September 15, 1993
To Varzo
This began as a lovely day. After a leisurely start over petit dejeunet at our hotel, we mailed home our first postcards and then coasted downhill along the ever swelling Rhone to Brig. After miles of very quiet highway and villages, suddenly we were in a large, congested, noisy urban center.
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The climb to Simplon Pass begins immediately out of Brig. Most of the climb is in the first twelve kilometers, when it zigzags up a very steep side of the Rhone valley. It is quite an exhausting but beautiful ascent - very quiet, with vast views into the valley and across to the Bernese Alps.
About halfway to the summit our very quiet side road merged with the main highway, and the slope eased off significantly for the rest of the way to a more bearable 5% grade. Much of the road passed through windowed tunnels and overhangs, presumably to prevent closures from snow. (Ed: another surprising omission - there's no mention of how happy we were to find a tunnel at the summit sparing us from a part of the climb we had seen ahead. It's another detail that has remained strong in our memories. To this day, we still climb passes hoping to find a tunnel at the summit).
It grew increasingly cooler as we climbed, but at the summit it became completely miserable as we crossed through the pass into clouds, rain, and even snow. With no other reasonable choice, we dropped down into the storm, gaining water rapidly as we descended. We stopped briefly at the turnoff to Simplon-Dorf, on a futile attempt to find a hotel. When we returned to the road Rachael managed to tie her chain into an amazing knot - and after several frustrating, worrisome, freezing moments I managed to break it loose, fortunately without snapping it.
Back on the road, we descended another ten kilometers to the Italian border, where we briefly thawed ourselves out over a cup of coffee. Finally, after another 10k (fortunately, often broken up by lengthy tunnels) we arrived at Varzo and grabbed the first hotel we encountered.
What a challenge to suddenly try to speak Italian! Almost no one here speaks any English at all. The innkeeper tried to tell me in broken English what the rate was for one person (double for two), and I tried to find the right words in Italian. It has been very confusing coming through Switzerland, passing through zones where any of three or four languages may be in use.
After stashing our bikes in the cellar - the owner helpfully grabbed Rachael's ad carried it down the narrow, slick stone stairwell in the rain, rather than try to communicate the directions to me - we were shown to our room, where we gratefully began the process of thawing ourselves and drying out.
After showers, we descended to the restaurant downstairs for dinner. Finding ourselves to early for a meal, we enjoyed a birra and a vino rosso instead, and then went back to our room until coming down again at 6:30 for a second try. This time, we found our host transformed into a chef, complete with a chef's hat - a man of many talents. We each had pizza (ham, mushrooms, artichoke) and a mixed salad (lettuce, tomatoes and peppers). Happily stuffed, happily dried out, we returned to our room to read under the covers until falling asleep.
Today's ride: 68 km (42 miles)
Total: 843 km (524 miles)
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2 years ago