Translated with DeepL

So today down the valley. The route I feared yesterday because of the federal road section. I just want to get it over with today.

The route avoids the main road wherever possible, and so at the beginning it goes over very steep grass paths that are not passable, at least with luggage. Strenuous but perhaps worth the effort? I’m not so sure. A definite highlight on a somewhat circuitous route: two very social goats that walk alongside me for a long time and even let me pet them. They try to nibble on the straps of my handlebar bag, so I have to push them away.

Then I get back on the main road. The passing lorries are a bit scary, but I just grit my teeth and get on with it. Put on my safety vest and pedal.

Once again, I’m sprinting to catch opening times. This time it’s for chain oil for my bike. About 45 km and 800 metres of altitude difference, 3 hours to go. Thanks to the altitude difference, it’s quite a challenge. So I fly up the mountain pass, and I’m actually enjoying it by now, and the few cars that pass me do so with respect. The good thing about mountain passes is that you can also ride down the other side. I hadn’t taken that into account in my calculations. Instead of being just in time and having to pedal hard, I roll downhill at a high speed for 20 kilometres. Even after a detour to a local bakery, I still arrive an hour before closing time.

I celebrate my two-month journey with ice cream and alcohol-free beer by a river. I call Charlotte, a friend from Oxford who is now writing her doctoral thesis in Boston. She is a person who has always impressed and inspired me. I have a great deal of respect for her sharp mind and the way she approaches other areas of her life. She accompanies me for a while, even when I get back on my bike. Her stories about her work also awaken my desire to do research again.

As my connection slowly breaks down, I say goodbye to Charlotte. Now I just have to get up the hill and out of the village. I plan to find the first place to sleep that is halfway suitable.

But then I meet Karl. He has quickly cycled down into the valley to get the newspaper, which is about 20 km and 300 metres in altitude. He tells me about a big bike tour he did in his early twenties through America, from the USA to Venezuela, and about his tour across the Alps last summer. He is now over 70, but he rides up the mountain next to me as fit as a fiddle. Sometimes I wonder if he is going slower because of me. I would like to be that fit for the rest of my life.

Karl and I cycle together for about an hour. He takes me on a different route to the one calculated by my device. Apparently, my route would have taken me along a path that is no longer passable with luggage. I am very grateful for the local tips. It is really beautiful up here, a plateau with a view of a large mountain and different lake landscapes. At the same time, it is also really windy. Karl recommends another place to sleep that should be particularly sheltered from the wind. However, it is at least 20 km away. But I’m not angry with him, the route is really fun in the golden evening light.

There is already a caravan at my sleeping place. There is still more than enough space and I ask if I can put up my tent next to it. Marianne, who is sitting by the fire, invites me to do so. Marianne and I spend the evening together by the fire. Her husband speaks little English and spends most of the evening fishing. Both are kind and supportive, and invite me to have a Fanta when I politely decline the beer. Marianne opens up to me with amazing depth and trust, and tells me what is important to her. Sitting by the fire, my evening drags on quite a bit longer.

This evening has surprised me quite a bit. It is good to be able to meet people like this again.