One of the first things I noticed, the night I arrived in Bangladesh, was that the moon lies on its side here as if it's smiling. This showed me how far away from home I was, closer to the equator, but also foreshadowed that the main thing the moon causes is stronger here: the tides.

The first days in Dhaka were a flood of impressions. Fantastic impressions — of Iftars with the tastiest food — to playing guitar in the park. In such a bustling city, where at every street corner, something interesting seems to be going on.

Then came the start of our cycling trip: through Dhaka towards the port. On Thursday afternoon (March 27), we criss-crossed through broad motorways surrounded by hordes of tuktuks, rikshaws, trucks, motors, making a chaotic symphony of honks, toots, and sirens, as well as narrow alleys full of shoppers, stalls, and all sorts of different shops.

The people were leaving Dhaka for their hometowns to celebrate the final days of Ramadan, and we were right in between this high tide, flowing back into a sea of villages. Buzzing in my head on the boat/launch towards Barishal, catching any sleep was no easy feat, so it failed, but fueled by excitement around 6 am we arrived and started cycling.

How far? Around 120 km. How long? Hopefully we'll be there before sunset. Now we were complete, four Bagh Bikers on their way towards the Sundarbans, and after some first kilometers on the main roads, we gathered the courage and curiosity to try out the little and adventurous roads.

Finally, ebbed, because although we were biking slower now, we saw so much beauty along the way: beautiful landscapes, forest, fields, and little villages.

All we could hear were the relaxing sounds of our wheels grinding the gravel and the birds chirping. And of course, the greetings of all the kind people we passed, who enthusiastically cheered us on and with whom we drank tea.

Of course it was though in the heat, but these relaxing sights, as well as all the cute goats, dogs, and cows we passed, pushed us along. After our final ferry-crossing, we arrived at Rayenda Ogrodut Club guesthouse, where Mr Matiar besides his generous hospitality, proved with his smile that doing good for the world around you is an excellent recipe for happiness.

The next day, after some more good-old cycling through the heat, and some bamboo-bridge related adventures, we finally arrived at our destination: the Sundarbans. From our new home-base at the seemingly thriving community of the TigerHouse/WildTeam Conservation Biology Centre at Joymoni, we set off on a boat into the largest mangrove-forest of planet Earth.

Words don't do justice to the marvel of nature that it is. Floating through the water, as we followed the currents that flow in and out of the rivers and creeks - caused by the strong tides - like breathing, I was hypnotised by the forest and longed for seeing much more of its wonders.

Of course, while walking through the forest behind Harbaria Ecotourism Centre, the conversation with our young yet very wise guide, forester Avik, turned towards the tigers. We'd already seen a paw-print, and wondered: 'what was that rustling in the distance?'.

He assured us 'no tiger', because if one is nearby, you can sense the danger. The atmosphere feels ominous, the birds warn each other, and all other sounds are muted by the presence of the apex predator.

Unfortunately, in the same manner, the sound of the motor of our boat appeared ominous to the animals and birds upstream the creeks, causing many of them to flee ahead of us. With a silent boat, (although the heat also drove the fauna deeper into the forest) I'm sure we would have seen more. A Black-capped Kingfisher however was brave enough to join our track, laughing along the way.

We brought the quietude of the countryside with us to Dhaka and with it, we certainly saw more than before.

Early in the morning of the day of Eid, we, the three remaining Bagh-bikers (tiger-bikers), cycled through the city with a breeze. The traffic, with all its noise and fumes (and okay, some liveliness) had disappeared rendering the city in an ultimate state of rest, of ebb, now that many Dhakaites were elsewhere with family.

But that did not mean the city was empty. The streets were lined with droves of people walking, very serene, towards mosques with prayer mats in their hands. It offered - like some sort of car-free Monday - a glimpse into what Dhaka could look like with the traffic tamed a little.

Now, as we had less reason to look out for our lives, we noticed the colorful and inspiring murals of the protest in 2024.

Changed, with great appreciation for the nature and people of Bangladesh, this trip had come to an end. And with many kind invitations and exchanges of stories, the tides could rise again. Dhonnobad, Bangladesh!

Jim Carstens, one of the four riders who cycled 163 km from Barishal to WildTeam Conservation Biology Centre/TigerHouse in the Sundarbans, writes from the Netherlands.