My Life On A Bike

The extent of my mountain biking in Europe has been limited to the Trentino/Alto Adige region of Italy.  Not to say we do not want to explore other areas, but the opportunity has yet to present itself.  Therefore, when Martina offered to show me the fatty tread side of riding in her home country of Switzerland this summer, I jumped at the chance.  What could be better than a trip to Switzerland?…..A trip with a native Swiss friend that can do all the thinking, planning, and guiding.  All I had to do was show up.

Despite the fact that Cam has an aversion to mountain biking, I coaxed him to come along as my escort.  Since I am accustom to traveling with my personal sherpaman, Cam could be my Roger fill-in to carry all my crap.  Everyone was convinced we would be at each other’s throats by the end of the 10 days.  They were wrong.   We got along like dark chocolate and hazelnuts, and Cam discovered that riding on dirt is not all that bad.

Martina dubbed our trip, Camp MountainFinder, and crammed a month’s worth of adventure into a week.  Not only were we mtn biking, but also on the agenda was rock climbing, hiking, and road riding.    It was like the Swiss Sampler Platter, and it gave me a hunger for more.   We took a 3 day trip to the Engadin area of Switzerland for the mountain biking.   I could have easily spent the entire week there.   The 3 rides we did were enough to whet my appetite and I am already dreaming of  a return trip in 2010.

We took the train from Dietikon to St Moritz where we set up base camp at the hostel complete with a huge ski storage room perfect for storing our bikes.  Martina and Cam were riding sweet Specialized bikes courtesy of a good friend from Chlösterli Bike Shop, while I had my old trusty  Santa Cruz Juliana.   Roger dusted off the cobwebs to get it up and running for this very trip.  Riding a small bike has its advantages.  By removing the swingarm, Roger was able to pack the entire bike, sans wheels, into a regular suitcase.  That meant I did not have to pay Delta’s exorbitant bike fee, and if Delta decided to lose or destroy it, at least I wouldn’t be out a super nice bike.  The tricky part was finding wheels to use once the bike arrived in Zürich.   Lucky for me, I happen to have some generous friends in that neck of the woods kind enough to loan me a set.

The hardest part of a cycling trip is dealing with the bikes themselves.  Do you rent or take your own?  While it costs a fortune to fly with a bike now, it is also difficult to find and rent bikes locally.   Each option presents its own challenges and hassles.   However, I have to say that Delta has gone too far these days in regards to flying with a bike.  Charging $300 per bike per flight (international) is simply outrageous and has certainly influenced our decision to no longer fly with them.   Not to mention, Delta employees have the worst attitudes and customer service of any airline we have experienced as of late.  I was astonished at how pleasant our experience was with KLM airlines compared to Delta.  Remember to take all these things into consideration when planning your next overseas trip.

With only 3 days to explore the area, there was no time to waste getting settled into our luxurious accommodations.  Dumping our packs and changing clothes, we were ready in no time to get in an afternoon ride.   Riding on a pleasant tame path that skirted the peripheral of a placid blue lake, we meandered our way off to a doubletrack dirt path.

The lake disappeared over our shoulders as we worked our way to the paved road leading up through the Fex Valley.   If ever there was a perfect valley, this was it.  A rushing river, majestic snow peaked mountains, and lush green hills rolled out before us like a movie set.  It did not matter that we were riding on pavement because the scenery more than made up for the lack of time spent riding on dirt.

Just as I spied a narrow trail cut into the side of the hill disappearing into the trees,  Martina directed us to turn that way.   Finally, singletrack!   It was perfect.  It was like riding the fun singletrack of Raccoon Mountain in Chattanooga, Tennessee, only that, well, it was different!   Smooth, fun and zippy, my senses let me know I was a long way from the hills of Tennessee.  Having way too much fun, I rode ahead of my companions and enjoyed the ride.

Funny how trails can be so similar and yet yield  completely different rides.   This trail could be a stunt double for many of the ones we have in GA, which goes to show it’s not just the trail itself that contributes to one’s experience.  Granted, some trails in the world cannot be replicated.  There’s no mistaking a trail in Moab, Crested Butte or Vancouver’s North Shore.  However, for the most part, a trail is compromised of dirt, varying degrees of rocks and roots, some twists, turns, and drop offs.  Just change the scenery and you can be anywhere you want to be.  So, you see, it’s really all the same, just different!  Make sense?!

I soaked it all in; the fresh alpine air, the rich shades of green, and expansive views of lakes and mountains peeking through the trees.   It wasn’t too technical, just a few techy spots here and there to add some flavor.  A lone cow stood off to the side in the grass staring at me as if she were bored out of her mind.  Anything but bored, I pedaled on by enjoying the thrill of racing through the trees.

The trails we’ve ridden in Italy are so laden with rocks, that you have to stop periodically to keep your teeth from falling out.  I am sure those same trails exist here in Chocolate Land as well, but for today it was smooth sailing.  Our brief 3 hr tour was topped off with a hike to investigate a rather impressive waterfall we had passed.  Casually mentioning how neat it would be to “see” the waterfall, Chris took me up on it and led us straight up the hillside for an up close and personal look.

In sensory overload from the day’s introductory tour, I collapsed into bed for tomorrow’s big day.  Summertime in Switzerland means the sun goes to bed late and comes up early.  Morning light was already showing by 6am, but the sun still needed to do some warming up before we hit the trail.  What a nice relief from an August morning in Hotlanta where one needs to finish a ride by 9am in order to escape the sun and heat of the day.

It was odd to be donning arm and leg warmers in the summer, but I knew enough about mountains that you always need to be prepared.  Alpine riding should never been taken lightly, and being at the mercy of Mother Nature can make for a miserable ride. With my camelbak stuffed to the brim with clothes, food, tubes, and more clothing, there was no room for my camera.  The little compact would have to do for our second adventure.

My brain had been working overtime since the moment my feet landed in Zürich, and it was getting crowded in my head.  Therefore whenever camp director, Martina, gave our daily activity debriefing, the information got stuck in the backlog falling away, never getting a chance to even enter my ears let alone register in my head.  I had no idea what or where we were going to for the day.  I just knew we were riding mountain bikes and that was good enough for me.  Anything else would be considered a bonus.

Straight from the backdoor of our hostel was a dirt road leading  to a labyrinth of paths marked with signs.   We followed Martina through the woods in the cool brisk morning air.  Making our way to the town of Pontresina, we took a lovely trail that climbed gently upward.   Again, it was one of those “could be anywhere” smooth delightful singletrack trails, except for the fact that through the thick Alpine trees, a view through the valley led the eyes up to one of the most dramatic vistas I have ever beheld.  A huge glacier wedged snugly in the embrace of snow covered jagged mountain peaks stood boldly in the distance.  The immensity of it made it appear as though I could reach out and touch it.   Little did I realize, this was the same glacier we had ridden our road bikes right by only a few weeks earlier when we did the Engadin Radmarathon.   Only, we did not see it because we had done the descent that day.  This time, we were doing the ascent, and you could not help but be mesmerized by the majesty of this sight.

The trail ended in a switchback of the road climb up the Bernina Pass.  Stopping to savor the incredible view, we took pictures and gawked along with motorcyclists and motorists.   A slim  roadie decked out in his colorful kit came cycling by climbing the pass alone on the road.  Making a quick glance over to Cam, I could see the longing in his eyes as he watched the cyclist pedaling in a rhythmic cadence.  He wanted to be right there with that cyclist riding his road bike and not a mtn bike.   He would have his chance soon enough.  In a few more days our camp would include 2 days of skinny tire riding.  Right now I was right where I wanted to be and feeling quite at ease.  Whether I’m in Switzerland, Utah, or North Georgia, mountain biking gives me that contented at-home feeling.

Following the road up, we took a right turn over a bridge to connect back to the trail system.  Basically, the trail paralleled the road climb allowing us the same gorgeous views just without the nuisance of traffic.   Now we were out in the open with the terrain more barren and rocky.   A little river was to the left of the trail, and eventually we crossed a small bridge as the trail climbed bringing us closer to the mountains.   The rocks made for fun navigating, not too crazy, but enough to make me appreciate my full suspension.

Random groups of grazing cows were trailside completely unimpressed with our efforts.  The obligatory Swiss cowbells, which no doubt annoy the heck out of the cows, provided me and Cam with delightful entertainment.   In retrospect, it’s not unheard of to pass cows on a ride back home, but there is something so exciting about hearing that “clankity clank” of a cowbell.   Acting like complete nerds, we stopped to take pictures and pet the unamused animals.  Apparently, Swiss cows are taught as calves to tolerate tourists and they completely indulged our silliness.   I’m quite sure at home we would be stampeded by a Southern herd if we exhibited such ridiculous behavior.  That thought made it all the more special.

The trail passed by the Diavolezza cable car then turning to doubletrack and passing underneath a rail bridge where we waved to passengers riding by on a Swiss red train.  We were nearing the reservoir and Lago Bianco which lies in a long plateau about 4 km in length at the top of the Bernina Pass.   Views of glaciers and craggy mountain tops definitely gave one the feeling of high Alps and all I could do was stare in disbelief as we rode bumpity bump around the lake.

Our companion, Chris, did a good job of hiding his irritation over our continual stops for photo taking.   It would appear to an onlooker that this was our first time to ever step foot out of Georgia.  It was Cam’s first visit to Switzerland and I was reveling in his delight as well.   I can only hope that I never grow weary or bored with the beauty of this land.   Each time is like the first time for me and I did not feel the least bit of remorse for holding up our ride over taking pictures.

Passing by the reservoir, views to the south opened up to the expanse of the Bergamo Alps in so many different shades of blue and green that my eyes had a hard time comprehending it all.   With the Palü glacier looming over us to the west, this spot just begged for a sit and savor moment.  Fortunately, the Belvedere Inn had been placed strategically at the best vantage point from which we could soak it all in while enjoying some heart warming food.

With our appetites satisfied, Martina told me we were about to ride some really fun singletrack  that I would really like.  Heading down some smooth singletrack through pine and firs, the trail was super fast and I had to keep my speed under check lest I take out any innocent hikers.   In the thick woods, gorgeous views no longer vied for my attention and I could focus completely on flying downhill.

Each time the trail passed through a town or crossed the railroad track, it got better and better.  Large rocks embedded in the loamy earth stretched out forever down the now very technical trail that took tight switchbacks through thick lush forest.  If I did not know any better, I could be riding the rocky techy trails of Pisgah Nat’l Forest in North Carolina.

This was my favorite part of the ride and it seemed to go on forever.  Keeping my weight back and down, I let my bike do all the work and found a nice flow.   This trail was great fun!  Martina was right.  I loved it!

As the trail smoothed out a bit more, it popped out to an opening with a stunning view of the town of Poschiavo below.   Bittersweet to behold, I knew this meant the blessed downhill was coming to an end.

Down in Poschiavo, we refilled our camelbaks and discussed our options on getting back up the other side of Bernina Pass.  We could take the train back to the top of the Pass or ride the road up the Pass.   Martina knew her limits (thanks to a year in grad school and little time for riding) and was taking the train, but Chris wanted to tackle the pass.  Never one to be outdone, I figured why not add Bernina Pass to my list of Alpine Passes.  It would be long and arduous, complicated by the fact that we were on mountain bikes, but I was up for the challenge.

Two long hours later, we neared the top of the Pass.  I remembered this last little bit of the climb where it joins in from Livigno since we had done it with Jeff, Becky, Chris, and Heather a few weeks ago.  This time seemed a bit slower.    Could my fat 2″ wide knobby tires have anything to do with that?

Martina was waiting near the top at one of the last switchbacks, and I could hear her hollering down to us.  By now, the 8+ hours of being out were beginning to take their toll and we were tired.   We quickly snagged a victory shot with the Bernina Pass sign (btw, the Bernina is the fifth most prominent peak in the Alps and highest mountain of the Eastern Alps).   We should have taken the trail back down that we had ridden up this morning, but our stomachs were saying otherwise.  The quickest way down was the road and that was the vote that won.

Tucking in single file, we flew down the road passing by Lago Bianco now over our left shoulder.  With thoughts of food racing through our head, we almost missed the turn off for Pontresina.  In the switchback of the road, we veered off to the right on the trail we had ridden up earlier that morning.   It was still just as fun as I remembered it;  smooth and zippy with the perfect flow.

Reaching the town of Pontresina, we weaved through narrow streets to the house where SMuP were waiting for us.   Thanks to Swiss Mami, we enjoyed a delicious meal outside with a magical view of the mountains and were rejuvenated enough to make it back to St Moritz before nightfall.

The sun had already set as we made our way on the maze of gravel paths leading through the woods and by a small lake.   The last light of dusk cast a magical glow on the backdrop of mountains as we rode through the cool night air.   Finally, I had experienced my first full on all day mountain bike ride in Switzerland, and we still had one more day left to ride!

I had not known what to expect and found myself surprised that the trails are somewhat the same as those we ride at home.  The same, only different; the views, the smells, the sounds, the people, the food, the expanse, the endless opportunities, all the little things that make it special and different.

Every day I find myself daydreaming about that ride.   I know there is so much more out there, so many different trails that we’ve yet to explore.   We merely scratched the surface.

It was all so wonderfully different. I cannot wait to do it again. Thank you, Martina, for taking me mountain biking in Switzerland!

Take a peek at my slideshow: