Gruyères

Another day to be on our way. Another ... rainy day.

Just as there were different philosophies of navigation among the members of our group, there were different attitudes about the weather.

The hardy contingent, indifferent to the conditions, were the first to depart. Just suit up and ride.

Next were the ones who preferred to look outside. “It's stopped raining, let's go!” [They got wet.]

Then there were the ones who looked at the forecast on their smartphones. “It will stop raining by 9:30 a.m., we'll leave then.” [They were delayed.]

And there was pep, who likes the animated weather map on her phone. “After that next band of showers, we'll be good to go.” [For those who waited with me, only the roads were wet.]

This being a Sunday, there was very little traffic. It also meant that most businesses were closed, including cafés.

For the last ride of my trip, I was all for a scenic route. With some hills, of course.

There was one minor problem with that: The bike was balking at shifting into my granny gear. And when the going gets steep, I shift. Down. All the way down.

There was one tricky turn that our host worried we would miss. He pointed at the map; there was a distinctive hairpin outside of Saanen, which (if we saw it) meant that we had gone too far. I found the spot on Google Maps and zoomed in, switching to satellite mode. “Ah,” I said. “Before the turn, there is a hotel on the left. There are diagonal lines painted in the center of the road. Shortly after that, there will be more diagonal lines in the median, and that's where we turn right onto the Unterbortstrasse.” When we got there, it was clear. “Next turn,“ I called out, signaling to the right.

Our route took us along some isolated roads, skirting the edge of the Gruyère Pays-d’Enhaut Regional Nature Park as we moved east into the French-speaking area of Switzerland. We enjoyed a narrow winding road alongside a stream, Le Ruisseau des Fenils. The banks were edged with a plant whose leaves were enormous—bigger than my head. Bigger than a bicycle wheel.

The long grade was a slow uphill grind without my lowest gears, but it was doable. To a point. Periodically I would tap the lever for the recalcitrant shifter, to no avail.

Then, finally, it clicked into place. Oh, the joy! Just in time, for soon the climb got steep. If that's not clear to your legs and lungs, it's clear to your eyes when you meet local cyclists training on it. A strong woman cruised past me with apparent ease, but it wasn't long before I caught sight of her again ... walking. It turns out that the grade was >10% for a couple of miles.

The road over the last summit passed through fields where cattle were free to roam; “Bovi Stop” signs were placed near the cattle guards. As a few started across the road, saw me approaching from one side and a car approaching from the other ... what would they do? They looked nervous. I stopped and waited for them to sort themselves out.

Our hotel in Gruyères was at the edge of the old town. Here's the thing: the oldest parts of European towns are typically on a hill, the better to defend against unwanted visitors long ago. “Yes,” I assured the others; “we go up.”

After dinner, we strolled through the town and around the outside of its 13th-century château. I was told it would be a travesty to say I'd visited Gruyères and not had double cream, so I joined my hosts for a bowl of framboises à la crème double. [Mmm.] And well earned, after climbing 4,000 feet over 42 miles.