we rolled off in to the rising sun.

A few Kms out of Jaffna and we cross a steel bridge. The morning dew had made it as slick as glass and before we knew it, we had a multi bike pile up. Charlene took another tumble but thankfully, avoided any serious damage, a part from a sore bum and elbow.

The rest of the ride was thankfully eventless, but testing. Mid way to Mannar, we broke out in song, led by Jehan B, and at near hysterical volume, belted out some rather dubious lyrics to a few Queen, Sinatra, and Simon and Garfunkel hits. While Freddy and Frank probably had a good spin in their graves, Paul and Art must have felt a chill in their souls and I think we cleared the threat of Elephants on the road for many miles in each direction.

Entering Mannar, the heat was making going really tough. It was well in the 40's and a few people crumbled and had to take the option of vehicle support, but the others, wounded included, grit their teeth and motored on. This was really 'dig deep' stuff. This is the time that you have to take complete control of your mind. I play scenes of life out, try and remember places I have been to and make and remake my bucket list. I can assure you, there is no place on my new list, that has an average temperature any higher than 25c ever. During this section, incredible support provided by 'Wonder-woman' Ajani and her merry crew was almost a life saver at times. Watermellon and ice magically appeared when most needed and cold bottles of water were passed around to 'bath' in and cool ourselves while on the road. The amazing support of Andrew and the Land Rover team deserves special mention as well.

The ride finally ended at the Marichchakatti Naval Camp. the location of this camp is amazing. Its poised at the bottom end of a bay, just north of the famed Kudiramalai Beach and has a lovely view in all directions. We were to spend the night with Eco Team again, who have an excellent camping set up for large crews, and under the leadership of Channa who was always attentive. Ajith and Shiromal were our neighbours, and along with Shehan C, we had a peaceful evening, sipping a well earned scotch, enjoying a chat and a laugh and watching the sky put on a magical show, first with a stunning sunset and then with a display of a myriad of stars.


The next day was another tester. especially for those of us who were nursing painful injuries.

The day starts with a beautiful 34km ride through Wilpattu National Park. Since its reasonably cool in the morning, we ride through spectacularly beautiful Villus and open plains of the park keeping a keen eye open for any elephants, buffalo or other wildlife that may not take kindly to our presence. As gorgeous as it is, nursing injuries on 'off road' rides is never easy and was especially daunting.

For some, this ride is a beautiful experience, to be savoured; truly is a journey of a life time.
For others, its simply a point A to Point B ride on mountain bikes. This reflects many of the personalities as well. Observing the riders I couldn't help but feel sorry for those who just do not see the beauty around them.

The entirety of ATP is such a journey, sadly not for many. Ajith, Yasas and I were doing this for our third time, but we still marvelled at the beauty around us and took time to stop our bikes, view particularly beautiful sights, and shook our heads as some didn't so much as turn their heads at some of the prettiest scenery the island has to offer. I guess we all have our reasons why we ride. I hope in the many years I plan on doing this ride, I never get to a point where I don't appreciate the beauty of it.

Once out of the park we took a brief rest and hopped in to the cooling river at the entrance / exit, and switched bikes for a 135km's of road riding in to Negambo. From the park entrance to Putlam town the road is still reasonably empty and a good pace can be kept, however from Putlam onwards, its a slow grind through traffic and the harsh realisation that the best of the ride is behind us and now its a return to 'civilisation' if you could call it that.

We made a few 'Kade`' stops and wolfed down Vadai and hot Egg Roti, drank sweet tea, laughed and joked with Charlene and JB having a few 'moments'  aptly captured on video, wincing in pain with our bruises, cracked ribs, gashed legs and arms and torn muscles and rolled into Negambo. A tired, sun burned peloton of 35 riders who had for all intents and purposes, completed ATP2016.

A memorable night of celebration followed, with much alcohol consumed. A few casualties, many stories, lots of laughs and a good nights sleep for most.

The final day we had a short 40km roll into Colombo.

So now I watch the rain hammering down; My rib is cracked, and my shoulder had dislocated but thankfully found its way back into its socket, leaving me with a bunch of sore ligaments but nothing more. I have a head full of memories of three ATP's and I can't laugh, sneeze or cough without acute pain. I have a little white envelop of pain killers next to my computer, but I am refraining from taking any. Today I start training again. I may need one of those pills before I hit the gym.

Challai From Afar

After riding 26 consecutive days on ATP (2 full ATP's and 6 days of my third), it finally happened. I had to stop a ride. I am not sure if its my ego of my bruised bones that are damaged more, but I am sitting in a hotel room in Jaffna and feeling rather sorry for myself. I am not apart of my third Challai ride and i sit here eagerly awaiting any kind of news i can on my phone, feeling rather inadequate not to be able to ride today. ATP, to me has always been about riding a 100%, and not being able to ride a day hurts. 

We had a great day off in Nilaveli Two days ago, sleeping like sloths, eating copious amounts of food and sucking down Arrack Cocktails. Charlene and I had an amazing massage and much time was spend lazing around the beach or in the air-conditioned comfort of our room. As gorgeous as the weather looked, it was hideously hot. The temp was well into the high 30's and if you could ever really on any of the weather forecasters, apparently it felt like 45. I have no idea what that's supposed to mean. To me in the context of the current weather, it is simple. Hot, Hotter and Fucking Insanely Hot. Take the latter, add a few degrees and you get the picture. 

As I have stated on many previous posts on the blog, I HATE THE HEAT. When Yasas mentioned to the team that day 7 departure would be 11am, it took all my self control not to roll on the ground and cry. I could almost feel my skin, and my rather bare scalp, sizzle. We didn't have a choice as we were getting to a tented campsite that would not be ready till late evening. 

Having attempted to comfort myself by eating more bacon for breakfast, I retreated to the confines of my nice cool room to await the dreaded departure. The temp steadily inching up to the 'FIH levels. 

At the dreaded hour of 11, we rolled out of Nilaveli and on towards Pullmudai and the Kokillai Lagoon. The road is spectacular. This is another favourite section of the ride. We meander along the coast, through Mangrove swamps and rolling farm land, passing the Thiriyaya temple, reputedly the sight of the oldest stupa in the country. As gorgeous as this road is, my mind couldn't shake the reality of what we were doing. Riding a short (still over a 100km) ride, at a reasonable pace, in 40+c (100f) heat. 

We cut our planned water stops by close to half the usual distance and motored on towards the lagoon. Lots of water for bathing ourselves in an attempt to cool our scorching skin. 


At the lagoon, a spectacularly beautiful part of our little rock in the indian ocean, we wee treated to a delicious Roti, Sweet potato and Sambol lunch by the Navy who have been incredibly supportive towards this cause. Having been fed and watered, we boarded a handful of boats and chugged access the lagoon to join the road on to Mullaitivu and our stop point for the night. 

the last 35km's of road is great riding surface and when getting into Mullaitivu, it has become somewhat of a tradition that the last 12km is done at almost a flat out sprint. Yesterday was no different. Umm.. Well. It was different. Very different, as we had been riding in impossibly hot weather, and I for one was grumpy, sweaty, scorched beyond comprehension and just wanting to 'get this over with'.

Regardless, when Yasas 'made his move' I dragged my groaning carcass behind him and found myself hurtling down the B297 at close to 40kmph. The group started off with about 12 riders but gradually we dropped a few others along the way and kept motoring. My eyes were rolling back in my head at my stupidity to try and keep up with the 'pros' but never one to give up on a challenge (bull shit.. it was just ego), foaming at the mouth like a rabid dog, I hung in there. the km/s counted down at rapid rate.11, 10, 9 , 8 and then sanity took over. I realised i was probably going to explode like a rather large watermelon, and decided to drop out of the pack. Much to my surprise i realise there was only 6 of us at this stage. 

Having dropped back a little bit i was caught up by two others who had been attempting to keep up and the three of us, Tejala, Manjula and I, now formed our own group and went haring after the 'big boys'. We were doing fine till with about 4km's to go, I got a bit too close to the rear wheel of Tejala and at around 38kmph (reasonable pace for a weekend rider like myself),I touched wheels and in a split second (in which I let out a rather high-pitched screech)  found myself hurtling through the air towards the tarmac and the gravel embankment. 

No snapshots of my life flashed before me, nor did any thoughts of after life pass through my mind in the moments between realisation and impact; It was more like "fuck.. this is going to hurt" and "get those fucking arms tucked in". I hit the road, in a tangle of bicycle and legs and arms, skidded along the surface, and all i could hear was the rather loud grating sound of my helmet dragging along the ground. After what seemed like an age, i came to a stop and realised Manjula who had been following me, had taken a tumble as well. we both sat on the ground and stared at each other. I waited for the pain to hit from a variety of broken limbs; I also expected half my skin to have lined the surface of the road. 

Much to my surprise both Manjula and I (who total up to about 200kg's) were incredibly devoid of any critical injury. A grazed elbow was all that was visible, but a quick check by the ride doctor, later revealed a few more bruises and potentially a crack in a rib. The bikes were a bit worse for wear than we were but Sajith the magician mechanic was quick on the scene and we were back on and riding to the stopping point within a minutes.

The night was spent in a wonderfully set up camp site on the Mullaitivu beach. I was finding it difficult to move as the stiffness set in, but enjoyed a nice dip in the ocean that made all the grazes burn, and then relaxed near the beach, had an early dinner and slept outdoors, under the stars, as the tents were impossibly hot. 

This morning, Charlene wasn't to pleased that i had plans of riding. Realistically, i think I knew I was going to struggle, but i had to give it a shot. I got suited and booted and joined the riders and rolled on towards the start. Most people were a bit nervous about today as it was the dreaded Challai day. 

This years was extra special as thanks to Yasas's initiative and the support of the Navy, we were having the first international Challai Challenge. Many international riders and local racing teams were a part of it. While I had absolutely no intention of racing, it would shave been special to have been a part of the first race. 

The ride takes us through the uncharted beach track that the LTTE terrorist used as supply routes for their navy. It is hot and sandy and done almost entirely on Mountain Bikes. I began riding but having covered about 5km's started getting spasms of pain in my ribs and had to pull to a stop. Ego has taken a big hit but hopefully, I will be able to take this old body, and get it to ride 160km's to the Wilpattu border tomorrow. Till then I will enjoy the luxurious setting of Jetwing Hotels new property in Jaffna; and tomorrow, I will get back on my bike and ride. 

And We Ride ... AGAIN!!!!

Bacon. 
That was the craving I woke up with. I had visions of piles of freshly fried bacon. 
We are seated in a nice air-conditioned room in Nilaveli, a beautiful seaside resort village in North Eastern Sri Lanka. Today is our rest day on our third Around The Pearl ride. Its been scorching hot, humid, windy and tough going but a load of fun.This ride has evolved from being a tight knit circle of friends, off on a roll around Sri Lanka, to a much wider group of professionally organised and managed people still riding to raise funds for an amazing cause. Our target is to reach the 40,000 wheel chairs needed to help Sri Lanka's CP afflicted children get wheel chairs. In spite of the ever increasing numbers, there is still a good camaraderie in the group although not to the same levels of the first two rides. This is to be expected when its grown from 12 to 22 to 40 riders. 

Two years ago, this was a turning point in my life. The ride that changed my life in more ways than one. Today, I am fitter, healthier and stuffed to my gills with bacon. Yes; my craving was satisfied. 

We began the ride 6 days ago, in a sweltering Colombo. The weather gods have lost their collective marbles and decided to bring Sri Lanka to a slow roast. Training for the ride was challenging enough but actually getting down to doing it, in this heat, was something totally different. I am happy to say that riding 150+km's a day is not the toughest challenge any more. Toss in a couple dozen lunatic TukTuk drivers, even more psychotic bus drivers, cows, dogs and insane heat (near 40c on most days), a bear, a few elephants, a dead ring tailed civet and a goat; you have a serious challenge on your hands. 

The group consists of 40 riders of varied skill and fitness level. Shapes range from champaign flute to brandy balloon, and riding skills, similar in variety and its enough to make anyones organisational skill groan and creak at the seams. 

Our erstwhile skipper, Yasas and his able bodied assistants Udam and Crystal (Ajith and I apart from the occasional phone call, or e mail contribution have had very little to do with with the actual organising. 'Consultant' is a good description. Like most consultants, we do little but enjoy much merit) have done a yeoman job. The routes and fuelling stops, planned and manned by the super woman and the other half of the dynamic duo, Ajani. Well stocked with iced water, Fish buns, Vegetable and Beef Roti, Vadai and a variety of cooled drinks, these stops are beyond welcome in the sweltering heat. 

We set off from the beautiful Land Rover showrooms in Colombo. LR being one of our main sponsors, this was a good way for us to show our support. Stunning place with a great cup of coffee and on this particular morning stocked with energy giving banana's and oats. The ride didn't start off well, with our friend Dila, who was joining us for day one only, falling off her bike, while stationary and dislocating and shattering her elbow. In the hustle and bustle of getting the ride started, few of us knew this had happened. Sadly for her, she has to undergo surgery and won't be on her bike for a while. 

There were a few more spills along the way but overall most of the riders made it unscathed to Mandara hotel in Mirissa. A small, comfortable place on the beach, away from the crowds. The first few days are always tough. the sun, the traffic and our bodies getting used to the routine, usually means that the socialising is limited to a few cocktails at most and a very early night. 

Day 2, takes us from Mirissa to Katharagama. A 140+Km's of rolling hills and heat. The roads start to get less crowded and the surfaces are better but did I mention the heat? It is seriously, seriously hot. I sometimes wonder if what we do and the time of year we do it is the most sensible. Probably not, along with the ever expanding list of the not too sensible things we tend to do in this ride. It certainly not for the feint hearted, but i have seen incredible transformations take place as well. This ride is no different to the two before; transformations of physique and personality are taking place before our eye. 

Endurance riding is an interesting sport. its more mind than body and more grit and glory. I never thought of myself us an endurance rider. Lacking patience at the best of times, I hardly saw myself as a man capable of sitting his ass down on a seat, that basically looked like a wedge of cheese and I am pretty certain is far less comfortable although I have to admit, that I have never sat on a wedge of cheese. In addition to this, endurance riding in Sri Lanka means you are riding for hour upon hour in conditions that are more suited for camel than human.

Put 40 people on bicycles and make them ride fare distances in insane heat and interesting things tend to happen. Some break out in spontaneous song, as others bitch quietly at/to themselves, some dig deep and grind away the miles, while some look fresh as daisy's while rolling up the hills (The two C's, Charlene and Chantal being a case in point), some find a reason to quit while others find an excuse to go on. Some question their sanity for ever taking this one, while others glow with the pride of their daily accomplishment. Either way, ATP is a life changer. 

Day 3 was Katharagama to Arugambay. 
My favourite ride of the tour. We roll along the Buttala plains, between Yala and Lunugamvehera parks. Picturesque country with thick jungle on either side of the road. the bird life is incredible and this stretch has always been a birding hotspot. We expect to see Elephant, buffalo, deer and other smaller mammals but incredibly, this time a slower group riding a few km's behind the main pack had amazing luck when a bear crossed the road ahead of them.
We then ride in the the Monaragala hills and down on the the eastern valley through yet another park, Lahugala and the almost guaranteed sighting of elephants. Finally the open plains of Pottuvil and the spectacular and impossibly blue Bay of Arugambay. Sadly day three claimed another victim when Dharini had an unfortunate mishap, having covered her longest distance ever and had to terminate her ride with a broken clavicle. 

We stayed at the Blue Wave hotel in Arugambay. Sri Lanka's answer to Fawlty Towers. I will not dwell not the 'comedy' we endured under the guise of service, but in fairness, they had a nice pool and the dinner was half way decent. Less said about the rest of the Hotel the better, but if you do happen to be unfortunately enough to end up there, good luck dodging the hard sell on their club sandwiches. Basic conversation with room service.

Q: Do you have a room service menu
A: Yes sir. We have club sandwiches
Q: Could I see the menu?
A: Yes sir. I will send it. Would you like a club sandwich with that?
Q; (Having seen menu) Could I have the Hot Butter Cuttlefish? 
A: Out of stock sir. We could send you a club sandwich 
Q: You have Nasi Goreng? 
A: No rice sir, but we have club Sandwiches.

Life is too short.... we have the f'ing club sandwich and get some sleep......


Day 4 and onwards to Pasikudha. 
And guess what....
Club F'ing sandwiches, (minus bacon) for breakfast....
A hot and flat ride. Most riders were a little worn out from the day before but held a steady pace to make it to the lovely new Sunrise by Jetwing. A gorgeous spanking new property on Pasikudah beach which we were the first guests. While the Manager and Shiromal (of Jetwing fame, who is a gracious lead sponsors ATP year on year) nervously prepared for the onslaught of the riders, the stay was extremely comfortable and the food, exceptional. A massive contrast to the Blue Wave. 
We passed a small heard of elephants as we left Arugambay. A reminder of how close these massive pachyderms live to human habitation; great birdlife along the way as well. The ride itself was .. yes.. you guessed it, HOT. 
I have to take a minute to let you guys ( incase you dint figure it out yet) how much i hate the heat. I have a serious dislike for the heat. To me, anything over 28c and if i had my way, i would lock myself up in an AC environment and not come out. exactly what i am doing now. :)

Day 5. and on to Nilaveli. 
Once again HOT and flat but the group is riding to gather like pro's and looking good. Steady pace, regular rules stops and lots of humour and we keep grinding out the km's. 
Today we went to a CP camp in Trinco. You have to see one to feel the true impact of this cruel affliction. The sore bums, aching legs, stiff backs and all the aches and pains we have seem so trivial in the face of what these kids and their parents endure on a daily basis. This is bravery. This is heroism at its best. Every time I attend a camp, I am moved more at the courage and the commitment i see from Dr Gopi and the crew of Cerebral Palsy Sri Lanka Foundation. The true hero's of ATP. Please help us make the reality of providing wheel chairs to all afflicted kids. you could make a contribution at www.aroundthepearl.lk 

Today is day 6. our rest day, at Nilaveli. 
Charlene and i have decided that the most physical thing we would do for the morning is eat a huge breakfast. We are relaxed and rested and looking forward to the rest of the day. The riders have split to go whale watching, snorkelling off Pigeon Island and to visit Army camps. I am awaiting my first cocktail of the morning and maybe an afternoon nap. 
Tomorrow we head to Mullaitivu. a lovely ride along the isolated coast. I am looking forward to it, but then again, there is the bane of my life.. the heat. Oh my... the heat. 

For Doc. The memory hasn't faded......

Its been over 10 years since Ravi passed. This is a note I wrote about him some time ago. Much has changed since then, but the one thing that hasn't is that I miss him today as I missed then. 

It is now 2 years since Dr. Ravi Samarasinha passed, in a tragic motor vehicle accident.

My wife Ashani and I lost one of our dearest friends, my sons Sharya and Sachin lost a role model and a mentor, and conservation in Sri Lanka lost one of its greatest champions.

I first met ‘Doc’ as he was fondly known, in the early 90’s, when we were on a camping trip with mutual friends. I was traveling sans my wife and sons and since we were in a large crowd of other families, we were thrown together as the only two ‘single’ men in the group. This and a common love of cold beer, the outdoors and wildlife in general meant that we struck up an immediate friendship and spent many hours chatting about these and various other topics we discovered were common interests.

The park was wet and crowded on this trip, thus it gave us even more reason to flop in the Menik Ganga with a long drink and while away our time ‘putting the world right’.

From this day on, Doc became a part of my ‘family’. ‘Ravi Maami’ to my sons, he would spend many evenings at our home, discussing his plans, his travels and sharing his experience of the wilds with my wide eyed children, my wife and me. These visits soon became much anticipated and enjoyed and grew more frequent with time.

From the inception of this friendship, we took advantage of any free time we had on our hands to travel far and wide throughout the country. Visiting places not just ‘wild’ but rich in natural beauty and culture. From Buduruwagala to Yapahuwa, from Mannar to Yala, from Gal Oya to Kalpitiya, the Hill country, Knuckles, Sinharaja, we traveled, camping out in most places. Our staple diet rarely more sophisticated that Maggie Noodles and Sausages, stir fried with healthy portions of Onions and tomato sauce; The evening ‘lubricated’ with generous quantities of Arrack.

On some occasions we were accompanied by Ashani, one or both of the boys depending on their schedules or one or more other like minded ‘travelers’, but more often than not, it was just Doc and me.

We would philosophize, debate, discuss and argue and even, as we did on one rare occasion, come to blows getting overly ‘heated up’ during one such ‘debate’.

However through this all we built a strong friendship based on a mutual respect for each other and of course the common interests we shared.

Ravi could come across as brusque and unfriendly at times. He was easily misunderstood. But to those who took the time to see behind the façade, there was a deeply sensitive, warm and caring human being. While he was seen as competitive by some, those who knew him had in him a strong friend, a mentor and guide, someone who was ready to share his experience with anyone who showed interest.

He would generously pass on his knowledge on photography, techniques of tracking Leopard, or vast reserves of information to children of friends, staff in parks and strangers who would take the time to ask. While he ruffled a few feathers by his tenacity in holding hard won positions at animal sightings within parks, he patiently sat through many photo opportunities that were ruined by ignorant or careless behavior, giving his customary angular smile, shrugging his shoulders and moving on. He worked hard for his photographs and his passion of studying Leopard and was meticulous in recording details of every single trip he made.

I have several special memories of times spent in Ravi’s company. One was when he and I were the sole occupants of the Old Buttawa Bungalow in Yala. It was a full moon day and having done our evening round, we sat outside the bungalow to have our customary evening drink. Opposite the bungalow is a large rock with a depression that would retain some water after any rain.

While the evening progressed the moon rose to bathe the jungle in a bright blue light.  Sometime into this evening strode a fully grown Tusker, majestic in the moonlight, impervious to the two stunned men sitting not twenty feet from him, to start drinking from the pool directly opposite us. Ravi and I were spell bound. The night sounds of the jungle, mingled with the slurping of the elephant as he drank his fill. Not only could we see and hear the elephant but his strong scent filled our nostrils as well. The elephant took his time over drinking and then with a gentle nod of his head, almost in acknowledgement of our appreciation of his presence, strolled off into the night.

There have been many such magical experiences. Camping on Horton Plains, freezing while trying to bathe at midnight, camping at Panikka Villu with Ashani and the boys, sleeping under a big Palu tree, too lazy to put up tents, watching magical sunsets and a full moon rising in Mannar and photographing Striated Weavers in a tiny hide, on a scorching hot day at Seenukgala. We camped on the banks of Weerawila tank with two stray dogs for company and were ‘eaten alive’ by mosquitoes and swamp flies, camping in Kalametiya.

We made a multitude of trips to Wilpattu in the company of the late warden Wasantha Pushpananda and our late friend Dilrukshan Tillakaratne. We searched for, discovered and then helped re-open the abandoned Wild Life Society bungalow outside the same park. The list goes on.

In the latter stages, Ravi gave up the profession of medicine to follow his dreams of working on the study of leopard and to work for conservation in Sri Lanka. Moving to his family property outside Putlam, Ravi began to grow and nurture wild plants to attract butterflies; he began landscaping his garden to attract more birds and began planting endemic trees and shrubs to study their impact on the local bird life.

He worked on cataloging his photographs in the ambition of putting together a collection of his best work.

He was again, having digressed to focus on Leopard, returning to his roots as a true and complete naturalist.

My last conversation with Ravi was on evening of the 31^st of Dec 06. He was leaving for Horton Plains the next morning, accompanying our mutual friend Ifham Raji. We chatted of our plans for the New Year and listed out a few locations we would visit. Nawadamkulama was on the list and so was Bundala. We wanted to spend more time with the migrant birds and thus focused on these areas. As was customary Ravi never ended a conversation by saying bye. He said ‘right you are’ and hung up.

Sadly, throughout the years, I have lost many friends, to illness, war and accidents. Life is about loss. It’s the inevitable. But, when the loss is of someone who was such an integral part of who you are and what you do, it tends to re define you. It creates a void that never fills. Two years on and I still think of calling ‘Doc’ to tell him of a good sighting. To share a plan or a thought. To tell him of some progress the boys have made. Two years and I still can’t come to grips with the fact that my friend died.

The years will go by. We will live our lives and cherish our memories. With time, some memories will fade, to be replaced by others. But I have no doubt that among those that will remain till it’s time for me to depart this world, will be the time my family had another member, when Ravi Maami would come to dinner, when Doc would join me in an evening drink, under the stars in some wild, far off place.

‘Right you are’ Doc. Be at peace.

Theatre of Life

In the 80's the brand Danskins made its appearance. It is still around. The brand tag line was 'life is a stage'. I guess that always kind of stuck with me. Its so true. We are all in a 'performance' of some sort. All characters in the production of life. 

We remain the central characters, the constants in the multiple scenes; but the real quality of our production comes from the supporting cast. They are the ones who influence us and guide us throughout the production of life. They are the ones who add the colour and the themes. They influence the music and the sets. 

They are parents, siblings, teachers, coaches, school and team mates and neighbours. 
I have been fortunate throughout my life to have had some amazing cast members. 

While I have had the fare share of psychopathic assholes to deal with, by and large i have been fortunate to have had my life cross paths with some unique individuals. 
One such person is 'Uncle Nihal' or the famed Sri Lankan Photographer, traveller, author and all-round nice guy, Nihal Fernando. 

Uncle Nihal was our neighbour down Skelton Road and the father of my friends Yohan and Anu Weerasuriya. 

We moved to Skelton Road around the early 70's. The country was under the ham fisted rule of Sirimavo, a horror of a woman in more ways than one and a totally incompetent Head of State. Her policy of nationalisation and extreme socialism had driven us back to the caves and most of us had converted what were lawns and gardens into vegetable plots in order to supplement our diets and keep from starving on the meagre rations dished out by the cooperative store. 

My daily routine included walking to the bread line early morning and coming home and watering the mannioc, sogum, soy bean and cow pea we had in the front garden and the tomatoes and chill plants in the back. I even had some Aubergine plants that I was quite proud of. After that it was a forced 'rest' ala the rules of the senior Mrs Unamboowe and then it was off to play. Invariably, bare bodied and bare footed, still in my kerosene smelling blue drill school shorts. Thankfully, by this time my mother had given up her traumatic practice of 'dressing me up' to go and play. Too embarrassing for mention. Maybe later. 

Gates and walls were apparently meant to be vaulted over or walked along and having navigated the perimeters of a few of the neighbouring houses, I would end up at Yohans. 
He was one year younger than me and Anu was one year older. While Anu didn't really waste her time on us, Yohan and I would invent games ranging from 'hora-police' to 'cowboys and Indians'. We built tree houses, and club houses and started a secret society along with our friend Aku who lived a few walls away. We climbed trees as routine and swung between branches in Tarzanesque fashion, and ran along roofs of the never too pleased neighbours houses, for no reason but because they were the shortest routes from pint A to B. 

Uncle Nihal was a patient observer of all of our antics  He would watch us with slightly angular stance and a half smile; a kind of perplexed, amused, curious look on his face and he found great humour in what we were up to. He helped us build a rope ladder that got us to the top of the 'dhung' tree. He helped us get our tree house complete and most of all he encouraged us to be boys, to be playful and carefree and mischievous. He famously encouraged us to play a prank on one of our less 'humoured' neighbours and gave us various seeds of ideas that sent us off on great adventures, bounding over walls and up trees. He definitely wrote a scene in the production of our lives that was unique and valued. 

The Fernando family home was a meeting place for the who's who in the art and social world of the 70's. Aunty Dodo and Uncle Nihal were surrounded by characters like Pat Decker, Scott Direckze, Ena De Silva, Lucky Senanayaka, Barbera Sansoni, Dominic Sansoni, Nanda Senanayake Lyn De Alwis and Winston and Iranganie Serasinghe all of who were a constant source of education, entertainment and awe to me. We met Dieter Plage the world renown wildlife photographer and watched his films in the living room, sipping ginger beer. We spent countless hours in the Zoo as his friend was the curator and played with everything from Gibbons to Leopard cubs and Pythons. 

We would hang around in hope of the odd cigarette or a 'little shot' that was handed our way but for most of it, just to absorb the conversation and the atmosphere. Aunty Dodo's unmistakeable laugh and uncle Nihal's soft chuckle still echo in my memory. 

As we grew older, then came the trips. I was old enough for my parents to let me travel with the Fernando family and to this day, I consider that one of the greatest privileges I have enjoyed. This was travel with 'Travel Royalty'. This was travel with one of the greatest travellers of his time. We went to Anuradhapura, Mihintale, Sigiriya, Yala, Wilpattu, Marawila where they had a property and to so many more destinations over the years. 
These trips were epic. 

first, the old Land Rovers were pack full of Uncle Nihal's photography equipment. Cameras, Lenses, tripods, bags of film and bags and bags of other equipment such as flashes. Al this filled a built in platform that extended half way through the back of the rear of the Land Rover. They were both canvas topped and with open sided and we rode in the back, open to the elements, and loving every second of it. 

Under Aunty Dodo's supervision the supplies were packed. Food and drink to last the trip. My mother made date cookies that were named 'Mama's biscuits' by Uncle Nihal and quickly became a staple addition to the packing list. 
Once we were all packed and ready we awaited an early morning departure as was customary. I hardly slept. I was so excited for the morning to come, i would keep checking my room clock to see if the designated hour had arrived. Once it painfully got there, I would bound out of bed, grab my things and bolt over to number 18. Shaking with excitement. 

With Uncle Nihal, nothing was rushed. He was the most laid back individual i have ever met. The trip was not just a drive to the destination. It was the journey. We stopped at temples and rock carvings, at water holes and old buildings. We drank tea and picnicked along the way and all the while, he would amble around, photographing random subjects. This is where I first developed my love and passion for photography. I heard a click of a shutter and I was smitten. He once gave me a camera to take a picture. I held it in my hands like it was gold and once I looked through the viewfinder and took a shot I was sold. I clearly recall his patience when taking a shot. It wasn't about just pointing and shooting. These were the days of black and white photography. It was all about the light, the angles and mood and the setting. He would take hours to find the prefect shot. All these were invaluable lessons absorbed by me and which I tried to put into practice years later, when I decided to photograph for more than just fun. 

On one instance when we were in Anuradhapura. He woke up before dawn on almost every morning we were there. He made the drive over the the lake shore and photograph the great Buddhist shrine, the Ruwanweliseya. Each morning he moved just a little bit away from the previous place, capturing different angles and light. He made sure he was there and set up before the light came up.  When it did, he took time over each shot, never rushed, never flustered. 

Anu says that the only time he hurt them physically was once when they were photographing a leopard and she had started moving in the Rover. He had pinched her tummy to make her stop. This I can relate to having abused my amused younger son Sachin for the same offence in Horton Plains, when he 'spoiled' a shot i was about to make. Sachin learned a few choice new words that day but no physical pain was dished out. I am sure Sharya and Sachin would both have another accounts of my outbursts while photographing.. but this is the one I recall. 

While photography was the main purpose of these trips, it didn't stop us from enjoying the locations we were at. We climbed rocks in Mihintale, Scaled The rock fortress of Sigiriya, we ran through the rain in Marawila, and Yohan and I went fishing with Uncle Nihal. I learned to bait a hook and give it a yank when the fish bit.  Our first fishing trip ended up with a bucket full of 'sprat' sized fish that was happily consumed by Scott Direkzes cat. At night we listened to stories of past trips and experiences and while the adults sipped Arrack and Ginger Ale, us kids lolled around munching cookies and cadju nuts and enjoying the nights. 

Another memory I have is of Uncle Nihal, sitting in the open balcony of Manikkapolauttu Bungalow in Wilpattu, at night, photographing Deer in the rain, by the light of the flashing lightening. He sat for hours into the night taking shot after shot. I am not sure of the technique he used and haven't seen the results of that night but I learned the lesson of patience in the field from none other than him, on many occasions like this. 

The years went by and I went overseas. On returning, life took over and marriages, children and careers got in the way. I dropped in periodically to see Aunty Dodo and Uncle Nihal. To enjoy a laugh and listen to a tale of a trip or something Yohan and I had done. He still found great humour in our escapades. We sipped an Arrack and chatted in to the night. A few years ago, while photographing in Yapahuwa ( i think)  sadly he suffered an injury that has made it difficult for him to enjoy the things he did. This means his travels are now over and he is confined mostly to his home. I am guilty of the great crime of not visiting him in years. Yohan and I have met from time to time but I haven't got around to meeting Uncle Nihal in recent times. The last contact I had was when Aunty Dodo called me to congratulate me on something I had done. 

Its sad that with time, we lose touch with those who mean so much to us; who  have had such profound influences over our lives; who gave us so much happiness and peace and were such a joy to be around. Aunty Dodo and Uncle Nihal, Anu and Yohan created a little oasis of happiness and learning for me. As I grow older and move on into the late summer/early fall of life, I look back with an amazing fondness and appreciation for all those hours spend in the company of a wonderful human being. A man who was patient, kind and an inspiration to me.  I will make the time to go see him when I return from the next business trip I have to make. I hope this like the many intentions i had before won't fall by the way side as well. 

Uncle Nihal, Aunty Dodo, Anu and Yohan. Thank you for an amazing scene in the drama of my life. i am a better man for the time spent in your company. 

Class Rooms and Head Winds.

Been a while since my last post.
Not sure what really happened but somehow i didn't really seem to have much to write about. The sad thing is, when life is rolling along un ruffled by 'something different', it may seem comfortable and happy, but the fact is it's boring and doesn't inspire anyone to be creative. 

Have you every heard a song, poem or prose saying "oh my life is average to boring and I have nothing exciting to write / sing about"? 
Its the disruption to routine that makes for writing. Its getting out of our comfort zones and getting ourselves into situations that make us wriggle with discomfort or glow with happiness; Anything different to the routine, that inspires us to write. Well; at least that's what it takes for me to tap away at this keyboard.

What happened to me? Well; First, I was sent back to school. I kid you not. Three weeks of formal classroom sessions. Averaging 8 hours a day, six days a week. If you do the math, you will see that it adds up-to almost one entire semester (in the US system) of class room time. Anyone who was with me through my time at Ithaca College would probably tell you that, it was more time than I spent in all eight semesters of my undergraduate  years in class.  I however dispute that, as I was a diligent student as an undergraduate, even though that diligence was not necessarily displayed by my class attendance or towards anything academic. 

This time however, things had to be different. For one, I was fifty years old. You can't play truant at fifty can you?
Second, I was being sent by my employers on a very expensive Executive Education Program to one of the worlds leading homes of academia, no less than Dartmouth College, an Ivy League campus situated in Hannover New Hampshire.
Third (and I shock my self as I 'write' this) I really wanted to learn. STOP LAUGHING.

I have come to a stage in my career where I have few choices. Either I learn new tricks and change with the times and handle the challenges of a new world [while learning to handle a younger and very different set of team mates] or I fade away with the dinosaurs of the business world and plonk off towards a 'regulation' retirement, a mediocre golf handicap, and arthritis. 
Fuck that.. this boy is going down fighting. 

I drove to Hanover with my 'brother in arms' Niranjan AKA Butchchi. We both work for the same group and we had been picked for this course together. While we have been friends from the time we were ten, Niranjan is an almost Medical Doctor, with double Masters Degrees and brains to share among the masses and a very intellectual outlook to life. He loves this stuff. I have gastritis, anxiety attacks and have to clench my butt cheeks at the mere thought of it.  
Three weeks of intense eduction, thousands of pages of pre reading and homework every day? Yup. Enough to make a grown man cry. Well... enough to make THIS grown man cry. 

Arriving in Hanover on beautiful summers day, I had a warm fuzzy feeling that it would be a great three weeks. Our 'home' was the cozy and comfortable Hanover Inn. A small but luxuriously appointed hotel, with a decent gym and a limited room service option that ended at 10 pm. Across the road from it was the Dartmouth Green and campus and to one side was Murphy's, a pub that was to become a somewhat familiar hang out. There was also the Canoe Club, which was a Bistro / Bar and a scattering of other eateries and boutiques. What I soon realised was our home for the next three weeks was two blocks by two; At best a once horse town; but I suspect that horse left to join the circus, many moons ago. Ithaca NY was a small, quaint College Town, but this made Ithaca look like Gotham City in comparison. 

I will spare you the tedious detail and cut to scene two. 
We are in a class room of a forty executive students, mostly from the US but a few from Japan, a couple from Saudi Arabia, an Indian, a Columbian and the two of us Sri Lankans. 
Among the Americans were several military and ex military folks thrown in for good measure. 
This mix of people were actually the highlight of the next three weeks. Although I consciously shied away from most of the social activity, more to discipline myself and stay true to a work out and diet plan i had, than and other reason, i did really enjoy the time spent with them. Over the course of time, they did become family of sorts, as would be expected when you throw a mixed bunch into a 'brain bootcamp' like we were a part of. 

Five days of accounting started off the course, and I had to keep sharp objects away from myself. I resorted to buttering my bread with a spoon etc, as I was tempted to slash my throat whenever I saw an opportunity  I hate accounts and finance and starting off with five FULL days of finance was insane. I enjoyed two hours of this period, and that was when much to my relief (not that i give a rats ass about soccer) we were allowed to break away from debits and credits to watch the world cup final. I personally hate soccer but given that the option was accounts I was thrilled. Truth is given a chance, I would have watched the knitting club take on the crochet club in darts, rather than sit in accounts class. 

Thankfully we never saw the finance guys again, barring a social event later on in the program. I stayed well away from them. 

The course picked up momentum post the 'big yawn', and while we did have some great faculty spend time with us, there was a low point when the Former Governor of New Hampshire was brought in as a guest speaker. Seriously??? The Former... well. you know. 
In addition, on that day I got the sad news that a dear friend and someone I respected immensely had passed away. The net result was I got up and walked out of his 'enthralling' monologue, opting to skip the evenings 'event' with Mr personality as well. 

The highlight of it all was a great session with Marshall Goldsmith. Google him. He is a legend. He is considered the guru in leadership and an amazing speaker. A sprightly and fit looking man in his late sixties he has an amazing ability to hold an audience and hit home with some sensitive messages that make you seriously sit up and think. 
Check out his web site as well. He has free access to all his material and its well worth your while bookmarking those pages. 

All in all, the three weeks passed quite quickly. I stuck to my plan of working out everyday, Butchchi and I became the 'darlings' of the only Chinese restaurant and Only Indian restaurants in town and sadly it was only on our final night there that we discovered the only restaurant that stayed open beyond 10pm within a twenty mile radius. 
We also made some great friends among the participants and the faculty and i am sure we will continue to stay in touch with reunions planned periodically in various parts of the US. 

I left the program a day early to get back home in time to attend the 50th Birthday Bash of my College group. The Royal College Group of 82. We had two tables of ten, which meant 10 couples of my old friends and Sharya and Sachin with their girlfriends. There were also a whole bunch of my class mates and friends at the dance, many of whom had gathered from around the world. It was great to see former team mates from the various sports I had been fortunate to be a part of, and friends who had been in class with me from the time we were 6, all gathered to celebrate this event that was brilliantly organised by my dear friend Ashan Abeysundere and his team. An excellent evening was had by all and considering that we wobbled home at way past sunrise, its fare to say, the old boys can still party like teenagers. 

The next big thing for us was participating in the CCC1333 ride around Sri Lanka. Well; we didn't do the entire ride but joined the riders from Colombo to Chilaw, took a break for work and other commitments and rejoined the riders in Trincomalee to ride to Batticaloa and then on to ArugamBay. Having already done the ATP ride around the country, I guess we had our biases how things should have been done. 

When we joined the group in Trinco I was amazed to see them all playing a rather vigorous game of soccer and then onto play Volleyball and then into that spool for a swim. As I recall, at the end of the day (during ATP), the only energy I could muster up is for a nap, a cold beer or two and then another nap. These guys were crazy energetic. This however took its toll as the next day we had a couple of casualties who were too exhausted to continue. 
That evening we joined the group for dinner.  I have to say they were very organised and structured in all they did, with a team 'talk' and download of the days events to cap off the evening. 

The CCC foundation was set up by Jetha Dewapura who started off with a transit home for Cancer patients in Maharagama and now set up a Suicide Hotline in Colombo. They have done some incredible work and credit goes to him and his team in Australia as well as Sri Lanka for making such an amazing success of this. 

His discipline in running things was seen in the ride as well with simultaneous events planned in Australia as well.
Now my next few comments should not be taken amiss by anyone. I am writing this purely in the context of my personal quirks and should in no way be see as criticism. This is more an illustration of how poorly I fare with rules, regulations and orders. 

To me the structure of the ride was too rigid. Group riding is never easy but being forced onto formation and not 'allowed' to stretch my legs occasionally meant that to me the ride was painful and irritating. I am not a strong rider by any means, but I do like to have a bit of a 'stretch' now and then to keep the blood pumping. I am also very susceptible to cramps and if I go too slow, its the kiss of death. Every time I tried to move out on my own, even for a brief period, I was greeted by hysterical screeches from the pack of "slow down", "ride with the group", "stay in the pack" etc.... This for me is death. I hate being ordered to do stuff and this got my blood pressure on the boil from the moment we set off. 
In addition, the fact that the ride would start very late meant that although the cause was awesome, the organisation was awesome and the riders were a really super lot, I was extremely pleased that I had not opted to ride more than a few days in total. It was just too 'boy scout' for me. I half expected to be told to kneel in a corner for disobeying commands.

One of the toughest stretches on the ride was the approach to ArugamBay. The late departure, the lengthy stops and the slow average speed meant we rolled into the surrounding plains in forty plus degree temps with howling cross winds. I recall these same winds (at least the intensity) when we rode in from the other direction, while on ATP. The air is hot, the blowing strong and across, and it's had to stay on the bike leave alone keep any momentum. I was very impressed by the tenacity of most of the riders who battled into it. Especially the only (full distance) lady rider Erica. She was also one of the few riders who completed 100% of the ride. I was [by this time] quite surprised by how many of the 'full distance' bunch were happily chucking their bikes in vans when they felt like it. Some due to genuine injury and sickness but others not. Discomfort to me, on a ride like this is no excuse. No one who takes on a challenge like this should expect it to be easy. I recall many of my fellow ATP riders in acute pain. Pinched nerves, blistered bums, gashed limbs from falls and stiff muscles, but they just motored on through the pain. Not so here. This meant that there were only a handful of riders that completed the ride 100%. Kudos to all though as it was by no means an easy ride and even a day completed deserved credit.

Having 'retired' at Arugambay, Charlene and I treated ourselves to the comfort of a nice Jetwing Hotels bungalow on the beach. The evening was spent driving down to Kumana and enjoying the sights of a beautiful slice of our amazing country.  The next morning we headed out after a late breakfast and were very impressed to find that most of the riders had kept a decent pace up the rolling hills to Monaragala. Having stopped to greet and wish the riders, we headed back to Colombo and C and I had a flight to catch the next day for a rather long trip to Canada and the US. 

Since this ride my workout program has gone to hell in a bucket. Having got off to a great start in Vancouver, I pulled a calf muscle in LA, recovered, came back to Colombo and popped an achilles tendon and have been reduced to hobbling about on crutches. 
This setback has inspired me to take on a new challenge. I want to complete a Triathlon. Olympic length first but who knows after that. I also ( as much as I abhor running) want to run 10k; but that will be another tale.. 

Hanoi Hilton

I am not trying to be funny. I am actually seated in my room at the Hanoi Hilton.. and NO!!!!. Its not a bamboo cage, and I don't have my finger nails removed or testicles electrocuted. 

For those of you who don't get what i am 'on about'; the 'Hanoi Hilton' was a notorious prison camp during the days of the Vietnam war where many US prisoners spent weeks, months and sometimes year in captivity, enduring untold hardship and torture. 

Today, the most torturous thing I have to endure here is, 'what malt shall i sample tonight?'. The Hotel is not the best of Hiltons global properties but its grand in outward appearance, has comfortable, substantially appointed rooms and a wonderfully stocked bar. 

Fifty has come and gone, and nothing fell off, everything still works, and I haven't suddenly taken on the appearance of a hobbit.I am back to the grind of work and family and travel and airports and hotels and fast / unhealthy food and too much drink. I am back to the reality that is my life, my struggle with staying healthy in the face of all the temptation to hurtle me down the freeway of fat. 
as much as i looked to some significant landmark.. looks like stays quo remains. 
We resort to 'bada thibbata weds thiyanawa' and plod on down the road. 
Vietnam is potentially a new base for us and an exciting new opportunity for growth. Both for the company and for me. 
I am excited. I love the challenge. Its time to build a world class plant now.