To Fiesch

September 14, 1993

A monumental day. After our earliest start yet, leaving the hotel by 8:15, we biked along the north shore of the Brienzersee to Innertkirchen, 37k to the east. The first 20, alongside the lake, were like the end of yesterday: beautiful, dramatic shorefront the entire way, with surprisingly light traffic. The last 15, past the lake, were on a bike path away from the road, paralleling the Aare, through a gorgeous valley. The Alps rise precipitously, startlingly from the valley floor, with impressive waterfalls plummeting from the cliffs and with occasional breaks in the cliffs revealing snow-capped peaks to the south. Also, along this stretch we were delighted to pass six soldiers bicycling the other way, in camouflage fatigues, carrying huge packs and rifles.

Ahead, the valley narrows sharply into what looks like a box canyon hemmed in by thousand foot cliffs on all sides. Just after passing spectacular Reichenback Falls (of Sherlock Holmes fame), we arrived at Innertkirchen ad refreshed ourselves before undertaking the 27k ascent of Grimsel pass. (Also, here or in a previous town we checked in at an information center to validate that bicycling up this pass was possible and legal).

As a somewhat non sequitur aside, one of our biggest surprises about Switzerland is how amenable to biking it is - at least in the lake country. It has an abundance of traffic-free side roads and paths ideal for biking, and a large cycling population - more so than in France, it seems to us.

The climb began nearly immediately after leaving Innertkirchen, and except for two or three short (one kilometer) stretches of gradual grades was over 5% the entire way, and was often very steep. At about a half dozen points the road ran into a nearly vertical 500 foot wall, with the road gaining elevation in a series of agonizingly steep, demoralizing switchbacks. It was a far more difficult climb than I had expected, and much more strenuous than Going to the Sun (Rachael's previous hardest climb).

The scenery was spectacular, unforgettable. Sheer, exposed rock formations walled in the narrow canyon on both sides and often ahead of us as well. The natural beauty of the rock faces was set off at the lower elevations by rich green meadows, then by dark evergreen woods, and finally, for the last several miles, by fresh snow.

The road, other than for snowmelt, was clear; but the shoulders by the time we reached the summit had several inches of melting snow/slush, making us arrive late in the day - we arrived at the summit about 2 PM. It also made us very cold - even with every reasonable layer we could assume, we were quite chilled when we stopped to thaw our hands over coffee at a hotel in Gletch, after about a 700' drop from the summit.

Other than for a few panorama shots, this is the last photo I took of the day. Unfortunately, my camera battery died on the way up the pass.

The view from the summit south into the Rhone valley is awesome and a bit terrifying. The road drops precipitously through a series of switchbacks to the valley floor - and then ascends the other side to an even greater height at Furka Pass, for those hardy enough to continue to the east (which had been my original plan for this trip two years earlier, when I envisioned biking through the Balkans to Athens). Between these two passes, perched high above the valley floor, is wedged a hanging glacier that marks the origin of the Rhone.

A cropping from the panoramic photo above

Looking down to the Rhone valley from the summit of Grimsel Pass

I think the glacier hanging on the facing wall is the Rhone Glacier, the source of the Rhone. The dark zigzag scar to its right is Furka Pass.

Our final 30k for the day were along the north bank of the Rhone, gradually dropping altitude, passing through a continuous series of villages and small communities, broken by very mysterious looking farmlands. The whole cultural feeling is very different here from any I've ever encountered. The architecture is almost uniformly one of squared log houses. Farming here looks arduous, largely human and animal powered - we pass several families out manually working the fields, hoeing potatoes. It all looks like a scene from a much earlier time.

The towns are more mixed, with the traditional architecture intermixed with newer accommodations to tourism, largely of the adventure-outdoor sort. There are many indications that skiing and climbing are major activities here.

Our hotel in Fiesch is of the traditional blocked log style, with one wall covered with braided onions hanging to dry. After finding our room, we canvassed the village for two necessities - batteries for the camera, which thoughtlessly gave out on the way up the pass today; and cheese fondue for Rachael. Successful on both counts, we retired to our Frei Zimmer, weary but content. (Ed: surprisingly, my journal doesn't mention what has proven to be my clearest memory of this day. At our hotel, I went downstairs to the bar to catch up on my journal over a beer, and was pleased to have a small bag of pretzels accompanying them. When I was done I went back upstairs to the room. A few minutes later there was a knock on the door, from the bartender - he was requesting payment for the pretzels.)

Today's ride: 100 km (62 miles)
Total: 775 km (481 miles)

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