Today was, dare I say it, one of the easiest rides we’ve had so far. And after the last few days of chaos, mud, and hair-raising hairpins, we welcomed the change.

We left Coimbatore this morning, cruising out of our four-star hotel with a kind of quiet relief. No complicated U-turns, no early morning road rage—just the usual hum of a city waking up. We thought Sunday might be calmer, but of course, India had other ideas.

Markets were in full swing, and every church, temple, and roadside shrine seemed to be spilling over with worshippers. Holy men in painted robes wandered barefoot along the roads, some engaged in self-flagellation rituals, while others quietly begged at traffic lights. Sunday might be a day of rest elsewhere, but here? Business as usual.

Once we cleared the towns and hit the freeway, it felt like entering another world. The roads widened, the traffic thinned, and for the first time in days, we could breathe. For intervals, interrupted by speed bumps and annoying roadblocks put up to slow traffic down at intersections. We passed other motorcycle tourers in full gear with luggage strapped to the back of their bikes. One even had an older lady on the bike, presumably his mother, riding a Hunter 350.

It was liberating. At one point, I even hit 105 km/h—a small miracle given the conditions we’ve been battling. We cruised comfortably at 70–80 km/h, enjoying the brief taste of what Indian highways could be in a few years. It made me realize that once all these endless construction projects are complete, this country will be an incredible place to ride.

But for now, it’s still a work in progress.

On the road.

Of course, it wouldn’t be a day of riding in India without a bit of chaos.

We encountered a massive bottleneck at one junction, thanks to a tangle of roadworks. A bus had tried to turn left, a truck blocked its path, and neither could move forward or back. It was the most literal version of a Mexican standoff I’ve ever seen—except with honking. Lots of honking.

No one was giving way. Not the bus, not the truck, not the endless stream of cars wedging themselves into impossible spaces. We sat there for a while, watching this absurd stalemate unfold.

The standoff.

Eventually, I decided to run a little social experiment: instead of waiting patiently (which clearly wasn’t getting anyone anywhere), I eased the bike forward and squeezed in front of a car. The driver stared at me for a second… then smiled. I smiled back and gave him a friendly wave. No yelling, no honking. Just quiet acceptance that this is how things work here.

It was oddly liberating.

The rest of the ride passed without much drama. We did about 200 kilometers today—not too long, not too short. The roads were mostly good, and we made steady progress.

Arriving in Madurai was another experience altogether. We intentionally booked a hotel a bit outside the city center to avoid tomorrow’s traffic. The area has a small-town feel, which was a nice contrast to the chaos of the bigger cities. That said, Madurai isn’t exactly charming.

Madurai.

It’s dusty, grimy, and industrial. Garbage lines the streets, and the air carries a faint but persistent stink. Right across from our hotel, we spotted a man dead drunk, sprawled in the road in a puddle of his own urine—right next to a liquor store, fittingly called a “wine shop.”

Ah, the romance of travel.

Getting to our hotel was its own adventure. The freshly built overpasses and divided highways meant we couldn’t just cross the road. Google Maps helpfully rerouted us through a labyrinth of narrow back lanes, and since we’d run out of power on our cameras, we couldn’t capture the ride.

It was like stepping back in time.

Dusty, broken tracks wound between crumbling buildings and tiny shacks. Dalma handled it like a pro, weaving through dirt roads and dodging random debris. I was genuinely impressed. These little moments of navigating the unexpected are what make trips like this unforgettable.

Dalma and the bikes.

Surprise, surprise—another dry hotel. But you know what? We don’t need a drink every night. (Though it wouldn’t hurt.)

Tonight, we’re resting up for a highlight of the trip: the southernmost tip of India. We’re aiming to reach Kanyakumari tomorrow, where the Indian Ocean, Arabian Sea, and Bay of Bengal meet.

It feels like the right kind of destination after all these long, exhausting days.

So, that’s today. A day of good roads, strange detours, and the occasional dead drunk in the gutter.

Tomorrow, the end of the road—literally.