20 Jul 2013

5. The Mountains.

From Munich the Alps mountain range were calling so I now head south,
but still with a slight westerly direction…. soon I’ll start heading south-east!

I always seem to panic when in big cities.  Some can be like a black hole and once passed the event-horizon escape is not possible.  Munich - much the same as the other cities - proved no reason to worry as within half an hour of departing I was in the surrounding open countryside heading for Stanberger See (Lake Stanberger).  The cycle lanes in Germany are excellent, again maybe not always direct but they prove a relaxed ride.

A crystal clear-water lake.  Along its length were several rest areas to picnic or just take a break and as the past few days the temperature had increased I soon found myself cooling down within.  Note the distant Alps mountain range over-seeing things.  
Here I also met a group of English people touring with five early 1970’s Triumph Stag’s.
I never even saw these on the African tour! 
The mountains slowly get closer, looking ever-more threatening.  They just sit there, quietly content, saying nothing yet always cast an element of doubt over being passable.  I always think “how will I get over them?” but as you get closer they slowly opens up and reveal the roads that lead into the valleys, displaying the wonderful scenery they offer.

This day I was heading for the town of Fussen, passing by the grand Neuschwanstein Castle. Commissioned by King Ludwig II of Bavaria in the mid 1800's.  Differing to what Wikipedia has to say the locals say it was paid for by the people of the land and cost an astronomical amount of money.  The king liked to build things and build them grand!  In the end it’s said he was declared mad and both his doctor and himself apparently walked into Stanberger Lake and drowned themselves, much to the joy of the locals. It was used in the film Chitty Chitty Bang Bang and is also Walt Disney’s logo.  Perched on-top of a hill it gives an excellent view of the surrounding land, which would have made building even more costly.

It really was a grand castle / palace, the amount of workmanship (and cost) seen in every angle. Not being one to be herded around with a pack of other tourist’s I decided against a guided tour around the rooms, half of which are only finished, as detailed on a history plaque.


Fussen was a fifteen minute ride from the castle so obviously a haven for the tourists.  It was a very picturesque town, much like Passau that I had passed through from Austria into Germany,  here I was going back the opposite way, into Austria.

This was at the border, a wonderfully green area with a strange coloured murky white river, presumably caused by the type of stone the river was eroding its way through.

My plan in Austria was to head to Mayrhofen, for no particular reason other than previously visiting it snowboarding and now wanting to see it in the summer.  Arriving at the town of Ehrwald, the most direct route to continue was a walker’s mountain route east, the only other options were northerly or southerly roads.  I chose the walkers route, but after only getting 1.7km pushing the bicycle up 10 – 11% gradient hills* I decided to have a word with myself.  The Mayrhofen ‘detour’ would only mean coming back against my easterly direction, albeit a different way in order to get to Switzerland.  I had to think long and hard, the problem being when I say I’ll do something I don’t back-down too easily, and questioning one’s own actions is even harder.  So in the end Mayrhofen lost and Switzerland won - If I carried on with all these little ‘detours’ Singapore would never show up within the proposed year.  Elena always say’s why re-visit a place you’ve already seen? A good point!
*  If you’ve climbed 10 metres of altitude over a 100 metre distance that equates to a 10% gradient. On my touring bike a 7 - 8% gradient on a tarred road is about my upper limit, thereafter my pace drops and it becomes more efficient to walk, on a bumpy walkers route a 10 - 11% gradient is a definite no no!

I was still passing some awesome scenery so nothing was lost! 

The route I was now following was a busier road via Lmst, that would lead to Saint Anton.  By changing my plans I was now about four days ahead of ‘schedule’ - not that there was a specific one - so decided at the town of Pians to take the quieter route through the Paznauntal Valley.  The map shows this as green (scenic) section and traffic would be greatly reduced.  Here the altitude started to climb and going through one long tunnel it increased by 82m.  Campsites didn’t seem too common though and being in a valley, finding suitable land to free-camp was not so easy and one night left with the only option as pitching just off the road directly behind a manure storage barn – fortunately well seasoned manure so it didn’t smell!

The next day the altitude continued to increase, no hair-pin bends but just a continual 4-5 % gradient.  The road after the town of Galtur (1650m) is a seasonal route, with it being impassable in the winter when the snow settles, although fine now but I intended to take a mountain bike route up and around Kopps Stausee, a reservoir that feeds a hydro turbine station, the workings of which are buried within the mountain itself.

Excuse me ladies, is this the right way?
Snowmelt gushing from a mountainside outlet into the lake, releasing a cooling spray as I cycle past.
The lake / reservoir at 1800m.  Display panels showed how the hydro power station was built, buried within the mountain, a rather impressive feat of engineering.


The descent down from a mountain pass never seems to be as proportionally rewarding to the amount of effort to reach the top.  Here the route was the tightest of hairpin bends I’d ever come across and was no way I could release the brakes and just go.  Having to continually slow down meant the rims were getting very hot, so I had to keep stopping to allow them to cool down.


Certainly no need for a compass, this next valley had only one way out.  The further I cycled away from the valley-end the subsequent town’s got busier, as traffic started flowing more-so in both directions.

 My target for the evening was Feldkirch.  Upon arriving I was informed by a local cyclist there was a campsite in the direction I’d be going, just four kilometres along the river.  So briefly stopping in town for a look around, some internet, plus a pint sorry…half litre! and a rather tasty kebab then pushed on another four kilometres, then another, then another…In the end said campsite never turned up so I free-camped next to the river.  As I had connected to the internet in town a campsite offers nothing extra than a warm shower, of which ten euro’s proves expensive, so free-camping is fine.


The next day I followed the river to where it joined the mighty River Rhine, crossing over this into Switzerland I was rather surprised not to see any official welcome sign on the bridge into the new country.  Not being part of the E.U my first need was a cash machine, although I later found out that most border-town shops accept the euro and give change in the Swiss franc.  As I didn’t have, or intend to get, a road map for Switzerland but would be using my Swiss cyclist’s guide book I soon found the many cycle routes were well marked so headed for the town of Saint Margrethen, where national route 3 started that I would follow for a while, before departing when I got close to Zurich.

Toward the end of the day I stopped at the town of Oberburen and asked a chap if there was a campsite, informing me the nearest is 20 kilometres away so I opt to free-camp.  Then asking if I can get WiFi anywhere in town he beckons me to his house, moments later I’m given the details to log-on to his! Leaving me to my own as he drives away, soon after a man arrives, to his bemusement he says hello and enters the house.  A few minutes later he reappears and asks if I’d like a beer! Before long Willy is offering a place on his back garden for me to camp and his wife Uschi makes a lovely dinner.  So far Switzerland was looking good!
  
Arriving in Zurich the next day, where I was expected by Elena’s friends, Marc and Angelika.  At there flat I was treated with fine hospitality and was certainly seen as quite a novelty by their young children.  Arriving on the Saturday meant Marc could give me a tour of the city centre the next day, accompanied by his son.  Here we also took a short boat tour from the river down to the big lake that Zurich sits next to.

The old part of the city has lots of small streets with colourful buildings selling various products and foods, very similar to the city of Brugge.

After a couple of days waiting for the parcel I got ‘itchy feet’ and as not being items I need immediately decided to continue and have it forwarded further down, maybe into Italy.  I plotted a route into central Switzerland whereby I’d climb several of the big mountain passes.  Clearly seen on the map were roads that snaked there way up the mountain.  My choice would be first the Grimsel Pass (2165m), then the Furka Pass (2429m) and lastly the St. Gotthard Pass (2106m).  


To arrive at the first of these I plotted a scenic route to the Lake of Lucern, this proved a good choice as the road hugged the lakeside tightly and scenery was excellent, and traffic little.  At the bottom of the lake was the town of Brunnen where Victorinox (Swiss army-knife manufacturer) had a visitors centre.  This unfortunately proved to be more of a shop than anything as the ‘exhibition centre’ was just a small room beneath the shop with a few display cabinets of some of their older knives and history. 
A road sign at on of the towns at the foot of the first mountain pass indicating conditions at the top. Gletsch Is the village between the first and second mountain pass.

A mound of snow holding on tightly before the summer sun melts it away - the temperature here was about 16’C but would soon get colder.  If I put more layers on then I sweat more, then the sweat turns cold - a viscous circle.  At the top was a café so I went in for a coffee and to change into dry clothes for the free-wheeling descent, the temperature was now 4’C and was a shame the sky was not clear as it would have gave some great photographs up there. 
From the Grimsel Pass looking down onto the village of Gletsch. The start of the Furka Pass climb can be seen heading of to the back of the photo.The descent went down to only 1600 metre’s and was far too cold to camp with my summers gear so had to use the hotel - one of only several buildings in the village.  Waking up the next day the sky was grey and light rain was falling. With an 800 metre climb I new what was coming.  My clothes were nice and dry but the inevitable sweat would soon change that. After half an hour the rain had turned to sleet, another half an hour the sleet turns to snow.  To say it was quiet on traffic was an over-statement, and there were certainly no Lycra’s (road cyclist’s) up there.  With just finger-less cycling gloves my fingers felt the brunt of it, part of me said to go back but as my altitmeter kept counting upwards and now had less than 200 metres’ of ascent to go this was not an option. 

Yes, it was as cold and blustery as it looks.  At the summit a road-gritting truck pulled over and the chap advised me to go back the same way!?  Now when wallisonwheels has invested two hours climbing, sweating and cursing, being advised to go back down to the initial starting point is advice that does not compute.  If I did go back down I’d only have to head west along another route, which would add several extra days, so as far as I was concerned this was a one-way road!  The temperature was 1’C and with my fingers almost frozen I just managed to get the camera out for the photo of the summit altitude, which I had to clear the snow from to photograph!  Starting the descent I had to brake most the way (another case of not receiving a proportional reward to one's exertions?!), passing a car that had slid off the road with a smashed bumper, with occupants still inside I was in no condition to offer my services, I had to keep putting fingers in my mouth and was quite concerned so just slowly free-wheeled through the drifting snow, the wind was even more blustery on this side so I just wanted to be down as soon as possible.  I even over-took a camper-van that was moving at a snails pace…he’d obviously seen the car!  Slowly slowly I made it lower, the temperature warming up, now it was 7’C but how I felt better for it.Deciding that to continue any further that day was foolish so I asked in the first town about accommodation but all the hotels, guest houses and pensions were fully booked. I was advised to carry on just 6 kilometres to Hospental .  Here I found a small basic hotel for a good price - not that cost was an issue.  Bags in room, me in shower, half an hour later I’m sitting in dry clothes, sipping on a beer laughing with glee about my mornings ‘fun’!

My hotel, after just 30 kilometres of cycling!  And yes, it was a Furka of a Pass!

Low clouds, although Hospental is still well and truly in the heart of the mountains.


Water as cold, clear and fresh as it gets.
The village of Hospental.
The following day's weather was apparently clear, the news I needed!  With just a climb of  ~ 400 metres to do it would prove a doddle after what I’d done.  Predicting the weather in the mountains is never easy but it held true, the next day was clear with just a few white clouds dancing around the peaks.  It was 28 kilometres to reach the summit and having been advised by a cyclist I met when riding out from Zurich to take the old cobbled route when the road splits, not the tarred section.
The summit had its usual collection of hotels, gift shops, café / bar etc along with a statue depicting Saint Gotthard himself, read about him here:  (Note the new vehicles-only road in the back ground).
I was looking forward to the descent, an excellent ribbon of tarmac and cobbles awaited me to snake my way down. Smiling like a Chesire cat at fellow cyclist's chewing their way up!  Here I also used my Go-Pro handlebar camera to get some excellent video footage Click here.

Looking back at the mountain, yet I still had a good few hours of 2-3% descent to go.  This would be my
last full day in Switzerland and proved an excellent note to end on.  The campsite I came across in the town of Belinzona just didn’t seem what I was looking for; next to the town's busy road, a motorway on the other side and cars driving past the tent area so, I filled my water bottles and found my own little free-camp spot in a town a few kilometres away, right next to a clear-water river with just a few dog-walkers ambling past – perfect.

Next it’s in to the land of pasta and pizza, a decision I soon regret.
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A dyslexic man walks into a bra.