The Alps

This past week has been pretty wild. It started with riding out of Montpellier with the knowledge that we’ll be on the bike for seven days straight. It began with a light drizzle and by the third day it was a torrential downpour and relentless headwinds for most of the day. Bike touring has it’s low lows and high highs and at times I certainly don’t feel like pushing out another day in the saddle. I wasn’t feeling too hot for parts of these initial couple of days. I wanna say it was my sedentary side pulling me in. After seven weeks of being a bike nomad, some things make it particularly hard to get back on the bike after spending a day off the bike. I miss the feeling after a shower, full stomach, and good nights sleep. Very rarely do these factors all come together. I left on this bike trip with a purpose of getting out of the day-to-day sameness but in someway I find myself getting right back into that pattern. Wake up. Breakfast. Ride. Lunch at 2. Ride till dark. Dinner. Sleep. Repeat. I’m still learning how to get out of these slumps but fortunately by the 4th day, I was was back with it and loving every moment of the day. 

As it was violently raining I heard the distinct sound of a popped tire and Joseph came to a halt in front of me. We took shelter under a nearby house where a kind old Hungarian woman brought us hot coffee and chocolate cakes. We must’ve looked so miserably wet as we followed the standard protocol and changed out the tire there under the awning. We noticed a tear in the tire where the tube was slightly bulging out and dismissed it. Several hours before dark almost instantly we could see in the distance a clear separation from black clouds to open sky. It was absolutely gorgeous as the rain halted and two rainbows arched over the road ahead. By dark there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. 
The next morning it was gorgeous however Joseph’s tire was flat again. He changed it out and didn’t make it far before yet it went flat. We stopped by surprisingly one of the first lakes of the trip to assess the situation. After submerging the tube in the lake we found it was a patch that was leaking so we peeled it off, replaced it, and pumped it up yet again expecting to have figured it out and get on our way up into the Alps. I start to lead and after several seconds…”POP!!!!” We suddenly came to the conclusion that it was the tear in the tire lining that caused a bulge and too much pressure had it pop and leave a massive unpatchable hole in the tube.  
The plan was for me to go on ahead and tackle the Alps solo while Joe would try and hitch a ride over the pass to a bike shop where he could get a new tire. I’d meet him sometime the next day. We wished each other the best of luck and split ways. Alone I was. A preview of the 9,000 miles I’ll face come 2016. 
It was quickly apparent that the Swiss Alps will be tougher than the Pyrenees. After the first day I had already gone over two passes and set camp at a lower elevation to avoid the cold. I was unsure how the terrain would be tomorrow but I knew it would be a long one and with that I set my alarm for 5:30. 
The day was off to a gnarly start with 3000 feet of elevation gain for breakfast. At the top of it I didn’t hesitate to go into a small grocery store to buy cookies, milk, and chocolate cereal. Cereal has definitely been the go to food of the trip and I’ll find myself shamelessness putting down 3 bowls in a sitting. 
I cruised downhill for maybe 5 or 6 km before I noticed myself heading up yet another pass although with not nearly as much prominence as the first. Then down I went with snow capped mountains in the distance and some of the most beautiful views of the trip so far. A steep 15km later I found myself at 500 meter and I had to get over a 2,400 meter pass. It was noon but if felt like a full day’s ride already. This is when you keep your head down and turn the music up a bit louder. 
Continuing up the river was much more gradual however it meant that the pass would have even more prominence than I expected. Nearly 5,000 feet of climbing I realized as I checked my altimeter on my phone. Damn. It was massive. 
On the side on the road prior to it I read something I dreaded. “Col de la Lombarde-Closed”. With a big red “X” across it. No. I couldn’t have crossed 4 mountain passes and exhausted myself just to be stopped by the last one before crossing into Italy and cruising down to the coast again. I asked around and was constantly reminded that it was closed with curious looks as I persisted and tried to get a figure for how much snow there was. I hadn’t given up yet and the answers weren’t very confident but I assumed around 6-8 inches. I had about 4 and a half hours of daylight left. It would be a struggle but I was going for it. 
With sore legs I began the climb and it was steeper than any of the other passes prior. Up to 10% grade in some places. 
As I climbed, I had this gut feeling that something was wrong. I had 5,000 vertical feet to gain very little idea as to how much snow there really was. The side south, the way I was going up, looked very doable. But on the other side, there is far less sun per day so it was sure to have more snow. 
About a forth of the way up I stopped, got off the bike, and took a deep breath. I suddenly realized that your conscious is there for a reason. What I was doing was…stupid. My gut instinct was telling me something and I was choosing to ignore it. It’s just not worth it. I turned around and didn’t second guess it even the slightest. I was avoiding the risk of being stuck at 8,000 feet in the snow at night. I felt a rush of joy as I realized I was growing up. 
Back in the town before the pass I asked some locals for information about some of the other passes farther north. Closed. Too much snow. Up to 40cm. 
I would have to go hundreds of miles out of the way if I wanted to cross the Alps and with that I coasted downhill for 40 miles right by the coast with an ear to ear smile spanning my face. I was absolutely exhausted with a dawn to dusk day of nearly 100 miles and 7,000 feet of climbing. The Alps will always be there. I’ll be back.
Up in the town I was able to get wifi and learned that Joseph wasn’t able to hitch a ride over and instead headed for the coast after getting a new tire. We were to meet each other in Genoa instead. 
Several days on the coast brought me through Monaco and into Italy. The wind continued to come from the NE , against us. Some of the gusts reached 30 mph and just about knocked me off the bike. On the coast, there were endless packs of bikers with there high tech uni racing suits, carbon fiber bikes, and sleek helmets. Most left me in the dusk but one, gentlemen probably in their 60s, slowly passed me up and I hung with them for several hours trailing off the back. They seemed slightly frustrated that I was able to keep up with them despite my extra 70 pounds of luggage. 
I finally made it to Genoa and waited for Joseph in a square we had set as a meeting point. Somewhere I had passed him on the coast and was now ahead. He arrive and looked pretty filthy. The reality is that I probably looked just as bad. We popped in a cafe to get wifi for several minutes and came out to find my solar panel sleeve unzipped and my laptop gone. So this post has been written on my iPhone and I’ll have another Chromebook shipped to a hostel in Rome. I didn’t wallow in my sadness for too long as there wasn’t anything I could do and I learned my lesson. At least that’s all the gypsy had taken and it was just a cheap Chromebook. 
Wow. This was a long post. Well as always, much love to all you Washingtonians from here in Italy. We’re leaving Genoa today and headed for Florence! Ciao!

   
    
  

Gorges in the Alps

  
    
    

Odd natural rock formations

    

I got to decend 1,200 meters into this valley

    

The small country of Monaco .

  

Sunset

  

Sunrise

  

Genoa, Italy

I would’ve loved to take more picture of the Alps but had very low battery on my phone.