We woke to the smell of rain and the sound of unfamiliar birdsong. I watched a chipmunk running along the roof of the house opposite and finally came to terms with the fact that we were going to have to catch another 4 hour government bus in the very near future.

Our TukTuk driver piloted us through rush hour to the bus depot and showed Bob where to wait whilst I headed out to find breakfast. I returned empty handed to find Bob guarding a pair of seats at the back of an ancient old Bedford and 15 minutes later we were flying out of town in relative luxury of just a handful of people swaying in the Isle. We passed huge lakes covered with waterlillys, their flowers spread open to the sun some 8 inches off the water, and gradually the bus filled up. Soon I had belt buckles being pressed into my face as we were swung around the corners at Mach 3 but the eyelash battering stream of air from the open window next to Bob made it all tolerable, just.

The bus was soon at capacity and the heat began to rise but the consistent airflow and stunning scenery enabled us to enjoy the journey significantly more than our previous one. Numerous characters came and went including a noisy musician and a man with incredibly hairy ear pinnae. After a mere 3 hours we had arrived in Trinco and headed straight to a cafe for a well deserved ice old fruit juice. With our thirst quenched we took a TukTuk to Frederick's Fort, passing through the imposing main gatehouse, bristling with cannons, and headed up to the temple on the hill beyond. Shoes removed and sari applied we hot footed it to the shade thrown by the huge statues and headed into the cool of the temple. We made our way around the gaudy deities and out of the sickly incense fumes to where a narrow walkway extended over the clifftop, giving a fantastic view of the pristine waters below. There was a shrine to a very plucky tree which was growing straight out of the cliff face and a suspended collection pot for monetary offerings which, if you missed, tumbled down to the water 20 metres below.

Avoiding all of the nicknacks available we returned to our waiting TukTuk who took us to the bus station where we realised that the next bus to Nilaveli didn't leave for another hour. The sweltering heat and some demon bartering made it a very easy decision to get a TukTuk up the coast instead so off we set.

We whizzed along the sandy road and arrived at our hotel which was obviously still very much under construction. We checked in in an awkward silence and when we arrived at our room, realised there was no power... We rose above it and headed straight to the beach which easily made up for the lack of aIf conditioning. Miles of white sand dotted with palm trees and crystal clear, bath temperature water with numerous little island paradises on the horizon. It was bliss.

Whilst on one swift dash from the sun shade to the relief of the sea I watched a group of locals catch a rope thrown from a boat. Intrigued I continued to stare from the shallows as the boat set off in a huge arc, dropping what must have been a buoyed drift net at least half way out to Pigeon Island, coming ashore again a few kilometres north. The mottley shore team of 8 stick thin, salty seadogs then set about hauling the kilometres of line ashore. A line of heaving bodies, chanting and stepping rhythmically backwards, leaving the line flaked out as they slowly advanced up the beach away from us.

The temperature was easily 35 degrees and the sun bore down on the circling team but after nearly 3 hours the buoys of the net were nearly ashore. We headed up the coast to see what they had achieved and were met by an exhausted group of over 20 locals and their cod end which was a small flapping bag of silver, which could not have weighed more than 40kg. In the net were countless exotic species, and most intriguingly at least a dozen football sized inflated pufferfish. I had never seen these creatures on the defensive before but it was quite incredible how balloon tight they got and sad that due to their poisonous nature they would be left on the beach for the gulls.

We wandered back along the beach as the sun dropped below the palm trees, and introduced ourselves to Alex and Harriet, another young couple staying in the same villas as us. They recommended a restaurant down the beach for supper so with the power still off we made ourselves look vaguely presentable and headed along the dusky sand to where an oasis of hospitality beckoned to us. We sat at the white, modern beach bar, drank beautifully cold beer and ate local prawns which were larger than most lobsters!

A group of Russian travel agents were being entertained on the beach so we were treated to local music, a beach bonfire and the barman's repeated quips at how he stereotyped and rated each nationality of guest, in which the Russians did not come out favourably.

Alex and Harriet appeared for a drink before disappearing off to the proper restaurant, whilst we returned to our room and the merciful return of power, air conditioning and a cool shower.