The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1898-04-10
BICYCLING IN THE ALPS.
Coasting Down 81 Steep Pass Is Rather
an Exciting Experience.

Coasting Down Steep Pass Is Rather
Exciting Experience.
Elizabeth Robins Pennell, in April Century.
Up and down for another day we ride,
ana then we We're Wen in the Jura, on our
hrst pass, the Col de la Faucille. How
much we had heard of that pass, how steep
it was, how terrible the three kilometers
at the top To mount them, we ate two
breakfasts, one after the other. The French
customs officers at Les Rousses babe us an
/. Excelsior like adieu as they stamped our
machines, and, in the wheel-tracks of a
Swiss from Geneva, the number on his
bicycle waving gaily behind him. we began
to climb. 1t was not long however, before
even caught up to him. and he addressed
me with what breath was left him, almost
in the words of Longellow-not exactly
Beware the pine trees withered branch!
Beware the awful avalanche
but, Look out git dem lest tree kilometer.
The Swiss, by riding very hard, got
ahead of US. We did not hurry much, but
we hurried him. We rode on, and we rode
on; and we rode on, gradually climbing,
he pulling all the while like small steam
engine, until suddenly the road became
fiat and began to go down hill, and, with a
fnal grunt of triumph, he tumbled off and
said, de Col de la FauShille." And this
was a Swiss pass. Why, / know hundreds
of hills that are worse; and yet, when we
come to look in our Baedeker, we found we
had climbed without feeling it, 1856 feet.
AS we started down, the Swiss cycler
called after us: "Haben sic Elm vary gut
brack? For sic mussent zuruck pedallen,
and 1t is besser sin pine-tree Spires sol de
trainer!' We got on; we pumped up our
pneumatic brakes; we back-pedaled hard.
And then we remembered there was a view.
We jumped off and looked. The road zig
gagged down the mountain side; pine forests
grew, toward heaven; a fiat, gray,-green
streak of country stretched away below; a
whitish line filed the distance; and instead
OF Ruskin'S Star-girt, glistening-White, viii
lage-crowned, glacier-bound chain of Alps
were only vast cloud banks. So we pumped
up the pneumatics again, and began our
ride down. The road was broad and beau
France. When l reached the first curve /
had bad time. The road doubled straight
back on itself; on one side the pine forest,
on the other a drop of some thousand feet.
Every yard or so was q stone post just high
enough to hit my pedal Ito save me from
grim death) l Steered from the precipice,
and tried to come around with the dignity
that BELTS my twenty years of cycling. But
the road was not banked up. l ran into the
gutter, and sat down in the bushes. l picked
myself up, and looked over the side. Half
q dozen zigzags below was j. coasting like
mad foreShortened so that / could see only
the top OF his head He approached a curve.
AS he turned it he leaned right over the
precipice. He took his hands off. Heavens!
was he falling? No; he was lighting his
pipe. / rode for q while in most ladylike
manner; but after half a dozen turns, by
keeping my pneumatic on, by strenuous
back-pedaling, and by turning as short as
possible at the curves, there was no trouble.
The gradient was not very steep and it be-
came easier where the road wound back
and forth and round and about among the
foot hills. Never once, however, did let
the machine go. We both put our faith in
the pneumatic brakes and with our feet on
the rests VIC coasted delightfully."-. Once We
beheld, in a cloud of dust away above us,
the Swiss, a pine tree tagged to his wheel.
webbing down with difficulty. We had
heard of the terrors of this pass for years,
and we found Il perfect coast.