Rickshaw Run

6 a.m. Escape from Valparai. Set off shedding nuts, bolts and brake fluid. Stopped for tea at 8 a.m. in a hillside shack.

9:30 a.m. Brunch: Masala dosa served on a banana leaf.

Spent the day driving through stunning scenery, tea plantations and negotiating winding mountain roads.

It was time for me to try my hand at joining in the mayhem that is driving Indian style. Rickshaws are not designed for women to drive as women quite simply don't drive them. It is very rare to see western men driving them, far less a western woman. Jaws dropped and crowds gathered as I took the handle bars for my first driving lesson. Nothing like the middle of a high speed rickshaw race to learn.

Basically to drive a rickshaw, you have to first try and get the rickshaw into neutral - no mean feat. Then you have to lift the starting handle up and down - also no mean feat.

Then all at once you have to:

1. Turn the throttle like on a motor bike.
2. Press the clutch which is like a bicycle brake.
3. Turn the left throttle to put it in gear.
4. Press your foot on the brake.
5. Press the horn.

A lot of multi-tasking required. Shouldn't that make it a woman's car?

Off we lurched with me yelling to Ulric to tell me which side of the road were we meant to be on. Narrowly missed oncoming car.

We drove through Coimbatore, up over the mountains through Kotinagar to arrive in Ooty at 4 p.m. Rickshawed out, we decided to call it a day there. At which point, some journalists from the Indian Times turned up to interview us. I caused a major traffic jam, whilst they photographed me proving that not every woman can multi task.

Day 3