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Sunday, September 27, 2009

OMG!!! I couldn't believe my eyes...



The Sun was shining into the room with a vengeance, after a week of miserable rainy, cold and crappy weather. I had to squint, it was so intense. Throwing the French (Swiss?) doors open to my balcony, the heat poured into the little Hotel room somewhat akin to a Tsunami rolling over a Pacific atoll.



The clouds were... GONE!



Yeah.... right.

















In your dreams........






I woke clutching the down comforter, while tiptoeing to the bathroom, my feet nearly froze to the tiles. Oh yes... the Swiss must be hardy people I thought.






Outside, there was no Sun to be seen, I didn't have French doors to my balcony, in fact I didn't have a balcony at all.

What I did have was a window and from that window I could see fog. And rain, and throwing the window open, felt the crispness of a cold alpine morning.

I closed the window, to crank up the thermostat.
Where the hell was it?

Did I mention that many of the rooms I stayed in, have no thermostat!? Instead I got back under the quilt, lay there tossing and turning like a Mexican jumping bean for another hour, and finally gave in to the inevitable. At least the shower was hot! I shivered the entire time I was packing my gear down to the garage, loading Piroska. I wondered what she was thinking about all this. As I was checking out with the Amazon woman leading me to and fro, I thought, you know... GERMANS are lively compared to the Swiss!

I always heard Germans were stoic, subdued, orderly people. Ha! Compared to the Swiss, their Northern Neighbours are positively exuberant!!!

Never in my life had I seen such dour faces and attention to detail as I saw in Switzerland. And it wasn't limited to one place or person... no, it seemed that wherever I went not a smile was present.







The ride south from Guttennen was wet and cold. Immediately climbing, I realized I was totally alone on this narrow, wet twisting road. It felt like for the moment at least, I was the only human riding the only motorcycle, left on Planet Earth.




The temperature showing on my watch was 41F. Bloody awful mate! Still... it was somehow more comforting than 5 degrees C.

The land became barren rock in short order. Lakes were frozen solid. The thermometer dropped! As we climbed once again, massive snow drifts were cut 10 meters deep. I came upon a single vehicle, heading in the same direction. It was a Ford SUV. The driver was crawling along slower than I was. He pulled over in the narrow switchbacks allowing me, wanting me to pass. I had been on the road for less than half an hour and already was having a hard time feeling my fingers in my covered MX gloves. Wearing my gauntlets wasn't possible as the dish washing rubber gloves I'd bought in Szolnok wouldn't stretch over them. No matter, I would likely have been just as frozen in them anyway. My fingers felt like icicles!

I passed the Ford. I swear, it was the slowest pass in history that I could remember. Gone were the days I would "swoosh" by slower traffic. I wasn't doing any "swooshing" here. More like... well I couldn't think of the sound a turtle would make, crawling onto a steep Alaskan beach that was covered in Exxon Valdez oil at slightly above freezing, hmmm.... about the temperature it was right now, right here!

The SUV fell behind. Remarkable, seeing as I was travelling at somewhat less than Warp factor .00000000000001.

There was a concrete dam to my right. Short straights would be followed by a turn to the right, then the left then the right once again. No scraping of the knee pads here. Honestly, my big concern was that this rain would become ice at pavement level. It was steep, steeper than any paved road I'd come across in the CDN Rockies. I had seen roadsigns on my trip, in a number of places that indicated double digit inclines and declines. Nearing the summit of 2164M, (7100feet) Grimselpass, I was passed by not one, but 2 motorcycles coming from the opposite direction. We managed a slow motion wave, they were descending only slightly faster than I was ascending.


My spirits soared!


If they were coming down, I could make it up! But... what if they had tried to make it over and were turned back by a wall of Snow, as I had been yesterday. I pulled over to consult my GPS (map). Gletsch was just over the other side of this mountain. From there I could go southwest to Brig, and then on into Italy. Or... I could go East towards Wassen, my previous days destination. Trouble was, East would lead me over the Furkapass. That meant climbing to the summit at 2431M (8100'')






The Ford crawled past me in the hairpin curve. I didn't care.









The transmission clunked into low. Even it was being stubborn.



The summit was covered in hard pack glacier. Well it looked like a glacier from my vantage point. The usual hand full of wooden buildings, empty parking lots, a car over there, a snow plow here. A brief flat perhaps enough to land a WW2 "Stringbean" on, took me over the top. Once past the narrow rocky ridge, I began the descent. The view was magnificent! I pulled off at another hairpin, next to a Mechanical Snow Monster, something like you may see in a Swiss kid's toy box, warmed my hands on the cylinders, and snapped a few pics and some video. The cars, infrequent as they were, looked at me as they ground their way up or down the precipitous path. Oh how I envied them at this moment. Dashboard dials slid from blue to red, showering them with beautiful, exquisite, lovely warmth, heat!









I was huddled over the rapidly cooling outboard cylinders of the DOHC four.








Gletsch was waaaay down there in the confluence of narrow valley. I could see the highway disappearing around a bend to the west or continuing to the East. A railway snaking it's way to points unknown to me. They had Heat too!



Several men were at the crossing working on the line. I stopped to ask for advice. One of them spoke English as if he'd learned at Oxford. He explained that the Furkapass was open, they had driven through only this morning. Oh joy! I thought. Thanking him, I crossed over the the other side of the tracks somewhat like a chicken crossing the road, and began the laborious ascent once again. A glance at the numbers on the 'twin sensor' Casio showed 39 degrees F. I shivered unconsciously, hard enough to shake the handlebar in my frozen paws. The road soared into the mist, the rain began to turn into huge flakes of snow. There was not another vehicle on the road with me. I was totally alone, on a Planet of rock and ice climbing, into the void of gray, directly thru a cloud clinging to the side of the mountain. My only company was Piroska. Don't fail me know little Diversion I thought. I know you're cold and hungry too (I hadn't seen a fuel stop since yesterday afternoon) she was well into my 200km fill zone. I knew that if push came to shove or in this case, slip... I could squeeze perhaps 350km from the tank. Andermatt couldn't be more than 40 or 50 k from my present location. There would be fuel there.


Nearing the summit, I began to see vehicles coming down. Then an abbreviated tour bus came past. Out of the mist, there would be no photo ops here, I saw a building looming, then another. Could it be? Yes, bikes! Maybe a dozen. Mostly big GS Beemers parked on the opposite side of the hairpin. I waved weakly not wanting to lift my frigid hand from the bar. Clutching and shifting gears, the incline steepening, I thought my fingers were going to break off one by one!


Another GS came past, followed by a couple of Ducati's, then another gaggle of the Paris Dakar Beemers. My spirits were soaring like the roadway I was climbing. Another kilometer and the snow was coming down heavily. I came upon two small cars travelling gingerly. The slush turned to snow 6 inches deep, the only pavement was that of the two tire tracks I was now committed to. Another minibus came by, squeezing past us on the narrowing pavement. To my right was a sheer drop into huge boulders. The slender piece of highway I was riding reached the summit of the Furkapass. You couldn't see a hundred meters ahead. We were now down to barely 20kph, our little three vehicle convoy, as we crested the hill. I would have loved to have taken some pictures of what must have been an awesome view, but today the only thing I saw on this Swiss mountain top were huge snowflakes, shining wet rocks, and the tail lights of the small Peugeot three car lengths in front of me. What I didn't see was a guard rail at any point! Nada. One false step, one slip of the tire and it would be "Coytains" my friend. They'd never find you until the spring.


Ha... I laughed it was nearly summer!!! My watch showed 29 degrees Fahrenheit...

Friday, September 18, 2009




I'd be laughing...


















if I didn't feel like a human popsickle!

(Oh, to be cradled in the arms of my favorite woman... :)

The riding from the French border, bordered on the spectacular. Excellent paved highways, little traffic, well marked signage.


Swiss Route 11 led my Diversion and I through Zweisimmen, Boltigen, and Interlaken, via several lengthy tunnels to Meiringen. How those Europeans LOVE to tunnel. I couldn't tell you, oh loyal reader... how many tunnels I'd been thru with the little girl. We're not talking "Rogers Pass" type snow sheds here, nope... we're talking everything from a hole blasted thru a tongue of mountain... to full blown, autobahn swallowing, kilometer chewing, well lit, warm, curving, climbing, falling, precision made, tunnels.



The kind of tunnels a very sophisticated (and LARGE) gopher might be doing, if he was a construction engineer... and had access to a tunnel boring team! I meant to remember the longest ones and their locations, but seriously... I didn't. I do know that some I'd ridden were more than a few kilometers (Germany, CZ, Croatia) and the longest bordering on 8, maybe 10k. In any case, the longer tunnels would have regular emergency pullovers every few hundred meters, and turbine like ducted exhaust fans were giving me the impression I was testing some new swept wing fighter plane for the Luftwaffe!









I was in many regards "pushing my envelope", this was such a flight of discovery for me.







The countryside was just as one would imagine a Swiss countryside to be. Verdant green valleys, farms, small villages and towns, cows with cowbells* on their necks, languishing unperturbed in the coolness of the day, munching on lush grasses. The houses were made of wood on stone foundations, a departure from most of Europe's stone walled, tiled roof housing I'd seen everywhere else.






All around me peaks towered into the sky, slicing thru clouds like a Mongol horseman! When the sun shone thru... the blue was so startlingly vivid, akin perhaps to an Earth Ocean viewed from the port of the Space shuttle.







I paid for my fuel in Swiss Francs via credit card. While chomping thru a bag of potato chips, washed down by the pre-requisite Coke, a very sweet looking red Divvie pulled in to gas up. I went over to the rider who by this time was lubing his chain, well the Divvies chain... and attempted to strike up a conversation. Unfortunately my "Cherman" was limited to nein, ja, and auf Wiedersehen, and his English was limited saying "Es tut mir leid, ich nicht Englisch sprechen" so the conversation was... ahem, rather brief. However, we did smile a lot!!!






His bike had on a very neat and tidy, appropriately sized set of German made, detachable luggage that I would have loved to have had on Piroska! I wandered back to my bike and as he was leaving back to his home in Luzern, he finally understood what I was telling him, when he double taked at my identical red Yamaha 600. Although a brief encounter, I was gladdened to see such a well kept twin sister to my own ride.








Once past Meiringen, I was into the Alps proper. Up till now, the wide valley I'd been riding, had only tempted me with distant views of the highest peaks, but from here on in, I would be riding at the very top of the European Continent.


Winding roads and so-so weather delivered me to Innertkirchen where the number 11 climbs up towards Wassen. I was going to ride over the 2224M Sustenpass.



The traffic thinned considerably as I climbed steadily, until there was no traffic at all. How serene and surreal this was... up and up and up. Past the tree line, over ravines with rushing clear streams, thru tunnels one after the other... and always up. Ever up. The altimeter was changing constantly, the gearbox shifting from 4th to 3rd to 2nd, sometimes first gear, and then a tap dance back again.







Dropping temperatures were beginning to be of concern.






5000 feet.























6000 feet.



















7000 feet.




Not a car or bike in sight, "keine"







Only me, the road, my bike.



By this point any standing body of water was completely frozen, along with my outer extremities I'm afraid. I passed thru a tunnel, with a partially frozen waterfall, cascading over the top!


The road was slicing thru 10M high snow cuts, the water trickling across under my tires as they rotated slower and slower the higher I got. I was getting rather frigid!


Nearly fifty kilometers in, over the final set of switchbacks, another series of gear shifts passing 7500 feet and I'd reached yet another tunnel. This one was short. To the right stood an impressive wooden

hotel with a few BMW's and Mercedes parked in the lot. The tunnel was short, perhaps 100 M in length... but blocking my path was a gate. And in clear view opposite the gate, it was obvious the road was no longer plowed. A massive snow drift higher than the tunnel exit barred any further progress to the east. The summit of the Sustenpass was over there, beyond that tunnel and that mountain of snow... sigh... so near, and yet so far!



















No wonder the traffic was nil. I was only 10 0r 15 kilometers from Wassen but this day, June 8th... I may as well have been on Pluto!


There was no choice but to turn around and head back down the mountain to Innertkirchen where I would need to find a place to sleep. It was nearly a hundred kilometer boo-boo, but such are the many Mis-Adventures of Dr. N.


The foray/adventure up the hill? had chewed up valuable time and it would be dark relatively soon, especially since old Sol was well hidden in the clouds.


Not to be discouraged (although it made me wonder how I would fare elsewhere on the route thru CH) I enjoyed my descent from the heavens, stopping for photos in several spots. Back amongst first running water then trees then traffic, however slight, I turned left on the intersection I'd passed thru a couple of hours before.

I was very cold. Even with the advantage of the heated vest, the ride up and then back down, had cooled my body substantially, I needed to find a home for the night. To welcome me back to lower levels... it began to pour yet again. At Guttenen I found the Hotel Baren for 74 Swiss Francs (50E) and boy was I happy to get off the road for the night. The proprietress stood, well towered over me. I swear she was 6' 13"!! Very curtly and very formally, without a smile, she arranged my sleeping accomodation, showed me the garage where I could park my bike and checked me in at the Inn. The village was tiny and there was absolutely no where to go even had I wanted to. I broke into my emergency road rations after a blessedly long hot shower and then rewarded myself with a Snickers bar.


It had been an incredibly long 340km day...




*Have I ever mentioned the "Kowbell" story?
























































































































































































































Thursday, September 10, 2009

MAN... not only was this storm persistant but she was incredibly Defiant too! Born in June, it was a true Gemini. if I'd have given her a name... it would be Hurricane Debbie! Taunting and teasing, sexy and sultry one minute... and then a total insane, banshee screaming, blood curdling, frigging be-ach the next, lashing me with stinging pellets of rain driven by blasts of wind, hard enough to melt iron in a Pittsburgh steel factory.


I had left the Brunet in full battle gear expecting the worst. I wasn't dissapointed... cuz' I got just that! Fog so thick you would have sworn you were in Jolly Old. It wasn't cool, it was cold. Winds were smashing into the Divvie's fairing with such violence, I was afraid it would be torn from it's mounts and lost into the mists.


Even the Doctor of N. Thusiasm was having a difficult time keeping a smile on his face. To make matters even more interesting(?) I got lost in the fog.




Bike parked on the roadside, pouring over my map like the sheets of rain slamming my body, I was sooo glad to be plugged in. Those tiny little flowing electrons had saved my proverbial butt (not to mention other unmentionable parts of my body) many times. By keeping my torso relatively warm, I was keeping myself at a comfortable body heat level.


Fortunately, the worst of it had passed by mid morning. There were true Gemini like spans of intense, crystal blue sunshine to warm my spirits passing thru Thonon les Bains.

















During the respite, I stopped for a wander and cafe on the south shore of very gorgeous, and calm Lake Geneva, in a beautifully kept, pretty little city (Evian) where I was told by the obviously bored (I was the only paying customer) proprietor of the cafe, that "Brad and Angelina, Austrian born (I'll be back) Arnold" and other such famous celebs regularly visited. He pointed up the hill overlooking the lake, where posh villas and hotels roosted.
You could just smell the money...
I learned that even Mick and Keith were frequently seen walking the streets and visiting the bars, (yeah... right!) wearing their signature dark sunglasses.
(To hide their Identities?!)
In contrast... I may not have been a Rock Star... but I certainly felt like a Road Star!

I personally didn't see any of them, but could imagine the elite 'royalty' of People magazine hobnobbing in a place like this.
While snapping pics with my waterproof Olympus, I came across a red object that had caught my eye. It turned out to be a stone shaped like a heart, laying in only 6 inches of water, 2 meters from the Lake Geneva shoreline.
I waded in... Hell my boots hadn't dried out in days and my feet looked like prunes anyway, and retrieved the oddly shaped rock sitting in total contrast to the grayness of every other stone in sight!!! I took it as a positive omen that maybe... just maybe... my own rather gray past history of love affairs was going to contrastingly... brighten and turn red hot!
On the other hand... I certainly didn't want it turning to stone! Hahaha!!!




















One can always hope, right........




















Passing innocently into Switzerland with the Swiss Alps in clear view, I thought of my growing up in the sixties and seventies. This Displaced Hungarian kid that couldn't speak 'Inglish' until the first grade, listening to the likes of the Beatles, the WHO and of course, the W.G.R.B* When I saw the signs directing me towards Montreux, I remembered many lonely nights with my hookah and turntable... shaking the walls in my 'music room' in the Fort Mac split level, the raunchy wail of Deep Purple's (T.W.L.R.B**) "Smoke on the water" heavy metal blasting from the 'stereo' on LP***.
Recorded just across the lake from where I was now peeling off clothes in blossoming heat... I could almost see the flames, the smoke rising, as the Casino went up in flames!




"We all came out to Montreux, on the Lake Geneva shoreline... to make records with a mobile... we didn't have much time..."
"No matter what, we get outa this... I know, I know, I'll never forget...
Smoke on the water, a fire in the sky"






The temperature had shot up like a 105 mm projectile blasted from the muzzle of a howitzer. Before long I was roadside once again in sunshine so bright I thought my eyeballs would fry beneath my shades. (Of course, Nobody recognized me!)
The Alps shone in the near distance, calling my name (in Swiss/German). True to it's Gemini nature, the calm after (and before ) the storm was alluring, tempting, inviting, drawing me in.


"Come little boy Franz... come, don't be afraid..."

Little did I know what was in store for me in just a few hours of riding.


* World's Greatest Rock Band
**The World's Loudest Rock Band
*** Long Play