Bern

Gone in 30 seconds.

I was left behind.

At 7:55 a.m I left my helmet and water bottles on a table in the lobby, near the front door, like every other cycling day. People were milling about. Then I walked down to the garage to get my bike, like every other cycling day.

Just as I crossed the lobby with my bike, I saw last rider roll away from the front of the hotel.

Nine people didn't notice I wasn't there, which made me sad. I considered my options. Without a route plan, I had no hope that I would find them if I chased after them.

A few who weren't cycling sprang into action; one ran shouting after the group, but they didn't notice. Two phoned our host, who (luckily) answered and circled back.

When we caught up to the group, no one even said “I'm sorry.” Which made me more sad.

I kept to myself and right behind the leader, determined not to get lost. When there was uncertainty about the route and a rider asked my advice, I just shrugged. [You figure it out.]

After nearly two hours I broke my silence only when we rolled into Bern and a guy sitting on a bench playfully called out Tour de France, Tour de France! I replied Merci! with a smile.

We checked our bikes in the underground bike parking at the train station and walked toward—but short of—the Aare River. There had been much talk of the river, but there was only a quick view from a bridge as we entered town.

The city is a mix of the old and the new, clock towers and fountains and modern signs on buildings that have seen many shops come and go.

Imagine how many naughty children have been frightened by the Child Eater Fountain since it was created in the 16th century. As gruesome as any of the old fairy tales!

We stopped for a snack at a “pop-up” café. Run by a single person, we overwhelmed it. The group had split by then, but some non-cycling folks from our group joined us. Her four options quickly were reduced to three, only one of which I might have considered eating. Not the cheesecake. Not the horsemeat tartare. It was beet hummus or nothing. I had a ginger-something iced tea and regretted not carrying my own snack today.

I was hot and sweaty and hungry and thirsty and disappointed. In a word, cranky. I was not well-disposed to enjoying Switzerland's capitol city. We saw the parliament building, where some folks in black and white seemed to be staging an Abbey-Road-like photo shoot in front of the building.

We saw the Berner Münster (Bern Cathedral) and its ornate entrance.

But mostly we saw shop windows ... and nicer sidewalk cafés.

We walked back toward the train station, and our group of six was content to catch a train back to Burgdorf. I tried not to intervene, but finally gave up and pointed out which train and track we needed (lest we miss it). [Bravo, SBB app.] Our host tried to make it easier by purchasing all our tickets, but after waiting in (and leaving) the ticket office and struggling with two separate ticket vending machines, I didn't want to miss the next possible train.

When you travel with a bicycle on Swiss trains, you need a ticket for you and a ticket for your bike; the machines were apparently not cooperating and our leader bought only passenger tickets. Given that our group had been scolded (twice) on trains during this trip, I used the app to buy myself a bike pass. Just in case. [No one checked our tickets. This time.]

I'm guessing the other four riders had a better outing, as they were not yet back when we returned.

We biked only 19 miles, with 1,220 feet of climbing. I do prefer the countryside.