Transitioning

Friday, September 5
Madiswil

So, I have a broken collarbone. But I am still in Switzerland and still want to finish out the tour with as much elan as I can muster. It won't be on the Trek, of course, but this was to be the last afternoon on the bike anyway. So, by the time Laurenz gets us back to the hotel in Madiswil, I can ease back into the program as it was planned to be.

We go through the hotel lobby and dining room and emerge into a pleasant garden area decorated with bicycles, painted and arranged in a variety of cycle-sculptures. And then there was the "snack!" A cold plate of thinly sliced beef with salad greens. This is accompanied by the classic "cycling kit:" beer and pommes frits with mayo. All this works to ease the pain of the fracture better than the wimpy analgesics from the hospital. Later, Bill would offer a 600mg Motrin; very effective and I was thus off on a months-long experiment to see how much ibuprofen I could tolerate.

Laurenz Enjoying the Mid-Afternoon "Snack" at Madiswil
If you recall, I was unsuccessful in finding the jersey I'd seen in Zermatt in my size (and that continues to be the case; exhaustive internet searches have failed to scare one up). But Bob showed off a pretty nice looking jersey he found at a bike shop here in Madiswil, so after finishing up at the table, Bill and I went off to find the shop... Now this was not as easy as you might think. Remember, the directions are being provided by Bob of the infamous "I think this is the right road to Ricken" suggestion. Walking was OK, but only if I moved slowly. Any pace at all and each footfall would send a twinge through my shoulder. We eventually find the shop and the jerseys. But there was this problem: there were only two of the right size (extra small!) and one was long sleeved. After a bit of "No, you choose first," we settle on Bill taking the long-sleeved one. It turns out to be an OK choice, as Bill finds the lining and long sleeves making this a good option for cool day riding around La Crosse, those rides taken during a time soon after our return when I'm still trying to figure out how to put on a pair of socks.

Swiss Jersey - Short Sleeved Version
Speaking of jerseys as we are, I must point out the nice surprise I got several weeks after our return as Bill presented me with a brand new one, proudly sporting the Georgia Tech theme!

The New GT Jersey - Thanks, Bill
Upon returning to the hotel, "we" disassembled the bikes and packed them up for the trip home. Of course, my contribution to the effort was limited to handing a few things to Bill and sitting on the bike boxes so he could latch them shut.

The really official, final, last of the tour, we are not kidding this is it farewell dinner is at the hotel tonight - in a very nice dining room. Thinking that my no-jersey, jacket-wrapped-around-my-shoulders outfit might not be fully appreciated by the others at the table, I decide to face a new challenge head-on: taking a bath. We have been given a room that is clearly confused. It is on the first floor and labeled as handicap accessible. But, it has one of those really deep European tubs with sides just shy of high enough to require a stepladder for entry (and regress). I manage to get in without doing any more damage to myself and it goes pretty well until I'm done and realize I can't get up. As in "can't get UP" not, "can't get OUT." I'm reminded just how incomplete my knowledge of anatomy is as it is now clear that every muscle in my body is connected to my left shoulder. No matter what I try, very unpleasant sensations emanate from my shoulder. I cannot lift myself off of the bottom of the tub. Bill suggests he grab under my upper arms and pull me up. There is no way whatsoever that I'm entertaining trying that. Then it comes to me. I can roll over onto my knees and then rise up. IT WORKS! First lesson in being a semi-invalid. There would be more.

At dinner we continue a discussion of the most pressing of issues regarding my injury: how to tell Shirley. This would take some thought at any time, but there was a real concern now, it being early September. This is because Shirley and two other ladies from the Bible Babes group are going to Alaska with their mothers; or mother in law, in the case of Eileen - Bill's wife. My fear is that Shirley would think she needed to cancel the trip and be at home when I returned. And I did not want this to happen. So, how to approach this issue as delicate as my painful shoulder?

The general plan was to convince Shirley that everything was under control and that I'd do just fine at home during the week she was away. This in spite of growing evidence that it wouldn't be quite that easy. Consider for a moment the bath experience. Anyway, we decide that Bill would call Eileen first so that she would be prepared to support the story or "conspiracy" as he called it. Then, I'd call Shirley, sounding upbeat about the whole thing. Basically, I'd be minimizing the difficulties, not realizing how much of a struggle it would turn out to be. But at the time, the story seemed plausible so, that's what we did. My conversation with Shirley went so well that not going off on the cruise never even came up. I will say that the tone was a little different the next evening when I called. She was, of course, concerned, and asked more about the accident and injury. At one point, she asked, "Did you hurt your head?" (my take), to which my answer was, "No." Her take, explained after she returned and I showed her my broken helmet, was that she had asked, "Did you HIT your head." Now technically, the answer was still, "No," as it was my helmet that hit the road. But I'm sure you see where this is going...

Shirley's Cruise Journal
The Alaska cruise NOT MISSED because of a broken collarbone. The top image shows the front (right) and rear covers of one of Shirley's clever topical journals, this one devoted to the cruise. In the middle you can see the entry about my riding in Switzerland. Then, in the bottom image, the note that needed to be added because of the news I had just delivered. You might need to click on the image to open a larger view.
It was finally time to turn in and I got to experience more of the challenges that taking care of myself for a week would present. As far as my shoulder went, I was able to find a semi-sitting position that was comfortable enough. But that's not the way I normally sleep, so I just dozed off and on during the night. And then there was getting up and down, something I had to do several times...that was pretty UNcomfortable. And so it went, the end of my first day with a broken collarbone.

Tomorrow: Going Home

Catching up on Correspondence

Upon returning from my business trip to Tyler, Texas, I felt I should write notes to a few of the people I encountered along the way. In the interest of efficiency, I decided I'd just post them here on my blog. If you recognize anyone mentioned below, let them know so they can come and check their message. Just don't give them my name.

To the young woman who struggled mightily with the suitcase,
What part of your comment that "This is an odd sized case, it NEVER fits," would have lead you to try it yet again on the flight from Chicago?

To the drivers on I 20 east of Dallas,
Sitting still and watching the show is best done at home in front of the TV. On the Interstate, it only serves to back up traffic for miles. And it was just two cars (with no dents as near as I could discern) and one state trooper parked on the shoulder!

To Maggie (the female voice giving me directions from my GPS),
Why didn't you tell me to exit left at Texas Spur 157?

To the country singers on Texas radio,
Thanks for keeping me company on the drive. And to one of you in particular, I think you're right, "Everybody wanna go Heaven. But nobody wanna go now."

To the clerk at the Holiday Inn in Tyler,
A Packers fan! And only 125 miles from Dallas! What a nice surprise.

To the cook at Bodacious Barbeque,
That was one mean sliced beef sandwich. I'll be back.

To the clerk at the La Quinta near DFW,
A Packers fan! And only 0 miles from Dallas! Do you know the lady in Tyler? Do the Cowboys know who you two are rooting for? Good luck.

To the young man in the DFW Admirals Club,
I believe the world record for talking on the phone without pausing for a response (or to inhale) was within your reach. Sorry I had to go catch my plane and so missed actually seeing it happen.

To several passengers on the Chicago flight (you know who you are),
Is it THAT hard to turn off your cell phones when asked to do so?

To my seatmate on the flight,
I hope you got the job. And, I hope you learned a few things by studying my solved USA Today crossword. I was flattered you asked as I assume this meant you figured I got it all right!

To the lady on the flight to Chicago,
It's not just your plane.
The flight attendants are not your personal assistants.
The aisle is not intended to be a parking lot for your suitcase full of snacks.
Seating assignments are not yours to rearrange to suit your needs.

To the man with the leg injury sitting across from said lady (and next to her husband) on the flight to Chicago,
After getting climbed over a half-dozen times, no jury in the world would have convicted you. But you kept your cool. Glad to see that you were eventually able to score a whole row in the back of the plane.

To the flight attendant in charge of the zoo that was the flight to Chicago,
Ma'am: you do not get paid enough.

To the passengers on that flight to Indianapolis - the one with the non-functioning lavatory,
I trust you listened when they announced that you should use the restroom BEFORE boarding. And I hope the flight really was only an hour long.

To whoever is in charge of these things at O'Hare,
At 12:55 our pilot was in the terminal and met the flight attendant who had just come from the plane. She was rushing to pick up something at one of the shops. He said to her, "No need to hurry, we have lots of time" (this because a mechanic was on board fixing something). Did you really believe that our 1:05 flight was going to leave On Time?

To the mechanic who worked on the American Eagle plane in Chicago,
I'm not sure what was broken, but if it was the heater, you DID get it fixed.

To those of you who are wondering what all of this has to do with bicycling,
Not one darned thing!

Since You Asked...

"Where have you been?" you ask. I haven't been anywhere. Well, I have, but that's not the reason for the relatively long gap between posts. I guess it’s sort of like the downtime after the crash. Things just slowed down after the fact. In the last posting (Roadside Reflections) you can find my musings on the crash and its more immediate effects.. "So, what's going on now?" you wonder. Well...

I've been riding. Yesterday it was up Bliss Road, down FO, back up on OA before returning home: a 22 mile long, 1,700 foot high ride on the Bianci. Outdoors it was! A pretty nice ride, although the roads were a little dicey in places making for really slow descents. And it was, of course, windy. Still, it was riding on the roads and my first test. "A test of what?" your inquiring minds want to know. Well...

My new shoulder joint got tested on the ride. X-rays taken during last Tuesday's appointment at the orthopaedic department confirmed what I see now had been hinted at in earlier visits: the collarbone has not healed. It is officially a non-union. Medical term. Means still broken. Maybe he was right. "Who? And what was he right about?" your questions just keep coming. Well...

Recall that the doctor in Switzerland was ready for surgery. Right then. Right there. OK, maybe not with quite that sense of urgency. But it was his personal favorite plan of action, the surgery thing. Waiting made sense, though. So I did. Things have improved slowly, but I kept the appointment last week because my shoulder still bothers me. Not a whole lot, but enough. So I kept the appointment and got the news. "What will you do now?" you beg me to tell you. Well…

Surgery would be the only way to get a healed collarbone. But, I might well make out just fine with the non-union. And that's the way I’ll approach it - keep on riding, plan on a tour this summer, assess the results in the fall and go from there. It might even work out better in the long run. I can beg off of heavy lifting (trash bags, etc.) yet still ride since I seldom have to heft my bike up. And I lift my glass with my right hand, so noooo problem there, either. "And tell us, just what kind of tour are you considering?" you beseech. Well…

That would be Cycle America's Glacier-Waterton tour coming up in July. About 400 miles of riding around and through Glacier National Park, including a jaunt into Canada. For this tour I’d go for the hotel option, making for no lugging of heavy duffels to and from the truck every day. The ride will be hard work. The rest of the time shouldn’t be! "So, you'll really be training hard now!" I hear you speculate. Well…

Sure. Later. Right now I'm in Tyler, Texas on a business trip. I did the Fitness Center thing here at the hotel this afternoon, but that’s just maintenance (maybe). And next week I head down to the Dominican Republic on a mission trip. No bikes. No Fitness Centers. But after that… You plead with me, "Tell us about Tyler!" Well…

As I look out of my hotel window, I see an establishment across the street. The sign on the front reads, "Bath Specials - Wash 'n Go's; Tattoos; Instant Copies." I am NOT making this up. "Don't tell us any more!" you implore. Well...

That is a little much, so I'll give you a break from talking about breaks and break it off here. And, by the way, thanks for asking.

Roadside Refelections

An inconvenience is only an adventure wrongly considered.
G. K. Chesterton

On the side of a farm road in rural Switzerland, I am down on my knees, bent over double, my forehead resting on the rocky shoulder that provides a separation between the rough asphalt and the cool, green grass of the fields behind me. I pound repeatedly on the ground with my right hand, my left bound tightly to my side with two pair of tights, my forearm resting on my leg, just above the knee. I'm in pain, and it is not just from the abrasions or my shoulder. I am angry. At myself for not seeing the hazard in the road. I am disappointed at the sudden end to the tour. Bill is already confirming that he will stay with me the rest of the day. I know that his tour is over, too, and this adds a big dose of regret to the fusion of feelings. On the periphery, thoughts of medical procedures begin to creep in. Dislocated? Broken? Diagnosis and treatment are sure to be painful. For this brief moment, it is very dark on this otherwise wonderful, sunshiny day.

But the upswell of these feelings is met by rising thoughts of another ilk. There is no way that I am going to end this tour by climbing up a steep slope of self-pity. It has been an exhilarating two weeks, spent in appreciation for new friendships, and in awe and wonder of the challenges, sights and other experiences of this truly amazing bicycle ride. These are now firmly in the memories category. While they might be just words on the pages of my journal, they are, and will remain, real and satisfying. The joy of the ride cannot be taken back, even by this most sudden ending. Still angry at myself; still disappointed that the tour has so abruptly ended; still regretting the effect this has on Bob, Ruppert and especially on Bill; still concerned for the issues of finding and receiving treatment for the injuries. With all of these weighing on me, I stand up, more or less declaring that it is time to get on with it.

Pretty macho, tough guy stuff, right? Well, not exactly. Sure, I'd decided to not let the disappointment of this moment overshadow the enjoyment and satisfaction of the tour. And I'd like to say I stood up defiantly, staring all of these feelings into meek submission. But what actually happened was I forced myself off of the ground and responded to continuing inquiries as to my state of being with a weak "I think I'm OK," at which point I got extremely lightheaded and needed to be assissted back into a sitting position. There were going to be some hills to climb, but with this shaky start, the inconveniences of the crash were transforming into an adventure, starting right now, right here on the side of a farm road in rural Switzerland.

Sagging

Friday, September 5
Langenthal Regional Hospital

Once at the hospital I am quickly taken into an ER examination room, this made possible in part by the fact that Bill is available to provide the front desk with the information needed to check me in. I walk back to the room accompanied by a nurse who sits me on a gurney, takes my temperature and blood pressure, checks my pulse and starts an IV in my hand. "Medication for the pain," she tells me. She is speaking German and I am surprised that I can understand her and answer her questions as well as I do. Perhaps I just needed a good whack on the head? I have felt better than I am at this moment, so I lay back on the bed. People come and go for a few minutes before the doctor shows up and proceeds to check just about everything but my shoulder - head, neck, back, ribs, hips, knees. The collarbone injury is obvious and not life threatening. He wants to make sure there isn't something more serious. I tell him my hip is very sore, but manipulating it doesn't reveal any structural damage, just a deep, and soon to be very ugly, bruise.

Another nurse comes in and says I'll need to get my jersey off. He asks if it is OK to cut it. This is my Georgia Tech jersey we are talking about. Cut it off? No way. But it only takes a minute to realize that this jersey does not zip all the way open, so I'll have to get it up over my head. In this light, cutting it off seems like a much better idea. Bill, who has returned from getting the paperwork started, seals the deal by noting that the jersey is pretty messed up from it's trip along the road surface. OK. Cut it off. I'll just close my eyes so as to not have to watch.

Collateral Damage - The GT Jersey After the Crash
I get wheeled over to radiology and wait a bit before the picture taking starts. I'm OK with walking into the room and standing against the wall, assuming a variety of poses during the session.

Primary Damage - The Collarbone After the Crash
Laurenz is there when I get back to the examination room and we briefly discuss logistics for the rest of the day. He'll be there when I get done and will drive us to the hotel in Madiswil.

There is a little more waiting to do now that it is determined I'll likely survive. And they need some time to look at the x-rays which will confirm Bill's field diagnosis. I'm sitting on the side of the gurney, but soon get cold and very light-headed so I lie back down, a maneuver that is not without some serious discomfort. The nurse pulls out a heavyweight sheet and drapes it over me. It is warm and very, very comfortable. As it turns out, this was to be my last bout of chills and dizziness.

When the doctor comes back, he tells me that my collarbone is broken and adds, "You need metal." He recommends surgery. Before next Friday. I tell him that I'm scheduled to return home on Sunday and ask if I can travel. He replies, "That's no problem. But you go to your doctor on Monday and tell him that the doctor in Switzerland says that you need surgery. And, if he doesn't agree, then come back here and we will do it." He was ready. I think now he would have had me in the operating room right then and there. I can imagine him saying, "It's Friday. It seems we both have the afternoon free. Let's do it!" We agree, however, that my going back home is the best way to proceed.

There are signs that I'm about ready to be let loose and I wonder about all of the abrasions, which have so far received no attention. As if on cue, three nurses enter the room and start the process of cleaning and dressing the injuries. One works on my calf and knee, another on my elbow and the third on my shoulder,where the worst of the abrasions are. Bill, taking a few pictures, is impressed that I'd get the attention of THREE nurses at the same time. I can see him pondering the possibilities and trade-offs; perhaps if he'd broken his collarbone...

Celebrity Level Care; But I get it Anyway!
I'm given a CD with the x-rays and outfitted with a sling, some pain medications and a figure-8 brace. The nurse tells me that I'll probably find this latter piece of equipment a "little uncomfortable." This would turn out to be the understatement of the year. It takes about 20 minutes to get checked out and pay the bill, which would convert to $397. Maybe I SHOULD come back here if I need surgery. I could fly first class, stay in a five star hotel during the recovery period and save my insurance company money in the bargain. Sounds like a plan.

We leave the hospital and make the last leg of the journey to Madiswil in Laurenz's car. Looking at the ride from the farm to the hospital in the same vein as the various train rides during the trip, I figure this is my first sag ever. Oh, well...

Riding on the Shoulder

Friday, September 5
Sumiswald to Madiswil Langenthal

FWUMP!!!! The reverie of the grand descent is shattered... the bike suddenly goes into an erratic wobble as I process the image of something in the road. Odd. My first impression is of the channels I have ridden over numerous times on the trip: steel-lined grooves running from shoulder to shoulder that can be traversed with little more than a soft bump, sort of like going over a very well laid out railroad crossing. What is it with this one? There really isn't a lot of time to sort it all out as, failing to regain control, the bike swerves sharply to the right, throwing me violently down onto the pavement. Landing on my left side, I start a long slide on the shoulder ~ MY shoulder ~ across the rough surface of the narrow road.

The harsh skkkrrritccch'ing sound of helmet on pavement adds a soundtrack to the surreal sequence of events that my conscious train of thought has yet to catch up with. When all of the skittering across tarmac finally comes to an end, I lay on the road, dazed and confused. My feet are no longer clipped into the pedals and the bike is down on the ground a few feet away. I'm thinking, "Nothing good is going to come from this." But maybe that's just me.

Looking back up the road, I see that the farmer here had run what was basically a fire hose from the house on one side of the road towards the barn on the other side. He had placed two wooden ramps over it so cars could go over without crushing it and it was one of these that I had hit head on, not seeing it until the moment of impact. Coming down the hill, I had concluded that the road was clear. I had not seen the small, generic warning triangle by the side of the road up from the turn. Nor had I seen the road SURFACE. So there I was in a post-crash heap on the side of a road in rural Switzerland.

Here are some of the things I remember from the next few minutes. Much of what happened is still pretty clear in my mind, but I'm fuzzy on the chronology:

I get up and look at my calf, finding a large, ugly abrasion. Same for my left knee and elbow. My left hip is very sore and from the condition of my shorts, I know there is a big patch of road rash there too. When I reach up to my left shoulder, I feel a protuberance which I am pretty sure wasn't there when I got dressed this morning. My jersey is torn and I can tell that there is another abrasion. The injuries, or maybe more to the point, the thoughts of the injuries, give rise to a sort of deep-down sick feeling so I lower myself back to the gravel on the side of the road.

As I get back to the ground, Ruppert comes down the hill, followed closely by Bob. They have descended more slowly and apparently more alertly than I had. And of course my bike lying in the road with me sitting next to it raised a warning sign or two. They either stopped before getting to the hose or made it over it at low speed. I'm not sure. As Ruppert came over to me, Bob had the presence of mind to turn around and shout back up the hill, "BILL! SLOW DOWN! SLOW DOWN NOW! JACK'S DOWN! SLOW DOWN!"

Bill, Bob and Ruppert are soon in front of me, asking questions such as, "What is your name?," and "Where are you?" As challenging as these questions are, I get the answers right and we all relax a little. Ruppert gets on the phone, trying to reach Laurenz. Bill retreives my helmet (not sure when I took it off) and after looking at it, comes back quickly and starts to poke around on the back of my head, asking about how I feel and if there is any pain. My helmet, it turns out, is cracked, the plastic shell is eroded to paper-thinnesss at one spot and the foam on the left side is crushed. It did its job as not only was my head not injured, I didn't even know I had banged it on the pavement, which clearly I had.

Ruppert reaches Laurenz who is almost to Basel on a run to pick up the bike boxes for those leaving the tour tomorrow. It will be hours before he can get back. We will have to deal with this without his help. I stand up once again and Bill fashions a splint / sling thingy from two pair of tights. Orthopaedic trauma is not his specialty, but he does a well above average job and the support and protection offered by this makeshift rig provide some relief. Checking my shoulder, he figures out right away that I have broken my clavicle, a.k.a. collar bone and, in German, Schlusselbein. When he is done, I get back down on the ground, this time on my knees, my head resting on the rocky ground.

The farmer has appeared and is talking with Ruppert and Bob (Ruppert translating, I'm sure). Then the farmer's wife joins the growing crowd in the road. I ask Ruppert to tell the couple that the accident was my fault. At some point, Bill reports that the wife has suggested she take me into the next small town to the local doctor. We discuss the logistics of this. Bob says to leave the bike on the side of the road. He'll mark the location on his GPS and will be able to guide Laurenz to it when he gets back to the area. My first reaction is reluctance to accept this idea, although I have no idea what else to do. As the discussion rolls on, Bill hears the word hospital (Spital) and jumps in and says to Ruppert, "Yes. The hospital. Tell them that we really should get to a hospital." Or something reasonably akin this.

The hospital is in Langenthal, about 15 miles away and the farmer's wife says she will take me in their car. Bill says he'll ride there on his bike, but it turns out that the car is big enough for Bill and me AND the bikes. So I get into the front seat under a nice, warm quilt graciously provided by the wife (which I bloody thanks to the injuries on my leg and elbow) and Bill climbs into the back seat. Deja vu. Only the chicken is missing (private joke). Ruppert will let Laurenz know where we are and we pull away, leaving him and Bob to continue on with their ride.

So I'm off to finish the tour in a most unexpected way. To be continued...

Grand Descent

Friday, September 5
Sumiswald to Madiswil

Brzzzt! Brzzzt! Brzzzt! The little cell phone Laurenz has provided goes off insistently at about 5:00 a.m. Looking at the small screen, I see that there is a message. A text message. It is in German, but not too hard to read. It suggests I respond to the call, then punch in a few random numbers. You know, things like my age, the length, in centimeters, of the Gothard tunnel, the number of days since my last haircut*. Stuff like that. Doing this, I am told, will result in my receiving a special message, prepared JUST FOR ME! In addition to this intriguing invitation, there is the suggestion that I forward the message to 14 people within the next 42 minutes. Oh. And failure to follow these instructions will result in five years of bad luck. The clock starts ticking on that one as I erase the message and crawl back under the covers for a few more minutes of rest before rising for the last ride of the tour.

* Poetic license invoked: these aren't really the numbers I was supposed to type in, but I forget what was actually suggested in the message.

This is going to be a big day for Bill, one he has been talking about for years, actually. A chance to return to Affoltern and the cheese factory. In a country where good cheese is a source of great pride, you might guess this would be the top of the top in cheeses. And you might be right. But that's not the attraction. Actually, we are going there to visit the men's room. I am NOT making this up. This is a BIG DEAL for Bill. It seems as if there is some sort of robotic toilet seat cleaning device in use there. Bill has seen it before. Apparently he was so impressed he has just spent three weeks on a bicycle in Switzerland for the chance to see it again. Me? I can't wait, of course.

Our little group collects at the back of the building to load suitcases into the trailer and prepare the bikes for the ride. It is, as has often been the case, cool and the iridescent yellow-green favored by cyclists is in evidence in the morning's clothing choices. Ruppert, Bob, Bill and I head off to the east in search of a route across the multiple hill-valley combinations that radiate like fingers around the base of Mount Napf. It is foggy as we follow the road along to Wassen where we turn off and start climbing the first of the hills. Just after the turn, my chain comes off and gets caught between the ring and frame. Getting this straightened out takes a few minutes and, since I'm stopped, I decide to remove the tights. The fog has cleared and the morning is getting more pleasant by the minute.

Preparing for the Ride out of Sumiswald



I try to make up ground during the climb, but do not catch up until the next descent. This up-down process will be repeated at least two more times before we get to Willisau where we plan to turn to the north than back to the west to go through Hutwil on the way to Affoltern. The top of the next rise finds us out in open farmland. We stop at an intersection but the road running off to the left has all the earmarks of being solely for access to the next farm over so we decide quickly to forge ahead.

The road does not descend too rapidly at first and takes us through another of the small, dense woods that we have found scattered across the countryside. Following the group, I brake off and on, not wanting to have to pass on the narrow roads. Emerging from the wood, we come to another of the uncountable Kodak Moment stops. A few cows across the road in the dark green grass. Grass that cascades down the slopes to the town below. The sun is out. The sky is blue. We are on a white road with what appears to be a nice long descent ahead. Oh my goodness.

In the Hills Above Eriswil
Bill suggests that, since I am the quickest descender in the group, I go on first. The road sweeps us down into Eriswill and we then head back up once again. Near the top of the rise we stop for a navigation discussion. It is not absolutely clear where we are, but maps, GPS's, a road sign pointing towards Luthern and a little dead reckoning help us orient ourselves, this leading us to turn left where we climb a bit more then head down. At the bottom of this descent we expect the road to "T" into a north-south road, where we will need to turn south to pick up the road to Willisau.

It is a grand descent as the road sweeps down, winding back and forth through a series of switchbacks. Knowing that the hard won altitude gain of the last climb is being given up and will have to be earned again does not take away even one bit of the enjoyment of this part of the ride. Nearing the bottom, the road offers up one final switchback. As the road straightens again, I can look down see that it drops to the level of the valley floor then takes a right turn. There is a farm just past the turn and a little farther on, the intersection at which we will be turning.

There are no cars on the road, no tractors, no cows nor are there any people around down near the farmhouse. The road is clear. I brake a little coming down to the turn. Once through, I let my momentum carry me along as I look up at the intersection a hundred yards or so past a small bridge on the far side of the. FWUMP!!!!

Looking Up

Thursday, September 4
Lucerne

"...when it rains on your parade, look up rather than down. Without the rain, there would be no rainbow." Jerry Chin

It was a day for looking up. There was too much rain and not enough desire for riding; so, we decide a field trip is in order. Lucerne it is. The first order of business was a walk to the small train station near the sports center. As luck would have it, we find a little hardware store and we do have a short time to browse. The stuff on the entry level was pretty pedestrian, but the basement... now this is more like it. The company Swiss Tools has a major operation in town and their products are sold here. "Shirley will really appreciate these fine screwdrivers," I think. Bill and Bob have higher ambitions, looking at bigger, fancier things. However, they eventually back off to select tools-that-can-be-packed-in-checked-bags, including screw drivers and a nifty magnetic driver bit. The day has been a success already.

We'd stay longer, but feared missing our train. But here's the thing. We get to the station and Bob buys his half-price ticket in what should have been just in the nick of time. But the train does not show up on time. Omigosh~a Swiss train is late! Where is the Eyewitness News Team when you need them. We may have been all of 7 minutes late when we FINALLY left. Things are in the hand basket...

Does this Train Look Late?
There are very few passengers and the trip to Lucern is nice; we speed along quietly on the continuous rails, damp, green panoramas moving swiftly by the large windows of the red and white train.

Aforementioned Damp, Green Panorama
We pull into the station late in the morning and walk out into the large lakefront plaza to get our bearings.

We are not Alone in Not Bicycle Riding Today
Lucerne reveals itself to be a large city that leans towards quaint Swiss town. The lake gives an open feel and provided Swiss engineers a reason for constructing the wonderful Kapellbrueke or Chapel Bridge.

Kapellbrueke


We cross the bridge and enter a square just off of the lakeshore. It begins to rain harder and we settle on an outdoor table under a canvas roof. Beer and brats provide warmth, each in their own way, and thus fortified, we go off in search of, well, Swiss Army knives, it turns out. What says "I was thinking of you while gadding about Europe," better than a little knife/scissors/light/pen/flash drive combo? Right; I can't think of anything else either.

Rain in Lucerne
We make a big loop and eventually end up back at the cavernous station. Bob has had enough and works out a plan to return to Sumiswald. I'd like to visit the Art Museum and Bill concurs so we bid Bob bye-bye and set off in search of culture. It doesn't take long to find the museum, as it is connected to the station atrium. Our SwissPass gets us in for free; almost immediately I think that this is a really good thing, as the first exhibits are not anything I'd want to pay to look at. Dark, war themed, visions that are passed by not quickly enough. But then we get to collections from Swiss artists and the tour turns in an ever so much more pleasant direction.

A bit more than an hour and we've seen (OK, at least walked past) all the good stuff and we follow Bob's example and train back in to Sumiswald. End of the trip conversation really takes over at the evening meal ~ it is the official farewell dinner. It is here that Bill makes his now famous, and never to be repeated if he knows what's good for him, remark about losing trailers, to which Corinne responded with her even more famous, "Bill, that's not a funny story" rejoinder.

While the tour ends with a short ride to Basel on Sunday, tomorrow is the last day of the ride for several of us, by plan. Chris and Paula have a mid-day flight from Zurich on Saturday, so they will leave the tour Saturday morning for the airport. Bob has decided he needs to be home earlier than planned and he has re-scheduled such that he, too, will take the early train to Zurich. My plan all along has been to leave for Zurich after sleeping in on Saturday and disassembling and packing my bike. I have a hotel room at the Zurich airport so that I can easily make my 7:10 a.m. flight to Brussels on Sunday morning. Even Lorenz and Corinne will leave the tour Saturday, as they need to be at a family birthday celebration in the afternoon. This leaves Bill, Earne, Ruppert and Art and Pat to make the short ride to Basel.

But tomorrow, Friday, is a riding day for us all and once again we gather around the warm glow of the big Swiss maps and plot our attacks on the route from Sumiswald to Madiswill, a very short ride as the crow flies. But a few of us crows decide on a plan that would take us first out to the east of Sumiswald, then looping around to the north before beginning the run west to Affoltern and the cheese factory. Finally, we will swing north, looking for that last "white road" ride before ending the day at the Hotel Baeren in Madiswil.

It's good to have a plan when you turn in. I had one. And I did. Good night!

Rocky Climbing

Wednesday, September 3
Grindelwald to Sumiswald

This turned out to be a unique day in the tour. You might not think it would be so, this being a CYCLING tour, but today was the only day of the ride that did not include at least one leg ridden on the train. It was a great route and another beautiful day.

The good thing about climbing up to your evening's destination is that you get to descend to start out on the day you leave. So it was as we left Grindelwald. Once again going in the opposite direction of the tour buses, we drop down the not-too-steep descent with little traffic to contend with. The navigation issues experienced two days ago in Interlaken are all in the past as we fairly efficiently get through the city and out on Seestrasse, the highway that skirts the north shore of Thuner See.

Along the Lake Road
In spite of the fact that they had a perfectly good lake to hold the road at an even level, we climb on the hills and soon get well above shoreline. This is OK though, as we are afforded wonderful views of the lake and the opposite shore. The road is winding, hugging the hillside on the right, with a few short tunnels adding to the cozy feel. There is not much traffic and we make really good time, passing through the towns of Neuhaus, Sundlauenen, Beatenbucht, Merligen, Usserdorf, Gunten and Laengenschachen before getting to the outskirts of Thun.

On the Way to Stefisburg
We follow the highway that runs just to the east of Thun up to Stefisburg. This is an urban area with lots of traffic and many opportunities to make a wrong turn, so we pull over a few times to check the map and GPS. We stop once at a multi-option intersection and ask a store clerk which one of the several roads leading in more or less the direction we want will eventually get us to Eggiwil, one of the landmark towns along the way. We are soon out of Stefisberg and into Unter Emberg, where we stop for lunch. There is a small store where we get cheese, fruit and something to drink, but they don't have the bread we want. The clerk directs us to a bakery around the corner where we get the small rolls that go well with the cheese and sit at the town fountain to eat.

Traffic doesn't taper off as much as expected as the ride continues out of Stefisberg, but conditions improve at the turn to the north at the appropriately named Kreuzweq. Here the road rolls - boom- over the high farmland, green grass - boom- kept clipped by the Swiss cows, -boom- the clingh, clangh of their bells backed up -boom- by the sound of the Swiss army on bass, apparently training on the -boom- finer points of firing off artillery pieces. As has been the case on many sections of the ride, the road takes us through a short section of dense woods, cool and dark enough to make the re-emergence into the light of the open road almost startling. Turning to the east at Jassbach, the road treats us to a long downhill run into Eggiswil.

Just Another Picture Post Card Town
Getting nearer to our destination, we cross the river to a highway that looks like it is going to be busy. Checking the maps, we decide to head up into the hills and wander around a bit. This is one of those hard-to-explain bits of a ride that can really make the day. We climb up on the slopes, again finding one of those single lane roads that serve the farmers in the area. The climb does have its steep sections, but overall isn't too difficult and it rewards us with another awe-inspiring view of the valley below. And, once again, we ride into a deep wood, this time on the descent. We come to another more heavily traveled road (well, it is two lanes, anyway) and decide to finish out the ride using the more direct route afforded. It isn't too long before we pull into the Sports Center in Sumiswald, a sort of super YMCA. Bill and I are first in and get beer and chips; as in "chips", not "pommes frits." To our disappointment, we find out later that we could have actually had french fries. Bummer.

Above the Main Road Near Sumiswald
It is not too long and Lorenz arrives, allowing us to get our keys. We take care of the bikes and go check out the room which is such that Bill is moved to remark, "Not bad for a minimum security facility." It is, in fact, basic. But it is also large and comfortable with a bath and lots of hot water. Can't ask for much else.

We have a basic meal, as befitting the surroundings, and during this meal we start the process of ending the trip. Only two more days and discussion at the table is leans a bit towards reminiscing. But the tour is not over yet, so the evening ends with some discussion of tomorrow's ride options. There is, however,a heavy dose of not-riding options as the weather does not look promising.

On the way back to the room, we are treated to quite the display of youthful energy as a group of climbers are practicing on the faux rock wall which rises from the basement level up to the fourth floor. One old couple ~ they must have been every bit of 35 ~ are taking turns climbing and spotting, negotiating their chosen paths with graceful efficiency. The two young ladies there each make several climbs on some of the more difficult sections. I deduce that there are various routes defined by the colors of the "rocks" bolted to the wall, each route with a different set of challenges. The routes cross each other and the climbers meticulously avoid all but their chosen color for the climb they are on. Must be some sort of a grand score keeping system that metes out penalties based on bad color choices. I wonder what kind of scores we bikers would get with our helmet/jersey/shorts/socks/shoes fashion statements?

And then there are the two young men. They climb the most difficult of routes with speed and agility that are quite amazing. At one point, one of them quite literally throws himself away from the wall to negotiate an overhang. Then he looks to see if the girls are watching. It is easy to see from where he gets some of his rock wall elan. And later, he hung from his feet like a bat in a rack at the bottom of the wall and knocked out about 10 upside down sit ups. Having just eaten, I decided I wouldn't join him. But I could have done it. Really.

The Faux Rock Wall
It was a great day, every minute of it spent on the bike. Tired from the ride and absolutely worn out from watching the rock climbing, I turn in with my iPod plugged in for a bit, then drift off...

View from the Top

Tuesday, September 2
Jungfraujoch

The ride today was short, but intense, as you might guess from the previous post describing that climb up to Grosse Scheidegg. The rest of the day was spent in making a BIG climb. Using trains. We rode up through Kleine Scheidegg and then up to Jungfraujoch, the Top of Europe. After a 129 word and falling-well-short-of-capturing-the-wonder description of the day, the experience is described in 13,000 words worth of pictures.

A cogwheel train takes us up to Kleine Scheidegg where we transfer to another to carry us on an amazing ride to, and through, the Eiger, the Monch and finally the Jungfrau. After leaving Kleine Scheidegg, the train stops at the Eigergletscher (Eiger Glacier) station then enters the long tunnel, starting on the north face of the Eiger. This tunnel is almost 4.5 miles long, hewn out of the solid rock of the Swiss alps. It climbs over 3,000 feet and has grades up to 25%. Along the way, the train stops at "Viewing Stations" where you have five minutes to get out and peer through thick glass windows in the faces of the mountains. After a 52 minute journey, we arrive at the truly amazing Top of Europe.

Here is the afternoon, in pictures:

On the Ride up to Kleine Scheidegg

At the Eigergletscher Station

Viewing Station on the Eiger

Jungfraujoch

Lunch!
Pommes Frits, cake and beer...

What a day!

Going Postal

Tuesday, September 2
Grosse Scheidegg

The mountains are still standing large as I go out and get ready for the morning ride. Bill says it is one of his favorite climbs, the ride on the Post Bus road up to Grosse Scheidegg. The hotel is already up on the slopes so it is climbing from the first push on the pedals. This information about the hotel location might just be a bit redundant in that you already know we are up in a mountain town where all buildings are either on the slopes or on the steep slopes.

The first part of the ride takes us through the outskirts of town, winding through neighborhoods of wooden houses. It is not so long when the road reaches an inn and expands into a parking lot. It is here that the Post Bus road starts. The road is intended only for the bright yellow buses of the Swiss Post and is accordingly exactly the same width as the wheel track of the buses ~ I don't know which came first. Anyway, while in theory buses are the only vehicles allowed on the road, we will encounter a few cars and trucks as there are people living and working here on the mountainside.

It seems as if the road has become steeper in proportion to the change in width. And I am feeling tired already, possibly the accumulated fatigue of the last week, as yesterday's riding, what there was of it, was not particularly taxing. Whatever, it was a very difficult climb right from the start. My first vehicle encounter was with a car going up and it was able to go by without my having to get off the bike. Not long after this, I heard the tootling of a Post bus rolling up from the road behind me. It was kind of a "Dukes of Hazard" anthem, only a little out of character here in the heights above Grindelwald. "How did they come up with THAT?," I wondered. I pulled over to let the bus go by, but looking back, I could see none. Sound travels well. So for the first time, I get back into the pedals and try get going from a dead standstill on this steep road. It is not easy. RIght about the time I get to a particularly steep section, the bus appears in my mirror so it is off the bike and wait as it goes by. I get going again, again with some difficulty, and reach a sharp and very steep switchback just as the second bus comes up; I did not know they traveled in pairs! There is a sheer rock wall on the right with about two feet of gravel between it and the road and I squeeze myself and the bike in as close as I can as the bus inches by and disappears around the curve. This time it is really hard getting back into the pedals. In fact, my right foot slips off as I try to get the crank turning and I rake the back of my calf on the chain ring - I look like I have been attacked by an angry wolverine. I am tired, tense, sweating and now bleeding. This bicycle touring is just great!

On the Way up to Grosse Scheidegg
It doesn't really get any better. At one point a really sturdy looking truck comes trundling up behind me and I pull off once again, muttering out loud my complaint regarding the upcoming attempt to once again get the bike moving. It is at times like this that I am glad there is no tape recorder on my computer :-) As the truck goes by, I am amazed at its cargo. We are sharing a road carved into a bizillion tons of stone and this guy is hauling ROCKS. Big rocks. There aren't enough scattered around on the slopes? Carrying coals to Newcastle makes more sense.

Rocks!?
As I swing around at the last switchback (poetic license invoked; what I was doing at this point bore no resemblance to fluidity of swinging), I can look up and see the pathway to the lookout point, complete with the white-cross-on-bright-red Swiss flag. A young lady is standing there, as straight as the flagpole, her arms outstretched and her eyes raised to the heavens, which are a a bit closer now, I might add. I think, "She must be as glad to be here as I am." Bill later points out that he has been observing her and her photographer companion for some time ~ they are on a photo shoot.

At the Top. Finally.

Looking back Down on the Climb
The first thing I tell Bill is that I do not intend to ride down that blasted hill. He agrees and we retire to the restaurant to wait for the post bus. When it arrives, I ask the driver about using the SwissPass and am informed it isn't valid for this route; the fare down for each person with bike is 27 francs, about $25. This little twist, plus the fact that I'm feeling a little better after two coffees and about an hour of rest, changes my mind about riding so we take off on the bike after all. Just below the first switchback, we encounter Bob, walking his bike up towards the summit. As we stop and chat, I see a couple riding up. They are on mountain bikes, dad pumping away as he climbs, pulling his young son in one of those drag behind, two wheeled carts. PULLING A CART!!!! Sheesh. Being truly impressed by this, I applaud as he rides by.

The ride down is actually quite pleasant although I again find it challenging to get clipped into the pedals on this steep road, albeit a challenge of a different sort. Back at the hotel we clean up, put away the bikes and prepare for the rest of the day. That story will be in the next post.

Good Things Come to Those Who Wait

How much of human life a good ride is lost in waiting.

With apologies to Ralph Waldo Emerson

Monday, September 1
Rigi to Grindelwald

Today has to be less eventful than yesterday. RIght? Actually, there were no uneventful days on the Swiss ride, but some were sure more stressful than others. Read the post about yesterday's ride, for example.

But, today (in the "we are back in August on the Swiss ride" sense) is a new day with new adventures awaiting. And wait they did. Given our perch high up on Rigi we were quite limited in our options. We could a) take the 7 a.m. train with all of the school kids down to Goldau or b) wait for the 9:30 train. Having to get up, dressed, packed and breakfasted in time to walk down to the station for a 7:00 a.m. train did not seem to be the best idea so 9:30 it was. This did provide the opportunity to ride the train UP to the last stop for a view from the top, the very thing Laurenz had brought us up here for. So, we dutifully marched down to the station around 8:30 to wait for the train. It so happens that there are web-cams on the mountain and they were sharing the views via a monitor on the platform. And the view from the top was fog. Or clouds, from the inside, if it really matters. This certainly changes things. We can ride up and put our heads in the clouds or go back to the hotel and have some more coffee. And the answer is...

Well, Laurenz was disappointed that we did not get up to the top, but what can you do about the weather?

Coming Down from Rigi
By the time we got back to Goldau, retrieved our bikes and got instructions for getting out of town it must have been around 10:30. Now for any bicycle tour, this is a really LATE start. And, true to form, Laurenz directs us out of town on a bike route that turns into a cattle path almost as soon as we leave the station area. We mountain bike down towards the highway, inappropriately outfitted for this segment of the ride with lightweight bikes sporting narrow, high pressure tires. It is not clear that we are going the right way, but Bob is confident. The same Bob who confidently sent us up the walking path towards Rickin, I might add. But, not having a better idea, we follow and eventually make it to the lakeshore town of Brunnen. From here, we follow a very nice lakeside road around through Gersau to the Vierwaldstattersee ferry dock. There is no ferry at the time, so we retire to the restaurant for coffee.

Rupert Enjoying the Wait for the Ferry
We wait about 45 minutes, during which time the rest of the riders, save Earne, arrive then motor across the lake to Oberdorf where we finally continue the ride. It has been several hours since breakfast, only about one of which has actually been spent attached to the bike.

Corinne and Laurenz on the Ferry to Oberdorf
It is a cool, gray day with drizzle off an on. We ride west, the plan being to get over to Meiringen. At one point, Bob follows me up to a bike path which soon deteriorates into a difficult riding surface. Bob suddenly turns off of the path into the deep grass of the field to our right and I follow. We plow through the field a short way before reaching the road which we follow into Waltersberg. We have separated from the rest of the group, so we stop to wait, assuming they will come up on the main road we have reached. Bob soon gets a call from the group...Chris has a problem and is looking for a chain tool. They are on the bike path near the airfield, so we head in that direction. It doesn't take long to find the riders ~ they are approaching the road on which we are riding and it is obvious that Chris has already solved his mechanical problems.

Now Which Way?
We ride on a bit, but upon considering the lateness of the hour and the relatively little progress we have made so far, we make a major change in the plan for the day. Bill and I decide to ride into the small town of Stans to get a train to Interlaken. From here, we can ride up into the mountains, something Bill has suggested from his experience is something we really want to do. We JUST MISS the train at Stans and have to spend another 45 minutes waiting. It is a long ride as we have to go to Luzern, change trains and backtrack a bit before going on through Meiringen then along the lake to Interlaken. After lunch in the square in front of the Interlaken Ost train station, we take off, now having given up on the idea of a ride to Lauterbrunnen before going up to the day's final destination of Grindelwald.

We get a bit turned around as we leave Interlaken and, at one point, stop and ask some soldiers, who seem to be guarding a speed bump, if we are on the road to Grindelwald. They reply that they do not know. "Perhaps this is how the Swiss army succeeded in invading Liechtenstein", muses Bill. We finally get everything sorted out and are on the way up. It is a marvelous ride in the late afternoon; there is little traffic as most of the tour busses are coming down, making their return trips to Interlaken, mostly loaded with tourists from Japan. I wonder who is watching the country.

Lost Near Interlaken

Approaching Grindelwald
I am blown away by Grindelwald. In the hotel room, I look out - and UP - to an amazing view of the tallest of the Swiss mountains. I call Shirley and can only say, "You just would not believe what I am looking at!" She tells me later that I said this a lot when I called, but this time, I really MEANT it!

OhMyGoodness!

Rugged mountains rise up almost startlingly from the high valley. You can close your eyes and still feel their massive presence. Towering, steep, right there in-your-face mountains, the sharp edges not even begun to be worn down by the winds of time. There are clouds around the peaks early on. As they clear later, one of the peaks is exposed, a glacier glowing like a golden beacon in the late afternoon sun.

OhMyGoodness! Reprise
Click on the image for an up close view of the glacier
It was an unusual day as cycle touring days go, with a lot of waiting. But as I looked out on the dark falling down upon the mountains, I think it was well worth the wait.