Today felt like the reward at the end of a long, winding road. After days of battling chaotic traffic, crumbling roads, and the occasional truck barreling toward us on a blind corner, today’s ride was—dare I say it—pleasant.

Two happy bikes.

We left Madurai this morning, weaving through a bit of city traffic before hitting the freeway. And that was it. Smooth sailing, all the way to Kanniyakumari. No potholes. No near misses. No impromptu off-roading. Just clean, open road under our wheels.

Good Indian roads

In total, we covered 250 kilometers in about four and a half hours–averaging about 70 km/h–including a few leisurely stops. We even had a nap at a petrol station. It was the longest distance we’ve done on this trip so far, and it felt effortless. The road quality was so good it almost felt suspicious.

Dalma napping at the roadside. I was about to join her.

Of course, the ride wasn’t without its charming moments.

One thing that continues to amaze me is how casually Indian women ride pillion on motorbikes. Not perched in fear, not gripping the rider for dear life—but sitting sidesaddle, sari flowing, as if they were lounging in a living room. Dalma even spotted one woman casually checking her hair and touching up her makeup as the bike weaved through traffic. Closer to Kanniyakumari, Dalma swears she saw a woman taking a nap on the back of a moving motorbike. Fast asleep, head nodding, as the world whizzed by. That’s a level of trust in the driver—and the road—that I can’t even fathom.

As we approached Kanniyakumari, the landscape transformed. Stretching out across the horizon was a colossal wind farm—hundreds, if not thousands, of towering wind turbines spinning lazily in the breeze. It was mesmerizing.

Windmills in Tamil Nadu

India is actually one of the world’s leaders in wind energy, and Tamil Nadu, where we are now, is at the heart of it. The Aralvaimozhi Pass, where we were riding, is home to one of the largest wind farms in the country. The constant coastal winds here make it an ideal location for harnessing renewable energy, and seeing it firsthand was humbling.

There’s something surreal about riding through a forest of steel giants, their blades slicing through the sky, generating clean energy for millions. It’s a quiet kind of power—steady, reliable, and strangely beautiful.

By 2:30 p.m., we rolled into our hotel—a charming, very Indian-style place. It’s another dry hotel, but that’s fine. (Honestly, I’m starting to think gin and tonics are just a fond, distant memory at this point.)

The hotel is spacious, comfortable, and it even has a pool—a luxury we haven’t seen in a while. After a long ride, we were starving, so lunch was devoured without much ceremony. Now, we’re just relaxing, soaking in the calm.

We chose this hotel specifically because it’s a little outside the main town. Many hotels in the city center had less-than-stellar reviews—complaints about dirt, noise, and general unpleasantness. This one had a great reputation, and it’s already living up to it.

We’re here for two nights, giving us time to explore Kanniyakumari. Tomorrow, we’ll visit the iconic Vivekananda Rock Memorial, where the Arabian Sea, the Bay of Bengal, and the Indian Ocean collide. There’s something poetic about standing at the very edge of a continent, where three vast bodies of water meet.

After our time here, we’ll head towards Alleppey for a night on a traditional houseboat, drifting through Kerala’s famous backwaters. But for now, it’s about rest.

Today might not have been packed with drama or adrenaline, but it was exactly what we needed—a smooth ride, a soft bed, and the quiet hum of wind turbines in the distance.

Not every story needs chaos. Sometimes, the road itself is enough.

Me on the road.