Switzerland

Florence

It is a relatively short hop from Rome to Florence (Firenze), the capital of Tuscany. Our immediate concern arriving here was the ZTL (Zona Traffico Limitato). This prohibits through traffic and limits access to residents with permits. Fortunately for us, it turned out not to apply to motorcycles. Happy days and further evidence that a bike really is the ideal tool for an Italian road trip. As we had been travelling around I had been considering how things might have worked out if we had brought Baloo. Overall, I think it would have been terrible. Like in many European countries, we would have essentially been confined to the motorway network and finding parking would be very difficult. Visiting popular cities and other tourist destinations would be possible, if restricted, by bobbing in on the small motorbike for a few hours. The national parks all have weight restrictions and would be completely off limits. Meanwhile, we found our B&B, parked the bike in a secure garage, had a shower and were out wandering the city in a thoroughly comfortable and relaxed way.

Florence is a lovely place. Far less of the tourist hustle than Rome. Some fantastic architecture, shops, restaurants and bars. We happily wandered around for a few hours taking in the artisan street traders, the artists and street musicians. All very comfortable and relaxed. Eventually we came across a small restaurant that offered us a vegetarian tasting menu. A lot of very small courses that showed off their culinary skill. Each course was matched with a wine and the whole meal took well over two hours. It was spectacular. A remarkable range of flavours and textures served in imaginative ways that allowed you to really focus on, and enjoy the food. Throughout Italy we have been consistently impressed by the food and this feast was the perfect highlight.

Next day we left for Barolo. Sadly we could not stay longer in Florence but one day I would like to come back and explore it a bit further. The fastest way would have been the coastal motorway but we took to the mountains. Yet another beautiful area of Italy and a fantastic place to travel on a motorbike. Arriving at another lovely agriturismo just outside of the town of Barolo we asked about wine. Barolo wine is one of Diane’s favourite so we really wanted to get a local bottle. We were directed to the building at the end of the agriturismo, which turned out to be a winery. Here a lovely couple made wine from their small vineyard. Within 30 minutes of getting off the bike we were tasting some of most fabulous wines with locals. Sometimes everything just seems to work out really well.

Due north in the morning up into the Aosta valley. First we crossed the wide flat plains as we passed Turin and then the Alps began to rise in front of us. Entering the mouth of the valley, the mountains start to close in around you. This is a beautiful drive despite the motorway carving its way up the valley. To the right is the Matterhorn and left is Mont Blanc. At the city of Aosta we leave the busy valley and go right up a much smaller valley to the Colle del Gran San Bernardo at 2472m. The road works its way steadily upwards. There was little traffic so we could lean into the wide open corners a little. The sun was shining. The valleys opened up beneath us and the views were spectacular. Coming south, the Splügen Pass had been cold and bit tricky. The Gran San Bernardo was just a simple, easy pleasure. In 1045 a large hospice was built near the top of the pass to given shelter to travelers. From the 16^th century, the canons of the hospice bred the large Molossian dogs that eventually became the famous San Bernardo with their reputation for finding safe trails through the snow and rescuing travellers from bad weather and avalanches. We were reminded of this proud historic heritage by a box of stuffed toys as we crossed the border into Switzerland.

I had been a bit concerned that by the time we were heading north again, the weather might have started to turn cold. In fact, I had carried a pair of long, thermal leggings all the way around Italy just in case of this eventuality. It was not cold. In fact the weather, for a drive through Switzerland, was perfect. The first snow of the year was clean and white on the mountains. The forests were resplendent with the colours of autumn. The sun shone and the road was dry. We left the main road after Martigny and took a loop over the hills by Gstaad to Bern just for the pleasure of it. By the evening we were in Germany and a lovely hotel in the Black Forest.

Next day we dropped down onto the Rhine autobahn and unleashed the KTM. It really is very fast. Much faster than I am. On the autobahn, where this sort of thing is legal, I took it up to 230 kph (142 mph). The bike was still keen to go faster and urged me on but it was enough for me and I throttled back to a more comfortable cruising speed. One where I can relax a bit instead of having my buttocks permanently clenched. Even so, the bike can devour the miles. We skipped past several roadworks and traffic jams without barely slowing. By late afternoon we were in Amsterdam.

We enjoyed our stay in Amsterdam back in July so we had booked a hotel for a couple of nights. Autumn was clearly advancing on the city but there was still plenty of street life. We pottered around for a while enjoying the city and reflecting on the end of the road trip. All too soon we were on the ferry back to Newcastle. In the ship’s restaurant, we had prepaid the evening meal. Apparently this covered two of the three possible courses. Diane examined the menu and asked if she could just have the soup and pudding. This seemed quite acceptable however, the waiter considered a single dessert to not be the equivalent of a full main course and so he brought Diane three Crème Brulé. And she ate them all.

To Italy

Back in the UK we tried to make the best of our time while planning a trip to Italy.

I started by buying a motorbike. That actually turned out to be quite easy and fun. It helped that I had a pretty good idea about what I wanted. Then I discovered that the new KTM Super Adventure is a big improvement on the 2016 model I used to ride and that sorted out choosing a bike. Thanks to Gary for expert advice and Jake at the KTM Centre.

A mini heatwave was forecast. Possibly up to 40°C. Me and the dog are not keen on this sort of things so, with Diane, we went off to Langley Castle in Northumberland. This is a classic and well preserved 14^th century castle that has been converted into a hotel. An awful lot of history has been preserved in the castle making it well worth a visit. JK Rowling, the Harry Potter author, stayed here once. It is claimed that the main staircase inspired her vision of the moving stairs at Hogwarts. The castle is high in the Pennines where I hoped it would be cool. Just in case, we picked a room with air conditioning. We actually stayed in a converted stable, which suited us perfectly. The room was not only very comfortable but also Cent could walk straight out of the door onto the lawn. His legs are getting very bad now and steps are a problem. We had a small picnic on the lawn and Cent met the resident Peacock called Alfredo.

A few days later we took David skiing. Helen arranged it. She got the idea when were in Grindlewald. David has MND and cannot ski normally but, with the help of the Sports Disability Association, Helen fixed up for him to spend an hour on a sitting ski, with a guide. We met up at the Trafford Centre and it turned out to be really good fun for all of us. David could control the ski by moving his head. Helen and I skied around. We tried to help where we could but mostly made sure we did not get in the way. Diane watched from the bottom of the slope and took photographs. After breaking her hip she is still adamant that her skiing days are over.

The following weekend David and Helen did a single-handed fund raising event. A one mile swim followed by 56 miles cycling and finally a 14 mile run. David can no longer run or swim but he did take part in the cycling stage using a recumbent fastened to the back of Helen’s bike. My new motorcycle had just arrived so Diane and I bobbed around the cycling stage take photographs. I like to think this added a small sense of “Tour de France” to the proceedings. Turned out to be one of the hottest days of the year so Helen did quite an amazing job to finish in a good time. They set out to raise three thousand pounds to support the Motor Neurone Disease Association and Empowered People but eventually brought in over seven thousand. A properly magnificent effort. I am very proud of my baby sister. More details here.

Our Italian road trip was almost ready to go. Ferries and the first few hotels booked. Approximate routed worked out. Other hotel and B&Bs to be booked along the way. Bike had its first service. Paniers were fitted. Gear mostly sorted. Cent was going to stay with Helen and David. He struggles to walk now and their house is ideal – bed, garden and food all within short reach and on one level. He has Misty their gorgeous Australian Shepherd for company. Although a lot younger and far more energetic, she loves spending time with him. And then there is Ailsa, Helen’s younger daughter, who dotes after both dogs and literally spends hours cuddling them. As retirement homes go – Cent had got it made.

Last thing for us was a zip wire. The world’s fastest zip wire is the 1.5km “Velocity 2” in Snowdonia. We had been eyeing this up for a while. Ian, a good friend of ours came along. He and I had built zip wires of an experimental nature in days past. It would be fun to see how the professionals did it. Turned out to be great fun. You are briefed, equipped and packed off to a little zip wire. This is still way longer than any of our woodland constructions and quite enough to focus your attention. The assistants strap you in and check everything while you lie on a short padded bench. Then the bench drops down and you are hanging, head first, on the zip wire. 3-2-1 and you are flying. It is really quite exhilarating. Momentarily you are swooping down a mountainside with the ground flashing past underneath. From the bottom of the short wire trucks ferry the fliers up to the real zip wire. This is when things start to feel a bit more serious. It really is a long way above the lake. The group we were with became noticeably quieter. Fortunately the people that check and re-check the harnesses all seem very competent so I found I could relax a little to enjoy the view. This time the acceleration was much more noticeable and the sensation of swooping out over the lake was terrific. There was even time to have a look around and see where the others were. The braking system at the end is quite abrupt. At the point the brakes engage the ground is close and moving very fast. Suddenly you have to come to terms with not swooping any more. Then remember to breath as you are pulled upright and detached from the wire. We all stood and grinned for a while before heading for the café.

Italy. We were finally on our way. First stage was north to Newcastle, in the rain, to catch a ferry to Amsterdam. The bike was shiny and clean. Our clothing was clean. Everything was fresh and happy. Even the rain did not dampen our spirits. We were on the road again.

The ferry was ordinary but I think it makes a great way to start a journey. We disembarked after a good night’s sleep and an excellent breakfast, ready to tackle the day. You kind of need this because the first part of the trip, down through the Netherlands and Belgium is a bit of a slog. Wind it up on the motorway and try not to fall asleep. The day was overcast and damp and a bit boring. Next day was similar. We hacked across France and stopped just short of the Swiss border. Day three and the trip began to get more interesting. We bought a vignette (road toll ticket) for the bike as we crossed into Switzerland. The Alps hove into view through the mist and the occasional glint of snow made me smile. There are good roads through the Swiss valleys and despite the clouds we could see green lakes and rocky mountains. South of Chur we left the main road network and stopped in the village of Bonaduz. Here we had rented a small studio for the night. One room with a bed, a kitchen area and a seating area. The key was in the door and we never met the host. It all worked out fine though. We found a local shop to buy breakfast things and a small restaurant for the evening. Next day we packed the bike and left the key in the door where we had found it. I suspect this sort of arrangement works better in Switzerland than some other places.

We climbed out of the valley and up to the Splügen Pass. The road is steep with numerous hairpin bends. Part way up were roadworks and we were directed onto an unmetalled section still damp from earlier rain. A heavily laden bike with pillion and road tyres is not ideal for doing muddy switchbacks. We had a few nervous moments but we prevailed. The hill start feature on the new bike was particularly helpful. With relief we arrived at the top and the border to Italy. We were there. Lake Como, the Dolomites, Rome and the whole of Italy was spread out below us. Well sort of. All we could actually see was an Italian flag flapping damply in the mist. But in our minds, the great adventure had begun.

First and last

Helen and David’s last day in Grindelwald was fast approaching, so we went to First. Grindelwald First is a place, at the top of a gondola, on the other side of the valley to Kleine Scheidegg. The gondola is a few years old, small and completely inaccessible to wheelchairs. Fortunately, it was a warm sunny day so we left David and Diane at a restaurant. Again.

At the top of the gondola, at the First restaurant, is a cliff walkway. Helen tried suggesting that, because she had already done one of these, that there was not need to do another. We did it anyhow. You should do something scary at least once a day. Then we got on with some skiing. Late season ski conditions can often be a bit uncertain. Today, despite being overcast, the weather was warm. The snow was soft and sticky. The visibility was poor. We made the best of it. A long, meandering run took us back to David and Diane. It was fun but hard work.

Later, we all went out for our first and last evening meal in Grindelwald. The pizza was good. Helen and Diane shared a particularly large vanilla ice cream drizzled with hot chocolate sauce.

Next day dawned overcast, grey and miserable. Helen and Dave set off for home. P&O Ferries had just incited industrial action cancelling all their ferries and this did cause Helen and David to have a mini adventure. After a day and a night in the Black Forest they drove north to spend an extra night in a comfortable hotel on the banks of the northern Rhine. Finally, via a DFDS ferry from Amsterdam to Newcastle, they made it home.

We set off to Germany to find a consultant that could check out Diane’s hip.

Interlaken & Jungfraujoch

Switzerland turned orange. Not just Switzerland, much of Europe was tinted for a while as dust from the Sahara filled the air. This is not unusual. It happens every year or two. However, it does look very strange. Left a layer of orange snow on the mountains and orange dust on Helen’s car. We drove down to Interlaken. As the name suggests, this is the town between two lakes – Brienz to the east and Thun to the west. We pottered around for a while. Interlaken is a tourist town but on this particular day nothing very much appeared to be happening. We had a pleasant time and then headed back via the car wash so as to remove the thick layer of Sahara from the car. A few days earlier, David had mentioned that he was missing one of his favourite dishes – sausage, mash and beans. So when I spotted some Heinz baked beans in an Interlaken shop I thought I would attempt a fusion of Yorkshire, Swiss and vegan cuisine. With the baked beans we had rösti and tofu bratwurst. Rösti is a traditional Swiss way of roasting grated potatoes. Bratwurst is a type of sausage popular in Germany and Switzerland. I have no doubt that many would argue that something made from tofu could not be a proper sausage – it did however all turn out to be very tasty.

Next day we tackled the Jungfraujoch. This is a railway station on the saddle between the Jungfrau and Mönch mountains at 3,454m. Tunnels connect to the Top of Europe building, an ice palace dug into the glacier and, via an elevator, the Sphinx astronomical observatory. First part of the journey was the now familiar train up to Kleine Scheidegg. From there we travelled on the Jungfrau Railway, the highest railway in Europe. The track climbs 1,393m in just over 9km through a steep tunnel inside the Eiger and Mönch mountains. The tunnel was dug just over a hundred years ago, took 16 years and remains an engineering masterpiece. On the way up, the train stops at some observations windows where you can look out from the north face of the Eiger.

From the underground train station we made our way to the Top of Europe building where an elevator took us to a small café. After ascending some 2,400m we were ready for a coffee. Refreshed, we managed to avoid the souvenir shop and headed for the observation platform just underneath the Sphinx Observatory.

The mountain scenery here is awesome and we were not disappointed. There was still a little Saharan dust from the day before in the air. This reduced visibility but also gave a slightly surreal and very atmospheric tinge to the views. We felt like we were in a very unusual and vaguely other-worldly place. We could see down several deep, distant valleys and also across the Aletsch Glacier which, at 23km, is the largest glacier in the Alps. As if to emphasise the height of our viewpoint, a helicopter flew past underneath us.

After the best part of an hour, the cold was eventually starting to penetrate. We retreated inside and installed ourselves in the restaurant for lunch. Service was a bit slow but with incredible views through the windows we did not really care. We drank champagne. It seemed appropriate. There was also salad and pasta. By the time coffee was done we were warm again. We were also quite relaxed and so did not think twice about heading off to the ice palace with both wheelchairs.

The palace is a series of tunnels carved into the glacier. The floor is ice. Flat, smooth ice that we could skate along while pushing the wheelchairs. Along the way are alcoves with assorted ice sculptures. At the end of the ice tunnels we emerged on a short snowy ramp leading to another view point. David surprised everyone by walking up here. We did not linger though. The weather was coming in cold and windy. Also, we were running out of time for the last train down.

The last down train was a bit chaotic. Not only were there some dawdling tourists, like us, but also quite a few staff and a fair bit of luggage. It took quite an effort to pack everyone in. Helen and I found seats for Diane and David then had to fold the wheelchairs up and get them out of the way. Eventually, we found ourselves squashed into a corner by the doors and behind crates. The ticket inspector was the last person in through the doors. She looked at how cramped things were and then asked us if we wanted to sit next to the driver at the very front of the train. Oh yes. We rode down the Eiger looking out of the front of the train chatting with the driver about his job. Very cool end to the day.

Skiing & Thunersee

This time we left Diane and David on the balcony of the hotel room. It is a magnificent balcony that looks out across the Grindelwald valley and up to the north face of the Eiger. You can keep an eye on three ski slopes and the sledging run. We made sure there was an adequate supply of red wine, beer and snacks. They also had the binoculars and the camera. Helen and I took the new, high speed, Eiger Express gondola and in just twenty minutes or so we were high in the mountains up on the ski slopes. Another trip to Wengen was followed by skiing all the way back to Grindelwald. We stopped at the top of the final run to wave to David and Diane. With unaided eyes we could just about make out the hotel but had no idea if they could see us. We just stood there for a few minutes waving like idiots. But they did see us. Diane even took some photos.

Next day we all went for a drive around Lake Thun (Thunersee). Down in the valley the weather was warm and sunny if a bit hazy. We stopped at several places along the far shore. Helen and David were particularly taken by the pollarded plane trees dotted along the shore. Here and in France, roadside trees are commonly heavily pruned to control how they grow. In particular they tend to develop knobbly lumps at the branch ends. Because of this they bore a striking resemblance to the Whomping Willow of Harry Potter fame. Cent was also quite interested but possibly for other reasons. For lunch we found a perfect hotel balcony. Here we were served beer and snacks while looking out over the lake and a small arboretum of Whomping Willows.

Back to the skiing. Using the Eiger Express we could get to Eiger Gletcher railway station. Above the station is an excellent small restaurant with seating on the balcony. From here, at 2,320m, you can look up at the slowly shrinking Eiger Glacier and down at the ski slopes. Once again, Diane and David had a full-service arrangement while Helen and I went to ski. At this altitude the sun can be intense. By the time we got back, Diane and David were possibly a little sun-bronzed but had managed to keep themselves hydrated by drinking beer judiciously.

Here are a couple of videos of Helen skiing. I took one of Helen skiing on her own. The other, filmed by Diane, shows Helen following me off the start of the run down from Eiger Gletcher.

Meringen & Piz Gloria

This part of the Bernese Oberland has strong cultural connections to Britain. After visiting Wengen, where the Brits invented skiing and Lauterbrunnen that lent inspiration to ‘The Lord of the Rings’, we set off to visit another cultural reference near the town of Meiringen. All of us piled into Helen’s car, four adults, two wheelchairs and a large German Shepherd. We drove out to the Reichenbach Falls, famous for something that never actually happened. In Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s book, “The Final Problem”, his legendary detective, Sherlock Holmes falls to his death after an altercation with his greatest foe, the criminal Professor Moriarty. Of course this is just a novel and never happened. Furthermore, in a subsequent novel we discover Sherlock did not die but actually used the incident as an excuse to skulk off to Tibet and Japan. So, even in the Holmes fantasy world, he never died there. None the less, the notoriety has rubbed off and made the Reichenbach Falls world famous.

Unfortunately, when we arrived, the falls were closed for the winter. There is small mountain railway that takes visitors up from the valley. But only in the summer. We looked at a small plaque and the wall. This was a bit of an anti-climax so by way of compensation we wandered into town in search of lunch. What we actually found was the man himself. Or at least, a bronze statue of him. Created by John Doubleday in 1988, this is the world’s first statue of Sherlock Holmes. The same year a statue appeared in Karuizawa (Japan). In 1991 the first statue in Britain was erected at Conan-Doyle’s birthplace in Edinburgh and in 1999, another Doubleday statue was installed outside Baker Street tube station – they failed to find a site actually on Baker Street. In 2007, a statue of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson was erected in Moscow near the British embassy. What would the great detective make of current events there? Meanwhile, back in Meiringen, we examined the statue very carefully. Purportedly there are clues to all of the Holmes novels embedded in the statue. We failed to find any but Helen did seem to enjoy sitting on his knee.

After an excellent lunch we drove round the far side of the Brienzersee lake just as the sun set.

Another day and another British cultural reference. This time we headed back in to the mountains and up to the summit of the Schilthorn, 2,970m. From Lauterbrunnen, we rode up a cable car and then a small mountain railway to the isolated Alpine village of Mürren. From the train station it was a short taxi ride in a 4×4 pickup with wheel chains to another cable car that took us up to Birg at 2,677m. Here we found a nice sunny platform where David and Diane had coffee. Meanwhile, Helen and I explored the “Thrill Walk” – a thin walkway clinging perilously to the cliffs high. This features a glass floor and a kind of crawling net that hangs out over an immense drop. Helen was very brave.

Finally, from Birg, we took another cable car and arrived at the top of the Schilthorn. The views up here are truly spectacular. It is one of the highest places around and over 200 peaks are visible. The view is so good that in 1969 the world’s first revolving restaurant, called Piz Gloria, was built here. Part of the funding came from the James Bond movie production team who were working on the film of “On Her Majesty’s Secret Service”. The name Piz Gloria came from Flemmings novel and it features prominently in the film as the villainous Blofeld’s mountain top hide-away.

George Lazenby played Bond in this film. He was rubbish and fortunately this was the only time he played Bond. All that business with kilts just makes me cringe. Despite this, the restaurant proudly broadcasts its Bond connection. There are life sized Lazenby cut-outs, little “007” notices everywhere and a Bond inspired menu. Double 0 pasta anyone? In the Bond themed toilet a sound track of movie clips occasionally declares “Oh James!” while you are trying to concentrate.

Despite all the Bond nonsense, this is one of the genuinely amazingly places to be in the world. The scenery is breath-taking and constantly changing. Especially if you sit in the rotating restaurant. It is wonderful – you can enjoy a bite to eat in warmth and comfort while the whole of the Swiss Alps rotates for your pleasure and convenience. We had lunch but first we had champagne. We invested in a bottle of Bollinger – “the champagne of James Bond”. It was delicious and completely appropriate but note that I pointedly used the word ‘invested’. This is not wine for casually quaffing. The food was very good despite being called “Bond… this” and “James… that”. After some 007 coffee (I kid you not), we wandered around outside absorbing the views and breathing the pure alpine air. Helen found a stuffed Ibex that she took quite a liking to. We almost missed the last cable car down. Not sure what would happen then – would they let us stay?

Grindelwald & Kleine Scheidegg

Diane had just broken her hip and we were supposed to be meeting Helen, my baby sister, and her husband, David, for a skiing trip. This excursion had been difficult to arrange. Very nearly happened in January but was scuppered by the Covid outbreak. Now it was in doubt again but we decided to press on anyhow. At Brixen hospital, Diane’s hip had been pinned back together. Hopefully she will recover without any lasting problems but for the next few weeks she cannot put any weight on her leg. Climbing into the cab of Baloo is quite impossible and using the crawl-though would require far more agility than is possible just now. So Diane had to stay in the living compartment, using the bench seat and facing backwards.

We agreed to meet Helen and David at the Unicat workshop. Arriving a couple of days early we had time to install a seatbelt in the rear so that Diane would be safe (thank you Daniel). We also collected a wheelchair to help her get around (thank you Claudia and Rainer). It was great to meet Helen and David although it was clear that David’s condition was progressing. He has Motor Neurone Disease. This is a rare, degenerative condition that affects the brain and nerves. He is gradually losing the use of his muscles, can no longer lift his arms and needs a wheelchair.

After a gentle, two day drive we arrived at the pretty Swiss village of Grindelwald. Here we had booked Baloo onto a campsite and also found a nearby hotel for Helen and David. Next day we all went out in Helen’s car – four people and two wheelchairs. It all worked quite well. We found a nice place to sit in the sun for lunch and looked at some glaciers. We were encouraged by this and so set our sights to the mountains for the following day.

The Swiss trains turned out to be very accommodating when it came to wheelchairs. On our first venture, we went up to the Kleine Scheidegg mountain pass at 2,061m. Nestled under the Eiger, Mönch and Jungfrau peaks this celebrated alpine pass is a focal point for the mountain railway and chairlift systems. The railway people were very helpful. So much so that we felt empowered to continue down to the mountain village of Wengen on the far side of the pass. One story has it that alpine skiing was invented here, by the British. Winter holiday makers requested use of the train system effectively turning them into the first ski lifts. The British downhill championships of 1921 featured a “straight down” race and the worlds first slalom, where skiers had to negotiate trees as they raced.

While we were waiting at Wengen train station to head back, there were a few tantalising views of the Lauterbrunnen valley. JRR Tolkien drew inspiration from this valley in his depiction of Rivendell. The Wengernalp Railway, from Lauterbrunnen to Grindelwald via Wengen and Kleine Scheidegg, is the world’s longest continuous rack and pinion railway. Trains going downhill take longer than those going up. This is because it is a single track system. The downhill train arrives at the mid-point passing place slightly before the uphill train so that the uphill train never has to stop.

Next day Helen had her first ski lesson. We all went back up to Kleine Scheidegg. David and Diane had to help up with carrying the skis. It would have been handy if the wheelchairs could be fitted with a ski rack. We then abandoned the pair of them at the train station for a couple of hours. This was not all bad. They had a table outside the restaurant , in the sunshine, with waiter service and a spectacular view of the north face of the Eiger. Helen’s first lesson, with a professional instructor, went well and she arrived back beaming from ear to ear. Her background as a long time fell runner probably helps – she has good balance, strong legs and no fear at all about going downhill very fast. By the time Helen and I returned to the others they had not only taken coffee but also lunch and several beers. We mutually agreed the day had been a success and headed back down to Grindelwald.

Samnaun

We crossed the Julier pass. Drove round St Moritz. Nearly went to Italy but then realized that were not far from Samnaun. This is the little duty free enclave where we spent two months last year. Back then, Switzerland was one of the few European countries where campsites were open. Now, travelling is a bit easier and more ski resorts are open. One reason to visit Samnaun was to see what it was like in full swing with the links to Ischgl in Austria open. Another reason was cheap diesel.

Arriving in Samnaun we not only went to the familiar campsite but also the same pitch we had last year. Other than that, things were very different. Far more people for a start and a steady stream of skiers coming down the valley from Austria, drinking beer and then carrying on down to the cable car. Last year, the morning cable car catered for about ten people. My first trip up it was packed. Best part of a hundred people on two decks. Ischgl almost caused me culture shock. The pristine, quiet and peaceful mountains were now packed with people and ski slopes. The pistes were wide, steep and dense with high speed skiers. The lifts are big, brash and fast. Restaurants and bars were heaving. There is an intensity and frenetic pace to this sort of ski resort that actually makes me a bit uncomfortable. Somehow I think the mountains should be a bit more peaceful and relaxing. The rather apt catch phrase that Ischgl has adopted is “Relax. If you can…”.

Two days of cross border skiing was ample to satisfy my curiosity and we were about to leave. Then the snow came. The forecast showed a big dump of snow in this area of the Alps and not so much elsewhere. Exciting news especially since, after almost becoming a local the previous year, I now knew many of the good places to ski in fresh snow. We sat it out. Three days of continuous snow. Well over half a meter. Finally the clouds passed and the morning arrived, clear and fresh. Along with many others, I headed for the hills and had a fantastic few hours making fresh tracks in the soft, virgin snow. The local knowledge really helped. A couple of times I skied a new line and then, within a handful of minutes, it had been repeated by a score of others. Such was the density of skiers, that by lunchtime, pretty much all the good areas had been skied out. Once the all the fresh snow has been churned up into uneven mush, it becomes much harder and far less pleasant to ski. The next day I explored the Ischgl side. There is clearly much off-piste skiing there but it was all skied out. A strong wind during the night had blown much of the fresh snow of exposed ridges so they were looking bare already.

The next day we actually, really, definitely set off for Italy.

Bivio

It took half a day at the Unicat workshop to find the problem with the generator. Then about two minutes to fix the loose wire that was the cause of all the trouble. With that sorted we set off for Northern Italy.

Two days later we were crossing the Julier pass. Heading south towards St Moritz. We stopped at the little village of Bivio at 1800m. There are a couple of drag lifts here and a small camping area for motorhomes. We had passed the place several times previously. Many of the mountain roads in Switzerland are closed in the winter so the total number of routes though the country is quite limited. The road on the Julier pass is often snow covered and requires care but a gang of people with a range of snow clearing machines manage to keep it open most of the time.

The drag lift opposite the camp area is only open at the weekend. It was Friday afternoon. Every time we had passed here, I thought it would be a great place to ski for a couple of days. This seemed like too much of a good opportunity so, despite the slightly dodgy looking weather, we parked up.

Next day the weather was truly terrible. Misty, cold, snowing and windy. We took a walk down to the village and found some goats in a shed.

Sunday dawned very cold but clear. The entire ski area consists of just three drag lifts. They are very long. Each one takes about ten minutes. At the top of the highest lift you are way above the valley with wide open vistas of the surrounding mountains. This area is very popular for ski mountaineering. Small groups of people were working their way up the slopes in every direction I looked. A sunny Sunday and fresh snow was an irresistible lure. The skiers fit self-adhesive climbing skins to their skis, walk up a mountain, remove the skins and then ski down making elegant patterns in the virgin snow. By the evening, just about every slope and couloir I could see was covered in wiggly ski tracks. I confined myself to areas accessible from the ski lifts but still had a great day. Lots of space, not many people and some fantastic views. Diane has never liked drag lifts so she was happy to walk with Cent and take a few photographs.

Next day we carried on towards Italy.

Hungary

Two months of housekeeping chores. Mostly this was sorting out some of the post-Brexit officialdom that has been dumped on us. Being in mainland Europe during the final spasms of Brexit has not only been deeply embarrassing but has also caused us a whole bunch of practical problems. Other jobs on the list included making a few improvements to Baloo and getting Covid vaccinations. This has now all happened but was a bit of a chore and some days ran dangerously close to tedium. Cent is now German. Britain has turned its back on the European pet passport scheme so British dogs cannot sensibly travel abroad any more. In fact, because Cent was out of the UK when the Brexit guillotine fell, he was in serious danger of becoming an illegal immigrant. Happily, he is now a genuinely German, German Shepherd with a passport recognized all around Europe and in the UK as well.

At the end of June, with our chores almost complete, we made a short trip to Bologna to meet up with Franca and Davide. They have a beautiful house in the countryside that they let us use for a few days. They also acted as local guides, giving us a great insight into life in this part of Italy. We stood on the beach at San Marino – but only briefly because it was very hot. We visited a vineyard in the hills and then visited a dog sanctuary run by Lia. Here the dogs could play in the river and cool off properly. Italy is hot in the summer. Cent and I struggled with the heat a bit.

We went to a producer of Balsamico di Modena (in Modena of course) where we saw how vinegar is made and drank some that was 100 years old. Most “Balsamic” is ordinary vinegar with artificial colouring and flavouring. Having tasted the real thing it is obvious why, but still rather sad, that it is copied so frequently.

We ate breakfast Italian style – strong, fresh coffee with sweet pastries. We explored the old city of Bologna and visited a big church on a hill. One evening we went to the most remarkable shop where we tasted many types of wine. Each one was paired with some tasty cheese or other small serving of food. For me, this was the perfect way to spend an evening.

Somehow, during the day or even last thing in the evening, there always seemed to be ice cream. Not just ice cream but intensely creamy and very tasty Italian ice cream. Even I enjoyed it – and I don’t like ice cream.

We needed to get back to Germany for our second covid jabs but we promised to return, possibly when the weather was a little cooler. Coming back over the Swiss Alps we took in a couple of mountain passes, partially to enjoy the views but also to enjoy being cool for a while.

Balsamico di Modena begins life as grapes

Travelling in Austria is difficult and expensive. We tried it twice and vowed never to go there again. However we wanted to go to Budapest to buy some sand ladders so we chose to suck it up, pay the tolls and straight line Austria to get to Hungary. We were looking forward to visiting Hungary.

Hungary has the most remarkable road toll system. Like many people, I am not a fan of road tolls. Modern European road tolls arrived in the 20^th century to fund the development of the motorway network. The Italians started all this in 1924. In the 1950s France, Spain and Portugal began an enormous expansion of motorways based entirely on tolls. These days pretty much every European country has some sort of toll system. We have noted before that entry into Switzerland is usually about making sure that you have paid the toll. Other countries take things a bit further by requiring vehicles, usually the heavier vehicles, to carry tracking devices that are detected by sensors on overhead gantries. This is linked to an account which is debited every time you pass a sensor. The device emits a ding when this happens but in my mind it is more like the “ker-ching” sound of a cash register.

Hungary, we discovered, has now raised the bar even higher if you drive a vehicle over 3.5t, regardless of classification. Each day, you need to visit a special machine which will plan your route for you. Obviously you need to know where you are going first and in some detail. There is no chance of stumbling upon the serendipitously perfect place to end the day. You need to choose from a list of approved destinations. If it is not on the list then you cannot go there. Then you need to enter your vehicle information – weight, dimensions, registration details and so on. With this the great machine constructs your route. It will choose motorways even if this is the long way around or if this by-passes a scenic route. The machine informs you of the cost. The route is printed and you go to the cash desk to pay for it. This involves a microphone to record the conversation, a prepared speech (in Hungarian – I have no idea what was said) a couple of signatures, payment and more speech. The route is valid for 24 hours. You must have a pre-paid route for every trip you do and you cannot deviate from the route.

In practice, what this means in terms of exploring Hungary, is that you can drive around a few motorways. You will pay a lot to explore these two lane, poorly maintained, motorways and at night you get to park in one of the rubbish strewn service stations. I guess pre-booked space at a campsite might be an option but it would need to be pre-booked because if you got there and they were full – you would have to immediately find a machine to make a route and pay the toll to go – to go where? – well, somewhere on the list that you could spend a night, probably a service station.

We entered Hungary having paid €25 for a D2 vehicle ‘sticker’. With the information presented at the official website this appeared to be good for a motorhome for ten days. To be on the safe side I checked with a roadside office when we arrived. They were displaying big signs with the exact same information as the website. All good then? No. No – not at all good. We were escorted several kilometers down the road to the Nemzeti Útdíjfizetési Szolgáltató (National Toll Payment Services) office in Lébény. Here I was introduced to the great machine and told we were not a D2 but a J3. Baloo is officially registered as a motorhome (wohnmobil). This is respected in most of Europe to distinguish it from a commercial vehicle. In the National Toll Payment Services office this distinction was irrelevant. Where did I want to go? Well – we wanted to potter around Hungary for a couple of days absorbing some scenery and culture before ending up in Budapest to buy sand ladders. But where exactly do you want to go? I pointed to the map and we typed a destination into the machine. It described a long route which was almost entirely motorway. And where will you stay? No idea. We usually just rock up somewhere and find a quiet spot. It slowly dawned on me that the only way we could ‘potter’ would be to move between pre-determined service stations so at this point, we bailed. Hungary was clearly impossible. I explained that I just wanted to return the 10km we had come from the border with Austria. Most of this distance was while we were being escorted to the office. Back to the great machine. Create a route back to the border, enter the vehicle details and pay the €10. Do we have to pay for driving to the National Toll Payment Services office? Yes. Any chance of credit on the D2 sticker we were misled in to buying? No. No chance at all.

That was our experience of Hungary. 10km of motorway, seen in both directions, at a cost of €35. Temperature 30°C. Traffic moderate. Scenery non-existent. Most of the time spent in a soulless National Toll Payment Services office poring over a soulless machine getting my money patiently removed by soulless officials. This now makes Hungary our most unwelcoming country in Europe and Austria is relegated to number two.

This was the only photograph I took in Hungary

From Austria we looped south to Italy before returning via Switzerland. Europe is clearly getting back to normal. Housekeeping done, jabs done, truck done – time to get back on the road.

Austria viewed from motorway service areas

Samnaun (still)

An unseasonal cold spell and occasional snowy days kept the ski area in great condition right up to the official closing date of 25^th April. I skied roughly every other day. Right next to the camping area was a prepared piste, less than a kilometre, down to the cable car. I could put my skis on within a 20 second walk from Baloo. Perfect. The cable car was a double decker capable of carrying 180 people. Most mornings there would just be 20 or so skiers. We all had to wear masks and all the windows in the cabin were left were open.

Up on the slopes were half a dozen chair lifts servicing sixteen pistes. All of which were kept immaculately groomed. This is only about 1/3 of the skiable area but the rest was in Austria and closed. Most days there were very few other people skiing so there were some excellent opportunities for making fresh tracks on and off the piste. I got to know the mountains better and started to work out where the good snow would be and how the weather conditions would affect it. On a few good days, powder days, I was lucky enough to be able to ski some beautiful deep soft fresh snow before anyone else had got there.

At lunchtime there was a great run down into the valley from where I could catch a bus back up to the campsite. The same run, by late afternoon, was often getting a bit messed up. Tricky soft snow with the consistency of sugar. On the last few days the snow was not so much white as the colour of mud with an assortment of small branches and the odd rock mixed in. At the bottom of this run was the only grocery store in four villages. Very handy as I could nip in and grab a few supplies before catching the bus back up to where Baloo was parked.

On other days, Diane and I would walk or take the bike for a spin. The old road down the Swiss side of the valley was the only place we could ride. In the small tunnels there were icy patches so extreme care was needed. Once down the valley it was warm and sunny. This made for a few great days out.

Everyone and everything appeared to anticipate the official closing date, 25^th April. Just two days earlier the marmots appeared. We had not seen a hint of them all the time we had been there and then, suddenly, there were marmots and marmot holes everywhere. Even up on the prepared skiing areas. They clearly knew when the lifts were closing and when they would be able to get on with whatever it is marmots do. A small group of ibex appeared near the top cable car station. The four of them paid no attention at all when the cable car went past. Unfortunately the windows were so scratched it that it was impossible to take photographs. Even the small piste from the campsite got in on the act. The day before closing I just managed to ski along it. A small detour through a bush was required and balancing on one leg was needed for another section. The next day it was completely impassable.

The day after the resort closed the valley was deserted. Even the bread shop closed. On the campsite the only other vehicle was an immense MAN coach based motorhome owned by Carston and Silke. It is even bigger than Baloo and they keep their Porsche in the back. We packed up, said goodbye and set off back to Germany via Covid tests, registration forms and quarantine.

Samnaun

There are two roads up the valley to the collection of little Swiss villages that is Samnaun. The old road goes up the Swiss side of the valley and features three very small, unlit tunnels. A sign at the bottom of the road indicates a maximum height limit of 3.0 m, width 2.3 m, length 10 m and weight 10 t. Baloo fails on all four counts so we needed the newer road on the Austrian side of the valley. Because of Covid, popping in and out of Switzerland is not the trivial task it used to be. Fortunately they have a system. Once we explained where we were going to the Austrian border guards they gave us a piece of paper that, 12km further up the road, we gave to the border guards as we returned to Switzerland.

That sorted, we settled into the duty free enclave of Samnaun. The place boasts 50 duty free shops. This may well be true but the difficulty is buying ordinary food like carrots. Pretty much every shop can sell you vodka, cigarettes, chocolate and perfume. Potatoes are a much more difficult. In fact, there is just a single general grocery store about 4km down the valley from the campsite. The bakery is much closer. They sell cigarettes and vodka along with bread but also have locally produced eggs, butter and cheese. The eggs are the largest hens’ eggs I have ever seen.

In a normal year, the ski area links with the Austrian Ischgl area. Unfortunately Ischgl was the location of one of the big super spreader Coronavirus events last year. Thousands of people headed home from the bars, restaurants, night clubs and other après ski venues carrying the virus with them. Now the place is very firmly shut down. Completely. Ski lifts and everything. So Samnaun is a much quieter place than normal. There are a few visitors, mostly Germans in motorhomes. A few hotels are open. Bars, restaurants and other indoor venues are closed. Fortunately the ski lifts are open. The skiable area is much reduced but still ample for a good day’s skiing. The slopes are very quiet. No lift queues. On powder days there are plenty of fresh places to go round.

The campsite or wohnmobilplatz, is just for campervans. There is probably space here for 25 or more vehicles but today there are just 5. We have electricity, water and somewhere to empty our tanks. That is all we need really. There are showers and a toilet block but we don’t use them. We are at the end of a valley so it is very quiet. No through traffic in fact hardly any traffic at all.

I’ve been enjoying some skiing. Diane’s knee is still getting better. She can walk quite well now but skiing for this year is probably out. We have been exploring the local area. I did a couple of trips on my touring skis. We got the snow shoes out and walked up a small but very pretty valley. No idea where we will go next. Europe is still locked down for the most part so just now Switzerland continues to look like our best option.

We were not exactly getting bored parked up outside the Unicat workshop, but there was an element of running out of interesting things to do. We had walked along the canal looking at the Coypu. We had walked down to the Rhine when it was in flood to see the inundated forests.

When it snowed, we lined all the Unicat trucks up and took a photo of them. I did an interview for the new Unicat web site that will be very embarrassing if it is ever used. We contemplated the project to mount an Airstream caravan on the back of a 6×6 – and wondered why. We fitted additional snow chain hooks onto Baloo and bought a second set of chains.

Then the boss told us that he thought Switzerland was still open for business. Some of the ski areas were still running and, importantly, some of the campsites were open. The significance of the campsites is that, uniquely in Europe, it was legitimate to be driving around in a motor home. A few days planning later, we were ready. The idea was to visit campsites by ski lifts, stay a while at each and get a bit of skiing in.

Arriving at the Swiss border, we explained who we were and what we were doing. No problem at all. The border officials’ main concern was that we had paid the road tax on Baloo. I have an app for that.

First stop was Savogin, a pleasant little village where the campsite was a roped off section of the car park. According to Google maps, the car park is a lake in the summer. We could walk to the ski lift. There was a bakery and a cheese shop nearby. All good.

This time last year, many ski resorts were closed in the wake of ‘super spreading’ events. Through most of Europe, the ski areas are still closed. Switzerland is the exception. We now know that SARS-CoV-2, the virus that causes COVID-19, spreads from an infected person to others through respiratory droplets and aerosols created when an infected person coughs, sneezes, sings, shouts, or talks. Setting ripe for transmission are:

closed spaces
crowded places
close-contact settings and close-range conversations
settings where there is singing, shouting or heavy breathing, for example, during exercise

The après-ski scene caused the big outbreaks. The bars, restaurants and, in particular, the night clubs packed with dancing, singing people all breathing the same air for hours at a time. Up on the slopes, the air is clean and fresh. It is easy to keep your distance. Some of the lifts present a minor risk but even so there is plenty of fresh air and the time spent on each lift is small. Use of masks may help.

The enlightened Swiss approach is to close bars, restaurant and clubs but keep the lifts open. This has been the case for many months now and has proven to be safe. So, we are not breaking any rules and still get to ski. The slopes are quiet. With much of Europe in various states of lock down not many people can travel. Some hotels are open but obviously, there is risk associated with this. We are very happy in our personal, mobile space, living a life of isolation where the only real contact we have with anyone is when we buy food.

We skied for a week in Savignon. It was very pleasant. Most of the lifts are draglifts. Very safe Covid-wise but tiring compared to the small rest you get on a chair lift. Our last day of skiing, Saturday, Diane took a tumble. We could not ski down the very last piste because they were preparing it for night skiing. Instead, we were directed down the sledging route. This is very narrow, just a couple of metres wide in places. Also very bumpy and icy. Diane mastered the most difficult bit like a pro but then got caught out a bit further down and sprained her knee. Getting off the mountain was a tricky combination of half carrying and half skiing. We took the direct route to the nearest village then banged on the door of the first house and asked if they would call us a taxi. The very nice people there got their own car out and took us back to Baloo. Given the Covid situation, I thought this was an act of exceptional compassion. Thank you nice people.

We moved onto Flims. The campsite was very friendly but had a bit of a problem with the size of Baloo. Eventually, we were put down the bottom of a road by the sports centre. This was a nice enough place but meant a long walk in ski boots to the lifts. Diane could not really walk very much in any event. There were a few sunny days so I got the bike out and enjoyed a couple of runs along the valley. This and some lovely walks in the woods with Cent were about it for Flims and a week later we moved on.