We woke up early in the campground on the shores of Lake Maggiore, the sister to Lake Como. The air off the mountains meant it was a fresh morning regardless of the time of year. Arthur and I got into our togs and went down to the lakes edge. Mountains hemmed the lake in and beautiful, old hotels with bright flower beds out every window scattered the shore. After a swim and breakfast at the campsite we loaded our bikes, a process as familiar as breathing in by now, and set off. We followed a river upstream and the snow capped peaks ahead of us became closer and closer. I was unsure if the Simplon Pass, our route of choice over the alps, was suitable for bikes. It looked like a main road for cars only but we had no alternative and so we rode on, stocking up on plenty of chocolate and bananas at the supermarket in the town at the foot of the pass.
The wonderful road up into the mountains
Pensive, nervous, terrified, but now slightly confident. The Turkey prepares to spread his wings
The river we followed to the base of the climb
A last shot of Lake Maggiore and the palace on the island
As we began climbing the road started to cut its way through rock faces. Waterfalls cascaded over avalanche covers which we pushed through as fast as possible. Inside the avalanche covers the noise of vehicles was horrible and the fear of not being seen, real. It didn’t dampen spirits though as we passed through some of the most beautiful scenery I have every beheld. We’d been climbing for 20kms but still had a 10km push to the top of the pass when we stopped for lunch beside a river. The legs were heavy and the air was getting a bit thinner which made the high intensity even more difficult. The Arctic Monkeys turned into The Killers and as we struggled on the slopes we were serenaded with the encouragement, “I got soul but I’m not a soldier”. Timmy fought courageously, body in a world of pain. Soon we crested the summit, above the snow line although it was only patchy. A hotel, similar to that in the film ‘The Shining’, and a small shop greeted us at the top along with an incredibly spectacular view to the Rhone Valley and Switzerland. The descent was a mad, high speed rollercoaster. We were all screaming and yelling in joy. Incoherent nonsense. I caught it all on camera and maybe it will surface one day.
Trying to lift the bike at the Swiss border crossing. Even two of us struggled
One of the many avalanche covers
The views to the mountains above were insane
Inside the covers the noise was intense. Going uphill meant we spent more time in them than we would have liked
Is that a Macpac rain coat and Bailey Nelson sports range sunnies I see? What fantastic products!
A view back towards Italy, riding the best roads we could have hoped for
Our spot for lunch. It was getting colder up at this altitude
Turkeys fooling around
The colours were wonderful
In winter it would be tough to live up here
Anyone seen 'The Shining'?
The top of the pass. Sean nowhere to be seen
Campsites were few and far between as the slopes were too steep to pitch a tent. We ended up asking an elderly couple if we could pitch on a beautiful patch of grass overlooking the valley. It had quite the view. They didn’t own the land but said we were welcome to pitch in their driveway. Again kindness from all parts of the world flooding us. We had pasta (again) and drank the most beautiful mountain water to refuel before bed. Looking back I think that was the most special day of riding for me on the trip. At least top 5.
Our Swiss experience continued with a telling off by the Police. I’d navigated us onto a brief section of highway and quickly realised my mistake. We’d been on the road for all of 5 minutes but that was enough for the efficient vigilante of Switzerland to intervene. The cops were lovely and interested in what we were doing so it was quite a nice telling off. We rolled through the valley. It was incredibly pretty. Mountain streams flowed beside us with glacial blue snow melt. Cows, tagged with ornate copper bells (only in Switzerland) grazed on the greenest pastures known to man. We lunched, drank more mountain from an alpine water log (a fountain of sorts), and then began the climb up to Verbier. The switchbacks were steep and vicious. It was hot beyond belief and Sean had set a cracking tempo to the base of the climb. With the brotherly Alpe d’ Huez show down only a matter of days away Arthur and I were looking to stretch the legs. We were soon alone on the mountain but neither of us were keen to show our cards. Arthur, to disengage the tension, stopped for photos and how could I blame him? The views were spectacular. We reached the top a little slower than Contador did in the 2009 Tour de France but similarly exhausted.
The way down the alps
Our lovely hosts. We camped in the driveway and were welcomed to their home. Special moments
The road towards Verbier
What is going through this man's mind? Is he hurting? Is he loving it? We may never know
For the next few days we were treated to the best body, mind and soul cleanse in the mountain air. We stayed with our good friends Sian and Ed Leigh, mad snowboarders, health and yoga maestros, and just the best people you could meet. Sian, founder of The Health Shed, put us on a diet of all things healthy and good for the system, all which were (and still are) struggling from India. We hiked, ate, drank, and played table tennis in what was one of the most wonderful and relaxing stops of the trip. Good time spent with friends certainly recharged the batteries. The mountain air and the views from the ski resort town made us feel renewed for the next leg of the journey. A big thanks to Sian and Ed and another special thanks to Suki and Oscar for letting us crash your pad! Stay rad guys!
Who is this bronzed, lean machine? Surely not Timmy Chen?
The hills were alive
Wondering if times would ever get better. He didn't jump fortunately
Verbier down to the left, the valley at the base of the climb to Verbier on the right
Not a bad stop for some of Sian's incredible home made brownie
The sore legs struggled on the downhill
Sian, Ed, and a few wild turkeys
The Rhone Valley below. We cycled the dead straight road you may be able to make out
Hobbits on a wee quest
Sunset, moonrise over Verbier
Our wonderful friends Ed and Sian Leigh
Leaving Verbier we were to be treated again. Our wonderful friends cycling from Switzerland to NZ, The Long Way Home, went out of their way to make sure we were hosted in Lausanne. SVB, Becs, and Emma got in touch with their friend, Hannah, who put us up for the night in her empty apartment. Not only that but we were treated to pizza and beer on the shores of Lake Geneva by SVB’s partner. We were just completely overwhelmed by the kindness.
We rolled through Geneva. The wind was so strong (at our backs fortunately!) that the famous fountain was not in operation. The road continued into France. We were sad to see the back of Switzerland. It may have been a short excursion but it was a wonderful and unique insight into an exquisite country.
Descending from Verbier
Jack, I'm flying!
We were lucky enough to meet the Olympic Committee in Lausanne and learn about the planning and effort that goes on behind each Olympic Games. Great to meet some Kiwi legends behind the scenes. Thanks to the Long Way Home girls for teeing this one up!
Outside Olympic HQ
Papi found a free piano on the shores of Geneva and boy did he impress
A few years ago I had stayed in Annecy with Timmy. We had the intention of riding the alps (and did crack some kms) but were seduced by the cheap wine, wonderful fondue, and beautiful cafes and restaurants of the old town. A second visit was always on the cards. Our warm showers host, Flo (I’ve misspelt that for sure sorry), was at home at 8pm so we sat by the lake front, the sun warming us in between dips in the water, and drank a few bottles of the regions red wine. It was truly special. It gave me time to reflect on what had happened in the two years since I was last there. A rather nostalgic feeling took over as so often does for me. A sign we’ve been living the best days of our lives. I have been so lucky.
Switzerland done and dusted. The monuments were the mountains but we found a cool Ferris Wheel also
Old town Annecy
Looking down to Annecy. The massive park at the lake front was a gift from one of the citizens to the city. It now is a wonderful public space. The canal to the left of the park is where the old town begins
Lunch with our wonderful hosts who shared home, food, and stories with us
And they had the cutest little puppy
The view down the lake. We cycled up the right hand side
A rare shot with Sean. He is the guy on the left of the picture. It was a wonderful stay with our lovely hosts
Flo and his partner let us camp on their lawn. They made us the most incredible fondue specific to the region and shared beers and home made rums with us. Stories of their adventure crossing the Andes on bikes inspired us further. The next day we went hiking high above the town. Again another special day and place. Flo escorted us to the end of Lake Annecy down the cycle highway that follows the lake. The riding was sublime. We reached Grenoble in time to catch the end of the French Quarter Final against Argentina. The city, slightly wild west and run down, ran amok with cars speeding through the streets adorned in French flags tooting wildly in ecstasy.
Lake Annecy
Flo came with us to the edge of the lake. He was a wee bit faster than us with his lighter bike
Riding the cycle pathways out of Annecy
The French win the football
We were in the dodgy part of town. We sadly bore witness to a beating and a series of burned out cars. Timmy and Sean braved the city and stayed poolside at the hotel we had decided to treat ourselves with. Arthur and I set off early in the morning on touring bikes with no bags attached for L’boug d Oisans, the town at the foot of L’Alpe du Huez. We already had ridden 50km when we reached the town. Without a break since Milan the legs were heavy and could feel the work we’d done in the mountains on the touring bikes. Loaded with energy shots and drinks we set off at the base of the climb.
The Story of Alpe d' Huez
The tension could be cut with a knife. Hands were shaking. Legs were quaking.
I looked across at Arthur as if to say ‘What have you got?’ He looked back at me wide eyed as to say, ‘Please why, no don’t make me do this. Why you always make me do stupid things?’
I didn’t heed his look. His plea for mercy. Like a lamb I lead him to the slaughter on the slopes of cycling’s greatest mountain.
Gleefully I set the pace high on the early slopes. The first 4km we knew were the hardest. The mountain rose like a wall with gradients around 10% but I powered into them and soon we were high above the town and carving the switchbacks without recourse to our fatigue.
I looked across at Arthur. He was still there. Breathing heavily as I was, but still there. Around 7kms into the climb my legs started to feel heavy. I quickly shoved an energy shot into my mouth and looked deep into my experience for help.
Arthur pulled in front of me to assist and take the wind. I sat on his back wheel for all of 50m before his bike started to pull away. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be? I looked down at my speedo and it read 17kph. How in gods name was I supposed to hold 17kph up Alp d Huez? My brain whirled. I considered getting on the phone to my lawyers immediately as I knew a certain Cortisone cream was being used by Arthur, similar to the famous Lance Armstrong case but instead I forged on. Switchback after switchback we navigated until we reached the top. My speedo read 59 minutes. Arthur had beaten me by an estimate 1.30 minutes but we have no way of knowing for sure as his speedo stopped working. He also took an alternative route for the last km or so. It’s controversial. The results certainly challengeable. I think I’ll leave it to the public to decide the outcome.
With blood in my throat and vomit in Arthurs we had a beer victoriously upon cycling’s Mecca. The road lay West, however, and so we returned to Grenoble to meet the boys. There we would continue our ride in a slog towards Paris. The most wonderful days of riding had come to an end. I love the Alps more than I can describe. It was the best cycling I could have hoped for. A special thank you to Huez Bike Hire who refused to charge us a fee for the bike rental after learning of our cause. If you’re looking to tackle the mountain look these guys up they have the best gear and the best service.
The views from Huez were not bad
Controversial at best but as Arthur said, "It's cycling, what you gonna do?"
https://www.huezbikehire.com/en/
The road to Paris beckoned.
