June 29, 2012
Day 21: Whoa, is it really this pretty here?
Feeling a little blue at the start today, after saying goodbye to Leo and Steph.
Yesterday, after saying goodbye, I boarded a bus that swept me up to the train, that took me through a hole in the mountain and delivered me on the other side in the town of Kendesteg. Man, talk about a stereotypically beautiful Swiss village. It oozed Swissness...
Still, even that wasn't enough to cause me to stop missing my friends. But today's weather, scenery and riding conditions helped.
I was on to my next Swiss bike path, route 64, which, because if its coolness in every way, I am devoting a whole entry to.
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After Route 64 came national route 9, and mostly along the lake fronts, which makes sense since it is called the "Lake Route." Damn, that's some pretty stuff! Interlaken was fabulous and the gateway to the next ludicrously beautiful valley that included the town of Lauterbrunnen.
I don't recall the last time I have seen water so blue. I'm not sure what the cause of it is, but what does it matter? It's easy on the eyes. It's easy on the camera. Don't you think?
It went on like this for a while, until I entered the town of Interlaken.
Interlaken is a pretty little town. Still, I knew it was crawling with tourists when I heard all of the American accents. Not that there is anything wrong with American accents. I have one after all. And in some ways its nice, I usually strike up a few conversations with the home crowd. But in other ways its, well, a little too hectic for my tastes, so, after an awesome blueberry milkshake I moved on...
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The ride into the valley, after Interlaken, was pretty, but rough, and, in order to avoid the main road, the path takes you over some steep, leg burning climbs. A lot of it was off road, though not especially jarring to me or The Trucker. I didn't necessarily care for leg burners, but it was pruty.
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Once in Lauterbrunnen I started looking for a snack, and it was then I saw coffee and kucken! Kuchen?! That's what my German grandmother used to make. It's really just cake, but cake in German is, well, kuchen.
You should know that in order to pronounce "kuchen" correctly you have to pretend that you are choking; not so much that you need the Heimlich Maneuver kind of choking, but enough that you feel like you need to clear your throat. KoooCCCCccKen. Got it?
Anyway, I told the waitress about my grandmother and she was very impressed; or at least acted like she was very impressed; or at least interested; or maybe she was just glad I bought the last piece of kuchen since it was late in the day.
“It broke,” she said of the cake on my plate that was now in two pieces. “But it still tastes good,” she added.
“Broken kuchen is fine,” I said, and she disappeared into the back of the restaurant, probably to wash the now clean kuchen display plate.
And it was fine, delicious in fact.
After my snack, I rode to the far end of the valley to the most quite campground I could find. Damn, what views!
So far Switzerland is fine. Even without my new friends, I think I'm going to like it here.
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Today's ride: 87 km (54 miles)
Total: 1,617 km (1,004 miles)
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9 months ago