Cycling a Mountain Pass

For the last couple of weeks I have been cycling up and down the Alps in Switzerland. It was an incredible experience as you can imagine, but in particular because of the sheer size of the climbs that you encounter. Here I try to describe what it feels like cycling a 9000 feet mountain pass.

‘Has it started? Is this it? I’m sure the last sign said 20km to go. It can’t have started already?’

Change down. 2^nd Front Cog, Gear 3.

‘I’m not changing down to the 1^st Cog yet. I have energy. I must stay in a higher gear as possible. It will make it seem easier when it gets harder later.’

A throb of fatigue hits the thighs, like they have been struck with an iron mallet.

‘I’m getting warmed up. That’s all that is, just warming up.’

I change down to cog 1, then up to gear 4 to compensate. The gasps for breath get deeper and longer.

‘There we go, that’s it. Keep the toil going. Just relax, and keep pushing. That’s all you need to do.’

I stand up on the bike for a few seconds, and the pedalling becomes slightly easier. I see my speed dropping by a mph, so I sit back down. And then I really begin to climb.

A long, slow incline; a stream laughing alongside; snow-capped peaks far above; a village disappearing behind; climbing, climbing, climbing.

I take a first slug of water. There’s only room on my bike for one bottle, so I make sure I don’t have too much. Make it last, don’t waste. Save it for when things becomes really hard.

The village below looks tiny now. I am high up, so high already.

‘I am going to do this easily.’

I change up to the 2^nd cog and then immediately think better of it.

‘Take your time, take it easy. There is no hurry up here.’

I slow to under 5 mph – my low speed threshold – but then decide that I can do better than this. 5.5 mph. I don’t need to, but I do. Do it while you still can.

For the next few kilometres I have no clue as to how far I’ve gone or how far there is to go. I have entered the benevolent stage of the mountain pass, where I am climbing through trees and flowers, streams and grassy banks, with the sounds of birds and insects and the occasional breath of wind for company.

‘I wonder how long it is. I wonder how far there is to go. Maybe I am halfway already?’

I look up to the mountain tops, still far above.

‘It certainly won’t be all the way up there.’

The time is about one o’clock in the afternoon and it is getting hot. I can feel the sweat trickling down my forehead and onto my top, which is already saturated and caked with dried salt. The sweat is good – it means I am working, but it hints to a more and more pressing concern.

‘Need more water. I don’t have enough water.’

I take a large gulp and feel it pore straight out through my sweat glands.

‘Oh God, I need more food and more water. Must keep going, must keep toiling. I will stop in a bit. It isn’t hard enough yet.’

Half a kilometre later and I stop for a quick rest.

‘Its beautiful. It really is beautiful here.’

The mountains inspire, the trees protect, the stream makes me feel human. The fatigued rider gets back on his bike suitably refreshed.

‘Easy. It’s easy again. I feel fine.’

I change up a gear. The hill steepens and I quickly change down. The toil. Must keep pushing. There is no hurry up here.

Cog 1, gear 3. The endurance level.

Another village and then the trees start to diminish. I can hear the stream somewhere far below, but I can no longer see it. There is a shop, a church and a gas station. I should stop and buy some water and some chocolate, but it is too soon. I have just had a break. The more I stop the harder it becomes.

Out of the village and I hit the first switchback. A long lug of water – only a third of the bottle left now. it is getting steep. We must be near the top now.

Through the first turn – 31 degrees - then another even tighter. Everything is moving slowly up here – caravans, motorcycles, cars.

I can feel the air cold and a mist forming above. Mountain peaks rise like a crown above my head.

A new routine begins on the switchbacks. As my energy lessens, each turn becomes new stage, a new challenge that I take on one at a time.

Up, turn, up the gears – climb, lower the gears, toil – turn – then up again.

That’s all you can do.

‘Back, back and forth, check out my back and forth.’

‘Yes we turn, turn, turn, turn, turn, turn.’

‘I get around – round, round, round – I get around.’

Five gone and I have got nowhere. I complete one, and another three appear above me. As I look up I can see a car at what seems like another mile up. That can’t be the road, surely that can’t be the road!’

The next corner finds me sat on the grass, staring at the road. I know. Deep inside I know it still so far to go. I’ve been riding for an hour and a half, but still it’s so far. I don’t tell myself that though. I accept where I am and what I have to do – get back and climb.

At the next (and last) gas station I do buy myself some water and some chocolate. I don’t eat or drink any yet though. Not yet. Not until I really need it.

I change up and then change back down again.

‘Thank God it’s beautiful. Thank God my bike works. Thank God for riding.’

This why I keep going and this is why I don’t mind the toil. We are all the same – we all have reasons why we keep going.

Five more switchbacks and I have accepted it – the road goes all the way to the top. It’s at least another 45 minutes. 5km maybe? 10? It keeps getting steeper, the air colder, the landscape more barren. The top is there though, I can see it.

I stand up on the pedals to stretch my legs, then sit back down. It hasn’t got any easier. I have t change down again to 1:2, lower than I will ever go, except in emergencies. This isn’t an emergency, but it’s all I can do.

‘How can it be this far? How can any hill be this long?’

A couple of racing bikes pass by, their riders shaking their heads in disbelief. It is hard for all. None of us were quite prepared for this, because if we knew we wouldn’t be here in the first place. It is not reason that takes us to these heights, and it is not reason that makes us appreciate it. Why do we do it? Because at this point there is no why. There is just experience.

‘15km to go’ is chalked onto the road. 15km! Is that true?

I don’t think about it. I look up the road and pedal to the next switchback.

Repeat.

Repeat.

The environment is no longer meant for people or roads. It is rocky precipices and mounds of barren grass. The corners are so tight that cars can barely get round. It is beautiful. It is beautiful because it is so desolate.

Suddenly I HAVE to stop. It has all become too much. Two hours of climbing and I can do no more. I can see the top and it is covered in snow. I don’t want to go up there – it is too far, too high. My gears don’t go low enough. I can’t look at the road. I can’t look at the top. I can’t even sing.

3 minutes, a Snickers and a sit down. Another rider passes me, then stops and collapses to his knees. It isn’t just me. It is too far for all of us.

No more excuses. I have energy – stop being a wimp. Not much water left, but the Snickers has produced some saliva, and that will do. Go, go, go go!

5.5 miles an hour. Keep it there. Keep this going and I will be done in...an hour, an hour and a half. I’m not sure. My brain’s stopped working. Toil, toil, toil, toil.

10km to go

2 more switchbacks, then another rest.

A lug of water.

2 more switchbacks.

The road is so tight that trucks and cars pass within an inch of my wheel, almost forcing me plummeting to my death. I don’t care. I am so close to death in other ways.

Half an hour later and 5km to go. It is cold and it still looks a long way. Switchback, switchback, climb, climb.

‘Back, back and forth, check out my back and forth.’

‘You’re a cold as ice, you’re willing to sacrifice.’

On the rock is a shrine to a dead rider – Francesco Moretti, 30 years old.

‘Keep going. Keep going or you will die.’

5km, 4km, 3km to go. I don’t stop anymore. Cold sweat drips off my chin, my eyes are glazing over and the altitude is making me faint, but...but I am almost there. I can see the top. 5.5mph. 5.9mph. Switchback, switchback, just one more switchback...

1km to go. I stop, turn and look at the vastness below me. 2900m up. I am going to do this. I am going to make it. Thank you God. Thank you bike.

When I finally reach the top there is no elation. I don’t punch the air, jump up and down or pass out on the ground. I just enjoy the moment in my head, while body walks like it had got here any other way. The toiling is over – the only way is down, the experience of going up is already in the past, but it will stay with me forever.