We have a cyclist breakfast of porridge and dried fruit in our tin mugs, sitting on the little balcony and looking at the mountains. There are no clouds at all, the view is awe inspiring, glistening white above the rocky crags.

We get ready, packing lunch, snacks, and extra clothing into our day paniers on the front of our bikes and in our pockets. We manoeuvre the bikes down the wooden steps and lean them against the wall. Martin locks the door and I frown at the bikes, something’s not right. I laugh.

‘Big forget,’ I say and point to the empty water bottle holders.

We go back in and fill the bottles. Now we are ready. We smile and mount our bikes. The sun is shining but there is a cool edge to the air as we wind down from the village.

Martin is having problems seeing the navigation on his phone as he left his usual phone holder at home. He grumbles and swears which is not like him, but the sun is bright, and the screen is dark. But he finds the way, and we cycle through a few more villages to the top of a grape infested valley. Ever downwards, an easy start to the day and I try not to think of the return. 

‘I didn’t know it was quite so steep,’ Martin says. The gravel track is impossibly steep for our bikes, it would be a challenge if we had off road bikes and tyres.

While he searches for an alternative route I find the perfect secluded spot for a quick and much needed pee between the vines. Not too close or this year’s vintage will have a different hint in its bouquet than expected!

We push our bike a short way up the hill. Even that is hard with the sun soaking us in sweat. We are not sure how long it continues like this so we stop and retrace our route, past the still chatting men and back to the main road. A longer route but not as severe.

The main road is not too busy and so far we have been pleasantly surprised by how courteous all the drivers are around here, giving cyclists, most  of whom are on electric powered bikes, a wide birth.

The sun is hot now and the road wriggles up the mountainside with no shade. My legs turn slower the higher we climb, and I am so grateful to see a brimming water trough in a lay-by. We stop. The water is fresh and mountain river cold, but that doesn’t stop us from wetting our heads, wrists necks and scarves for a sigh and delicious shiver.  A quick snack to give more power to our legs and we are off again, relentlessly up and up. I keep my eyes on the far views rather than the road ahead and my legs turn mechanically. The distance between Martin and I lengthens but he slows for me to catch up. 

Up through another village and the road shrinks in width, and there are even fewer vehicles. The road is smooth but steeper and continues up and up. There is a whisper in my head that this is getting too difficult for me.

I flick into my lowest gear and keep plodding on and up, Martin disappears around another steep bend and I hit a wall. Not a brick and mortar wall, but a mental one. My legs turn to jelly, my head pounds and I am convinced that I cannot do this and that I am about to spoil this holiday for Martin who so wants to cycle these mountains. A black despair engulfs me as the corner inches closer. I am doing this for Martin, but also for myself. I repeat my motto. No limits, but maybe I have found it here on this corner in the heat. 

The road ahead doesn’t look as steep. It isn’t and my legs feel stronger again as I find a rhythm and breath to talk. There are crags and mountains on both sides of the valley and I cry with relief and awe as we cycle along the road which twists and clings to the mountain side. Silvery tracks of water pour down from the snow topped mountains like giant snail trials through the grey rocks.

Then we are in the forest. Beech, birch and pine. We are surprised to see hardwood trees at this altitude. The smell is fresh and revitalising as we stop by a waterfall. There are so many photo opportunities, so many scenes to capture so they will never be forgotten. I don’t think I will cycle this way again.

We see a sign for a tunnel and whoop with joy, and what a tunnel, it doesn’t disappoint. I ring my bell shouting ‘cyclists coming through’ and we call and laugh as we venture into the darkness. This tunnel was not made by a machine, but sheer man-power, it is rough cut but perfect, there are peep holes giving us glimpses of the valley alongside and a waterfall crashing down from above. It is cool and fun. What is it about tunnels? We love them. 



Too soon the tunnel ends and the road ahead of us curves around the valley. There are more tunnels ahead and I leave my glasses in my pocket, but they are short. We cross a bridge to the opposite side of the valley and then start climbing again. It takes forty minutes to cycle a couple of kilometres. Painfully slow but the scenery is fascinating and distracts me from the physical effort. The landscape changes from forest to huge rocks washed down water-carved channels, empty of water today, but I can imagine the noise, force and spray in the spring with the snow melt. There are trickles of water through smaller rounded rocks and moss, it flows fast in many tiny streamlets as we continue to climb. 

Martin wonders if some of these huge boulders have been here since the ice age, carved by water and wind ever since, what changes they have witnessed even in this cut off valley.

We see two tiny trees growing out of the top of a rock as large as a car. There is no soil for them just a crack in the top. Nature determined to make the best of every opportunity. Those tiny trees will push their thread thin roots into small cracks and in the winter water will fill them, freeze and expand, the roots in the spring will dig deeper and the trees will grow a little more. This will happen over several years until the roots eventually crack the boulder like a nut.

I keep thinking about what we are seeing, and my legs keep turning. I am afraid to stop for a rest for I might not start again.

Finally the road ends and we cycle onto a gravel track. We see all the vehicles that have passed us on our upwards trek, parked neatly side by side. We continue down through a small wood and there is the glacial lake we have been striving to reach. It is a clear green-blue and we walk to the edge before finding somewhere to sit. We eat and drink and rest before enjoying the place we have cycled to. I think we are both a little disappointed at the lake at the top. We do live in a region of spectacular lakes, but none have mountains peering down at them. I may be a little too tired to really appreciate the scenery.

We take several photos and begin to enjoy the views. The sun is hot but a cool wind gusts down from the mountains which surround us still. Some are white tipped and seem impossibly near, but they are too far away to climb up for a roll in the cool snow.

My body is delighted with the lack of cycling. I do wonder just how I’m going to get all the way back to the little house we are renting. But it’s only thirty kilometres away and half of it is downhill. Of course, I can. No limits. 

After about an hour we leave the lake. We stop in the carpark so I can use the portaloo. It was pristine, with soap for washing my hands and even the urinal smelt sweet. Of course, it was. We are in Switzerland. Sadly, it wasn’t as pristine or as sweet smelling when I left it!

We cycle up the track and onto the road to begin our descent. I am amazed at how quickly we travel and how steep the road is. The forty-minute ride up two kilometre ride takes approximately  three minutes to cycle down, and that’s with brakes being used as the headlong rush with sharp corners is not one I can do confidently at speed, but we are going fast. The views that were behind us on the way up are stunning. We are on the top of Europe and can almost touch the sky.

We take even more photos as we continue down and into the tunnel where we whoop and ting before hearing other cyclists behind us. They overtake us on their electric powered bikes. I think we’ve only seen two other cyclists leg powered on this ride so far.

I allow a little pride to seep into my heart, although my legs say maybe a little electric power would have been useful on the way up. My reply is when I am older I may consider one, but not yet.

We continue down and soon pass the bend that almost broke me. We leave the valley – aptly named ‘Haut de Cry.’ A literal translation is high cry!  

‘Okay. I’m okay. I can do this.’ I’m not sure who I’m saying this to. I have muscles and a good bike, and we are nearly there. I wipe sweat from my eyes and push on. I see Martin stop by a turning ahead and know I just need to reach him and then it’s downhill. I find a little extra energy, but this is not the corner. I want to stop. To sit down and let him cycle to the house and come back with the car, but I am so close. I force my legs to turn at a snail’s crawl up to the corner and then a blissful downhill to the house.

OMG, I did it. Every cell in my body is beyond tired, but I did it and I’m smiling.

What an achievement and what an experience.

We cycled up a mountain. Not bad for two mid fifty-year olds.