Newsgroups: rec.bicycles.rides

Tour of the Alps 1992

This summer I loaded my suitcase with a change of clothes and some
gifts for my friends in Europe along with my bicycle saddlebag with
all the things on my minimalist checklist for a long bike tour. The
cranks, QR skewers, chain, and rear derailleur go into the suitcase
together with tools necessary for assembly. The bike had the forks
turned backwards, the wheels strapped to either side of the frame and
the bars rotated and hooked up through the wheels. Front and rear 5/16
spreader bolts prevented damage to the forks. This configuration was
covered with a clear plastic bag and taped shut.

Armed with two pieces of legal overseas air baggage, I can carry the
two pieces and my small carry-on bag on trains when I arrive. It is
permissible to ship whole bicycles by air but when you arrive, the
bike cannot be carried onto a train.

June 17: I flew Wednesday afternoon with United Airlines to Paris and
then Zurich, arriving in the late afternoon of the 18th because there
was a delay with connections in Paris. Meanwhile my riding companion
and nephew, Marc, arrived in the morning ahead of me, proceeded from
ZH to our friend Fredy Ruegg's bike shop in Affoltern a/Albis where he
put his bike together and joined him on a ride to see the day's stage
of the Tour de Suisse in a town nearby. Fredy Ruegg, a former pro, won
the TdS and held the amateur hour record for many years and now runs
the best bike shop in Switzerland (CH). He is still a fast and fit
rider.

Later we tuned up our bikes and baggage as a thundershower cooled the
evening. Unfortunately the TV weather map for the next few days showed
solid cloud cover from Ireland to Sicily, something I had already
suspected from the air as I arrived in ZH.

19 June: The next morning it was raining as we rode off toward the
mountains in rain jackets. It wasn't cold so the ride was reasonably
pleasant as we crossed the Reuss river (that flows from Luzern to the
Rhine) valley into canton Argau. In Luzern clouds obscured any view of
the mountains but visibility on the lake was good even though it was
raining. The Alpine swifts that inhabit the prison tower of the wooden
bridge were circling before departing for the day and made a beautiful
scene as they screamed and chased around in the sky in an apparent
points race. These large black and white swifts have a wingspan of
about 35 cm.

We dropped in on an old friend and had a snack before riding out of
town toward the Brunig Pass. The adventure of riding over Frut to
Tannalp and Engsteln from Sarnen was out of the question because the
snow level was about 1500 meters and I am not so hot on trails on
cliffs in the snow. We rode over the Brunig (1005 m) and down to
Meiringen where we wolfed down some good bratwurst with potato(e)
salad hot soup and good fresh whole-wheat bread. The beer is Eichhof
and comes in 58 cl bottles, the standard in CH.

The drops kept up a good steady rate as we left town past the Sherlock
Holmes hotel named after the great sleuth who died on the Reichenbach
waterfall in a deathgrip with Dr. Moriarty, according to Conan Doyle.
Anyway, we turned right at the bakery in Willigen next to the double
water trough, to take the old road up to Rosenlaui, now reached by a
detour over the Lammi Pass because the road is less curvy that way.
The rain helped traction on the steep one lane dirt road as we climbed
past Hotel Schwendi and on up to Hotel Zwirgi and finally Rosenlaui
where Mrs Kehrli greeted us with her usual enthusiasm. There were a
dozen other intrepid guests who didn't seem to think rain was all that
bad either.

20 June: The next morning the rain lifted and we rode on up to the
Grosse Scheidegg, directly beneath the face of the Wetterhorn from
which we heard enormous icefalls before we broke out of the clouds. It
sounded like artillery practice but by the time we could see the
glaciers all had settled down. About 15 cm of new snow covered the
ground and road, except for the tire tracks of the bus, to make a
beautiful spring scene. Eiger, Moench, and Jungfrau with their glacial
appendages made a striking appearance in spite of grey skies.

We TT'd down the valley to Interlaken and had favorable winds all the
way around the lake to Brienz where we bought a great lunch at the
baker, butcher and dairy store. Meanwhile the BRB cogwheel trains were
getting up steam for the noon run up the Brienzer Rothorn. We did not
get to see their 1992 vintage steam locomotive because it was at the
summit. In all, the BRB has ordered three new steamers from SLM, the
builders of the original locomotives built 70 years ago that are still
running.

After lunch it was a quick run to Willigen again and up the Lammi (700
m) a rise of about 110 meters over the Aar gorge to Inertkirchen from
which the Grimsel Pass (2165 m) goes south into the granite walls of
the upper Aar river. As we climbed higher drops began falling again
and we reached old snow from the winter that always piles up huge
drifts from the wind that blows over from the Rhone valley. It was
cool at the summit, but not cool enough to snow because it had warmed
up during the day. We caught a hot chocolate at the hotel before
descending to Gletsch (1761 m), the junction with the Furka Pass
where, now that the hotel has been reopened, the Kiosk that always
served good snacks has been removed. As we headed up the Furka the
weather seemed to lighten up as it often does, and we took some good
pictures in front of the Glacier. That's where it became apparent that
the additional altitude of the Furka (2431 m) got us into distinctly
colder air as we rested. Now it was snowing but only lightly.

As we rounded the last hairpin for the long run to the top we faced a
biting wind that swept the summit and as we looked nearly straight
down to the hairpin turns below they began to vanish in snow swirls
and soon we saw only the road a short distance ahead. It became hard
to see because snow slid into my eyes from my forehead but my rain
cape with its snugly fitting hood kept the steamy warmth of climbing
inside and I could relax as I rolled into the descent over the broad
summit. The 60 km/h gusts vanished just beyond the summit that seemed
to funnel the wind and it became fairly calm on the descent to Realp
(1538 m). From there it is a flat and smooth cruise to Hospental and
the Hotel Sternen, an old and comfortable inn (but no more
restaurant). The ladies that run the place were glad to see us. As
usual we parked our bikes in the laundry room and changed into our
"formal" dinner outfits for a feast at a place down the street with
everything you can want to eat after a hard day. The large Coup
Danemark (chocolate sundae) went down well after all was done.

21 June: The next morning started with a light drizzle as we rolled
out of town on the cobblestone main street to the St Gotthard Pass
(2108 m) highway. It lightened up a bit and looked almost like
sunshine as we reached the summit. With practically no traffic we
descended the old Val Tremola road with its granite paving stones.
There was no traffic here because the road was closed for a small
slide that partially blocked the road. We descended the many hairpin
turns and cruised through Airolo, the south portal of the rail and
highway tunnels. Under warm but overcast skies we rolled down to
Faido, Biasca and Bellinzona where we got a lunch snack at a mini-mart
at a gas station before going down the east side of Lago Maggiore into
Italy.

Most of the traffic turns off just before the lake to go to Locarno
and the west shore where all the big name resorts are. The east shore
is much quieter and has many pleasant accesses to the water with small
beaches and marinas. We rode south to Luino and Loveno where we took a
ferry across to Verbania at the end of the valley from the Simplon
Pass and Domodossola. Up this valley a short way, a road heading south
takes us to Omegna and Lago d'Orta, another beautiful lake with a good
swim (when it's not raining) on the edge of the Alps.

Around the lake and west to Borgosesia takes us to our stage stop
where we dropped in on a place I had discovered a few years ago. The
best and most plentiful gourmet Italian dining is served here by a
host who was genuinely happy to show us what he could produce.

22 June: The next morning it was still raining as we headed out along
the foothills to Biella and Ivrea from whence we took the direct route
to Torino on the way to the Mediterranean Alps. We took a break for
lunch in a small town where we stocked up on goods just before closing
time (noon) and stuffed ourselves with bread, cheese, and sausage and
a selection of fruit. On clear spring days, the backdrop of Torino is
a continuous crown of white peaks to the west. I remember that vision
as if I could see it even on this rainy day. As we rode through the
city center and south toward Cuneo, I was disappointed to notice that
Torino had finally abandoned their brass contact wheel equipped
trolley poles for pantographs. The sound of a trolley wheel on the
overhead is now only a memory. I recall the sound vividly from market
street in SF with its four tracks and heavy rail traffic. Torino had
that sound.

This is a long day but there is no climbing so it is a recovery day
and with cool weather. It rains off and on so sitting-on made for a
gritty dentifrice but otherwise OK. The weather in earlier this spring
was such that there was a great abundance of cherries and plums. At
the approach to Cuneo the road is lined with Japanese plum trees that
were loaded with plump tart plums. As I munched plums it occurred to
me how hard it was raining but it didn't make any difference except
that my white socks were black with road slime.

From Cuneo we could see the mountains as a dark backdrop rising into
the clouds, as we crossed the high double decked viaduct that carries
the highway and railroad into town. We turn right after the bridge,
passing the piazza in front of the train station where we usually cool
off at the large fountain. Today that wasn't part of the schedule so
we rolled on up the gradual grade to Borgo San Dalmazzo. At the lower
end of town we took a left, heading south along the railroad toward
the Tende Pass to France and our stage stop at Robilante, the small
town with the chainsaw store that goes on and on in catacomb like
rooms filled with every chainsaw ever made.

I recalled last year that the hotel, where we usually stop, is closed
on Mondays and this was Monday. I had a sneaking suspicion that the
regular long term residents didn't go by this schedule and because we
always ate in the rear dining room with them I was fairly certain that
we were also exempt. The place was clearly buttoned up and the roll
cases covered the windows and doors, so we rode around back and up the
driveway into the inner courtyard. The kitchen door was open and the
tables were set. As I spooked around the manager came out of some back
room, smiled hello, gave me a key and said "you know where the room
is" and we were in.

We parked our bike in the supply room, showered and made like
civilians in our formal dinner clothing. The choice is red wine or
beer. The beer in Italy comes in 600 ml bottles and usually has a
German name like Forst or Splugenbrau. Pasta or minestrone followed by
an entree with vegetables, all with great Italian spices (with
garlic).

23 June: The next morning had only a few clouds but the road was wet
from rain during the night. Up past several huge cement plants, a
closed steel mill and past Limone (990 m), the last town before the
road gets steeper and heads up to the Tende Pass (1908 m) above. At
the tunnel (1871 m) we get a snack and soda pop at the bar and money
change joint and head up the road across the street. The road is
unmarked but with bicycles not allowed through the tunnel, it is
obviously the only chioce.

After the large ski hotels (closed and dead looking) the old Tende
road, now smoothly paved, rises through immaculately grades ski
slopes, devoid of trees to the rocky crags near the top where pavement
ends abruptly and the rest is rocky road. As we near the summit, we
are surrounded by tatters of clouds ripping by with bursts of
sunshine. I pull out my camera, but alas, the clouds close and all I
get is a rider in the fog. On the descent we get a great view of the
100 hairpin turns, some of which are tight even for a jeep and about
as wide. Above, peeking through the clouds now and then, the huge
fortresses of past wars loom as silent sentinels. We rejoin the main
road and swish past the turn where I crashed and broke a hip five
years ago. Down the hill into the gorge of the Roya river past Tende
and then Soarge, a hill town that hangs on the steep rocky walls high
above the river, both in more than (photo opportunity) scenic calendar
splendor.

We stopped for lunch at Breil, another picturesque town with
apparently no stores because they all face onto a narrow stone slab
paved inner alley over which the ancient buildings practically blot
out the sky. We eat lunch on a bench at river's edge under the shade
of catalpa trees. After lunch it's up the Col de Brauis (1879 m) and
down to picturesque Sospel where the road splits in several directions
that lead one way or another to the Turini Pass. We take the scenic
but longer route up the Col de Braus (1002 m) and ride to Piera-Cava
to a hotel that has served me well in the past. The lady who used to
run the place was gone and so was the comfort and care. To make up for
that, the scenery toward Cannes was as great as ever, with a
thunderstorm moving across the mountains from the west in the evening,
cuckoos sounding off in the forest below and swifts screaming at max
speed in their evening criterium around the buildings in this tiny
town on the ridge.

24 June: The next day the sky looked more friendly as we climbed the
400 meters to the top of the Turini (1607 m), the pass that, with
snow, makes the Monte Carlo auto Rally the test that it is. As we
start down, the sky lets go, and it's rain cape time again. This is a
seemingly endless descent that exposes more downhill each time it
looks like the bottom. Finally we reach the bottom at the Vesubie
river and ride up the valley to St Martin where we grab a bite and
head up the Col St Martin (1500 m) in substantial rain but it's warm
and rain isn't something new by now. All of these roads have
spectacular vistas as they cling to rock walls and dive in and out of
tunnels. In spite of the weather the west side exposes a huge panorama
of mountains with many passes that crisscross them and demand to be
visited on a bicycle.

The rain lets up as we descend to the Tinee river and turn left at St
Sauveur, heading up to Rubion and the Couillole Pass 1678 m. It's hot
when the sun comes out for a while so the rain feels good in small
doses as we ride past Rubion, a town literally cut into the rock above
the canyon. The road seems to be indecisive now and goes into one
valley, crossing over into the earlier one and back as though it
didn't really matter. At the summit we stopped at a small unassuming
wooden chalet style hotel where a couple of locals were taking a nip
but otherwise there were no guests. After a hot soup and sitting
around for awhile it seemed a good idea to call it a day, the weather
being what it was and the late afternoon not getting any warmer for
the descent.

25 June: Sophie, the proprietor, fed us like kings and we slept like
logs in a low ceiling bare beam room with a tiny window that we left
open. After a big breakfast of fresh bread, cheeses, jam and hot milk
with chocolate, we said goodbye and rolled down to Valberg and down
the road through Peones to Guillaumes. Peones lies on the edge of a
huge practically dry Tuebi gulch of boulders that apparently move when
it RAINS in contrast to the moisture we were experiencing. The ride up
the Col de la Cayolle was nostalgic for me because I hadn't seen this
region since 1959 and it hadn't changed one bit as one can expect in
places like this. I knew what was up the road as we rounded every
corner. There wasn't even a kiosk at the top, just beautiful meadows
of wildflowers.

Under threatening clouds we descend to Barcelonette where we come
across a GAN insurance office sporting the familiar team colors that
both of us are wearing from the 1970's French equipe. I bought these
jerseys years ago when this was the hot pro team with Joop Zoetemelk
and Poulidor. So we went in and asked the lady behind the counter
whether she could sell us some more of these shirts. She was
speechless, having probably never seen a GAN jersey. If rumors are
right, we may see them again. This town has many unkempt mansions that
look like vacation villas of the 1930's. We ride on past Jausiers to
Condamine for a stage stop at the comfortable hotel with the Great
Pyrenees dog that greats the guests.

26 June: The rock walls of the gorge are full of tunnels from bottom
to top where huge fortifications keep their silent vigil for enemies
long gone. The Col de Larche (Colle della Maddalena) from Borgo San
Dalmazzo joins the Route des Grandes Alpes here just before the Col de
Vars where we expect to get stuck in sheep herds being driven to the
high country. In stead we ride through miles of sheep dung that cakes
our tires. The sheep come several days later on another pass. As we
get higher on the mountain the skies clear and the last turns at 10%
to the top at 2111 m give a view of our insignificance with majestic
peaks all around. We get a couple of showers on the way down but it
dries out just as I get one of those "Michelin flats", caused by a
stainless steel wire from a steel belted radial, in my back tire. It
went down slowly so I got to discover the low tire in a big fast bend
as I crossed-up and regained control.

Time for a visit to the center of lovely Guillestre, a wonderfully
inviting town, before heading up the Vars river to the Izoard Pass and
lunch at Arviex. The grocery store has a bench and water fountain with
a public restroom under the city hall across the street. Since stores
close at noon, this stop has in the past required an all out effort to
get there in time. Today, planning left plenty of time. No the work
begins. The Izoard is fairly steep before you get up to the hairpin
turns that make the major part of the climb. Then we pass the false
summit and stop at the Coppi memorial for a picture. I find mysterious
power on the last two kilometers and ride like 30 years ago feeling no
limits but the size of the carburetor bore as I breath at max volume.

At Briancon we ride up to the old fortified walled part of town and
ride up and down the two steep main streets that have a flume down the
middle into which small garbage is swept and carried away. Below town
there is a trap that puts this stuff into a truck. I find the town a
bit overrun with tourists to whom most of the stores cater. Not what
it was in simpler times of my first visit. Form there it is a great TT
to the Col du Lauteret and the Hotel des Glaciers where M. Bonnabel
presides. The black and blue of the sky with curtains of rain in the
afternoon sun made a striking picture as we could just see the summit
of the Galibier off to the right, way up there 600 meters higher. We
ate formidably, go a good night's sleep and a good breakfast.

27 June: The Galibier is a great way to start a day because it gets
right to work, not too steep and a great panorama develops right away.
At the old one lane summit tunnel, now closed, the road changes
nature, following the ancient alignment with up to 13% near the top.
The summit is actually a hairpin turn from which both sides are
visible in breathtaking splendor. You can see all the way to Briancon
to the south and to many snow capped peaks tot he north including the
mountains around the Col del Iseran, our next adventure. The descent
has a couple of fast places in it just before Valloire (1430 m) where
the road starts climbing again to the Col de la Telegraph (1570 m) and
the big descent to St Michel (890 m) on the Arc river where we stop
for a before lunch snack.

From here it's a gradual climb past Modane where most traffic goes
through the highway and railroad Frejus tunnels to Torino. Old timers
go on to Lanslebourg and go over the Col du Mont Cenis, but after that
it really gets quiet on the road as we climb the Col du Madeleine
(1764 m), a small but steep bump out of Lanslebourg and into the high
valley toward the Iseran. The side valleys expose views to glaciers
and snow covered peaks as we approach Bonneval sur Arc a grey village
of stone buildings with stone roofs. A tourist store that is "always"
open has just what we need to go to the top of the big one, the Col de
l'Iseran at 2770 m.

From Bonneval the first climb goes into the upper valley, a second
climb into the high valley and the last steep climb goes to the top.
Considering the elevation of Bonneval, it seems unduly far to the
summit. I have always had the urge to leave soon, once at the top,
because, even with "good" weather, it is high enough and the sky so
variable with the surrounding mountains even higher. The view down to
Val d'Isere is amazing but then the valley is chock full of ski hotels
and commercial amenities, and all the mountains scarred with avalanche
protection scars and structures. It looked great on TV for the Olympic
downhill.

The descent from Val d'Isere is a bit wet but fast, and below it
gradually dries out, as we cruise into Seez. As we look for
accommodations torrential rain starts. With one hotel under remodeling
and the other two full, we decide to eat a big dinner before cruising
on down to Bourg St Maurice for a downtown hotel.

28 June: In the morning the sun promises a dry day as we head up the
Cormet de Roselend 1968 m, a small and lightly traveled road. Two
thirds of the way up it enters a valley where it connects with the Col
de la Seigne (2516 m) that I crossed two years ago from Courmayeur.
This pass is about the greatest single track I've ever ridden. All of
it was great riding except one river crossing that was a portage. We
met MTB riders who were in over their heads. When they saw us on road
bikes it gave them lockjaw.

On the way up the Roselend we catch up to a huge heard of sheep on its
way to the high country and as always the sheep dog, on command from
the shepherd, cuts a path through the flock. On the way down we get a
little sprinkle below the huge dam as we ride down into the "hole" to
Beaufort. Although a good descent, the frost heaves prevent going as
fast as the road would otherwise allow. We cruise right through town
and head up the Col des Saisies 1633 m. The last winter Olympics left
their mark at these places with large new developments. From here it's
a long gradual descent to Flumet and a similar climb to Megeve. From
here it's down to St Gervais and Le Favel where we get on the freeway,
the only route to Chamonix. Bicycles are permitted here.

On the way, Mont Blanc looms as a striking backdrop to the landscape
as it appears between the clouds shining white, massive, and larger
than reality. Like an image seen through a telescope, it is
threateningly huge to the observer who understands what 4810 m means
at this latitude. As we enter town the Glacier des Bossons practically
crosses the road. The visitor hubbub is the same all year around, I
suppose, in this special town, an all year ski mecca. On the north
side the sky is full of paragliders. We ride east and pass through
Argentier, up the last hairpin turns to drop in on a friend who has a
small place with a view of the whole show out his front door.

29 June: A wash and sleep layover day, gets us into shape for the dash
to the Gavia and Stelvio,... but that's all the way across
Switzerland.

30 June: The next day it's over the Col des Montets (1461 m) and into
Switzerland (CH) where we take the "shortcut" to Finhaut and down the
bike/hike trail to Salvan and over the great bridge that crosses the
Trient river 200 m below, followed by a long tunnel on the way down to
Martigny (467 m). The 50 kilometers to Brig were into a wind that
usually blows up the valley, but with the rain it was reversed. It was
a long haul but it was good to get up the hill on the Simplon Pass
(2009 m) leaving the winds and the traffic below in the Rhone valley.
The weather outlook at the top looked promising as we rolled down into
the sheer granite walls of the Simplon, reminiscent of Yosemite except
that there is no valley floor at all. The grade flattens out at Gondo
and the RR tunnel emerges at Iselle after being in the hole for about
20 km.

Finally there's Varzo where the road climbs over a narrows in the
canyon into town. It's a big challenge to hit it fast and sprint in
top gear over the bridge that enters town. Sometimes knowing where the
top is helps. From here it's pretty flat down to Crevola d'Ossola
where we take the cutoff to Masera (305 m), climb up the Valle Vigezzo
to Druogno (831 m) and roll down to Camedo back in CH for the night.

July 1: The next morning we roll down to Locarno and along the north
side of Lago Maggiore to Gorduno and Arbedo where we turn off up the
Moesa valley toward the San Bernardino Pass 2063 m. We pass Grono, the
town where Kiwi helmets are made, and on up to Mesocco where things
start going up. From here it is a nice climb to Pian San Giaccomo.
From this valley the main climb goes up to the town of San Bernardino,
where the freeway goes into the tunnel. From here there is even less
traffic than below. The small road follows the Roman road, but not as
steep, to the summit. The entire landscape is wet with running water,
I suppose because it is so rocky that water stays near the surface. We
get only light sprinkles and cruise down to the Hinterrhein valley
where the Gotthard Rhine starts and the Swiss artillery practices its
specialty. A bit of sun breaks through as we eat an outdoor hot lunch
at the junction in Splugen before heading up to the Pass of the same
name.

The Splugen pass (2113 m) stays sort of dry as we roll down the south
side with its spectacular tunnels and hairpin turns carved into the
wall. A little drizzle greets us in Chiavenna and we ride up the
Maloja road as it gets wetter. At the top of the hill after the Frisea
mineral water plant we stop at the refreshment park in the trees and
wolf down some ice cream and soda pop before riding on up to the
border at Castasegna in the rain. We make it to Hotel Bregalia in
Promontogno as the rain gets into big drops. This old hotel is a relic
from the 30's and is a working museum. It has a great view of the
valley and Bondo a beautiful mountain town below. Soglio, the much
photographed mountain village is just up the hill.

July 2: In the morning we head up the Val Bregaglia to Casaccia just
below the final climb to the Maloja Pass (1815 m). From Casaccia an
old Roman road heads out over the Septimer Pass (2310 m) that has been
unchanged since Roman times and still has the huge stone slabs and
curbs. We go up the Maloja in light rain and find a pleasant wind
blowing our way as we cross this pass that has no descent on the east
side. The long beautiful Silser and Silvaplana lakes take us to St
Moritz and we catch a lunch at the Migros market in Pontresina before
heading up the moderate grade of the Bernina Pass (2328 m). On the way
up, we try to get the classic photo of the Bernina RR at the horseshoe
curve with Piz Bernina, Piz Palu, the Morteratsch Glacier and a red
narrow gauge train coming around the curve. It was late so we settled
for Marc riding his bike down the tracks under a dark sky. I have
plenty of these train shots from sunnier times anyway.

Over the summit and down the endless descent to Poschiavo. We escape
the rain that starts to wet the road and ride on dry pavement. Around
the lake and down the last hill to Brusio where the Bernina RR makes a
corkscrew loop on a stone trestle. We get a hot plate of afternoon
spaghetti at Signora Beti's hotel next to city hall and cross the
border at Campodolcino. Take a right at Madonna di Tirano and a left
to Stazzona. This road is a shortcut to the Aprica Pass (1176 m) that
cuts around the mountains to Edolo and Ponte di Legno, at the foot of
the Tonale and Gavia passes. Just before town there is a smaller place
called Temu where Silvano Macculotti runs the best little hotel in the
Alps. What makes such places great is the food. Every meal is a
creation that comes without a menu and he has always made the stop
worthwhile. This time he added a fat slice of a huge porcini mushroom
that he had found that afternoon. We thanked the rain.

3 July: In the morning we rode on up through Ponte di Legno staying on
the left side of the Frigidolfo that cascades through the narrow town
so close you can reach out and touch the icy standing waves. Up the
valley it rains for a while as we climb up through the larch forest on
the east side of the canyon until we get to the high valley at
Apollonia. There is a small hotel here and a Gazebo over the spigots
of mineral water that come out of the ground. I have always claimed
that they give strength that helps flatten the Gavia to a manageable
hill.

A group of antique M/C riders show up on ancient Moto Guzzi's, an NSU,
a Matchless and a Harley, all from 1940 or earlier. We check out their
wheels and head up the hill that looks like a civilized road. After a
couple of km's pavement ends, the road narrows and a sign proclaims
16% just as it did 18 years ago when I captured this scene for the
poster of that time. The one lane road takes us to within five km's of
the top where pavement once more takes over. We choose to ride around
the cliff instead of using the tunnel and take the obligatory picture
that today is more precarious because the road is truly falling out
from under you.

At the summit (2618 m) in the Rifugio Bonetta, the real poster of the
cliff hangs under glass with a youthful rider. I wore the same GAN
jersey as in the picture and as usual the Proprietor offered me a
drink. We drank and thanked and hurried off, not wanting to be caught
by the rain that seemed to be chasing. Almost like last year, we got
down the hill just ahead of the rain but after Santa Caterina it got
wet before Bormio. Not having a lot of time to waste, we headed right
up the Stelvio that took on a special atmosphere under dark skies and
intermittent rain.

The tunnels were welcome shelters off and on and then it cleared up a
bit on the top (2759 m). As we sat at the restaurant and got a hot
chocolate, the usual parade of bicycles, recumbents, Danish thin
(compression-tension only) tubed bikes and the old M/C group came by.
As we rode down the 48 hairpin turns and 1800 m, the Ortler with its
white dome of ice kept, watch and its new snow looked like thin grey
hair on the lower levels. We rode to Laas as the last stop for our
trip. The next day Marc had to return to ZH which he made that evening
by train from Zernez after riding back over the Stelvio, down the
Umbrail, and over the Passo dal Fuorn (2149 m).

July 4: I rode on to Bolzano and up the Eisack to Blumau to try the
road to Tiers once more. I had not been here for several years and
recall that each of the last rides up this road convinced me I could
not do it again. The old road leaves Blumau in the right side of the
river that crosses the highway in Blumau. It is not marked anymore.
After going up the canyon about six km's a sign warns of 24% grades.
This condition prevails for nearly two km's and the last 500 m is all
24%.  Once more I was able to ride it non stop with the same gears
that I always ride. It made me feel pretty strong and I rode up the
rest of the Nigerjoch thinking how easy the 13% stuff felt.

After descending the Costalunga (1753 m) and up the valley to Canezei,
I ran into a group of Berkeley riders with Gary Erickson of Cliff
Bars. He was having a great time but his recruits, who had never seen
so many mountains, were pretty long in the face. We told adventure
stories after which I headed up the Fedaia (2054 m) with its max speed
descent on the east side. Alas, it began to dump buckets after the top
as I emerged dry from the tunnel. I was disappointed in not getting to
see whether my speedometer would top 100 km's this time. I think I
didn't get much over 60. It rained harder and harder as I rode into
Caprile and headed up the Giau. It got pretty dark but climbing kept
my sweat soaked body warm inside my rain shell. It was fun to ride
this road that had once been a rocky challenge in the heat, now in
pouring rain on smooth pavement. I stopped at the rifugio one km below
the summit for a hearty meal and a private dormitory of six beds.

July 5: Although the sun came out for breakfast, that was the last
time I saw it that day. On the Giau (2236 m) I saw nothing of the vast
Panorama of Cortina d'Ampezzo and the majestic Le Tofane, Monte
Cristallo, Monte Cadini, and the Marmorola. The view from here is
about as breathtaking as you can get without some serious hiking.
Today it was pouring and I decided to head home. I put out 210 km
yesterday and if I could match that for a few days I could make some
tracks. I turned left at the junction and headed up the Pso Falzarego
(2105 m) and its sidekick the Valparola (2192 m) and rolled down to
Bruneck, a left to the Franzenfeste and up the Eisack and north to
Sterzing. From here it was up the Pso Giovo (2234 m) in a downpour and
down to St Leonhard (593 m) where it was pleasant and seemed not to
have rained all day.

From St Leonhard I rode west up the Pso Rombo or Timmelsjoch. As I was
working up the steep stuff, two tourists with lots of bags came
suffering down the hill telling me it was awful up there. This didn't
worry me because I neither intended to go over the pass tonight nor do
i suffer from the weather that I suspect prevailed at the time they
rode up there. I stopped at the last hotel about six km's from the
summit. It is a small hotel, family run and few guests. The South
Tyroleans understand how to feed a good appetite and with fresh washed
and dried clothes I was ready for a long day tomorrow. Today was a 215
km hill climb.

July 6: The sun didn't say good morning but it looked great out with
clear air and a threatening black sky above. As I got near the top
(2483 m) and entered the long summit tunnel it was only snowing
lightly. At the exit and at the next tunnel it was pretty dense but
after the border, in Austria the road dives down at 13% or so and
although these were pretty good snow fields, I came out of the clouds
pretty quickly and rolled down the infinite speed run with my rain
cape and hood up. In spite of my spinnaker like apparel amazing speed
could be reached. In tight clothing this is good for more than 100
km/h but not today. Things get drier as I reach Obergurgel and
Untergurgel. The wind isn't entirely favorable but it's downhill. I
arrive at the Inn river and head over the hill to Imst and farther to
Landeck where I take a left and head toward the Reschen Pass into a
bit of a headwind. I decide that a headwind and the no bikes sign are
to much, so I stay on the main road. There is hardly any traffic
anyway because everyone stayed home.

After the Italian border the wind lets up and I roll over the top
(1508 m) into Reschen. The lake is as beautiful as an artificial lake
can get with a good chop from the wind but no rain. I cruise down the
hill toward Malles where I take the shortcut to Glorenza and Prato
allo Stelvio (913 m) where it 31 km to the top. I tank up on a liter
of soda pop and some fruit and head up THE hill. If you ever ride in
the Alps, it's spelled "Stelvio" or "Silfserjoch" and it comes in
three flavors: form Bormio, from Prato and from Santa Maria. Don't
miss it! It was a glorious climb with beautiful lighting of rain
squalls on the wall above, sun columns on the glaciers and clouds
above and below playing peek-a-boo. I wolfed a hot bratwurst and a
beer at the top and pushed off with 200 km on the trip. From Santa
maria I headed up the Passo dal Fuorn to Fulderer where there is a
small first class hotel with fancy and my kind of rooms. The food is
all top class and a good buffet for dinner and breakfast. The owner
turned out to be a good bikie friend of Fredy Ruegg my friend in
Affoltern. After 230 km's that day I got a good nights rest.

July 7: Up over the Passo dal Fuorn (2149 m) and down to Zernez and
Susch (1426 m). Left turn up the Fluela Pass (2383 m) and down to
Davos, Klosters and Landquart. Now I'm down at the Rhine river and
roll along to Sargans where I take the bike path (road) to the Walen
See and take the "shortcut" over the hill to Filzbach and Nafels.
There's a good cherry tree on this road and the panorama of the
Churfirsten range rises in stark contrast above the deep green lake.
From here it's a quick run to Glarus and Linthal (662 m) from where
the road starts literally climbing walls. Glarus is a canton of nearly
vertical walls whose steepness makes up for their moderate heights. In
spite of that there are abundant glaciers. The first climb starts out
in tight rough hewn one way tunnels and breaks out into the high
valley (1372 m) called Urnerboden.

Although on the Glarner side of the pass, this valley belongs to Uri,
the canton on the other side. It seems the border setting party from
Glarus had a horrendous hangover the day they were to establish the
border between them. The Urners came to the end of the valley, looked
down the cliffs and said this is enough and drove the stakes. From
there is the final climb rises to 1948 m to descend into the box
canyon of the Schaechental. The end of this valley has vertical walls
that still show the steep hiking trail that finds its way along the
rock strata and ledges while the road is carved out of sheer rock and
finds its way through tunnels. From the road, rooftops only can be
seen of the farm sheds 500 meters below where cows are mere specks.
There is no guard rail here, only a 10 cm pipe handrail one meter off
the ground. I don't take these corners fast. The scenery is exciting
enough. I finish the day at Urigen where Steffan presides. He did his
pastry apprenticeship here in Menlo Park at Andre's Swiss pastries and
now runs the hotel his parents had.

July 8: The last day brings some brightness ands the sun comes out for
the climb up the Gotthard to Wassen and on up the Susten Pass (2224 m)
with all its glaciers. A sunny sky holds for the climb and descent
into Inertkirchen where I look forward to a good lunch at the Gasthaus
zum Lammi on the little pass over the Aar cleft. I meet some riders
who are going to ride over Grosse Scheidegg to Grindelwald. I can only
encourage them on this lovely day. I roll down to Meiringen and up
over the Brunig (1008 m) with a clean shot to Luzern and Affoltern
with only cloudy skies that attempt to rain with only dribbling
success. The last days were long ones but riding alone make this
possible where otherwise it would not work.

I always take slides because only a big screen can do the landscape
justice, using the term loosely. The real thing is bigger than life and
it can't be captured on film, it's only a glimpse.

Ride bike,... and ride it in the Alps.

jobst_brandt@hplabs.hp.com
Xref: sparky rec.bicycles.rides:435 rec.bicycles.racing:663