OMG!!! I couldn't believe my eyes...

The Sun was shining into the room with a vengeance, after a week of miserable rainy, cold and crappy weather. I had to squint, it was so intense. Throwing the French (Swiss?) doors open to my balcony, the heat poured into the little Hotel room somewhat akin to a Tsunami rolling over a Pacific atoll.

The clouds were... GONE!

Yeah.... right.

In your dreams........

I woke clutching the down comforter, while tiptoeing to the bathroom, my feet nearly froze to the tiles. Oh yes... the Swiss must be hardy people I thought.

Outside, there was no Sun to be seen, I didn't have French doors to my balcony, in fact I didn't have a balcony at all.

What I did have was a window and from that window I could see fog. And rain, and throwing the window open, felt the crispness of a cold alpine morning.

I closed the window, to crank up the thermostat.

Where the hell was it?

Did I mention that many of the rooms I stayed in, have no thermostat!? Instead I got back under the quilt, lay there tossing and turning like a Mexican jumping bean for another hour, and finally gave in to the inevitable. At least the shower was hot! I shivered the entire time I was packing my gear down to the garage, loading Piroska. I wondered what she was thinking about all this. As I was checking out with the Amazon woman leading me to and fro, I thought, you know... GERMANS are lively compared to the Swiss!

I always heard Germans were stoic, subdued, orderly people. Ha! Compared to the Swiss, their Northern Neighbours are positively exuberant!!!

Never in my life had I seen such dour faces and attention to detail as I saw in Switzerland. And it wasn't limited to one place or person... no, it seemed that wherever I went not a smile was present.

The ride south from Guttennen was wet and cold. Immediately climbing, I realized I was totally alone on this narrow, wet twisting road. It felt like for the moment at least, I was the only human riding the only motorcycle, left on Planet Earth.

The temperature showing on my watch was 41F. Bloody awful mate! Still... it was somehow more comforting than 5 degrees C.

The land became barren rock in short order. Lakes were frozen solid. The thermometer dropped! As we climbed once again, massive snow drifts were cut 10 meters deep. I came upon a single vehicle, heading in the same direction. It was a Ford SUV. The driver was crawling along slower than I was. He pulled over in the narrow switchbacks allowing me, wanting me to pass. I had been on the road for less than half an hour and already was having a hard time feeling my fingers in my covered MX gloves. Wearing my gauntlets wasn't possible as the dish washing rubber gloves I'd bought in Szolnok wouldn't stretch over them. No matter, I would likely have been just as frozen in them anyway. My fingers felt like icicles!

I passed the Ford. I swear, it was the slowest pass in history that I could remember. Gone were the days I would "swoosh" by slower traffic. I wasn't doing any "swooshing" here. More like... well I couldn't think of the sound a turtle would make, crawling onto a steep Alaskan beach that was covered in Exxon Valdez oil at slightly above freezing, hmmm.... about the temperature it was right now, right here!

The SUV fell behind. Remarkable, seeing as I was travelling at somewhat less than Warp factor .00000000000001.

There was a concrete dam to my right. Short straights would be followed by a turn to the right, then the left then the right once again. No scraping of the knee pads here. Honestly, my big concern was that this rain would become ice at pavement level. It was steep, steeper than any paved road I'd come across in the CDN Rockies. I had seen roadsigns on my trip, in a number of places that indicated double digit inclines and declines. Nearing the summit of 2164M, (7100feet) Grimselpass, I was passed by not one, but 2 motorcycles coming from the opposite direction. We managed a slow motion wave, they were descending only slightly faster than I was ascending.

My spirits soared!

If they were coming down, I could make it up! But... what if they had tried to make it over and were turned back by a wall of Snow, as I had been yesterday. I pulled over to consult my GPS (map). Gletsch was just over the other side of this mountain. From there I could go southwest to Brig, and then on into Italy. Or... I could go East towards Wassen, my previous days destination. Trouble was, East would lead me over the Furkapass. That meant climbing to the summit at 2431M (8100'')

The Ford crawled past me in the hairpin curve. I didn't care.

The transmission clunked into low. Even it was being stubborn.

The summit was covered in hard pack glacier. Well it looked like a glacier from my vantage point. The usual hand full of wooden buildings, empty parking lots, a car over there, a snow plow here. A brief flat perhaps enough to land a WW2 "Stringbean" on, took me over the top. Once past the narrow rocky ridge, I began the descent. The view was magnificent! I pulled off at another hairpin, next to a Mechanical Snow Monster, something like you may see in a Swiss kid's toy box, warmed my hands on the cylinders, and snapped a few pics and some video. The cars, infrequent as they were, looked at me as they ground their way up or down the precipitous path. Oh how I envied them at this moment. Dashboard dials slid from blue to red, showering them with beautiful, exquisite, lovely warmth, heat!

I was huddled over the rapidly cooling outboard cylinders of the DOHC four.

Gletsch was waaaay down there in the confluence of narrow valley. I could see the highway disappearing around a bend to the west or continuing to the East. A railway snaking it's way to points unknown to me. They had Heat too!

Several men were at the crossing working on the line. I stopped to ask for advice. One of them spoke English as if he'd learned at Oxford. He explained that the Furkapass was open, they had driven through only this morning. Oh joy! I thought. Thanking him, I crossed over the the other side of the tracks somewhat like a chicken crossing the road, and began the laborious ascent once again. A glance at the numbers on the 'twin sensor' Casio showed 39 degrees F. I shivered unconsciously, hard enough to shake the handlebar in my frozen paws. The road soared into the mist, the rain began to turn into huge flakes of snow. There was not another vehicle on the road with me. I was totally alone, on a Planet of rock and ice climbing, into the void of gray, directly thru a cloud clinging to the side of the mountain. My only company was Piroska. Don't fail me know little Diversion I thought. I know you're cold and hungry too (I hadn't seen a fuel stop since yesterday afternoon) she was well into my 200km fill zone. I knew that if push came to shove or in this case, slip... I could squeeze perhaps 350km from the tank. Andermatt couldn't be more than 40 or 50 k from my present location. There would be fuel there.

Nearing the summit, I began to see vehicles coming down. Then an abbreviated tour bus came past. Out of the mist, there would be no photo ops here, I saw a building looming, then another. Could it be? Yes, bikes! Maybe a dozen. Mostly big GS Beemers parked on the opposite side of the hairpin. I waved weakly not wanting to lift my frigid hand from the bar. Clutching and shifting gears, the incline steepening, I thought my fingers were going to break off one by one!

Another GS came past, followed by a couple of Ducati's, then another gaggle of the Paris Dakar Beemers. My spirits were soaring like the roadway I was climbing. Another kilometer and the snow was coming down heavily. I came upon two small cars travelling gingerly. The slush turned to snow 6 inches deep, the only pavement was that of the two tire tracks I was now committed to. Another minibus came by, squeezing past us on the narrowing pavement. To my right was a sheer drop into huge boulders. The slender piece of highway I was riding reached the summit of the Furkapass. You couldn't see a hundred meters ahead. We were now down to barely 20kph, our little three vehicle convoy, as we crested the hill. I would have loved to have taken some pictures of what must have been an awesome view, but today the only thing I saw on this Swiss mountain top were huge snowflakes, shining wet rocks, and the tail lights of the small Peugeot three car lengths in front of me. What I didn't see was a guard rail at any point! Nada. One false step, one slip of the tire and it would be "Coytains" my friend. They'd never find you until the spring.

Ha... I laughed it was nearly summer!!! My watch showed 29 degrees Fahrenheit...