Day 1. While much of the UK was enjoying a flaming June, I was riding out of Basel under leaden skies with the thermometer hovering around 11C. I was heading for Baden, a medieval spa town on the River Limmat about 50 miles south west of Basel. After a few miles I was that cold I put on my rain jacket to keep warm, but the weather gods must have been watching as it then started to rain. That sinking feeling deepened after 20 miles when my bars sheered off at the stem! Considering various options I decided to press-on as the bike was still ride-able with one hand resting on the stem and the other steering with the intact side. Fortunately my bar bag clamp prevented the broken side from dropping off, so I did not look the complete English nutcase. I would look for a bike shop the following morning and hopefully get some new bars.
Day 2. Next day the news was not good. "You will not find a bike shop open on a Monday." the hostel warden told me. I had planned a long day through country districts to Rapperswil at the southern end of Lake Zurich, but instead decided on a direct route to Zurich through the towns and villages. I optimistically thought that I would find a shop that was open, but was still searching as I wobbled my way into the centre of Zurich over tram lines and through general traffic mayhem. Walking through the centre of Zurich past the expensive designer shops, art galleries and museums I soon realised that this was not the place to find a bike shop and decided to head direct to Rapperswil along the lakeside road. Although classed as an A road it was not too busy and had a cycle lane, but the few cycle shops I passed were also closed. On reaching Rapperswil I headed straight for the Tourist Information Office who directed me to two bike shops, the first of which was closed, but my luck was in with the second. "Shite!" exclaimed the assistant in German (easily translated) when he saw my bars, "Come back in an hour and your bike will be fixed." Success at last. After a meal in the nearest supermarket I duly collected my bike and headed for the hostel.
Day 3. After a night at the hostel, spirits were on the up next morning. My bike had new bars, the weather was dry but cool, and I was due to reach the Alps that afternoon. Following lake side cycle paths I reached the Linthal valley after a couple of hours riding. Here I was able to follow deserted farm roads up the valley through wide meadows. As the valley narrowed the route followed unsurfaced paths along the wild River Linth through pine woods and picturesque villages . I thought that I was making good progress until I was passed on a hill by a local with one arm, ridding a utility tricycle with a basket of shopping on the back!
The village of Linthal lies at the head of the valley surrounded by snow clad alpine peaks. Here a side road climbs up 650m in 5 miles to a valley. It was a tough end to the day with cobbled hairpin bends and a kilometre long uphill tunnel. Emerging from the forest I climbed up to the lovely high enclosed Urner Boden valley. Urner Boden’s claim to fame is that it is the largest high pasture in the Alps providing grazing for 1200 head of cattle. That is a lot of clanging cowbells, and the noise was almost deafening at times! The last 3 miles through the open pastures, dotted with wooden farm buildings, to the Gasthaus provided welcome change from the afternoon’s climbing.
Day 4. After spending the night at the small alpine village of Urnerboden (population 40) I awoke to clear blue skies and perfect conditions for the day’s toil. Just a mile beyond Urnerboden the valley closes in and is ringed by cliffs. A narrow road winds its way up through the rugged landscape for 4 miles giving a tough 600m climb to the summit of the Klausenpass (1948m). After coffee on the sun terrace with a local cyclist taking in the stunning views it was time to don the rain jacket - the wind was still cold - and enjoy the 15 mile decent to Altdorf. Here I had lunch, but felt a little out of place at the pavement café while I still shivered in my jacket the other diners sat around in tee shirts!
After lunch I had a 25 mile 1000m climb up the valley to Andermat. The valley was quite sheltered and the sun blazed down giving a long hot afternoon as I slowly ground my way up the never ending gradient. This necessitated a second lunch part way up the valley in order to refuel and rest.
The hostel at Hospental, lies just a few miles beyond Andermat. It is a simple stone and wood building situated at 1550m. Once the sun went down it turned very cold and I went to bed early in order to keep warm as I only had lightweight cycle clothing to wear. I shared the room with a Spanish student who had just ridden over the Furkapass. He looked quite exhausted and was still in his bunk when I left next morning. Thankfully the sun was out as I too headed for the Furkapass (2436m) to battle with the gradient.
Day 5. After a few miles easy riding to Realp the road reared up once again for the 8 mile 900m climb up to the pass. The road first climbed out of the valley up numerous hairpin bends before straightening out as it steeply crossed the open mountainside towards the summit. Fortunately the traffic was light and for most of the time I had the road to myself, so I could sit back, spin the pedals, and just enjoy the unfolding mountain panorama. This was my last climb of the holiday so I felt quite relaxed knowing that the hard cycling was nearly over. It turned out to be quite a sociable climb as at my first break two Germans in a BMW, who had seen me the previous day on the Klausenpass, stopped for a chat, followed by two women from the hostel, and finally I was able watch a vintage tractor rally with the drivers waving as they passed.
Having spent so much energy reaching the summit I was loath to start the decent and spent an hour taking in the extensive views and chatting to other cyclists of varying nationalities. One guy, a Texan, was cycling from London to Istanbul with a full load of camping gear. It must have been a hard climb for him. Eventually I had to put on my jacket once again and start the long decent to Oberwald and the Rhone valley.
The upper part of the valley beyond Oberwald is known as the Goms. The north side of the valley is hemmed in by the Bernese Alps which are not crossed by any road for nearly 100 miles, while to the south are the Pennine Alps which are crossed by only two roads - the Simplon and St Bernard passes. Having run out of energy I only had one option and that was to follow the river down towards Lake Geneva. The cycle route through the Goms passes farms and villages of traditional wooden alpine buildings, following the river through meadows and pine woods against a backdrop of high alpine peaks. Under the clear blue skies this was stunningly beautiful.
That night I stayed at the hostel at Fiesch which was part of a sports complex. However the complex was more like a university campus, with numerous buildings attractively laid out on a wooded hillside. I had a single room in an quiet annex for £36 full board, an absolute bargain with the current exchange rates.
Day 6. The following day, Friday, was to be my last day’s cycling. The morning was pleasant enough as I freewheeled down to the old town of Brig at the foot of the Simplon Pass, but beyond Brig the valley became very busy with quite a lot of industry. I was able to avoid much of it by following riverside paths and at one point I followed a local who took me down the runway of a private airfield. At this point I lost the route, but a Dutch couple heading for the Simplon Pass soon put me right. Fortunately the lady was an English teacher so for once language was not a problem. Journey’s end was at the regional capital of Sion and I arrived hot and tired as the temperature was now a more seasonal 28C.
Next morning I caught the train back to Basel to spend the weekend relaxing with my friends Hans and Ilse before flying home. In spite of the broken bars I had managed to keep going to all my planned overnight stops. Looking back I believe that the bars were damaged in transit and that the vibrations of the first few miles was enough to finish them off. Back in Basel Hans told me that the Swiss railways run a courier service, and had I telephoned him he would have put some bars on the next train to be with me within 2 hours.
I had experienced a varied week’s cycling with the weather coming good at the right time. Undoubtedly the high points had been crossing the high passes and the beautiful alpine valleys. It had been an eventful 6 days of cycling having ridden for 2 days with half a handlebar, navigated my way through Switzerland’s largest city, climbed to 8,000ft above sea level, covered over 500k, and met numerous interesting people.