A lazy day in August had seen me make a rash decision. I’d been thinking about how I was going to end this career break in style, not an easy task with the nights drawing in and the weather chilling down. I’d decided I needed to escape the british winter, but where would be a good place to go on holiday on my own? It was then I thought about a trip a friend of mine, Nicky Finch, had taken, cycling across Cuba. After a little research I booked it, the last place on an Exodus cycling holiday through Kerala and Tropical India. It would be a great challenge and a great way to remember my Mum and Simon, the reasons behind the career break in the first place. I’d wanted to go to India for ages but it wasn’t Helena’s cup of tea. I now had the prefect excuse.

After a brief plane change in Dubai, I boarded my flight to Bangalore. As we approached India the inflight map showed a very hilly country, quite scary with 600km of cycling to cover. As I got to passport control I met the first of my fellow travellers and by baggage reclaim we’d all got together.

Outside the airport we were treated to our first experience of Indian driving and relentless hooting of horns (there is some method to this madness). Once we’d squeezed all of us and our luggage in the bus we set off on what can only be described as a driving experience of a lifetime. Indian driving is everything it’s portrayed as on the TV, awful, dangerous, anarchic, animated... Within 10 minutes we’d seen our first accident, a car totally stoved in after hitting the back of a truck at speed, hardly surprising since trucks don’t bother with rear lights. The driver would have been lucky to walk away from this one was my guess.

We arrived in Mysore at The Presidents hotel in one piece, it felt like a miracle. Soon though it would be our turn to brave these roads. We were told who our roommates would be, mine turned out to be Rob, the only person I had talked to before the trip and whom I should have sat next to on the plane if he hadn’t screwed up which seat he sat in. Our room was basic but OK, there was no hot water though.

After a well deserved nap we started out tour, on foot though. Crossing the road from the hotel was an experience, basically you wait until the traffic contains no busses and then step out into the cars and tuk tuks. There are no gaps in the traffic so you make them and it’s best to do it with the smaller vehicles. Busses don’t stop for anything, anywhere, they seem to have right of way at all times do don’t mess with them.

The tour took us into the heart of town. It was hot and very sticky, not what I was hoping for with so far to cycle over the next two weeks. We were off for a lunch with the locals first, a pancake thing folded around a vegetable curry - stunning.

We left the restaurant after the rain had stopped. The street sellers were persistent, one in particular. He knew about the cycling group that came into town every two or three weeks. What he was good at though was talking to some of the group and getting info and then moving onto others in the group and using that info to show he knew a lot about us. Our first stop was the market, street seller still in tow. The colours of the paints, the immaculately stacked veg, the row upon rows of flower seller were all amazing. We still hadn’t bought the wooden box being sold by the street seller. Then it started to rain. The perfect opportunity for some entrepreneurship. Off dashed the street seller returning with umbrellas. He made his first and only sale. Instead of seeing the palace we headed back for more sleep, needed after the 13 hours of flying, 2 hour layover and 4 hour transfer that had taken most of the day an all of the night.

Before dinner we all went and were fitted for our bikes. Mine was an almost new Trek 4300 mountain bike. In just a few minutes it had my seat and pedals fitted. Dinner in the hotel was superb.

Day 2 brought us our first cycling. We all tested our bikes, checking seat heights, adjusting clip in pedals, getting water bottle racks fitted. Almost everyone had a comedy horn on their bike as well as a bell, was this some kind of joke? As I ventured out into the car park just the check my bike Sue appeared with a cut chin and hand, our first casualty. She’d been caught out by the wet slippery car park and the fact the brakes we sharp and on the wrong way round.

Joseph, the Indian guide, led us out of town and through the traffic very slowly. We cycled along muddy roads and past the street side cows and goats we would become accustomed to. Then all of a sudden we were about to tackle some dual carriageway. Sounds easy but motorbikes, tuk tuks and ox driven vehicles don’t seem to bother with the fact one carriageway goes in each direction. There’s no tucking your head down here and looking up every 100m. Oh and of course there are more cows just wandering along.

We saw a couple of temples, visited a sacred spot on a river and had our first introduction to Indian tea. How different could team be? Well the answer is very different. White tea is made with condensed milk so is very gloupy almost to the point you could stand a spoon in it, black tea is super harsh. The bananas though were superb. On the way back to the hotel we had our first experience of an Indian railway crossing on bike. Basically everyone fills both sides of the road on each side of the crossing. When the barriers go up some kind of magic happens as two lanes of traffic move head on to each other and all just seem to pass. I’ve no idea how it works, it just does. In England this would cause chaos, road rage and murder, here it just happens.

At lunch we had our first Thali, a plate of mixed vegetable curries, rice, some form of Indian bread and a sweet thing. I loved it. On the way out though we had casualty 2 of the holiday as Jean felt faint, dropped to the floor and after being cared for by Sue and Sally returned from the restaurant in a sarong, not the trousers she had been wearing. Dehli Belly strike 1.

Our afternoon ride was a test. We headed for a local hill with about 400m vertical to climb. Slow and steady was the way. I made it up 4th very chuffed with myself. My weight really helped on the way down as I overtook everyone including Joseph!

Dinner was supposed to be at a roof top restaurant but the rain had returned. I sat with Sue who’d fallen off her bike earlier and then went onto help Jean as well as a few of the others. The meal was excellent, I chose a fennel seed curry. The heavens really opened during the meal and we were forced to sit it out drinking beer as the road was flooded.

Day 2 on the bikes was an early start. Jean was at breakfast having missed the whole of the previous afternoons visit to the Palace and the hill ride. She was still suffering. Then Sue, Jennie, Sally and Mike appeared and they had all been struck down. The ride was lovely, through villages on mud roads with school kids rushing to see you and say hello. Every kid was immaculate, amazing since all their washing seemed to be done in filthy rivers or streams. After lunch we had a long straight ride, 30km on one road. This was the first time we’d broken up as a group. After I started slowly keeping Jennie company I decided to up the pace and see if I could catch the others ahead, some over 1 in front of me. I caught all but one and while slip streaming a tuk tuk I was lucky Joseph spotted me from the lunch stop, I’d have gone sailing past otherwise.

The last part of the days 54mile ride took us up to the safari lodge on the edge of the Bandipur National Park, famed for its wildlife including tigers. We got drenched as once again the heavens opened. We went on an early evening game drive seeing lots of deer, Indian bison but no tigers. As the tour progressed I started to feel worse and worse, my turn for the Delhi Belly was upon me. I missed the video presentation about the park and dinner.

Just 10 days before I had been to see Mickey Flannagan live at the Cambridge Corn Exchange and he’d done a sketch about travelling to India. He’d described the feeling of almost turning inside out and described going to the loo as emptying out old radiator water. Funny at the time, not so funny now it was upon me. It was 29th November 2011.

After a torrid evening the night was OK and by morning I was feeling OK, not 100% but confident enough to have a cheeky fart on the way to breakfast, well that’s what I thought. Not a wise move. Cycling shorts double up as a good nappy! After returning to my room, showering, changing and doing a spot of washing I decided to give the first part of the days ride a miss. After all I’d seen the hill we were about to cycle up. I got out at the top having missed just 1.25miles of riding, all of it uphill. I cycled for the rest of the day. This was the day we all needed to stick together as we were cycling through the national park. Today we not only had out support bus following us but also a ranger and his jeep leading us. Even with this organisation we managed to split up and take on the gauntlet of the tigers in small groups. It wasn’t a long ride, just 18 miles but we did climb almost 500m.

The lodge for the nights accommodation, Wild Haven Resort, was lovely. We were greeted with refreshing lime drinks and beers. I wasn’t yet up to a beer. After a lovely buffet lunch that had chicken and roast potatoes we headed off to visit a local orphanage. Set in stunning forested surrounds with mountains as the backdrop, we were greeted by over 70 kids with smiling faces as they finished their afternoon snack. What we didn’t realise was that the boys got to take us to play volleyball, something they were very good at. If they’d had it their way we’d not have hit the ball but we learned to muscle in on the good positions including server. In the end the team I was on won 3 games to 2 in fading light. We were then treated to a show of dancing before leaving the kids to do homework. They’re all educated to degree level.

Time for some serious sleep before the 1480m vertical hill climb of Ooty Hill.