Sometimes there is no Plan B.
Our next destination,
Lenk im Simmental, was on the other side of the mountains; the shortest route is actually by bicycle—about 34 miles, but with more than 5,000 feet of climbing. Our chosen path was more mellow—about 54 miles, with an estimated 3,500 feet of climbing. By car, 100 miles. By train? Complicated.
Plan A was to ride up to the
Gemmipass in a cablecar with our bicycles, bike along the unpaved-but-packed trail along the ridge, and then ride another cablecar down a different slope to start our journey on the road. On a clear day, the views would be unrivaled.
So it was not good that the top of the mountain was hiding in the clouds, and less good that it was, in fact, raining.
We waited a bit, perhaps for the weather to improve, perhaps while our host explored alternative options. Then we biked over to the
Gemmi-Bahnen, where the operators gave us a quizzical look. Were these folks, with their road bikes, really going up in the cablecar ... in the rain? I imagine they expected us to return in short order.
Especially since they knew more about the conditions at the top than we did.
The gravel trail was mostly exposed, often single track ... through snowfields.
Today would be pep's introduction to mountain biking (without the mountain bike).
We knew that some of this trail would not be rideable on our bikes, and that we would hike short distances. I normally wear mountain biking shoes (with recessed cleats, and some tread) for ease of walking—indispensable, today.
Apprehensive at first, hiking seemed wiser to me than biking. But biking, of course, is faster.
Tentatively, I made my way along the path. When the exposed trail was a series of large stone blocks, I guessed that we were really traversing the top of a wall; snow filled in the slope below us. I dismounted and walked; little margin for error, there.
Gravel and snow and mud ... oh my! A fellow rider coached me. “Slide back off the saddle, more weight over the back wheel.” His wife darted ahead, her mountain biking skills evident.
When I stopped to snap a photo near the Daubensee, one of our riders suddenly realized that he no longer had his camera. [Note to fellow aficionados: offload vacation photos from your camera's storage daily.] He backtracked, but didn't find it.
This being Switzerland, the story of the lost camera has a happy ending. He had spoken to some hikers on the trail, who miraculously found—and forwarded—the camera. Too bad they didn't snap a photo of themselves, for posterity.
We regrouped at the
Berghotel Schwarenbach, once visited by Mark Twain, where a hot cup of tea and a pastry were most welcome. When we reached the cablecar at Sunnbüel, we had traversed more than five miles along the ridge.
From the snowfields to the tropics, our next destination was the town of Frutigen, where we would meet for lunch at the
Tropenhaus. “Just follow the signs,” our host told us, as he stayed back with a trailing rider.
We rolled into town; there were no signs, we had no address, and none of us remembered the name of the place. I pulled out my smartphone. It seemed like a long shot, but what the heck. “OK, Google,” I said. “Where is the tropical restaurant in Frutigen?” Up came a listing for the place, along with the address and its location on the map. I was certain that “Frutigen” would not be understood, and here I was presented with an arrow for turn-by-turn navigation details. It's magic, essentially.
With most of our route ahead of us, we were not eager to linger over lunch. There were some differences of opinion about the route we should follow; the shortest route entailed more climbing than any of us wanted. The group split, then came back together before two riders decided to rely on their Garmin for an alternative route.
On an unpaved trail through some fields, I misjudged a patch of gravel. Deeper than I expected, it grabbed at my front wheel. I went down hard. Rattled, but only scraped, I stayed on the roads after that.
By the time I got to our hotel, I was one tired puppy.
The first part of our journey on the Gemmipass took one hour and 45 minutes;
the second part, on the road, five hours and 15 minutes. I can only estimate our climbing for the day, as my bike computer had decided to go on strike. Two apps running on my smartphone have reported vastly different elevation gains for the same routes throughout this trip: for example, 4,456 feet and 3,206 feet for the second part of our route. The estimate at
GPSies: 3,493 feet. For the day, we biked some 54 miles.
We checked in and got cleaned up. Besides the view, my room had a balcony complete with flowers and a fold-down rack where I hung my laundry to dry.
Those two riders who had gone their own way?
Missing.
The call came during dinner, and our co-host left to retrieve them. Two more tired puppies.
What a day!
Posts
