velotel
08-23-2012, 01:54 AM
Rolling with Julie, that’s what I kept thinking the first day on the bike. As in the Sound of Music, the film version. Some of you might not be old enough. Came out in ’65. A surfeit of sweetness and beautiful people, music and singing, good versus bad, and everyone living happily ever after. Or at least the good people. The basic Hollywood film from that time. Outside of the nuclear sugar blast, the film has stunning scenes in the Austrian mountains. Seeing those scenes was like shooting up a pure dose of alpine air.
The first day was like that, but without Julie singing and dancing in the fields, just my wheels humming on the road. And powerful motors rumbling the air. Subdued rumbles. Subtle, the Swiss. Assuming driving around in a Bentley GT convertible defines subtle. Or in a Ferrari, or an Aston, or a Maser. I’d include Porches but there were so many of those - almost all convertibles - they were like pickups in the US. Even saw what I think was a Pagani Zonda but not sure on that. Saw two Ferarri Californias, front engine, two seats, open top. Gorgeous. Of course.
Pays d’Enhaut, Switzerland, that’s where. Near Gstaad. Discovered after arriving Gstaad is some high class ski resort; looks boring for strong skiers. Sean Connery hangs out there apparently. Found with Google Earth. Pays d’Enhaut, not Sean. First Google Earth holiday. Searched for a place within 3-4 hours in the mountains (easy in Switzerland) with roads and cols to ride. Found Chateau d’Oex, small village, looked good. Checked out photos of the area, found some by a cyclist. Place looked very good. Booked a room, turned out to be a major good call. Note in advance the cols here aren’t the high cols Switzerland is famous for, the ones you’ve seen in posts by Karen and Gothard.
The hotel is excellent, not cheap but could have been worse. Switzerland is expensive. Late arrival, settled in, had dinner. An excellent one with a very good swiss wine. Never drunk a swiss wine before. With all the vineyards they’ve got figured there had to be some good wines produced. There are.
Morning, ready to ride. Two cols, around 70K, totally unknown. I’m off, up the valley. Oops, not yet. Few hundred meters down from the hotel have to stop to let a train go by. Lots of trains in Switzerland. Classic. Okay, I’m off. More traffic on the road than I’m used to riding with. Most move left generously. Cruising along, sucking up the views, warming up the legs. Get passed by a fine looking blond. I didn’t feel like picking up the pace. Pictures to take. Got to a place where I had to shoot and there she was stopped, on the phone. I rode off, she was still talking. Stopped to shoot again, she rode by. I was pretty amazed riding there because of how many women - and I have to say good looking women at that - I saw riding road bikes. And I mean riding, like driving a pace, looking good on the saddle. Might have seen more women than men! Way different than where I am in France.
Approaching Gstaad and I see a bike path sign. Swing right. Excellent. Rode that path a long way up past Gstaad before it finally ended. Didn’t see anything of Gstaad, the road totally slips by anonymously. A one lane road – barely – restricted to local traffic but with bikes and pedestrians prioritized. Along a small river, through fields, past sawmills, past homes. You’ve heard Switzerland is clean. Clean doesn’t begin to cover it. They’re astonishing. Even the sawmills and industrial zones are neat as the proverbial. Must be in their genes.
Rejoined the main road, the one to Col du Pillon, summit 1546, about 450 meters up from where I rejoined the road well past Gstaad. A bunch more not far off flat rolling, not much traffic out here. The real climbing starts after Pillon, only about 5,5K long but the last 2K has some sustained double digit ramps. Winding road in a thick forest with glimpses of mountains. Nothing spectacular with the col, just a roll over in a narrow valley from one drainage to another. What’s wild is the tram soaring up the mountain to a summit at 3000 meters, the tram hanging free between stations. First tram rises to 2500 meters, second tram dangles across a huge basin, long distance but only 500 vertical. Must be great views up there. Glacier on the back side from the col.
Down the other side. Commitment. Getting back meant having cross a col. No problem, riding well. Fast descent, good turns. Only two emergency stops, photo stops. I never stop in downhills to shoot. I did there. Twice. Couldn’t help myself. Wasn’t easy because the descent was good, fast and curvey. Swept through the village of les Diablerets. End of the fast descent, now just fast cadence, biggest gear. On the south-facing side of the valley, pizza oven conditions. Both big water bottles empty, tongue dragging on the top tube. Kept looking for somewhere to fill a bottle. Hit the junction with the road to Col des Mosses, the road back to the Chateau d’Oex. Up, sustained, not sure how steep but at that point felt pretty steep. Sun baking me dry. Gotta be a fountain somewhere along here. Like cops and taxis, nowhere in sight when needed.
Houses in the distance. Houses equal water. Looking saved by the bell. Ride through a one-way section of road work. Tempted to ask the workers if they have some spare water. Figure they probably need it worse than me. The heat is brutal on the road. Spot a small shelter on the left. Yes! A fountain, water pouring out of a curved wooden post. Saw lots of those there. Still wondering how they do that. Fill one bottle, drink it dry, hit me again mate. I hang in the shade for awhile, enjoying the view. Reminds me of Colorado. Mountains here are rounder, softer than the Alps I’m used that are mostly rock, ice, and snow. Okay, off again. Turns out I wasn’t far from the col. The road went mostly limp and I was flying along at a pretty good, for me, clip. An air bath, refreshing.
Over the col, not sure when, that’s how gentle it is. Not even a sign, just some parking lots and buildings. I’ve been looking forward to this drop. The carrot that drove me on through the pizza oven. I’d driven it the day before. Fast, curvy, lots of back and forths, good pitch for lots of acceleration. I’m flying. Pass a motorcycle then two cars. Closing fast on a slow truck. Not good. Passing zones are short; he’s long. Into a sharp right, over a bridge, and we’re in a small village. Straight road out of the village, the truck speeds up, drops me. Same with the two cars and the motorcycle. The road dives into a series of wonderfully round S turns and I’m hauling butt, leaning over, carving through. Until I notice the view. On the brakes, Kodak corner here I come. Shoot some pics while ignoring the dirty looks my bike is giving me. Off again. Hard and fast. More linked bends through the forest. Then like a pheasant bursting cover, I’m out in the valley, back in Julie-land. Quick look to see if any milkmaids are dancing in the fields. There aren’t. A GT-R roars by. So much for Julie and her songs. Across the valley and into the village and up to the hotel. And I do mean up. Great hotel, wonderful place to stay, just one bump : the half K plus up to the hotel has some brain splittingly steep grades! Plus the pizza oven is going full strength again. Halfway up there’s a fat pocket of shade under a building. I circle twice slowly in the shade then go. Second half turns out to be easier, slightly, than the first half. Pull into the hotel. What the heck is that parked there! This is one gorgeous car. Never seen one like it. Paris license plates. Another guest. Turns out to be a 1953 Bentley Continental R Fastback. Slick car. Slicker than the owner. A loud Frenchman with major money and inflated idea of himself. But entertaining, in small doses. Has some dog that resembles a small Siberian. Apparently some Japanese race that the emperor had. He speaks japanese to it. He’s telling stories about Sarkozy and Hollande, the former hired by the King of Morocco to an advisor, the latter and his 10 million euros he’s stashed in banks in London and Switzerland. Funny guy, full of tales and himself. He replaced the Bentley flying B hood ornament with a bust of Lenin’s head. Have to give him credit though; he’s a got a car worth something like a million greenbacks and he drives it regularly. Shows some class to my thinking. Overheard him tell someone he’s got a Ferrari worth way more than the Bentley. Like I said, entertaining guy, in small doses. On the other hand the car would be wonderfully entertaining in huge doses. Just not sure where I’d put my bike.
On to the pics. Included shots of houses generously bedecked with geraniums for Karen. In truth not having shots of houses hidden behind geraniums would be all but impossible in Switzerland.
The first day was like that, but without Julie singing and dancing in the fields, just my wheels humming on the road. And powerful motors rumbling the air. Subdued rumbles. Subtle, the Swiss. Assuming driving around in a Bentley GT convertible defines subtle. Or in a Ferrari, or an Aston, or a Maser. I’d include Porches but there were so many of those - almost all convertibles - they were like pickups in the US. Even saw what I think was a Pagani Zonda but not sure on that. Saw two Ferarri Californias, front engine, two seats, open top. Gorgeous. Of course.
Pays d’Enhaut, Switzerland, that’s where. Near Gstaad. Discovered after arriving Gstaad is some high class ski resort; looks boring for strong skiers. Sean Connery hangs out there apparently. Found with Google Earth. Pays d’Enhaut, not Sean. First Google Earth holiday. Searched for a place within 3-4 hours in the mountains (easy in Switzerland) with roads and cols to ride. Found Chateau d’Oex, small village, looked good. Checked out photos of the area, found some by a cyclist. Place looked very good. Booked a room, turned out to be a major good call. Note in advance the cols here aren’t the high cols Switzerland is famous for, the ones you’ve seen in posts by Karen and Gothard.
The hotel is excellent, not cheap but could have been worse. Switzerland is expensive. Late arrival, settled in, had dinner. An excellent one with a very good swiss wine. Never drunk a swiss wine before. With all the vineyards they’ve got figured there had to be some good wines produced. There are.
Morning, ready to ride. Two cols, around 70K, totally unknown. I’m off, up the valley. Oops, not yet. Few hundred meters down from the hotel have to stop to let a train go by. Lots of trains in Switzerland. Classic. Okay, I’m off. More traffic on the road than I’m used to riding with. Most move left generously. Cruising along, sucking up the views, warming up the legs. Get passed by a fine looking blond. I didn’t feel like picking up the pace. Pictures to take. Got to a place where I had to shoot and there she was stopped, on the phone. I rode off, she was still talking. Stopped to shoot again, she rode by. I was pretty amazed riding there because of how many women - and I have to say good looking women at that - I saw riding road bikes. And I mean riding, like driving a pace, looking good on the saddle. Might have seen more women than men! Way different than where I am in France.
Approaching Gstaad and I see a bike path sign. Swing right. Excellent. Rode that path a long way up past Gstaad before it finally ended. Didn’t see anything of Gstaad, the road totally slips by anonymously. A one lane road – barely – restricted to local traffic but with bikes and pedestrians prioritized. Along a small river, through fields, past sawmills, past homes. You’ve heard Switzerland is clean. Clean doesn’t begin to cover it. They’re astonishing. Even the sawmills and industrial zones are neat as the proverbial. Must be in their genes.
Rejoined the main road, the one to Col du Pillon, summit 1546, about 450 meters up from where I rejoined the road well past Gstaad. A bunch more not far off flat rolling, not much traffic out here. The real climbing starts after Pillon, only about 5,5K long but the last 2K has some sustained double digit ramps. Winding road in a thick forest with glimpses of mountains. Nothing spectacular with the col, just a roll over in a narrow valley from one drainage to another. What’s wild is the tram soaring up the mountain to a summit at 3000 meters, the tram hanging free between stations. First tram rises to 2500 meters, second tram dangles across a huge basin, long distance but only 500 vertical. Must be great views up there. Glacier on the back side from the col.
Down the other side. Commitment. Getting back meant having cross a col. No problem, riding well. Fast descent, good turns. Only two emergency stops, photo stops. I never stop in downhills to shoot. I did there. Twice. Couldn’t help myself. Wasn’t easy because the descent was good, fast and curvey. Swept through the village of les Diablerets. End of the fast descent, now just fast cadence, biggest gear. On the south-facing side of the valley, pizza oven conditions. Both big water bottles empty, tongue dragging on the top tube. Kept looking for somewhere to fill a bottle. Hit the junction with the road to Col des Mosses, the road back to the Chateau d’Oex. Up, sustained, not sure how steep but at that point felt pretty steep. Sun baking me dry. Gotta be a fountain somewhere along here. Like cops and taxis, nowhere in sight when needed.
Houses in the distance. Houses equal water. Looking saved by the bell. Ride through a one-way section of road work. Tempted to ask the workers if they have some spare water. Figure they probably need it worse than me. The heat is brutal on the road. Spot a small shelter on the left. Yes! A fountain, water pouring out of a curved wooden post. Saw lots of those there. Still wondering how they do that. Fill one bottle, drink it dry, hit me again mate. I hang in the shade for awhile, enjoying the view. Reminds me of Colorado. Mountains here are rounder, softer than the Alps I’m used that are mostly rock, ice, and snow. Okay, off again. Turns out I wasn’t far from the col. The road went mostly limp and I was flying along at a pretty good, for me, clip. An air bath, refreshing.
Over the col, not sure when, that’s how gentle it is. Not even a sign, just some parking lots and buildings. I’ve been looking forward to this drop. The carrot that drove me on through the pizza oven. I’d driven it the day before. Fast, curvy, lots of back and forths, good pitch for lots of acceleration. I’m flying. Pass a motorcycle then two cars. Closing fast on a slow truck. Not good. Passing zones are short; he’s long. Into a sharp right, over a bridge, and we’re in a small village. Straight road out of the village, the truck speeds up, drops me. Same with the two cars and the motorcycle. The road dives into a series of wonderfully round S turns and I’m hauling butt, leaning over, carving through. Until I notice the view. On the brakes, Kodak corner here I come. Shoot some pics while ignoring the dirty looks my bike is giving me. Off again. Hard and fast. More linked bends through the forest. Then like a pheasant bursting cover, I’m out in the valley, back in Julie-land. Quick look to see if any milkmaids are dancing in the fields. There aren’t. A GT-R roars by. So much for Julie and her songs. Across the valley and into the village and up to the hotel. And I do mean up. Great hotel, wonderful place to stay, just one bump : the half K plus up to the hotel has some brain splittingly steep grades! Plus the pizza oven is going full strength again. Halfway up there’s a fat pocket of shade under a building. I circle twice slowly in the shade then go. Second half turns out to be easier, slightly, than the first half. Pull into the hotel. What the heck is that parked there! This is one gorgeous car. Never seen one like it. Paris license plates. Another guest. Turns out to be a 1953 Bentley Continental R Fastback. Slick car. Slicker than the owner. A loud Frenchman with major money and inflated idea of himself. But entertaining, in small doses. Has some dog that resembles a small Siberian. Apparently some Japanese race that the emperor had. He speaks japanese to it. He’s telling stories about Sarkozy and Hollande, the former hired by the King of Morocco to an advisor, the latter and his 10 million euros he’s stashed in banks in London and Switzerland. Funny guy, full of tales and himself. He replaced the Bentley flying B hood ornament with a bust of Lenin’s head. Have to give him credit though; he’s a got a car worth something like a million greenbacks and he drives it regularly. Shows some class to my thinking. Overheard him tell someone he’s got a Ferrari worth way more than the Bentley. Like I said, entertaining guy, in small doses. On the other hand the car would be wonderfully entertaining in huge doses. Just not sure where I’d put my bike.
On to the pics. Included shots of houses generously bedecked with geraniums for Karen. In truth not having shots of houses hidden behind geraniums would be all but impossible in Switzerland.