Website contents:
- Home
- GoingTheExtraMile: About us
- Events, races and expeditions
- Publications
- Reading list
- Charity fundraising
- Your say - Blog!
- Merchandise
- Contact us
Events, races and Expeditions navigation:
Website contents:
Events, races and Expeditions navigation:
The next morning we were up and off early on a day that would take us over two passes and back over the border into Switzerland. As we set off, on a wet road but under a blue sky, we soon realised why the last miles were hard work yesterday. The valley head was just above Chamonix and we had climbed a considerable chunk of its height whilst dodging trucks on the motorway. The end of the valley was enclosed by mountains on all sides and the air was chilled and still. As we began the winding final section of the climb, an impressive glacier clung to the mountain slopes opposite us. The Col de Montets is slightly higher than the previous days climb but came easily this morning and we celebrated at the top with a short break to admire the view. The Col lies on the main road back into Switzerland and was busier than the single car width route that we were treated to yesterday, but the views remained spectacular.
We pushed on along a swooping rollercoaster of a road, stopping only when a panicked road worker ran out to tell us about the trench he was digging across the road as we approached it at 40mph! Minor disaster averted, we were waved through the border at speed and soon began the ascent of the Col de la Forclaz. The climb got underway as we were cheered along by a team of road workers. A long, steadily ascending stretch of road led us between pine woods and towards the head of a valley. Again, the air was chilled and still and the sound of cow bells clanking echoed eerily between the flanks of the mountains. We took a quick break to get pictures of each other toiling up the upper sections. With a final, steep twisting section the road approached the summit with great views back over the valley. With one last final hairpin we crept onto a flat-ish col-top and were presented with a stunning mountain panorama. Valleys stretched away ahead of us with huge, jagged montains framing their limits. Blue skies reflected in their ice-bound upper reaches. A small fenced area enclosed several scrawny cows and a large white marque.
As we filled up our water bottles from a pump near the road, an Austrailian backpacker passed by on his Tour de Mont Blanc walk. We chatted whilst he prepared his lunch, before heading off into the valley below. The road twisted its way down an impossibly steep slope through wooded cliffs and alongside huge mountain waterfalls sheathed in clouds of spay. We rocketed down the slopes, flying around hairpin bends at 40mph for a good half an hour.
As we dropped into the waiting valley, we drew closer to the town of Martigny, marked out in a grid system and looking like as airport terminal to the runway like, arrow straight, road heading up the valley. The temperature soared as we lost height and we soon needed to get lathered up with suncream. As we swooped down the last section of the descent we flew past a large sign announcing that the Grand St Bernard Pass, just ahead of us was open. The late opening of this pass this year had caused us some discussion before the trip. The pass was a monster at over 2500m altitude and we had been keen to pit ourselves against it. With the late opening though, we had decided on the slightly lower Simplon Pass into Italy, which also gave us a more direct route to the Italian Lakes - a stop for later on the ride. We needed food to make the decision and piling our last few Swiss Francs onto the table of a nearby ristorante we ordered spaghetti. After making the decision several times and then changing our minds, we eventually settled on the Simplon Pass - perhaps less spectacular but this would give us more time in the Lakes. Spaghetti gone and paid for we set off along the road to Brig, another 50 miles away at the end of the valley and at the foot of the Simplon Pass.
The sun bathed us in warmth and the wind helped us along to an easy 25mph. After the mornings effort, we were happy to cruise along with minimal effort and enjoy the mountain views despite the heavier traffic. We made quick progress, stopping off briefly at the walled town of Sierre, which had an impressive castle sat on top of a knarled rock.
We pushed on along the valley as the road skirted between a gushing meltwater river and a cliff edge, through long dimly lit tunnels that had us feeling ever more edgy as trucks thundered past us in the dark. Unbelievably, within the length of one of these tunnels, the weather changed from blue skies and a fair tail wind - perfect! - to a smudgy grey sky with a fierce headwind! Disbelieving and feeling cheated we crept along the tunnels as they funnelled the wind right at us. We inched along the road feeling pathetic and with our energy levels and morale dropping - this was supposed to be a holiday! The road wound through fields and tunnels with no shop in sight as we searched for something to eat and some temporary shelter from the now driving rain. As we approached the first town for a few miles, our expectations soared. We crept into the suburbs and tried a dingy looking cafe-bar with a barman who refused to serve us. Whether this was because they were not open or because we were soaked and stinking, we never managed to establish. On the other side of town we found a pattiserie and dived in; gingerbread men, cream buns, coke and coffee cheered us right up!
Refueled and high on sugar we ventured back out into a now abating wind and under a clearing sky. A long, straight and tree lined road led us towards Brig and we were looking forward to getting off the bikes and into a warm shower. As we trundled along, we spotted a group of cyclists ahead with heavy laden bikes and curious to find out where they were headed we pushed on for a chat. A group of Americans living in the UK, they had set off from London and were on their way to Rome - impressive! They had skirted Lake Geneva and been struggling down the same valley as us all afternoon - we were glad to hear that they felt equally betrayed by the wind and were also exhausted! This, however, had not changed their plans to ascend the Simplon Pass later that evening. As we arrived in Brig, we said our good-byes, wished each other luck and we peeled off into town.
Having heard nothing about Brig previously and chosen the stop over merely for it's position at the foot of the Simplon Pass, we were didn't know what we would find when we arrived. And it's a good job we didn't have high expectations. As we arrived through the edge of town we glided past drab looking concrete buildings and unfriendly looking bungalows fenced in like fortresses. We joked that at least, whilst we were recovering from the exertions of the day by collapsing in a hotel room, we would not be missing all the fun in town! A we wound our way through the miserable outskirts, we randomly stumbled on a suprisingly quaint central square and a few old cobbled streets buzzing with restaurants and bars. This little spot would do fine, and after being quoted some extortionate rates for rooms, we eventually holed up in a Travel Inn style hotel and headed out for a monster pizza, pasta and ice cream feast!
As we returned to the hotel, we stood by a surging river and studied the lower end of the Simplon Pass winding around a valley head and upwards into the cloud base. Tomorrow we would be straight out of bed and following our American friends over this huge pass with a peak at 2005m above sea level. It was with a mixture of excitment and anxiety that we dosed off into an exhausted sleep.