Katherine Moore rode through the island’s mountains and forests, eating fresh coconut, spotting elephants and battling the heat and humidity on her Ribble CGR Ti

By Katherine Moore

Published: Monday, 18 March 2024 at 13:00 PM


When you cycle in Europe, you usually have a pretty good idea of what to expect. 

You know what cols you’d like to tackle or which tracks lie in wait, what kind of cuisine you’ll enjoy, the best way to travel and the level of hospitality you can anticipate receiving. There are cycling-friendly hubs such as Majorca, Girona and Morzine, and you can rely on the infrastructure – from bike shops to cycling-friendly hotels and cafes.

But you can forget all of that when you go to Sri Lanka. 

I’d been invited by Sri Lankan Airlines and its subsidiary Sri Lankan Holidays for a week of bikepacking across the island from coast to coast. 

It’s no great secret that Sri Lanka has faced some turbulent times, from civil war to economic crisis. However, now the country is in a much more stable position, Sri Lankans are keen to welcome tourists back.

The airline and holiday group had assembled a team to showcase what Sri Lanka can offer cyclists, both on and off the bike, and tasked Surrey-based Suranjan Cooray with gathering a group of like-minded riders and journalists.

I was going to be part of an impressive peloton. There were two former pros, The Cyclist’s Alliance founder Iris Slappendel and renowned cycling photographer Michael Blann. We were joined by current and former cycling guides Ali Gibb and Olly Townsend, cycling coach and Internationelles rider Helen Bridgman, and endurance specialists Gaby Thompson and Chris Hall. 

Before setting off, our planned bikepacking trip changed to around 450 kilometres on road and gravel. There would be a few bus transfers and luxury hotels in between stages to squeeze as many of Sri Lanka’s finest sites into the shortest trip possible.

Even though the riding plans had changed, I knew I’d still have my work cut out. I hadn’t completed a 100km ride in over a year and I was headed for heat, humidity and the Sri Lankan mountains.

Cross, Gravel, Road

Katherine opted to take the Ribble CGR Ti for her trip to Sri Lanka. – Michael Blann

“A standard gravel bike will do”, read the briefing document when I was first introduced to the idea of riding in Sri Lanka. 

I laughed a little at that because there isn’t really such a thing as a ‘standard’ gravel bike, but I understood what was implied.

When thinking about which bike to take on the trip, I had a lightbulb moment. I’d recently finished testing for the BikeRadar Women’s Road Bike of the Year category, and the Ribble CGR Ti Enthusiast had been a close runner-up.

‘CGR’ stands for Cross, Gravel, Road – and the bike is designed with versatility in mind. It has a drop handlebar, wide tyre clearance and a more relaxed geometry with a longer wheelbase than most endurance road bikes

Ribble CGR Ti Enthusiast road bike
The CGR was a close runner-up in the BikeRadar Women’s Road Bike of the Year 2023 category. – Steve Sayers / Our Media

The CGR had excelled in testing, coming second to the value package offered by the Scott Contessa Addict 25. The Sri Lanka trip seemed an ideal chance to test how versatile the bike really is.

A tyre change would be simple enough. I’d already earmarked the excellent Schwalbe G-One Overland tyres that I’d reviewed for the CGR’s gravel glow-up, but gearing would prove more problematic. Kitted out with 12-speed Shimano 105 Di2 R7100, the CGR would require a total groupset overhaul if I wanted easier gearing for the steep Sri Lankan climbs.

Ribble pulled through and sent over a duplicate bike kitted out with Shimano GRX RX800 in my stipulated 1x configuration, with a 40T chainring and 11-42t cassette.

I’d just need to switch the upgraded Zipp 303s wheels over from the original bike to replace the 650b wheels and fit the tyres to be gravel-ready. Or that’s what I’d thought.

What I’d overlooked in my last-minute dash to get everything ready was cross-compatibility. 12-speed Micro Spline freehubs and 11-speed groupsets don’t play ball. 

It’s perhaps something that’ll be sorted with a 12-speed GRX RX820 release on the cards, but it’s no good to me now.

Instead, I fitted the Overland tyres to my trusty WTB CZR i23 carbon wheels, which weren’t quite as flashy as the Zipps but still looked great.

In the spirit of being sensible, I took the gravel-ready CGR out for a test spin on my local Dartmoor byways, bridleways and singletrack before packing it down and jetting off. 

After the initial fit niggles were fixed, including adjusting the reach and switching out saddles, I was happy with the new rig.

Rusty red Sri Lankan gravel

anuradhapura in sri lanka seen through trees.
The Ruwanwelisaya, one of Sri Lanka’s ancient stupas, in Anuradhapura. – Michael Blann

Once I arrived in Sri Lanka, we spent the first two days of the trip riding through coastal plains and into the ‘cultural triangle’, which links important Buddhist pilgrimage sites in Anuradhapura, Sigiriya and Kandy. 

On the first day, we soon peeled off the smooth coast road and headed inland on rusty red back streets. 

The contrast was staggering. On the coast, the tarmac roads were smooth and free from potholes. But as soon as we turned off the main roads, we were on red, sandy dirt tracks. Some were smooth and flat, others resembling pump tracks. Only a single lane wide and often bordered by tall grasses and houses, these were a total blast.

Katherine Moore cycling in Sri Lanka along red road.
As soon as we turned off the main roads, we were on red, sandy dirt tracks. – Michael Blann

Refuelling came in the form of roadside stops, either with fresh watermelon, papaya and pineapple slices sequestered from the support van, fresh king coconuts sliced open for us to enjoy in the coconut plantations, or a visit to one of the many roadside shacks. These offered a range of snacks from homemade cakes, string hoppers filled with coconut and treacle or hot, fresh roti and chilli sauce, called ‘dynamite’.

Three people sitting on ground eating coconuts in Sri Lanka.
Katherine and two of her fellow riders eating fresh coconuts. – Michael Blann

Taking things up a notch

Group cycling in Sri Lanka through forest.
The first two days helped with acclimatisation. – Michael Blann

The first two days helped us acclimatise to the heat, humidity, the way the roads operated and riding together as a group, which was almost seamless. I often wondered if I was actually on a Spanish training camp. For the first time in quite a while, I was riding in a large group of trusted riders on flowing roads, with everyone taking turns on the front.

On the third day, it was time to head into the mountains. Even though we headed off soon after 7 am, we knew we’d start climbing in the Knuckles Range during the hottest point of the day. 

The anticipation built through the first 64km of the ride, which was pretty flat, but on an unfinished road. The bedrock had been laid, but there was no tarmac. Our guides were nervous about us getting across it, but it proved to be nothing less than fantastic. Stony, wide and fast, we paced along it overtaking trucks and tuk-tuks while drivers looked on in disbelief.

View up road with people cycling in Sri Lanka.
Some shade was welcome. – Michael Blann

Our ascent into the Knuckles Range was preceded by a shorter climb on a very wide, dusty and steep gravel road with no shade. If we were nervous about what was coming up before, we were now even more apprehensive, because the heat at this slower pace seemed to be almost unbearable.

From the side of the Kaluganga Reservoir, we began our ascent proper. Totalling 18 kilometres up to the Riverston Pass, there was a short descent about a third of the way up. We each tried to settle into our respective rhythms as the road ramped up into short but cruelly steep sections. I soon lost sight of the rest of the crew.

Views of mountains in Sri Lanka.
A view of the mountains in Sri Lanka. – Michael Blann

Despite the broken tarmac and savage pitches, the saving grace was that the road was now mostly under the shade of the canopy. Criss-crossing over the road lessened the gradient and helped me seek shade and avoid the worst of the potholes. 

I was glad I’d opted to switch to the GRX gravel groupset for the extra gearing, but wished I’d gone for a smaller aftermarket chainring or opted for something such as the Wolf Tooth RoadLink to allow a larger cassette.

Katherine Moore cycling down road with tall trees in Sri Lanka.
It was like a dream come true when I heard the voices of the other riders calling. – Michael Blann

I felt determined to see the climb through up to the pass, but the midday heat and the growing pain in my lower back from the intense effort made me question whether I’d be able to. 

As I reached a section where people were out patching the road, I chuckled to myself. Tar and loose gravel were laid across shorter sections of the rough surface. As I passed, nodding, smiling (grimacing) and saying hello, they seemed to smile in disbelief that we would be mad enough to consider cycling up here.

The tiny banana I’d stowed in my pocket kept me going to the first peak, a third of the way up. As planned, I paused briefly to force it down. Eating in these temperatures is hard but necessary.

People posing for photo while standing in river in Sri Lanka.
Cooling off in a river. – Michael Blann

I then navigated the rough descent to the river. It was like a dream come true when I heard the voices of the other riders calling. Most were standing calf-deep in the river, cooling off. 

I’m a huge fan of a mid-ride dip, and with such scorching temperatures, I whipped off my jersey and plunged straight in, bibs and all. Suranjan brought over bottles of cola and freshly cooked roti while the friendly stray dogs smiled hello and wagged their tails. It was heaven on earth.

11km to go

Katherine Moore cycling up road surrounded by green foliage in Sri Lanka.
Michael Blann

Once fuelled and reset,  we continued up into the jungle with 11km to go. I set off first to get a little head start – a tactic I’d repeat each time we paused for a viewpoint. Gaining elevation quickly on the steep ramps, we were now being graced by expansive mountain views every few kilometres. 

The chorus of cicadas as we cycled up through the jungle was almost deafening and I declared them to be part of my own ‘invisible peloton’, to borrow ultra-endurance cyclist  Emily Chappell’s phrase. 

The higher up we got, the more assured I became that I’d be able to make it to the top and the stronger that made my legs feel. By the last few steep switchbacks, I was pushing on, elated and beaming.

View of fields in Sri Lanka.
‘Terraces of tea plantations’. – Michael Blann

I often feel there is a problem with the emphasis on suffering in cycling, but this experience turned that on its head a little. I certainly had suffered – particularly in those early few kilometres – but making it to the top despite the odds had given me untold joy that’s hard to match. Several of my fellow riders admitted it was one of the hardest climbs they’d ridden, if not the hardest, which only boosted my ego.

Crossing the watershed was like crossing into a different country. We descended to the east through terraces of tea plantations, past palms and pines and into countryside like the jungles I’d seen on TV. Houseplants that I’d spent years trying to make happy were thriving here, rich, lush and flourishing, lining the roads.