Slow coast, high hills

Let me tell you about the trip that changed how I travel. Nine days, one backpack and no fixed company: on 7 October I flew from Bengaluru to Colombo with a loose plan to follow Sri Lanka’s south coast and then climb into the hills.

This was my first time backpacking, and my first time ever sleeping in a hostel. I’ll be honest with you: on that first night in Galle, lying in a dorm bunk listening to strangers’ fans and zips, I seriously thought about switching to hotels for the rest of the trip. A private room, a lock on the door, no small talk. It would have been so much easier.

I’m so glad I didn’t. Somewhere between sharing tuk-tuks with people I’d met that morning, splitting grilled fish at a beach shack, sitting on the rocks at sunset with a crew from three different countries, and getting tips on where to go next from someone who’d just come from there, the hostel stopped being the budget option and became the whole point. By day four I’d made up my mind: for solo trips, it’s hostels from here on. You arrive alone, but you never really eat alone, explore alone or watch a sunset alone. Cheaper, yes, but mostly richer: a new community at every stop.

Here’s how it went, day by day, written up on the road: Galle, Hiriketiya, Ella, then back down to the sea at Ahangama, with Colombo to finish.

Day 1 · 7 Oct · Colombo to Galle

Every good trip starts with a coffee, and this one began with a cup at Bengaluru airport, boarding pass propped against it. A short hop across the water and there it was: a big “Welcome to Sri Lanka” sign, a quick ATM run for rupees, and my very first tuk-tuk ride, weaving through Colombo traffic with the wind in my face. I was grinning like an idiot.

I’d read about Radicle, a specialty coffee bar, so that was stop one: toast and a proper pour-over to settle in. Then I caught the coastal train south, and if you ever go, do this. The line hugs the shore so tightly that the waves almost splash the carriage, rolling past Induruwa and one fishing village after another.

By evening I’d checked into Old Parkland in Galle, an old house with a leafy garden and my first-ever dorm bed. I dropped my bag and walked straight into Galle Fort as the light faded. At night the fort is pure magic: colonial lanes, whitewashed walls, little shops spilling light onto Pedlar’s Street, and the lighthouse glowing against a dark sea.

Dinner was at Coconut Sambol, under palm fronds and wicker lamps with an old gramophone in the corner: rice and curry with dhal and pol sambol, and a mango juice in a mason jar, for about LKR 2,555. I sealed the night with a cup from Isle of Gelato on its mint-green benches. As first days go, I couldn’t have asked for more.

@coconutsambol

Day 2 · 8 Oct · Turtles and the road to Hiriketiya

Morning one in a hostel, and breakfast at Old Parkland turned out to be a proper Sri Lankan spread: string-hopper pilau, dhal, seeni sambol, egg rolls and fruit. I ate it with the guidebook open on the table, plotting the day.

Here’s a tip I’ll pass on to anyone doing this coast: hire a tuk-tuk for the day, bag and all. That’s what I did, heading east, and the first stop blew me away. At Wijaya Beach in Dalawella a green turtle swam right up to the shore, close enough that I watched it lift its head out of the shallows to breathe. The reef pool around it was alive too, with a speckled crab and spiky black urchins tucked into the rocks.

A little further along the coast road I stopped at a turtle hatchery, where rescued turtles circle the tanks, and I got to hold a hatchling no bigger than my palm. Tiny flippers going nineteen to the dozen. I won’t forget that.

Past Weligama Bay I spotted Taprobane Island, the tiny island villa with its white gate, sitting just offshore like something out of a novel. Then lunch in Mirissa at Dhana’s Curry Pot, and wow: clay pots of curries over a wood fire, wicker lamps, a dessert table of kalu dodol and kavum, and a passion-fruit iced tea. LKR 2,300, and honestly I could have stayed all afternoon.

@dhanas_currypot_mirissa

I walked it off at Coconut Tree Hill, the red-earth headland with palms leaning out over the surf, then rode on to Hiriketiya and Barefoot Backpackers. The moment I walked in I knew this was my kind of place: one long communal table, board games, and a chalkboard of plans for the night.

@barefootbackpackerssrilanka

After check-in a few of us from the hostel walked out onto the rocks by the beach next door to watch the waves crash in the sunset. Dinner was Barefoot’s family night at Rosie’s, LKR 2,000, around a table full of people who’d been strangers that morning. That was the evening the hotel idea quietly died.

Day 3 · 9 Oct · A slow beach day in Hiriketiya

This was the day with no plan, and it turned out to be the best one of the trip so far.

I spent the morning at Turtle Beach: deep blue sky, red roofs across the bay, and a rope swing hanging off a leaning palm. Lunch was right next door at Ohana, a white-arched beach bar with wicker lamps. I had grilled calamari with fries, then a brownie with ice cream, mango and papaya, eaten with my feet in the sand. Turtle Beach did take a souvenir of its own, though: somewhere in that sand I lost my left AirPod. Find My still shows it sitting there on the beach. Consider it my contribution to Hiriketiya.

In the afternoon I swam in Hiriketiya’s horseshoe bay, with surfers lined up past the break, then walked round to Blue Beach Island at Nilwella for golden hour. If you’re ever there, stay for the sunset: the sun dropped behind the palms and threw rays across the rocks while the waves exploded below. I just sat and watched.

Dinner was at Muthu Bar, which works like this: you pick your fish off a bed of ice and watch it go straight onto an open-flame grill. Two whole fish with yellow rice, fries and slaw, plus a cold beer, came to LKR 7,250 for the table. And the night didn’t end there. It ended under a glowing green sign at the Secret Jungle Party (LKR 4,000 entry).

@muthu.hiriketiya · @secret_jungle_party

But the best part of Hiriketiya wasn’t on any map. Barefoot is the kind of hostel where nobody stays a stranger for long, and over two days of rocks, beaches, fish dinners and late-night talks I found my crew: Mathew, Albert, Brian, Darcy and Lucy. Solo travel has a funny way of handing you friends when you least expect them. I didn’t take a single photo of us, and somehow that feels right. Some things you just keep.

Day 4 · 10 Oct · Leaving the coast

Before leaving the coast I squeezed in one last Hiriketiya breakfast at Crust & Crumble, and the building alone is worth the trip: sculpted white walls and round windows, like a sandcastle someone built for grown-ups. I had a poached egg on toast with beetroot, tomatoes and edible flowers, and an iced pour-over by the window. LKR 4,350, a splurge, and worth every rupee.

Then came the cab north towards Ella, the coast falling away behind us and the road climbing into green hills. Halfway up we pulled over at a roadside stall for buffalo curd drizzled with kithul treacle, served in a little clay pot. LKR 200, and still one of the best things I’ve eaten in Sri Lanka. If you see one of these stalls, stop. Trust me.

Just before Ella the road squeezes into a gorge, and suddenly there’s Ravana Falls, crashing down the cliff tier after tier, swollen by the rain. It’s a free roadside stop, so I scrambled down to the rocks by the pool and stood in the spray for a while, soaking it all in.

By afternoon I’d checked into Hangover Hostels on Passara Road, my base in Ella.

Lunch was at Wimala on Main Street, a narrow local place packed with Sri Lankans, always a good sign. The afternoon rain rolled in, so lunch became a long one over a heaped plate of chicken kottu with a fiery sambol on the side. LKR 1,250.

Dessert was a few doors down at Mee Kiri: buffalo curd swirled like soft-serve, topped with kithul treacle and crumble in a clay pot, the tea hills blurring behind it in the rain. LKR 1,750, and yes, curd twice in one day. No regrets.

@meekiri

By night Main Street glowed with fairy lights and tuk-tuks, and I ended the day the way the trip began: a cup from Isle of Gelato, passion fruit this time, at their Ella branch.

And then, late that night, I changed the plan. Instead of heading deeper into the hills to Nuwara Eliya and Kandy, I cancelled both beds and booked three nights back on the coast, at a surf hostel in Ahangama with a pool and a surfskate park. The hills had been kind to me, but the sea was calling me back. That’s the beauty of travelling solo: nobody to negotiate with but yourself.

Day 5 · 11 Oct · Nine Arch Bridge, then back to the coast

My last Ella morning started early, with a tuk-tuk out to Nine Arch Bridge while the mist was still lifting off the hills and the sun came in low through the palms. You’ve probably seen the postcards, but in person it’s quieter and greener than you’d expect. The colonial-era viaduct curves across the gorge on its nine stone arches, stained dark by a century of monsoons, with a tunnel mouth waiting at one end. I walked the tracks with a handful of others, and a local dog had claimed the parapet as its personal sunbathing spot, totally unbothered by all of us. LKR 2,500 for the tuk there and back.

Back in town I found breakfast at Somasiri, a plain local café, and it was a winner: a heap of string hoppers with chicken curry, dhal, pol sambol and two crunchy dhal vadai, all for LKR 800, the cheapest great meal of my trip. But the real star is the glass case by the door, stacked with Sri Lankan short eats: fish rolls, egg patties, samosas, chicken rolls, cheese hotdogs, sausage rolls, vegetable and onion buns, egg sandwiches, sugar buns, jam buns and flaky egg puffs. Most cost a couple of hundred rupees each. Pack a few for the road; you’ll thank me.

Then it was goodbye to the hills. I shared a cab down to Ahangama with fellow travellers, LKR 8,000, squeezed into the back of a van with a row of clip-on fans whirring overhead in place of air-con. Tea country slowly gave way to paddy fields, then palms, then, finally, the sea again. Halfway down we stopped at a roadside café where LKR 100 bought me a warm, sugar-crusted jam bun, washed down with an ice-cold Pepsi for LKR 200. Simple pleasures.

And then Ahangama tested me. The place I’d booked turned out to have stained sheets and a room I just couldn’t sleep in, even after paying extra to move to a private room. So I did what you have to do sometimes on the road: I stood my ground, raised it with the host and with Airbnb, and kept it polite but firm. I got every rupee back, Airbnb’s escalations team stepped in with a coupon, and by evening a PickMe tuk (LKR 876, twenty minutes up the coast) had me at a whole home in Midigama, for free. Lesson learned: check the room before you unpack, and don’t be shy about speaking up.

Then came check-in at Ceylon Princes Villa 2, and after Kokua it felt like a reward. My own little cottage under an A-frame roof traced in warm light, a hammock and a bean bag on the porch, and a plunge pool right outside the door, glowing under strings of rattan lanterns. The garden is full of small surprises: a serene Buddha beneath an umbrella with a carved moonstone at his feet, a macramé swing chair tucked among the leaves, a giraffe mural watching over the pool. Inside, the ceiling soars up to dark timber beams above a big teak bed, there’s a neat kitchenette with whale prints and a shelf of Osho books, every plate and glass is spotless, and the bathroom has a proper rain shower. Clean, calm and full of character, exactly what I’d hoped for when I arrived in Ahangama.

Bags dropped, I headed out for dinner at Manori’s Kitchen. You find it by following a hand-painted sign down one of Ahangama’s back roads, and then you’re under a thatched roof, lit by candles and wicker lamps, with a Sri Lankan flag over the tables and a path of stepping stones through a jungle garden. You sit down to a clay plate lined with a banana leaf, and then the little coconut-shell bowls arrive one after another around a big bowl of rice: a creamy prawn curry, dhal, a yellow coconut curry, carrot sambol, green beans, a sweet-sour fruit chutney, crispy fried onions with curry leaves, a dark caramelised moju and a basket of papadums. LKR 3,363, and the best rice and curry of the trip so far. Next stop: three nights of surf and sunsets on this stretch of coast.

Day 6 · 12 Oct · Midigama mornings

Day six started the way the best Sri Lankan days do: at a local “hotel”, which here means a no-frills eatery, not somewhere to sleep. At Ajith Hotel I had a plate of string hoppers with a piece of fish curry, and the bill came to LKR 400. That’s about ₹116 for a proper, filling breakfast, the cheapest meal of the whole trip and easily one of the tastiest.

Then, because one breakfast is never enough on holiday, I stopped at P&S (Perera & Sons), the Sri Lankan bakery chain, for an espresso, a seeni sambol bun (soft bread stuffed with sweet, spicy caramelised onion relish) and a flaky chicken and mushroom pastry at a window seat looking out on the morning traffic. LKR 520.

And then my heart stopped. I’d caught a drop back towards the villa and was nearly there when I patted my pocket: no wallet. Cash, cards, everything, left behind on the table at P&S. I turned straight round, already rehearsing the worst, walked back in, and there it was, sitting exactly where I’d left it, untouched. Sri Lanka, you beauty. My friends back home found the whole thing hilarious, of course.

Back at Ceylon Princes Villa, wallet safely in my pocket, I was greeted by the real host of the place: the resident puppy. A ginger, collar-wearing charmer with very clear expectations. The moment I sat down he flopped onto the cool marble floor, rested his chin on my foot and waited to be pampered, and he made it very clear that stopping was not an option. After the drama at Kokua, a quiet villa with its own welcome committee felt exactly right.

And then I got wheels. The villa rents scooters, so for LKR 1,500 a day the whole coast opened up: no haggling with tuk drivers, just the wind, the palms and the sea on one side all the way along the coast road.

First proper ride: fill the tank (LKR 850 at the pump on the main road) and head east along the coast to Mirissa. Parrot Rock sits just off the beach, a red-earth outcrop crowned with a single palm, with stairs cut up its side and waves bursting white against the rocks around it. Deep blue sky, golden sand, clear green water at my feet. Postcard stuff, and completely free. Five minutes up the hill on the scooter, Secret Beach lived up to its name: a small, quiet cove of coarse golden sand and clear water, a palm-studded headland curving round one side and waves crashing white over the boulders on the other. Hardly anyone else there.

Then I kept riding east, 25 minutes along the coast to Dondra Head, the southernmost tip of Sri Lanka. The lighthouse is a gleaming white stone tower, one of the tallest in South Asia, rising out of a grove of coconut palms with a little hand-painted sign pointing to the beach. Walk round the back and there’s nothing between you and Antarctica but ocean, with turquoise waves smashing over the black rocks below. There’s even a little red post box under a sign reading “Southern Point of Sri Lanka” in Sinhala, Tamil and English, with a crow keeping watch from the signpost above. Standing at the very bottom of the island felt like a small milestone of its own. I toasted it with a fresh juice from a stall by the lighthouse (LKR 1,000, the price of being at the end of the world).

Having skipped lunch, I rode back west hungry and made straight for the Rice & Curry House in Ahangama, the family-run place from my saved list, with a 4.9-star rating from nearly 800 reviews. It’s a simple, open concrete space with gingham tablecloths, a thatched roof, “Vegan meal” painted on the wall and cheerful hand-drawn vegetables smiling down at you, and the placemat doubles as a guide to traditional Sri Lankan dishes. I finally ticked off a must-try: warm coconut roti with pol sambol, a bowl of dhal and a coconut curry, plus a big plate of their kottu, which reviewers rave about and rightly so. LKR 5,100, the most I’ve spent on a meal in a while, but after a day of riding to the southern tip of the island, I’d earned it.

Day 7 · 13 Oct · A first dip in Unawatuna, then a Galle day walk

My last full day on the coast started with a plan to try something new. I rode the scooter 40 minutes west along the coast road to Unawatuna, to Submarine Diving, a PADI five-star dive centre right on the bay, and got suited up in a wetsuit, buoyancy jacket and regulator for my first scuba dive. In the end the dive itself was called off: heavy rain the day before had stirred up the bay and left the water too murky to see anything below, so I only got as far as an initial dip to try out the gear. They didn’t ask for a rupee, but the team had spent so much time explaining everything and guiding me through the kit that I left them LKR 1,000 as a thank-you. Not quite the underwater adventure I’d pictured, but breathing through a regulator for the first time still felt like a small thrill, and a good excuse to come back.

With the morning suddenly free, I rode ten minutes up Rumassala hill to the Japanese Peace Pagoda, a gleaming white stupa built by Japanese Buddhist monks, its tiered dome and slender golden spire bright against a deep blue sky. It’s wonderfully quiet up there. Around the back, a dark stone Buddha sits in meditation in an open pavilion, looking out across the water to Galle Fort, with small offerings of flowers and water at his feet. Nearby stands a black memorial pillar, inscribed in Japanese calligraphy, for the victims of the 26 December 2004 tsunami, a sobering reminder of what this beautiful coastline has lived through. I sat for a while in the breeze before heading on, stopping twice at roadside stalls for king coconuts (LKR 500 for two), the best drink on a hot coastal ride.

From Unawatuna it was a short ride to Galle, where the trip had begun six days earlier, for some souvenir hunting in the Fort. First, though, a full-circle moment: gelato. On Day 1 I’d ended the night with a cup from Isle of Gelato; this time it was Pedlar’s Inn Gelato, a little tiled-roof kiosk under a striped awning on Pedlar’s Street, making Italian gelato fresh every day. One scoop of tropical, mango and passion fruit flecked with black seeds, LKR 750, eaten slowly in the shade of the old walls.

@pedlarsinn_gelato

The Galle day walk carried on through the Fort lanes to Isle of Gelato, the same spot where I’d ended my very first night in Sri Lanka. This time I skipped the gelato and tried something from their Seven Seeds Coffee bar: a Yuzu Matcha Spritz, citrus yuzu layered with ceremonial-grade matcha and topped with sparkling water. LKR 1,200, cold, fizzy and exactly what a hot afternoon of walking needed. I sat for a while by their painted jungle wall and rope swing, quietly aware that this was one of my last afternoons on the coast. On the way out I wandered into a little Fort gallery, its white walls covered floor to ceiling with vivid portraits, temple sketches and watercolours of Galle, with old vinyl records stacked below.

The real find of the day, though, was away from the Fort’s polished boutiques: a wholesale woodcraft shop in Galle town, with its own workshop attached at the back. It’s run by the gentlest, smiliest elderly man, who happily posed for a selfie and explained that they carve the pieces themselves and supply the souvenir shops, which is why everything costs about half of what you’d pay in the market or inside the Fort. The shelves are a riot of colour: fierce red-and-gold devil masks, hand-painted elephants and turtles, carved Ganeshas, fishermen on their stilts, and in the window a life-size wooden elephant with its trunk raised. I came away with four small elephants for LKR 3,000 and two big carved wooden ones, mahogany I think, for LKR 9,000 for us. Buying straight from the people who make them felt better than any shop in the Fort. The backpack is officially full.

On the ride back east I stopped at the Thalpe rock pools, where a flat shelf of reef traps the sea into clear, shallow pools right at the shore. Behind it, the waves broke white over the reef edge in a band of turquoise, while the water in front of me was calm enough to see every stone on the sandy bottom.

Back in Ahangama that evening I found Piccadilly Parlour, a waffles, ice-cream and coffee parlour whose painted facade proudly announces “Original taste of Sri Lanka, since 1949”. Inside it’s all white subway tiles, terrazzo floors, mint stools and globe chandeliers, with framed black-and-white photos of the original Piccadilly Café and old Colombo on the walls. The ice-cream counter was tempting, but I went for a smoothie from their Smooch bar: “Sip Glow Repeat”, red dragon fruit, strawberries, mango, coconut and collagen, thick, cold and gloriously pink. LKR 1,990.

@piccadilly.parlour

I also made it to Weligama beach, the long, gentle bay that’s famous as the place to learn to surf. Under a big grey sky the waves rolled in line after line, and just offshore sat Taprobane Island, the little green islet I’d only glimpsed from the road the day before.

As the light faded I made it to Kabalana beach in Ahangama, said to be the best sunset spot nearby. From under the drooping fronds of a pandanus tree I watched the sky turn peach and pink over the surf, with waves washing up over the black rocks at my feet.

Dinner was at Sam’s Place in Weligama, a casual spot whose sign promises “Good Food, Great Vibes, Everyday”. Every inch of the walls, pillars and even the ceiling beams is covered in handwritten messages from travellers in dozens of languages, notes like “Best curry in Sri Lanka” and “In curry we trust”, under woven yellow lamps and slow ceiling fans. I had hoppers, the crisp bowl-shaped rice-flour pancakes, with a wooden tray of five curries and sides served in little heart-shaped bowls. LKR 1,950. A perfect end to my last full day on the coast.

Day 8 · 14 Oct · Back to Colombo

My last morning on the south coast started with breakfast at a small local shop: a block of red-rice string hoppers with a yellow coconut-milk curry, a red curry, and pol sambol with a tangle of spicy onion sambol on the side. Simple, filling and very Sri Lankan, all for LKR 440.

Then a PickMe tuk took me from the villa to Matara (an hour’s ride, LKR 2,495), where I caught the Wijesuriya Travels AC expressway bus at 8:50 (LKR 1,310 to Colombo Fort): blue seats, cold air and the rain streaking the windows as we joined the Southern Expressway towards Colombo.

In Colombo I got off the bus with my bag and, most importantly, all six wooden elephants safely retrieved from the luggage hold, then took a 14-minute Uber tuk (LKR 320) to Drop Inn, my last hostel of the trip.

@dropinnhostels

With time to kill before check-in, I took a 10-minute Uber tuk (LKR 320) to the Independence Memorial Hall, built to mark Ceylon’s independence on 4 February 1948. Its long colonnade of carved stone pillars, modelled on the old royal audience hall in Kandy, makes a cool, echoing corridor, and stone lions guard the steps of the plaque in Sinhala, Tamil and English.

Next came Gangaramaya Temple, a busy working temple where Sri Lankan, Chinese, Thai and Indian styles all crowd together, with bronze guardian statues lining the courtyard. Inside, a huge seated Buddha in a glossy orange robe sits against a glowing, painted halo of rings, surrounded by smaller figures. A short walk away, Seema Malaka floats on Beira Lake: a dark-roofed pavilion on a platform ringed with rows of golden seated Buddhas, calm and quiet in the middle of the city. Entry was LKR 500.

Lunch was at Upali’s by Nawaloka, one of Colombo’s best-known places for Sri Lankan food. I started with a basket of crisp papadams tossed with fried red chillies and little dried fish, then had chicken lamprais: the Dutch Burgher classic of rice with a boiled egg, sweet-sour brinjal pickle, a dark spiced sambol and a piece of chicken. And I finally ticked off watalappan, a wobbly caramel-brown custard of coconut milk and kithul jaggery scattered with cashews. LKR 2,531 for the lot. Then a short Uber back to Drop Inn to check in properly and rest before the evening.

@upaliscolombo

Later in the afternoon I ducked into The Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf at Crescat Mall for a tall iced coffee, watching Colombo’s lights come on through the rain-streaked window as the evening turned blue.

In the evening I went to Grind, a sleek specialty coffee bar with a glowing counter of cakes and tarts, and had two iced coffees: one topped with a slice of dried orange, the other a foamy, ice-cold shot over a little glass mountain.

@thegrindlk

I ended the night with a late dinner at Erode Amman Mess, a Tamil-style mess: soft, lacy dosas served on a banana leaf with a red tomato chutney, a white coconut chutney and a bowl of fiery red curry. A comforting, close-to-home last dinner before an Uber back to the hostel.

@erodeammanmess

Day 9 · 15 Oct · Homeward

My last ride in Sri Lanka was the way so many of my journeys here began: in the back of a tuk-tuk. This time it went all the way, 36 km and almost two hours through Colombo’s morning traffic, from Drop Inn to the airport for LKR 2,276.

IndiGo 6E1168 lifted off at 11:30 and I was back in Bengaluru by lunchtime, six wooden elephants safely in my bag. Nine days, one backpack, five stops: Galle’s fort walls, the beach crew at Hiriketiya, the hill views of Ella, scooter days on the south coast and a last full day in Colombo. My first backpacking trip, and definitely not my last.

If you’re planning your own trip

• Take the Colombo–Galle train for the sea views, and sit on the right-hand side heading south.
• Hire a tuk-tuk for the day between Galle and Hiriketiya so you can stop at the turtle beaches, Mirissa and Coconut Tree Hill with your bag still in the back.
• Carry cash. Hostels, tuk-tuks and stalls are mostly cash-only, and ATMs thin out inland.
• Try a hostel, even if you never have before. Family dinners like Barefoot’s are the easiest way to meet people when you travel solo.
• Share rides. Shared tuk-tuks and cabs with other travellers cut costs and often turn into friendships.
• Stop at every roadside curd-and-treacle stall you see.
• Eat where the locals eat: places like Wimala and Somasiri serve the best food for a fraction of café prices.

The whole trip at a glance

Every stay, meal, sight and ride from the nine days in one place. Prices are what I paid in October 2026.