I curse jetlag when I wake at 3:30, then do the timezone maths and smile. It is 9am in Melbourne, and everybody is at work. I try to sleep some more, but give up eventually and go for a walk by the lake, where all is quiet and peaceful. The town is starting to wake, and the sun is rising.

I am joined at the lake by some cows, with their egret companions. You hardly see a cow in this country without its bird friends, who scavenge worms at other goodies as the cows eat, and occasionally sneak a tasty morsel from the cow’s hide.

On the way back to the hotel I run into a family, with the two girls scrubbed and ready for school. They start early here – at 7:30. These girls wear tidy blue uniforms, but many children here wear snow white uniforms. With all the laundry technology and chemistry I have at my fingertips, my whites always end up a dingy grey, so I don’t know what the secret is here?

Our aim today was to be ready to roll at 8:30; I hit the road at 8:31, which is a pretty good effort for this group on the second day. We ride through the busy town for a while, then turn onto a much quieter country road, where we spend a good part of the morning.

As we pass by houses, shops and little road-side stalls, people are out, keen it seems to get a look at us. The Sri Lankan version of the bush telegraph is in full swing today. Some people smile and wave, but many just stare with stony faces that light up when one of us alls out “ayubowan”.

It is much more relaxed today than yesterday, probably because we are only riding 40km. I stop and take pictures as we roll through rice paddies and farm land. There are lots of dogs on the road – and I mean literally on the road. We pass several lying asleep in the middle of the road, trusting in the doggy gods that traffic will be kind and go around them. I’ve not encountered any aggressive dogs yet, but the mother of some puppies I found playing on the road does make it clear when she thinks it is time to move along.

The paparazzi are still after us. They dog every move, driving beside us with cameras poking out their van windows, lying in wait at intersections (for fascinating pictures of cyclists making turns), at the tops of hills (nothing more glamorous than a red-faced cyclist), and, curiously, on bridges (maybe for the money shot of a cyclist shooting off the bridge and into the water?).

We have a quick roadside stop after 20km for a rest, a drink and green-coloured (but ripe) banana. We have a doctor travelling with us who has done little till now except direct traffic at intersections, but he springs into action when asked for a band-aid and pulls out the full kit. The paparazzi snap away as he swabs and band-aids the blister on Rosie’s hand, but few notice when she pulls it off a few minutes later, complaining about the sting from the alcohol swab.

The last stretch today continues on this lovely country road a while, but we eventually turn into a small town on a much busier road, where Jude, Ray, and half of the people from the local shops are busy trying to repair Jude’s wheel, which had fallen off earlier in the day, and was in danger of coming off again.

Paul, Deb and I leave them to the repairs, and ride along a lovely smooth road with a marked lane that acts as a bike lane. We catch up with Annette and Alex who have been powering along, until stopped by a pair of uniformed men, who, though a bit scary to look at, just wanted to chat about Alex’s handcycle.

After about 40km, we pass through a small but busy town. I am feeling pretty fatigued – a culmination of a long plane ride, little sleep and a huge day yesterday – and my backside is killing me. As I ride along I lift off the seat to ease the pain, and I find myself doing this every few minutes. I’m conscious that Paul is riding behind me, and I’m paranoid that he is noticing and counting every time I lift up. I shouldn’t have worried so much, because when we finally stop a little further down the road, the first thing he says is “Is your #$#@ as sore as mine?” It turns out he’s been doing the lift and ease move as well.

We stop at a small roadside restaurant where we enjoy cold water, peanut brittle and fudge and order in beer to share with the rest of the group when they arrive. Rosie and Anne come in last – Rosie has put in a mammoth effort today and ridden the entire 40km which is a great effort.

We eat from an amazing buffet at this little restaurant. Ajith, our tour guide, goes to great pains to describe all the food, telling us about the ingredients and how the dishes have been prepared. The food is cooked and served in clay pots, and we eat off lotus leaves in place of plates. This is our first real taste of Sri Lankan cooking and I feast on red rice, dhal, green beans (with more than a touch of chilli), potato curry, a lovely pineapple/chilli salad, chapatis, pappadums, some Sri Lankan style chilli and even more that I can’t remember or describe.

After lunch we pile onto the bus and drive some 40km to Anuradhapura, arriving mid-afternoon. Most of us spend the afernoon recuperating in the pool and drinking the CyclePower staple – the Pina Colada.

Dinner tonight is at the hotel. The buffet doesn’t rival  lunch, but there’s enough variety to keep us all interested. The day has been perfect, with great cycling, plenty of good food, great company and the pina-pool ritual. Life, yeah, it’s great

Stats for the day

• Distance travelled: 40.8km
• Climb: 271m
• Moving time: 2:30:06
• Average speed: 16.3km/h
• Average temperature: 29C
• See our ride on Strava.

Along the way today: