Nuwara Eliya (Sri Lanka) - Colombo (Sri Lanka) - The slow descent from the hills

Nuwara Eliya (Sri Lanka) - Colombo (Sri Lanka)

11 January 2026

We started the day in Nuwara Eliya, where the air still had that slightly unreal mountain crispness to it — the kind that makes everything feel cleaner than it probably is. We’d stayed overnight at the Hillside Retreat on the outskirts of town, one of those places that feels suspended somewhere between practicality and postcard, quietly doing its job without needing to announce itself.

This day, though, had no real ambition to bask in whatsoever.

It was a transit day. A necessary bridge. The kind of day you don’t really plan for, you just accept, because the geography of a trip demands a comma at some point before you get to the full stop. Today it was to Nuwara Eliya to Colombo. Five to six hours, give or take, depending on how generous the road, traffic, and fate was going to allow for.

We all knew it was coming of course. That was the thing. These days are never a surprise, they’re either politely ignored or deliberately supressed in the lead-up, like you can somehow wish them into being less real.

There was an 8am departure. There were bags to be loaded. And there were crafted smiles, appearing unnecessarily early, contrived and somehow deceitfully hopeful to ourselves. 

And then almost immediately, within the first 20 mins, Sri Lanka reminded us that it wasn’t going to make the day anything other than the proverbial challange.

The mountain roads tightened into themselves — narrow, winding, slightly bruised by landslides induced from recent heavy rain. The kind of roads where every turn feels like the road is thinking about it just as much as you are. Back and forth we went, slow, deliberate, occasionally absurdly slow, as if the entire concept of distance had been re-negotiated overnight.

Morning optimism - Hilldale Retreat - Nuwara Eliya - Sri Lanka

 Morning sunshine - Hilldale Retreat - Nuwara Eliya - Sri Lanka

There’s a particular psychological effect that kicks in after the first hour of that kind of driving — where time stops feeling linear and starts feeling like repetition, where you internally negotiate expectation and your own levels of tolerance. Same corner. Same incline. Same cluster of tea plantations clinging to impossible gradients. Same silence in the car that isn’t quite peaceful, just… suspended.

Early on, Aiden some internal body frustrations. Stomach issues for short — one of those inconvenient travel truths that never shows up in the brochure version of the journey but you know is waiting somewhere in the shadows. We pulled into some random hilltop stop, a place that probably doesn’t even have a name you’d remember, more of a functional agreement between travellers and whoever was kind enough to point at a bathroom and say “yes”.

It did the job. That was enough.

Our driver was a quiet man with very limited English, but also no real need for it. He existed in that very specific category of drivers who understand the road in a way that doesn’t require explanation. He wasn’t unkind. Just… sealed into his own rhythm, occasionally acknowledging us through the rear-view mirror like we were passing thoughts rather than passengers.

The endless turns of the road to Colombo 

And so the day just stretched out into the mental distance we had constructed.

Minutes turned into long, soft hours. The mountains slowly gave way — not abruptly, but with a kind of reluctant fading. Cool greens and tea plantation geometry softened into something more humid, more layered, more chaotic. The air changed before the scenery admitted it was changing.

We passed through small towns that didn’t feel like destinations so much as interruptions. Places where life was clearly happening, but not for us. No obvious landmarks. No narrative hooks. Just the steady, unedited reality of people getting on with things.

And for long stretches, there was nothing particularly inspiring about any of it.

Just road. Movement. Waiting.

It wasn’t until the final stretch — maybe the last 90 minutes — that the landscape began to shift in a more recognisable way. The edges of Colombo started to announce themselves: more traffic, more density, more noise. The sense that the world had gradually reassembled itself into something urban again.

That’s when the finish line finally started to feel real.

We rolled into the Hilton Colombo somewhere around 1:30pm.

Not triumphant. Not exhausted in any dramatic sense. Just… through it.

One of those arrivals where you don’t celebrate so much as quietly acknowledge that something mildly grinding has been completed and can now be left behind without further discussion.

The afternoon, predictably, corrected everything.

Poolside at the Hilton. Drinks in hand. Light returning to the day. That familiar post-transit recalibration where the body starts pretending the road never happened.

Cocktails. Snacks. A slow return to normality.

Sri Lanka, in hindsight, had been exactly what it needed to be — rich, varied, occasionally challenging, always alive in its own way. And this day sat in that quieter category of travel: not memorable for what it showed you, but for what it took out of you along the way.

The next morning would be something else entirely — Colombo to Malé, Maldives waiting on the other side of the sky.

But for now, it was just stillness again.

Ella (Sri Lanka) - Nuwara Eliya (Sri Lanka) - Cloudlands

 

Ella (Sri Lanka) - Nuwara Eliya (Sri Lanka)

10 - 11 January 2026

There’s always something energising about a final morning in a place that has genuinely exceeded expectations. Ella had done exactly that to us. What had initially presented itself as another stop on a Sri Lankan itinerary had somehow become something softer, slower, and far more memorable than we had anticipated. Yet rather than feeling melancholic about leaving, there was an unmistakable sense of excitement in the air that morning — the kind that only travel seems to create, where reflection on what you’ve just experienced somehow blends seamlessly with anticipation for whatever comes next. Perhaps it was the mountain air, the endless green hills, or the way the clouds drifted lazily through the valleys each morning, but Ella had a way of making you feel entirely present while simultaneously making you excited to continue moving forward.

Our final morning arrived wrapped in cool air and low cloud, the surrounding hills still partially hidden as though the town itself wasn’t quite ready to wake up yet. Inga, Aiden and I wandered down into the main street for breakfast, settling into one of Ella’s many cafés where the scent of coffee, toast and tropical fruit drifted lazily through the open windows. The town was already beginning its daily ritual; backpackers discussing train schedules with exaggerated expertise, tuk-tuks humming along the road, and travellers quietly staring into the surrounding greenery as though attempting to absorb one last moment before moving on.

After breakfast I made my way uphill toward Ella railway station to secure our tickets to Nuwara Eliya. Now, let me say this upfront — Sri Lankan train tickets are not exactly luxurious keepsakes. There are no sleek QR codes, polished apps or sophisticated electronic gates waiting to scan your existence into the transport matrix. No, these were tiny coloured cardboard tickets that looked as though they had survived several decades largely unchanged. The type of tickets that would ultimately have a neat little hole punched through them by a station attendant upon entry.

Oddly enough, they found a quiet nostalgic home in a corner of my mind almost immediately

Standing there holding those tiny cardboard stubs triggered some 'old school' cool memories of boarding trains at good 'ole Seven Hills station. I was instantly transported back to childhood train rides in Sydney during the 1980s and early 90s, where those same little tickets represented some degree of potential adventure, movement and possibility of anything - I didn't know what, I wasn't even a teenager then but the promise of 'something' was a special vibe.. Funny how something so insignificant can unexpectedly unlock entire eras of memory.

Ella station itself only amplified this strange sense of displacement. Sitting amongst the rolling hills and thick greenery of Sri Lanka’s highlands, the station somehow felt completely detached from the version of Sri Lanka I had imagined and anticipated before arriving. There was something distinctly quaint and oddly English about it all; the small station building, the manicured gardens, the sleepy atmosphere, the gentle curve of the tracks disappearing into mist-covered hills. Had someone told me I’d somehow wandered into a tiny countryside station in Yorkshire, I may not have argued particularly hard against it. The only think that went against that the inordinate amount of tourists that occupied prime space on the platform. The outbound side of the station was packed with bags, young backpackers trying out yoga poses on the grass, the swapping and identification of necessary transport snacks ....and also headphones, iphones, random conversations, and subdued energy. This was not a 'local ride'.

Ella station - Ella - Sri Lanka

Train from Ella to Ambewala - Sri Lanka

Aiden & Inga - first 'hangout' photo - train from Ella to Ambewala - Sri Lanka

With that said, our decision to take the train to Nuwara Eliya had been heavily influenced by the endless praise surrounding Sri Lanka’s famous Kandy-to-Ella rail journey, a route often described in almost mythical terms by travellers, blogs and just about any YouTube related video that you might cut across in your research. However, the full nine-hour pilgrimage that many v-bloggers discussed felt somehow misplaced with a seven-year-old in tow.  Very much less like an enchanting travel experience and more like an elaborate psychological  experiment of  the uneducated. Conversely, the three hours to Ambewala  felt  to us  like it was jus going to be the sweet spot — long enough to immerse ourselves in the scenery, but not so long that Aiden would eventually begin negotiating for his own independence from the family unit.

As the train slowly rolled out of Ella station and began winding deeper into the highlands, it quickly became obvious why this journey had earned its reputation.

The scenery was mesmerising.

Rolling tea plantations unfolded across the hillsides like textured green blankets carefully draped over the contours of the mountains. Dense jungle appeared and disappeared between pockets of farmland and sleepy villages. Occasionally the train curved dramatically enough for us to see the full length of it snaking through the hills ahead, with carriages of predominantly blue framed against impossibly vivid greenery.

The very best of travel partners - train from Ella to Ambewala - Sri Lanka

Train from Ella to Ambewala - Sri Lanka

Train from Ella to Ambewala - Sri Lanka

What makes train travel through Sri Lanka particularly immersive however, is that the journey never feels sealed off from the world outside. Doors remain open, windows wide, and the outside environment pours directly into the carriage. Wind rushes through your hair, cool mountain air sweeps across the seats, and every scent, sound and temperature shift becomes part of the experience itself.

At various points along the journey the train disappeared into drifting mountain cloud, the outside world fading into soft white haze before revealing itself again in fragments of tea plantations, forests and distant hillsides. There was something strangely dreamlike about it all, as though we were moving through a place that existed somewhere between reality and imagination. In those moments, suspended amongst the clouds of Sri Lanka’s highlands, the journey felt less like transport and more like passage through some mythical forgotten world. a place so calm and impossibly beautiful that it barely seemed real at all.

And yes…of course we became those people that took videos and photos of themselves hanging out the train doors of a moving train ... by what wouldn't you, what an epic experience!

Train from Ella to Ambewala - Sri Lanka

Train from Ella to Ambewala - Sri Lanka

Train from Ella to Ambewala - Sri Lanka

Truthfully, resisting the temptation felt almost impossible. At various moments we stood there leaning outward into the rushing air, smiling like complete idiots. Phones emerged constantly for photos and videos, though somewhere along the way you to to get to capturing that small element of  realisation that its the actual experience itself that matters far more than whatever image it is that you manage to capture.

LOVE this video of Aiden  & I - train from Ella to Ambewala - Sri Lanka

Inga in 'hangout' mode - train from Ella to Ambewala - Sri Lanka

Still, one particular moment did manage to stay with me.

At one point during the journey I looked across at Aiden perched quietly on his seat beside the open window, popcorn clutched in his hands, completely absorbed by the world unfolding outside. He barely moved. No distractions, no screens, no impatience,  just total engagement with the experience itself, as though he were sitting inside his own private cinema watching the landscape drift past frame by frame. I managed to catch a short video of the moment on my phone, and I suspect years from now it’ll remain one of those tiny memories that somehow carries far more emotional weight than it has any right to.

LOVE this video of Aiden - just like he's watching a movie - train from Ella to Ambewala - Sri Lanka

'Cloudlands' - Train from Ella to Ambewala - Sri Lanka

'Cloudlands' - Train from Ella to Ambewala - Sri Lanka

There was something wonderfully simple about the entire experience. No luxury, no extravagance, no complicated itinerary mechanics. Just three hours of movement through some of the most beautiful scenery in Sri Lanka, shared together as a family.

And honestly, for roughly three dollars per person, I’m not entirely sure travel gets much better than that.

Arriving at the outpost of Ambewala, we felt refreshed and strangely energised. The three-hour journey had disappeared in what felt like  a moment, which in itself seemed slightly absurd considering how absorbing the entire experience had been. In all honesty, it came remarkably close to being the highlight of this particular stretch of the trip. For the scenery, the atmosphere, the photos, the sense of immersion but perhaps most of all because it quietly reinforced that well-worn travel cliché that somehow manages to remain completely true; it’s not about the destination, but the journey.

This part was very good.

Our final stop however was not actually Nuwara Eliya itself, but rather the somewhat desolate and unexpectedly isolated station of Ambewala. By road it was supposedly only around 15 kilometres from Nuwara Eliya, perhaps thirty minutes under normal circumstances. We found out that the reason the train no longer continued directly through, as we understood it, was due to landslides and landslips caused by the extraordinary rainfall the region had experienced in the weeks prior. The evidence of which was not difficult to miss.

Throughout the journey enormous scars cut through sections of hillside where entire swathes of earth had simply disappeared into the valleys below. Some slopes still looked deeply unstable, hanging precariously above the roads in ways that triggered more than a little suppressed anxiety within me. Externally I maintained the calm and measured appearance expected of a responsible husband and father. Internally however, my brain had quietly begun preparing a series of unnecessarily dramatic disaster scenarios. Plan for the worst and then dismiss the ideas just as quickly - isn't that the way?

Arriving at Ambewela also placed us directly back into one of the more familiar travel rituals known to mankind, negotiating transport prices with what can only loosely be described as the local transfer mafia.

There is simply no reliable way in these situations to determine what constitutes a genuinely fair price. Every tuk-tuk driver, van operator and taxi owner seemed to be eyeing arriving travellers with the collective anticipation of sharks circling a struggling seal. Bright-eyed tourists stepping off trains with luggage in hand are essentially moving dollar signs wrapped in Raybans and optimism.

The road outside the station buzzed with offers, negotiations and the inevitable layered upselling that accompanies these encounters.

‘Where are you staying?’

‘What are your plans tomorrow?’

‘I can take you sightseeing.’

‘Best tea plantation.’

‘Very good price my friend.’

Naturally mate....you are my best friend....we are all great friends here.

I had booked us into the Hilldale Retreat, a boutique hotel located roughly ten kilometres outside Nuwara Eliya itself. We were only staying one evening and had absolutely no plans for sightseeing whatsoever. We simply wanted transport to the hotel and, ideally, a short period of silence.

Hilldale Retreat - Nuwara Eliya - Sri Lanka

Hilldale Retreat - Nuwara Eliya - Sri Lanka

We eventually secured our transfer, naturally at a price that almost certainly bore little resemblance to local economic reality, and began what would somehow become a far longer and more psychologically taxing drive than anticipated.

Initially our driver maintained a relentless stream of conversation, recommendations and sales pitches delivered with admirable persistence. Yet as we gradually climbed beyond Nuwara Eliya and deeper into the surrounding hills, the mood inside the vehicle began to subtly shift.

The chatter slowed.

Then eventually stopped altogether.

The reason soon became obvious.

A dense mountain fog had descended across the road so heavily that visibility was reduced to only a few metres ahead of us. To describe it as driving through cloud would not really do it justice. It felt more like we had somehow entered another dimension entirely , one composed purely of whiteness, moisture and looming uncertainty.

Now ordinarily, this might have been mildly atmospheric.

Unfortunately our driver appeared to interpret these conditions as a challenge rather than a warning.

We continued tearing through the hills at a speed that felt wildly inappropriate for circumstances where the road itself seemed to vanish every few seconds into dense fog. Add to that sections of damaged roadway where parts of the hillside had partially collapsed away, alongside vehicles emerging suddenly from the opposite direction like spectral apparitions, and the entire experience became significantly less relaxing than I would have preferred.

There were several genuinely hair-raising moments.

I’m fairly certain that for the final few kilometres prior to arrival I subconsciously held my breath.

Which is why arriving at Hilldale Retreat felt less like checking into accommodation and more like reaching sanctuary.

Hilldale Retreat - Nuwara Eliya - Sri Lanka

                                                 Hilldale Retreat - Nuwara Eliya - Sri Lanka

Hilldale Retreat - Nuwara Eliya - Sri Lanka

Perched quietly amongst the cool hills beyond Nuwara Eliya, Hilldale carried the sort of calm atmosphere that immediately lowers your pulse rate upon arrival. Surrounded by mist-covered greenery and rolling tea country, the property balanced comfort and simplicity beautifully. Warm lighting spilled softly through the reception area, the rooms were comfortable and thoughtfully appointed, and after the chaos of the drive there was something deeply restorative about the silence that settled over the property.

Ella may have felt dreamlike, but Hilldale felt like recovery.

And for one quiet evening in the Sri Lankan highlands, that was more than enough.

Ella (Sri Lanka) - Who are you trying to impress?

Ella (Sri Lanka)

07-10 January 2026

Ella doesn’t set out to impress you, and yet somehow that's exactly what it ends up doing. Tucked into the lush highlands of Sri Lanka, this town feels less like a destination and more like a deep exhale. Sitting in the morning chill of Awesome Place (yes, that’s the actually property name we stayed at), you wake to a morning chill that doesn’t just greet you, it settles into you, crisp and alive, as the mountain air quietly steals your breath in the best possible way. Standing still, you take it in: the surrounding hills unfolding in every direction, while the rising sun begins its slow performance across the landscape. Light spills over the greenery in soft waves, turning the slopes into a shifting tapestry of gold and green, until suddenly everything is touched with an orange-amber glow that cuts cleanly through the low-hanging morning cloud like the world itself is being gently switched on.

Coastlines, beaches, waves and sand, that its own special mix but somehow the mountains for me where I feel at my best—at peace, finding my solace and slipping into an “almost” meditative state. I say almost, because it is never fully that; instead, it is something more grounded, more human—quiet contemplation shaped and softened by appreciation of the landscape. Coastlines, beaches, waves, and sand - of course that’s nice… but somehow, it is in the mountains where everything slows just enough for thoughts to stretch out, to melt into the silence that feels intentional, and where presence becomes effortless rather than something to be sought after.

Awesome Place (hotel) - Ella - Sri Lanka

Awesome Place (hotel) - Ella - Sri Lanka

Bidding farewell to Awesome Place (hotel) - Ella - Sri Lanka

But Ella isn’t just scenery, it’s movement. Hikes like Little Adam’s Peak and Ella Rock reward effort with sweeping views that make the climb worthwhile. The beauty here isn’t curated—it’s raw, slightly unpredictable, and all the better for it. You might start your day in sunshine, walk through drifting cloud, and end up sipping tea while watching rain roll across the valley.

And then there’s the vibe. Ella has quietly mastered the art of being laid-back without feeling sleepy. Cafés serve up strong coffee and even stronger opinions on travel routes, backpackers swap stories like currency, and time becomes something you stop measuring too closely. It’s the kind of place that reminds you travel isn’t about ticking boxes, it’s about finding somewhere that makes you slow down, look around, and think, “Yeah… I could stay a while”. Occasionally you come across places of this elk, some in the same style, and some others are just kindred spirits. I’m looking at you Jericoacoara (Brazil), Hoi An (Vietnam) and Montville (Australia).

Our first day in Ella faded into eternity beneath a misty sheet of drizzle, chill and laziness. The day prior had been an extremely long day, and thankfully, Ella never placed any high demands upon us. Ella gives you that sort of opportunity -  to move without demands, and to settle in wherever it is that you feel is right for you.

Nine Arch Bridge - Ella - Sri Lanka

Nine Arch Bridge - Ella - Sri Lanka

Nine Arch Bridge - Ella - Sri Lanka

Certainly Day 2 in Ella was a more targeted one for us. We transferred from Awesome Place to something more central, at the Oak Ray Gap Hotel,  and then aimed up for the iconic Nine Arch Bridge, a colonial-era structure that has somehow become a social media celebrity without having lost its charm… yet…although, with burgeoning popularity, you just know that there will come a tipping point where the numbers of visitors will drive one of two outcomes;

1.  Either an influx of idiots executing stupid antics that leads to security and safety issues that will certainly restrict the experience, or;

2.    It will inherit such extreme popularity that it will ultimately diminish the experience itself, as seen in places like Sintra (Portugal), Barcelona (Spain), and Cinque Terre (Italy).

Nine Arch Bridge - Ella - Sri Lanka

                                 Nine Arch Bridge - Ella - Sri Lanka

Nine Arch Bridge - Ella - Sri Lanka

                                    Nine Arch Bridge - Ella - Sri Lanka

In an age where social media visibility drives rapid tourism, which in turn creates pressures on infrastructure, ecosystems, and human behaviour alike, even the most innocuous, “off the beaten path” locations can quickly succumb to touristic fervour. It will happen here too, of that I am confident—but thankfully, on this occasion, we were able to experience it without restriction.

Walking from Nine Arch Bridge back into the town of Ella along the train tracks - Ella - Sri Lanka

Ella - Sri Lanka

Ella - Sri Lanka

Surprise pancake attack - Ella - Sri Lanka

Main street of Ella - Sri Lanka

Main street of Ella - Sri Lanka

Walking from Nine Arch Bridge back into the town of Ella along the train tracks was a pleasure. Taking in the hillside environment with every deliberate step on the railway sleepers, Inga & Aiden led the way, with their 50-yr old husband/father in tow. You know, I may have said this before, but at this age I really don’t feel any different about travelling than I did 25 yrs ago. The wanderlust, energy and desire to see more things is still there. Of course I’ve cut down on my stupidity intake as I’ve had to navigate that desire as a trade off for growing my own little human, but the rewards of discovery are still as significant to me now as they ever have been, perhaps more so, because now I get to share all of them with Aiden and Inga….and yes, I know that there’s also a finite time for that, which in the back of my mind makes all moments like these significant.

Yala National Park (Sri Lanka) - lets go...yalla...or is that yala?

Yala National Park (Sri Lanka)

07 January 2026

It has always been my mother’s dream to go on safari in Africa. Ever since I can remember, it was a recurring theme in those inevitable conversations of inspired optimism which were often typified by questions such as “What’s the number one place on your bucket list?” For my father, it was always somewhere in the “South Seas,” by which he meant any island with a Polynesian heritage that evoked the films of his youth. For my mother, it was the wilds of Africa where her imagination would consistently take her.

Fortunately, I have been lucky enough to help both of them bring those dreams to life. For my father, it was a week in Tahiti in 2000. For my mother, it was when Inga and I took her on a three-day safari in Kruger National Park in 2017.

Why do I say this? Because I can understand the romanticised view my father held of the South Pacific. For many Europeans, the idea of Polynesia was so distant and almost mythical in its allure that it may as well have been like imagining a trip to the moon—particularly when considered through the lens of the 1950s.

That said, Africa may well have been viewed in much the same way at the time, shaped by literature and popular accounts of big game hunting and the romanticism of the so-called “wilds” of the continent.

Why do I lead with this? Because it’s the inevitable prelude.

When I travelled with my parents to Tahiti, it was easy to imagine nothing more than pure indulgence—cocktails by the pool, the sound of ukuleles drifting on a gentle breeze, and waves rolling in across the deep blues of the South Pacific. In contrast, a safari in Africa never held the same appeal for me. It seemed, at the time, like a rather unremarkable proposition: how much could one really get out of driving through scrubland in the back of a Jeep?

How wrong I was.

A safari in Kruger National Park has since become one of the highlights of my life to date. To be within a few steps of some of the most iconic creatures on the planet, to hear the rustle of branches and immediately register the immense presence of whatever was moving through them, to experience the smells and textures of the bush—these things left a lasting impression. Most of all, there was a clear and humbling understanding that I was only ever a visitor in that landscape.

Although the Jeep we were travelling in offered a measure of safety within a human-made framework, it was impossible to ignore the reality that stepping just a few paces into the scrub would place you entirely at the mercy of the environment which enveloped us.

Which thus brings me to Yala National Park, on the southern coast of Sri Lanka. When I saw that we had the the opportunity to share a similar experience with Aiden, I didn’t hesitate to make the decision to book the excursion. It felt like a chance to introduce him to something that has left an indelible mark on our own memories, and in some way, would resonate within him as a 

A wonderful Sri Lankan breakfast at the Mirissa Beach Hotel - Mirissa - Sri Lanka

We left Mirissa mid-morning on 7 April, en route to the hill town of Ella, with a planned half-day safari through the park along the way.

Before researching Sri Lanka, I had been largely unaware of the country’s national parks. While they may not be as widely known or as celebrated as those in Africa, they nonetheless offer an extraordinary opportunity to observe native wildlife in its natural habitat. That was exactly the experience I wanted Aiden to have. At six years old, I knew the memories would likely be fragmented—just a handful of vivid snapshots—but those are often the most important ones, the kind that spark questions, curiosity, and a lasting sense of discovery.

Yala National Park - Sri Lanka

Yala National Park - Sri Lanka

The setup for Yala National Park was similar to Kruger in that we were travelling in an open safari vehicle, with tiered seating that rose slightly from front to back. Inga, Aiden, and I sat in the rear, settling in as we arrived at the Yala Reserve entrance gates for what would be a four-hour adventure.

From our first experience in Kruger, Inga and I had learned that much of a safari experience is dependent on luck—where you happen to be at any given moment, the skill and instinct of your driver, and your own level of attentiveness. While there are clear similarities between both reserves—a sense of openness, and the feeling of being a guest in a shared space—there is also a curious psychological effect at play. You begin to convince yourself that you are somehow enclosed within a protective bubble, as though the vehicle creates an invisible and universally respected boundary. It has always struck me how persistent that illusion of safety can be, no matter where I travel.

Yala National Park - Sri Lanka

Yala National Park - Sri Lanka

Yala National Park - Sri Lanka

Yala National Park - Sri Lanka

Yala National Park - Sri Lanka

From my perspective, the experience in Yala didn’t quite reach the heights of what we encountered in South Africa, particularly in terms of wildlife diversity and the sense of serendipity that Kruger delivered. That said, we still saw elephants, monkeys, crocodiles, and an impressive range of birdlife, all set against the raw and untouched beauty of Sri Lanka’s southern reaches. On its own terms, it was absolutely worthwhile—especially as an experience we hope will stay with Aiden.

For anyone unsure whether to include Yala in their itinerary, I would say it is absolutely worth doing, particularly if you have not experienced a safari before. In that case, it will likely stand out as one of the highlights of a trip to Sri Lanka.

Yala National Park - Sri Lanka

Yala National Park - Sri Lanka

Yala National Park - Sri Lanka

However, if you have spent time on more extensive or immersive safaris elsewhere and are expecting something comparable, it may be wise to moderate expectations. Yala is still a very rewarding experience, but my perspective is inevitably shaped by comparison. Had we spent more time fully immersed in the park, our impression might well have been different.

We wrapped up in the late afternoon, exiting the reserve around 6:00pm as the sun dipped toward the western horizon. From there, we continued on to our next destination—the hill town of Ella, roughly 2.5 to 3 hours away.

We drifted through scattered towns that briefly punctuated the otherwise unbroken darkness of the night. In the final hour, we began our ascent toward Ella, navigating relentless winding turns, with ever-steeper drops edging the roadside and a noticeable chill settling into the air as we climbed higher.

Our real challenge came in the final hour of the journey. The place we had booked—aptly named “Awesome Place”—was about 10 km outside Ella. At first, that didn’t concern me in the slightest, but I quickly realised my mistake when that short distance turned into a 45-minute ordeal, winding through nerve-wracking mountain roads in complete darkness. Only to feel a larger onset of dread when our transfer came to the ‘end of the line’ on a desolate mountain trail and said in no uncertain terms, ‘this is as far as I can go’….what? What does that mean?

What that meant, as we were soon to discover, was that the hotel had to send its own transfer vehicle for the final 2 km of the journey. Why? Because no reasonably sane driver would attempt that stretch without risking serious damage to their vehicle.

What followed shortly after—bouncing around in the back of a van with virtually no suspension—was a track so rough and boulder-strewn that it felt less like a road and more like being tossed around on a jumping castle, only without any of the fun or comfort.

Awesome Place (hotel) - Ella - Sri Lanka

Awesome Place (hotel) - Ella - Sri Lanka

Awesome Place (hotel) - Ella - Sri Lanka

After a further 30 minutes of what can only be described as Sri Lankan trail torture, we finally arrived at our hillside oasis. Wrapped in cool mountain air and a light drizzle, it felt both special and entirely removed from anything we had experienced so far. Welcome to Ella—there was clearly much more to discover here.