Big Cycle Trip Part 3, Year 2!

Day 1, Scuol to Silvaplana, 69km

So there we were, back on the road again. Three of us this time, Hilary, Mary, me, setting off from Küssnacht early on Tuesday morning, to complete our circumnavigation by bicycle of our adopted homeland. With two languages and two cantons remaining, the plan was to start in Romansch-speaking Engadine and end in Italian Ticino, with a little side trip into neighbouring Italy.

Our intrepid leader sets off uphill

A four hour train journey took us to Scuol, chosen for its famed sgrafitto. But it was downhill to the town from the station, and we could see the 400m climb looming, so we skipped Scuol and laboured up. 400m over 5km isn't a great way to start a bike trip! But at the top was lunch, a very welcome and delicious flammkuche. Forgoing the beer (wisely, as it turned out) we set off again, on a gorgeous rolling ride through the fabled Engadine villages, each one prettier than the last, their delightful sgrafitto'd buildings drawing gasps of admiration.

Sgraffito in the Engadine

And soon we were offroad, on a pretty trail through woods and deep valleys. Lovely. But it didn't end! Slow on the uphills in the gravel, we were almost as slow downhill. Not quite slow enough on one corner for Hilary, who took a shoulder-wrenching tumble (the only tumble of the trip). As our counters ticked slowly over to 40km, and knowing we had another 30 or so to go before dark (and dinner) we gave up the trail and headed for the road. Nothing like as pretty, but a whole lot easier. And so eventually we rolled into St Moritz - and out of it again, and on to smaller, prettier Silvaplana. It wasn't quite dark, but approaching problem time (not all of us had lights) so our hotel was a truly welcome sight. As was the still-open restaurant, where we ate a delicious and thoroughly deserved dinner before falling into bed.
69 km, 3200m of total climb, over 3000 cal consumed...



Day 2, Silvaplana to Chiavenna, 51km

Top of the Maloja Pass

Couldn't pass a pink bike without a photo opp

A few of those hairpins

This was to be a more restful day after the big first day - and did we need it! Some repairs to Hilary's bike in the local bike shop, a stroll around Silvaplana and quick ride across the lake for Mary and me, and back on the saddle. Rolling lakeside along the Silvaplaner See and then the Silser See, dropping into the cute between-lakes town of Baselgia, we soon reached the top of the infamous Maloja Pass. Here we stopped to look over the edge at the steep descent that faced us. A passing motorist who took our photo commented that he was nervous driving up it - which didn't do a lot for our confidence. But, brakes alerted, we set off. Fortunately, on a Wednesday morning there wasn't lot of traffic, and those who were on the road were very cautious and courteous. The first few hairpins were testing, but then we were rolling, and soon, around two thirds of the way down, the road widened and the turns deepened and we were flying!  I clocked a top speed of 59km/hour, and Mary got up to 64. Exhilarating! And we were so happy not be riding up it!

Then followed a gentle downhill riverside ride to the Italian border at Castasegna, and more downhill into Chiavenna, with plenty of daytime left to explore and shop, and eat and drink.
51 km, downill, 765 cal



Day 3, Chiavenna to Lecco, 77km

Mary prepared for rain

wet but still smiling

Rain! Lots of it! Mary arrived for breakfast wearing shower hat and goggles, prepared for the ride. It showed no signs of stopping so we waterproofed up our bags, donned our jackets, and set off. It wasn't so easy to find the bike path out of Chiavenna in the rain, but eventually we got there, and so began a lovely ride. The rain was persistent, but soft and warm, and the cloud-shrouded mountains looming on both sides inspired awe and silence as we rode along the valley. We stopped for a rain-soaked photo on pretty little Lago di Mezzola, and then on to Colico and the start of Lake Como. We made the most of a brief respite from the rain, stopping for an excellent coffee (and American Mary's interesting banana-peanut butter breakfast supplement).

Then lakeside all the way to Lecco. But we hadn't quite taken into account all the hill-climbing towns. We climbed, and descended, and climbed, and descended through each little village, and rode at top speed through the dark "gallerias", or tunnels, cut into the hillside. Narrow and unlit, with cars racing by in both directions, they were a little too scary for comfort. But then Lecco appeared, at the end of the lake, and as we approached it, the sun emerged. Not for long though. Showered and changed, we strolled the streets and shops, until caught in a fearsome hailstorm. Learning that a bar was right next door to the shop we were in, we made a five-pace dash for for it, and sat over campari sodas until the storm passed and we could go enjoy another Italian dinner.
77km, lots of climb, 2700 cal




Day 4, Lecco to Capolago, 74km

Bellagio picnic

Around Lake Como again, a couple more scary gallerias then a reasonably gentle ride towards Bellagio - but getting to Bellagio, our lunchtime goal, meant more climbing. Amazing what a difference a few days makes though. It was easy, more or less! And Bellagio was well worth the climb - and descent. A gorgeous Italian lakeside town, packed with tourists. Rather than attempt to find a restaurant, we opted for a picnic, buying the makings in a deli - cheeses hard and soft, bread sweet and sour, tasty Italian tomatoes...

Lake Como

Cycling lakeside again, more climbs and descents through villages, and a steep ride down to the lake at Blevio, where, we believed, a ferry would take us across the lake to Cernobbio. Not so, we discovered. Apparently it no longer runs - or we'd missed it, we couldn't quite work out what two Italian motorcyclists were trying to tell us. So back up the hill we went, and on into Como. Possibly the least attractive of all the towns we'd been through, though that may be unfair - we saw only the busy and uninspiring lakefront. And then we had to get out of Como and up to the Swiss border at Chiasso. We probably should have retrieved the Cernobbio option, but wanting to avoid the busy, narrow lakeside road, we headed straight up the hill. Not a pleasant experience, but we got to the border, and then, relieved to be back on familiar cycling ground, went looking for the ubiquitous pink Swiss cycling signs. Route 3 we were looking for, and it starts in Chiasso. But not a single sign did we find. Then, backtracking off a very busy main road, we suddenly came across one and followed it to the station. And then there were no more. What happened to the famous, excellent, Swiss signage? So out came the iphones, and google maps found us a road to Mendrisio. And lo, there was a sign, which took us up and through the town and then dropped us again. But eventually we made it to Capolago, and our popular little Albergo Svizzero. Showered and ready for a drink, I went down to the garden bar just as the heavens opened. But there was a vast, solid cover over the top, and it was still warm. So we sat over beers and then an excellent dinner with a local white merlot.
74km, lots more up and down, my watch counted 1735 cal but it must have been more - I haven't got that much fitter!

Final border crossing

Day 5, Capolago to Ascona, 73km

From the bottom of the sixth and penultimate lake on our tour, Lake Lugano, we took the southern side up and around to another Italian border crossing. A stop in Porto Ceresio for a last delicious Italian espresso and chocolate croissant got us happily back on our bikes for the final leg, around the Italian side of Lake Lugano to Lavena, and on to Lake Maggiore. A gorgeous(!) ride through the gorge, unexpectedly downhill - there's a lock which drops the river to the level of Lake Maggiore. More lakeside ups and downs to the Swiss border and eventually on across the delta, through farmland and into Locarno. And there, in sunshine on a corner, was Restaurant Sensi, beckoning. A leisurely, end-of-tour (almost) lunch, with a little more of the local vino, and then on to Ascona and a bit of a rest before the Sting concert back at the Moon and Stars Festival in Locarno that night.
And what a way to end our trip - what a man, what a singer, what a concert!

Besos from Bogota

Sprawling Bogota from the cable car

Our street in Getsemani, Cartagena

 A (very rare) gorgeous sunny morning in soggy Bogota and Gary and I have just returned from a run – a bit of a gasper at 2300m, but a welcome blast after a week of unrelenting eating and drinking! On Sunday the city closes off a number of streets, including half of Carrera 70, a main thoroughfare running north/south across the 450 or so east/west Calles, and conveniently just around the corner from our hotel. And Bogotans get out and use them, on bikes, roller blades, walking, running...

Bogota’s a huge city, even more apparent when you take the (Swiss-made) cablecar to the top of one of the surrounding mountains. It sprawls from mountain range to mountain range across a vast high valley. We’ve seen only a few small portions of it, and we’re staying in one of the better areas, surrounded by great restaurants and cafes, and just down the road a cluster of shops and malls – so our only glimpse of the other side of Bogota has so far come only on our drive into the city from the airport. We started here in Bogota 10 days ago, then flew down to Cartagena for a couple of days of sun and sea. Cartagena is gorgeous (once you get past the Sunshine Coast style highrises). We stayed in Getsemani, a very old suburb, which originally used to house the artisans and workers who serviced the elite in the adjacent and very beautiful old walled city. Getsemani is now gentrifying somewhat, but is still a bustling blend of drugpushers , backpackers, family homes and the old interesting hotel like the one we stayed at, a gorgeous old place, only 7 rooms built around a courtyard, huge cool rooms with unglazed louvred doors and shutters, ceiling fans and cold showers, for which we were very grateful after sweaty days exploring the old town, or lazing on a Rosario island beach...

And then back up to Medellin, drug city turned elegant tourist mecca. We arrived early evening and left by midday the next day, so caught barely a glimpse of the place, but what we saw was fascinating. Most astounding, the Botero museum with its outdoor park of the local boy’s glorious vast fat sculptures. And then the excitement of renting a car in Colombia – we went with reputable Avis, just in case, but still ended up with an expensive 4 wheel drive which didn’t quite make it up the first hill – and there were to be a helluva lot more to come. So back down the hill we rolled, and an hour later we were on the road again in a Ford Explorer. A good move, as it turned out, because that big solid car with reasonable acceleration was just what we needed on the 300km, 5 hour drive up and down countless winding mountain roads  to Maraquita. Stunning drive, through gorgeous country – but a lot of slow trucks which Gary overtook like a local. We got to Maraquita with just enough light left to find the way to our hotel, a simple but superb place perched on a hilltop overlooking plains and mountains, with a big open terrace on which we lingered over local style dinner and a few bottles of Chilean wine. A platform cantilevered over the hillside provided the perfect spot for early morning yoga before Gary’s friend Pablo flew in from Bogota and off we went visiting potential factory sites and avocado farms. First stop was a gorgeous piece of land, with a small but perfect house serendipitously featuring an avocado-shaped swimming pool, and the most wonderful bamboo and thatch barbecue area. Not sure how peaceful it would remain if a large avocado oil factory were to be constructed nearby, with trucks entering all day long...

Next day, another piece of land and then a private plane ride back to Bogota for Gary and Alex and the others, while Steve and I drove the rental beast back to Bogota. The main road was closed because of slips and mudslides, so we took a smaller road, which began slightly ominously with a police roadblock and a warning sign which my Spanish-speaking companion missed but which we began to suspect might have said something like “take this road at your own risk”! Anyway, at least there were very few trucks, as we climbed another vertiginous 2000m up a twisting mountain road, in excellent condition - for the first few kilometers. And then the devastation began. It’s unstable country at the best of times, but after months of rain, the steep hillsides were simply collapsing. And despite the valiant efforts of the repair crews, in many places the road was reduced to a rubble-strewn track over muddy streams and around giant boulders. Great fun to negotiate in our big beast, though there was the old road slippage tumbling away down a thousand meter drop which was slightly worrisome. And plenty of time to stop and take photos of both the slips and the magnificent views back down the valley to the Magdalena River. Despite detours, we made the 200km to Bogota in a respectable time of 4 hours, then took another hour of Nairobi-style driving to negotiate the few km to the rental car depot!

Dinner that night with the NZ ambassador to Chile, Peru and Colombia, a wonderful woman who was not only a great host, but who also set up some very positive meetings. So while Gary met next day with local politicians, Steve and I went sightseeing with Pablo’s wife Andrea, ending a long morning of gold museum (extraordinarily good) and Botero museum (more fat ladies - as well as a superb collection of 20th century art) with a very long lunch at one of Bogota’s many superb restaurants. Then yesterday another very long lunch, this time at Pablo and Andrea’s house in the country, a stunning place overlooking rolling hills reminiscent of NZ’s Northland, and filled with massive pieces of furniture recovered from demolished monasteries and theatres. The afternoon floated by, glasses and plates endlessly topped up by two attentive white-coated waiters, and too soon it was time to go back into town and get Steve off to his flight home.