Clive - I've never been able to sit around for too long, doing what some people might call 'relaxing'. I guess I get it from my Mum. To quote my Dad, I'm a 'fidget-arse'. Some sort of physical endeavour always attracts me, so when I looked at the map of the Goan coastline I noted that the beach is very long - around 20kms in total. Our short walks had only taken us a matter of 2 kms along it, and I wanted to explore the rest of it. I decided that today would be the day for the Great Cycle Adventure, but when it came to actually hiring the bike Sarah decided it wasn't for her, so we agreed that I'd set off on my own.
Mission Objective: The end of the beach.
Distance: 14kms each way.
Equipment: One rental bike (without gears). 1 litre of water, sunscreen.
Budget: R300 for lunch
The bike was in the style of a mountain bike, but with no gears. It was pretty creaky and had obviously been regularly ridden on the beach judging by the rust on the spokes and elsewhere.
Drawing myself an imaginary start line in the sand, I noted the time and set off. Riding on the hard sand just above the water line, I made good progress and within 10 minutes I'd passed the furthest point that Sarah and I had previously reached - Benaulim beach. I was now in uncharted territory! The going was reasonably good, although I kept meeting pockets of soft sand which would slow me down for a few metres. Not long south of Benaulim the shacks and huts started to thin out, until I was riding along pristine beach with no buildings and hardly any people.

Every 10 minutes or so I stopped for a drink, and to make sure I had enough sun screen on. By now it was just gone midday - there was a light on-shore breeze but the sun was blazing down and the temperature was probably around 30 deg.

Every few kms there would be groups of shacks, but before long I came across the first of the big hotel complexes which I knew were up this way. Initially I couldn't see the hotel itself because it was well back from the beach, but I knew it was there because the quality of loungers and umberellas on the beach suddenly improved. I could see waiters bringing drinks out to the people on the beach, and I wondered how much a Kingfisher would cost at one of these places. Too much, certainly.

As I cycled along I passed the time by trying to squash small crabs which scattered as I approached. I didn't manage it.
Either the going was getting harder or my legs were tiring, but after about half an hour I knew I was slowing down because I was overtaken by a Scotsman! He wasn't wearing a kilt or playing bagpipes at the time, but I knew he was a Scotsman when he said "Och, you've no far to go now, ken". I wondered why he though my name was Ken, but he disappeared up the beach to one of the nearby shacks before I could correct him. There seemed to be some sort of party going on, with music and lithe bikini-clad women dancing in the sand. I reckoned it must be a mirage, and pressed on to my objective, the headland which marked the end of the beach, which was now in sight. I contemplated stopping at the last shack on the beach, about 500m from the end, but then Hilary didn't stop 10m from the summit of Everest, he continued to the top. So I cycled the last 500m to the end, which I reached in 1hr 15mins from my start line.

Feeling very pleased with myself I indicated to a fisherman that I'd come all the way from Colva on this old bicycle. He looked at me with indifference, as if to say "I do that every day with fishing tackle, white boy". I then headed back to the nearest shack where I bought a Kingfisher and a veg spring roll, and spent a half-hour getting psychologically prepared for the return journey.

A short time after setting off, I began to realise that up to now I had been going with the breeze. There was an on-shore breeze but it was at an oblique angle and I was now riding into it making the going more difficult than before. Added to this, I was riding in bare feet and the pedals were starting to create a blister on each foot. On the positive side the tide had gone further out since my outward journey so I now had more hard sand to cycle on.

Nevertheless, it did seem to be tougher than the outward journey, and at one point I stopped to check that I didn't have a flat tyre. After about 45 mins I was getting pretty tired. Other cyclists riding towards me seemed to be flying along with ease, whereas I was struggling to make meaningful headway. My legs were aching, my feet hurt, I was saddle-sore, and I was hot and thirsty. I could see Colva ahead of me like a mirage, and when I reached the furthest point that Sarah and I had walked to I drank the last of the water. Now I know how Lawrence of Arabia must have felt!

I thought I was nearly there, but the final 3 kms seemed longer than the rest of the ride put together. Familiar landmarks hove into view, and as I passed each one I reminded myself that it was now only walking distance to the hotel. I gratefully returned the bike to the hire shop, debriefed the owner on how rubbish his bike was, and walked the short distance to the hotel. I found Sarah sitting by the pool. "What have you been doing?" I asked. "Oh, just sitting reading" she said. "Have you had fun?" "I've been on an epic journey" I replied, "equal to any other great feat of endurance known to man. Let me tell you about it........"