Sri Lanka

What if chaos is the price you pay for reaching true paradise?

Riding a Royal Enfield through Sri Lanka reveals a country where madness and serenity coexist, sometimes within the same kilometre.

Preview – Sri Lanka, Between Chaos and Calm

Travelling through Sri Lanka without a motorcycle often feels like surrendering control. Tuk-tuks, overcrowded trains and wildly driven buses dominate the roads. The real journey, for me, only begins once I finally pick up a Royal Enfield and head inland, away from fixed schedules and tourist routes.

Starting near Negombo, I ride north toward Kalpitiya, a vast lagoon where sunrise and sunset can be seen from the same strip of sand. The roads here are unremarkable, but they serve as a transition. The interior of Sri Lanka is where the country truly opens up. Rice paddies stretch endlessly across the landscape, broken only by lotus-filled lakes and the slow rhythm of farmers working in the early morning light. Birds circle overhead, and the pace of life immediately softens.

As the sea disappears behind me, warning signs announce the presence of elephants. Electrified fences around villages underline the reality of sharing this land with wildlife. Encounters remain unlikely during daylight, but the awareness alone adds tension and respect to every kilometre.

"As the sea disappears behind me, warning signs announce the presence of elephants."

Sigiriya marks the first confrontation with mass tourism. The famous Lion Rock rises dramatically from the jungle, an almost unreal sight. The climb is impressive, the views undeniable, but solitude is impossible. It’s a reminder that Sri Lanka, despite its wild heart, is no longer a secret.

The real revelation comes in the mountains. Roads into the Knuckles range twist and climb with surprising quality, rewarding momentum rather than horsepower. The modest Royal Enfield proves perfectly suited to this environment. Riding here confirms an old truth: enjoyment has little to do with engine output. Reservoirs, pine forests and endless ascents lead to moments of both exhilaration and absurdity, including traffic standstills at high-altitude viewpoints where chaos briefly returns.

Beyond Kandy, the legendary 18 Bend Road delivers one of the finest stretches of asphalt on the island. Hairpin after hairpin cuts through tea plantations that cloak the hills in deep green. Mist rolls in as elevation increases, softening the landscape and introducing the cooler air of the highlands. In places like Nuwara Eliya, colonial architecture and manicured gardens feel almost misplaced, as if Britain never quite let go.

The Devil’s Staircase brings the most demanding challenge of the trip. What begins as curiosity turns into a slow, technical descent over eroded tracks and loose rock. Alone, committed and inching forward, doubt and satisfaction alternate with every metre. When asphalt finally reappears, exhaustion gives way to quiet triumph.

Tourism peaks again in Ella, where Instagram hotspots draw crowds. Once more, escape lies in choosing the smallest roads. The descent toward the southern lowlands returns the rider to heat, traffic and aggressive buses that rule the asphalt with unnerving confidence. Yet even here, moments of magic persist such as watching elephants bathe at sunset near Udawalawe, framed by absolute silence.

The final ride back to Negombo is functional rather than poetic. National roads demand focus, not reflection. But by then, the essence of Sri Lanka is clear. This is a country of sharp contrasts: chaos and kindness, danger and beauty, exhaustion and reward.

Sri Lanka may not top every rider’s wish list, yet it offers something increasingly rare: genuine adventure. With the right routes, a willingness to adapt and a sense of humour, it becomes the perfect winter escape: raw, intense and unforgettable.