The Plan
My dear, wonderful, plentiful readers, the time has finally come: Biking Through Switzerland, Part II! Some of you will remember that I cycled through the Jura last year, but wasn't able to do the whole distance due to injuries and similar.
This time, I will begin where I left off last year: Geneva! I will then travel along the lake, accompanied by Barbara, until we reach Lausanne, where we'll hopefully get a chance to check out the charms of Vaud. On Wednesday, we'll continue towards Martigny, taking a sharp left to head up the mountain to the (hopefully) picturesque Gryon, where we will stay at an adorable hostel in a traditional Swiss chalet. Thursday will take us down the hill again, through Martigny and to Visp, where Barbara will head home and I will continue to Zeneggen. After hopefully recovering from Thursday's 117km, I will take a short ride alone to Brig, where I hope to visit some sites and test out the coffee (I managed to squeeze Wide Sargasso Sea into my tiny bag), all while enjoying views of the alps. Saturday's ride will be accompanied by my significant other, Yves, and we will cycle up the hill to Gletsch (will we be ambitious enough to take a stab at the Grimselpass? I don't know!) before continuing over the Furkapass, the literal peak of the trip on Sunday. Our tour ends in Andermatt, and I'm sure by then, I will be very happy to get off my mechanical horse to finally make my way home again.
Above: My bike, ready for the trip!
If all goes well, my tour will amount to 318km with around 5500 meters elevation gain, although Strava has been lying to me again. I'll keep you posted with photos here. Wish me luck!
Day 1: Geneva - Lausanne
63.8km, 700m elevation gain
Time: 3:42:47
Max speed: 49km/h
Average speed: 17.2km/h
What I learnt today: there are bike lanes worse than those in Zurich; some people like to hear themselves talk; and you don't notice a sun stroke while you're getting it.
Tuesday's ride seemed to go by in a blur, a mixture of busy roads that didn't like bikes and grape fields that could have been in the south of France. What does stand out, though, is a conversation we had over lunch with a 67 year-old gentleman named Rolf. Rolf was very excited to meet us, as he seemed to have a keen bias for Swiss-German folk like himself. He elaborated (without our asking him to) on his past decades living in the French part of Switzerland, told us of his numerous affiliations with people of great importance (famous cyclists, one bob champion who is a 'very good friend'), and explained to us that 'Yugos' work for very cheap (not sure how this was remotely relevant). While I do not doubt that he fully believed all the things he told us, I heartily believe that it is possible for people to live in entirely contradictory realities. Barbara and I both agreed that, based on this encounter, it is possible for people to be both fundamentally racist and friendly to a select few. Thus, we approached our paid for orange juice and coffee with scepticism, and firmly declined the kind offer to meet the man's wife and try out their swimming pool.
Things that remain unclear: how do you react to the aforementioned stranger's idea that the smaller cyclist must be the slower cyclist? And then, to the statement that the smaller one does indeed have a great figure and a lot of muscle?
In any case, a strange and fascinating experience, when you realised that self-representation was the goal of the interaction. Confirmation: he left after reiterating his name, forgetting to ask for ours.
Above: Taken off a tiny, rather shabby bridge. This was the first point where we had sort of found our orientation, and were properly excited for the trip ahead.
Above: Tiny, random village.
Above: Our route, elevation gain and the heart-shaped pizza that I received at lunch.
Above: Lausanne is a lovely place! The old town is adorable, with this unbelievably picturesque street that contains coffee houses, book stores and hairdressers and leads up to quite a large church overlooking the town.
Day 2: Lausanne to Gryon, or 'That doesn't look far on the map' is inaccurate
68km, 1242m elevation gain
Time: 3:53:50
Max speed: 44.3km/h
Average speed: 17.5km/h
What I learnt today: Montreaux is expensive and doesn't seem vegan friendly; I love lakes so, so much; a road may look short and easy in google maps, but it's probably gonna be the end of you.
As it turns out, I didn't just spend all of Tuesday cycling, I was also slowly accumulating a mild sunstroke. Ten minutes after I woke up, I was forced back into bed by a rather unpleasant headache and by nauseau. We decided to leave late and cycle slowly, and eventually, my energy came back to me. We were able to return to our usual speed following lunch.
The plan was to eat in Montreux, which is supposed to be adorable. In reality, it reminded me of any fancy holiday destination: more hotels than you can count and less charm than you can imagine. To be fair, we did miss out on the old town. Lucky for us though, this meant we 'had to' keep cycling, and we stumbled upon a real old town where we had the most incredible (and affordable) Chinese food, with so many vegan options it took me forever to decide.
When I planned this ride, I had originally wanted to cycle until Martigny, but I stumbled upon this AirBnB that looked so adorable, I decided that it was worth the few extra meters elevation to reach Gryon. It turned out that those few extra meters were 1200m, and one of the most difficult ascents I have ever taken. Towards the end, we tried to take a shortcut, but the road became so steep that we had to push the bikes up the hill for the last 500m or so. But I was right, it was worth it. The views were breathtaking, the backpackers' full of life, the people wonderful.
Above: Our route from Lausanne to Gryon. That last 90 degree turn to the left represents the beginning of our ascent to Gryon. See! It looks so short! It turned out to be about one and a half hours of cycling uphill. Oh and, obviously, my phone ran out of batter in Montreux, so no, so ignore that little glitch across the lake.
Above: This is when we found out that there were at least another 20 minutes to go before we reached Gryon (this is after I kept reassuring Barbara that it was just around the corner).
Above: 1200m elevation gain didn't seem like a lot, until we realised that it was all within the last 10km.
Above: Our first break after 15 minutes of riding; sunflowers; a random village; the view from Vevey.
Above: The view from our Chalet.
Day 3: Gryon to Brig or Biting Off More Than You Can Chew
96.6km, 1351m elevation gain
Time: 4:37:19
Max speed: 50.4km/h
Average speed: 20.9km/h
What I learnt today: It is possible to get on the highway with a bicycle; cars will think you are stupid, even if it is not your fault; failure isn't always failure.
Picture yourself cycling on mediocre bicycle lanes, that disappear and reappear at will, but they're always more or less there, and it's more or less clear where you have to go. Then, amongst the hills and valleys of the Swiss Alps, the sun blazing, your wheels spinning in unison, you discover something impossible. Amongst the cars and the chaos, you find yourself smoothly pulling onto your very own bicycle lane. This is no ordinary lane. You have never seen anything like it: 2 meters wide, enough space, hypothetically, for you to drive side-by-side with other cyclists. Enough space for you to not worry about your life when you swerve to avoid a rock or shards of glass on the floor. Even the cars look at you in envy. They can no longer test your patience by overtaking you with only an inch of distance between their side mirror and your handlebars. You revel in the glory of this lane. You test its limits, pushing to the sides, basking in the vastness of this treasure. Finally, you set out to put it to its actual use. You click in with your shoes, and you take your speed to the next level. From 20km/h, you rise to 30, maybe even 40. Incredible! The wind is in your hair, and you can feel the adrenaline pulsing through your veins. The road gently curves, but this does not affect you: you're free.
And suddenly, you're too free. The bicycle lane stops. Without a warning, you are now on a fully fledged road, where the speed limit is 80. And not 40 meters in front of you: a highway entrance. Big, looming green sign, telling you (as if mocking you) that all you have to do is turn right and you can sail to Brig at 120km/h. There was no warning, no indication of where we should have turned off the road, just this beautiful, yet back-stabbing bicycle lane leading you astray. Had Barbara not been cycling in front of me, I would have had my eyes fixed on the road and ended up being one of those cyclists.
Later, Barbara noted: she now understands all those announcements that you can hear on the radio saying "attention, cyclists on the highway". She used to think they were stupid, when in fact, they had all simply tried to cycle through Sion.
The second thing I wanted to talk about is "failure". What is it about not being able to attain one's goal that makes one feel so minuscule? It doesn't matter that the goal was far too ambitious. The plan for today's ride was to travel from Gryon to Brig, 117km worth of riding, with around 8kg of luggage on the backs of our bikes.
When we realised that it would be getting pretty late (Barbara had to catch the train in Sion), we channeled all our energy to our legs. We didn't speak, we only cycled. This means that all of my energy had been burned by that time, and I had to take a gel before continuing on the remaining 50 or so kilometres. Thus, when I reached Leuk and saw the train station, I "quit" my ride early. Sitting there on the train with my bicycle, I felt so miserable. I felt I had not given it my all (I had, my legs were complete jelly). I thought, if I had tried harder, I would have been able to complete the last 20km.
But then, when I looked at my stats, I saw that I had done 96km nonetheless. This is only 2km less than my farthest ride, and I did this whole thing with luggage.
So I guess there are two ways of looking at it. I could beat myself up for "giving up" too soon, and consider myself a failure, or I could enjoy the fact that I had a really good ride, powered myself out, pushed myself to my limit and can probably ride further next time for it. So whenever you feel like you might have failed, don't compare yourself to what you think you should be. Compare yourself to your previous selves and ask, "did I really give it my all?".
Above: On the ride down from Gryon
Day 4: Taking a Break in Brig
57.7km, 2127m elevation gain
Time: 4:15 (estimate)
Max speed: 71.6km/h
Average speed: 13.8km/h (excl. the Grimsel ascent)
Today I learnt: I apparently do not learn from my mistakes; I can now do one third of the Alpenbrevet before I can no longer defend myself against simple viruses.
This ride was definitely the craziest ride of the trip. I take back everything I said about cycling up to Gryon. Once again, on the map, I saw that the hotel Alpenrösli was not too far away from Gletsch, where we initially wanted to stay. It turned out to be right at the top of the Grimselpass. No regrets, though. It turns out, this is one of the mountains included in the Alpenbrevet coming up in August.
During the ascent, I was close to tears several times, feeling that Yves had abandoned me and that it was never-ending. But it was all worth it. Pushing myself to such an extreme felt great. I felt unstoppable. I could do anything. At least I was able to feel that way until the next morning, when I woke up struggling to breathe and having to cancel the final ride of the tour. Bike: 1, Tammy: 0.
In all seriousness, though, I am incredibly proud, even though we had to cancel the final ride. I realise now that I had already had 3 days of cycling in my legs, and that I was dragging my luggage up there. So on the whole, I'm super happy that I managed to ride up the whole way. It think I will start looking at maps and saying "that's not too far" more often. I can't wait to try it again!
Above: Yves and I both thought we had finally reached the top. We passed through a short tunnel, ready to jump off and celebrate, but were instead met with this wall, where every horizontal grey line is a road going up. We decided to take a nice long break in Gletsch (after the first curve or so) before taking on this challenge.
Day 5: Brig to Grimsel, or How to Completely Destroy Your Immune System
My day in Brig was generally nothing too fancy. On the whole, I realised that I'm more of a people person, and do not particularly enjoy being on holiday alone. I did, however, go for a nice long walk in Brig. There was a brief, fun incident, where I asked a gentleman whether a particular road leads anywhere. I was walking, with no particular goal in mind except to find a nice spot to eat lunch. According to Google Maps, the road I was on looked like a dead end. So I asked a friendly stranger whether this road leads anywhere. His first question is "well, where do you want to go?" I was a little taken aback at
first because I hadn't thought about it, and I blurted that I wanted to go anywhere really, as long as there was a view and a spot where I could eat. I remember that he looked surprised, and then his face broke into a huge smile, as he told me that this road does, in fact, lead somewhere, to a lovely bench with a view and then some hiking trails. I think that he realised his snap judgment that I needed to go somewhere specific was a reflection of how we are always busy reaching goals with specific destinations, and he seemed satisfied to meet someone who was more interested in the way than the goal.
Back at home, recovering from the virus that I apparently picked up at the top of the mountain, I am incredibly satisfied with my trip as a whole. I met interesting people, pushed myself to new limits, and realised that it's not always the destination that counts. I can't wait for next year's trip!
Posted between 17 and 26 July 2017