15 Sep 06
There's now just 99 miles between us and Kanyakumari, India's land's end, but at the briefing we're told this is the most dangerous leg yet. A detour into the mountains will bring tight roads, sharp bends and steep drops. 'Any Schumacher turns and you will be killed,' is the warning.
Last week a Swiss man cited the lack of goats as the reason he was speeding in Canada, and we long for a similar freedom. They get everywhere, and are forever in a dither about which side of the road they want to be on. The laid-back cows are much less frequent and much more predictable. I want to be getting my fill of the beautiful rain-washed, jungle-coated mountains on the right, not second-guessing goats.
We're surprisingly fleet up the snaking road to what turns out to be a tigerless sanctuary (doesn't help that we're audible several miles off). The danger is coming back down. I'm following the two Indian motoring journalists and not keeping up. I make my excuses to Simon, my co-driver: 'There's no shame in losing to an Indian who also races motorbikes.'
