8 days · 5 riders · Zurich → Lausanne via Andermatt, San Gottardo, Locarno, and Domodossola
Distance: 64.3 km · Elevation: 810 m · Komoot
“Well… wet trip, lucky trip”
The sound of the blinders banging against each other wakes me up. What kind of wind is this? I hate cycling in the wind. It doesn’t seem to be the best start. Oh well, as Igor would say, ‘It could be worse, it could be raining.’ Except, it is pouring rain! But it’s not possible. I’m certain all humans can fail, but if there is someone who never makes a mistake — never — it’s the meteorologists at Meteoswiss. Last night’s forecast was clear: ‘Sun!! Heat!! Sun!! Scorching hot!!’ I check the app, and yup, it changed. ‘Rain!! Lots of rain exactly when you have to leave at five-thirty in the morning!!’ Fantastic.
It’s half past five, and all my travel mates are still sleeping: Didem, Hatice, Caglar, and Micha. But soon, an already energetic Caglar emerges from the room. I think: Why is he smiling? It’s raining. We quickly agree; we’ll wait until it stops. Meteoswiss says it will stop in two hours, and Meteoswiss is never wrong. Seeing Caglar so positive — despite the rain — reminds me of a saying we use a lot in Italy: “wet something, lucky something” (replace something with anything), so I think: Well… wet trip, lucky trip.
Maybe the saying isn’t completely wrong. And maybe Meteoswiss’ mistake was just the exception that proves the rule. Because actually, two hours later, the sky clears up! Our bellies are full from the necessarily abundant breakfast (hard-boiled eggs, avocado, and cheese), we’re ready, and we’re off! And the day turns out to be lucky indeed (in hindsight, considering what awaited us in the following days, it was truly lucky). The rain refreshed the air and soaked the fields; everything shines in an almost spring-like atmosphere, even though it’s late July. The wheat fields are of an intense ochre yellow, and they form the first layer of a succession of colors. Grains, the intense green of Swiss pastures, and a twisted sky that looks like a Van Gogh painting. We go from Zurich to Vitznau in no time, and arrive under a shiny, shiny sky. This is really the best start!
Distance: 64.4 km · Elevation: 1,520 m · Komoot
“I am sorry, I have to stop”
A red sunrise wakes us up at the crack of dawn. We have the champions’ breakfast (hard-boiled eggs, avocado, and cheese) and set off. Caglar wasn’t very satisfied with our pace yesterday, so today we’ll try to do better. The plan is simple. Follow the lake for about 20/25 km, reach the foot of the mountains, and start the long ascent towards Andermatt. As we run, around 7, I receive a notification from our best friend Meteoswiss: “Attention!! Heatwave!! Hellishly hot, people are dying out there!” Come on, I think to myself, how hot can it possibly be in the mountains?
We’re doing great! We crushed the first 40 km in no time. Miraculously, we found an open supermarket on a Sunday (of course, the one at the station) and stocked up on Coca-Cola, bread, and energy bars. With full bellies and high spirits, we set off for the stoic ascent under a scorching sun, surrounded by the menacing face of the Canton Uri emblem — a bull — which appears at every turn.
The heat is merciless. It’s like the sun God took a hot spatula and keeps smacking us on the head repeatedly. It’s not the first time I’ve cycled in similar heat, but I have to say that Meteoswiss wasn’t exaggerating at all. My thoughts keep going to my travel companions, while I slowly crawl up the asphalt. How are they doing? We take numerous breaks and we’re all exhausted but satisfied. We sweat our souls out but we replenish with positivity and supplements.
We’re near Andermatt and by now the heat is unbearable. Didem is in front of me and I see her swaying a bit. She says: I am sorry, I have to stop. Riding has become intolerable. We decide to stop in the shade of a road sign, exhausted, panting. All five of us regroup there. Almost by chance, I read the sign “Göschenen” — fantastic! The train station is near. Those of us that cannot go on can take the train, it’s a relief. I decide to finish the last kilometers, climbing the remaining 400 meters of elevation. We re-group in Andermatt, exhausted but satisfied with ourselves. We were truly fantastic today.
Distance: 100 km · Elevation: 930 m · Komoot
“We did it! We f***g did it!”
I wake up and immediately realize that not sleeping inside my sleeping bag might not have been the best idea. It’s cold, it feels like yesterday’s heat is a distant memory, and I’m shivering. I open the tent and realize that the valley, which was a furnace yesterday, is now covered in a cold frost. It would be nice to drink hot coffee for hours, but we have to go! Same old champions’ breakfast (hard-boiled eggs, avocado, and cheese), and off we go.
Not even enough time to wake up our legs, and we start one of the most beautiful passes in Switzerland: the San Gottardo Pass. Rocky mountains, sleepy cows, and a long serpentine road that takes us to the top of the mountain. The morning is still young, and the noises are few. There’s only the passing of solitary cars and the rhythmic pedaling of our bikes. A fantastic experience that ends with about 4 km of cobblestones. At first, they’re annoying, but then they become almost friendly, helping the bikes climb the steepest part, the one closest to the summit. When we reach the top, I can’t contain my smile, as if it wants to explode from my face. I look at Didem and shout: We did it! We f***g did it!
The rest of the day is essentially divided into two parts. First, a long, pleasant, and refreshing descent, and second, a long, unbearable, traffic-filled stretch to get to Locarno, practically the last thirty kilometers. The first part consists of the long descent between the Pass and Bellinzona. Unique landscapes follow one another, and by following the bike path, we only encounter the occasional car. It’s hot, but the speed does a great job keeping our heads cool.
Upon reaching the Bellinzona area, we decide to stop and eat to avoid the scorching heat. Nevertheless, the boredom is too much and we decide to leave again around 4. We immediately split up, and Micha disappears. Is he waiting for us somewhere? Did he perhaps get hurt? The heat and fatigue start to agitate me, but finally, we manage to get in touch over the phone — he is already at the camping. In the end, traveling in a group is also about understanding that everyone has different needs. When we arrive in Locarno, we find him at the campsite, and the first thing he says is: “I hated every single minute of these 30 km.” I understand. But the day is over, we’ve arrived, and a well-deserved day of rest awaits us tomorrow!
Distance: 0 km · Elevation: 0 m · Rest day
“Probably it won’t even get here!”
After three days of intense effort, a day of well-deserved rest is just what we need. The campsite overlooks the lake, and the atmosphere is relaxed and friendly. The day passes lazily and placidly. It seems it will be the last day of this intense heatwave, and we spend it all in total rest, in the shade of a beautiful willow tree, taking dips in the lake every now and then. We don’t know, however, that this calm is nothing but the calm before the storm. The weather forecast doesn’t look favorable. A big storm could hit Locarno late in the evening. But we’re not afraid. After all this heat, a few drops of rain can only improve the situation, and we think: Probably it won’t even get here!
We couldn’t have been more wrong. Around nine o’clock, Zeus himself arrives in Locarno, and he doesn’t make a quiet entrance into the lake’s arena. Lightning, thunder, rain, whipping wind. It seems like instead of bikes, we might need a boat soon. I’m in the tent with Didem. Despite it being deep into the night, I can see her face illuminated as if it were daytime, thanks to the intense lightning that blinds the sky every 10/15 seconds. I’m holding onto the tent tightly for fear the wind might take it away. The rain is heavy but we’re staying dry (this time you didn’t let me down, Decathlon). The noise, however, is deafening. And in all this chaos, what is Didem doing? Is she as anxious as me? The answer is simple. No. Didem is sleeping and preparing for tomorrow’s wet ride to Domodossola.
Distance: 63.4 km · Elevation: 980 m · Komoot
“I don’t have it anymore”
Waking up, to our absolute surprise, we realize that we’re dry, just as dry as our bags and their contents. The tents did their best. But it’s not the time to revel in success. The rain seems to have calmed down for a bit, and we need to take advantage of this window of time to sort out our things. I feel exhausted, but together we quickly gather our stuff in 15 minutes and take shelter under the makeshift canopy at the campsite. Just as we think “Great job” the downpour starts again. It seems like it will continue for at least another hour. We wait patiently but also a bit tense, seeking refuge.
The almost sleepless night makes my legs feel as heavy as bricks, and I realize it won’t be my day. However, we don’t give in to being at the mercy of the weather and start our journey. Rain and sunshine alternate, as if they were dancing. At times, we’re soaked from the water, and at times from the sweat due to the heat. The constant changes are exhausting, but despite it all, the route is spectacular! We climb up a nearly deserted road. The valley hosts many small, sleepy villages that seem untouched by our passing, as if they were fixed in time and space.
As I had predicted, the day is tough for me. For a long stretch, everything seems fine, but when it starts raining again, and we’re already in Italy, my energy suddenly vanishes. I feel my face going pale, and my vision blurring a bit. I fall behind, the last in the group, and feel like I’m only moving forward out of inertia. I think: I don’t have it anymore. At a certain point, behind the next curve, Didem appears, smiling and in a playful mood. She comes to me and asks: Are you okay? I can’t help but laugh (at least inside) at the thought that we’ve switched roles, and today she’s the one taking care of me. In the end, it’s part of the game; sometimes you have to acknowledge your limits and accept help. Her sweetness gives me renewed energy, and after a Coca-Cola and a nice coffee, we arrive in Domodossola. Safe, sound, and extremely tired! Thank goodness this is our first (and only actually) night in Airbnb.
Distance: 21.2 km · Elevation: 1,190 m · Komoot
“Sometimes though, you just have to suck it up and go for it”
Last night I thought: Sleeping on a real bed will surely help; tomorrow, I’ll feel better. I was wrong. I feel even more tired than yesterday. I begin to ponder the reason (or should I say, an excuse?). The most convincing one that comes to mind is that I’m carrying most of the weight for both Didem and me. While this is true, it’s irrelevant. The fatigue is there, and it won’t go away, whether I find the reason or not. The plan for today was simple. Micha, Caglar, and I would take a mountain pass back to Switzerland, while Didem and Hatice would take the train. We would meet again in Brig. Reluctantly, I surrender to the idea: I take the train too.
What a disappointment. One of the things I love most about this sport is that it’s a constant challenge with yourself. You set the goals. You try to reach them. And I failed. As we get ready, as we’re on the train, upon arrival in Brig, and as we set up the tents, I can’t shake this strong feeling of disappointment. But then I think: True, sometimes you have to recognize your limits and accept them. Sometimes though, you just have to suck it up and go for it! I get in motion. I look for a tough climb near Brig and find it. About 1200 meters of elevation in less than 12 km. I decide to try it and go.
It’s one of the hardest climbs I’ve ever done. It feels like climbing a wall with a bike. The view of the valley becomes clearer, and the road ascends rapidly. Soon, there are no more cars around me, and I find myself on a narrow, rugged road filled with beautiful butterflies. An intense wind lashes the mountainside, making the climb even more challenging. From stifling heat, I quickly find myself in mountain temperatures, even having to put on my windbreaker. The effort is immense, but when I finally reach the top, all the disappointment from the previous hours vanishes, and I feel strong and proud. Sometimes pushing the limits can be a good choice.
Note: the Komoot route linked above is the ascent I did solo. The route shown on the map is the one ridden by Micha and Caglar over the pass.
Distance: 84.4 km · Elevation: 330 m · Komoot
“Just go more delicate”
Only two more days of pedaling, and this adventure will come to an end. We’re in a beautiful valley, and the plan is to go from Brig to Martigny. After our usual morning preparations and the standard champions’ breakfast (hard-boiled eggs, avocado, and cheese), we set off with smiles on our faces. The day unfolds peacefully. Two colors are the undisputed stars: the blue of a clear and beautiful sky and the green of endless vineyards. It feels like I’m traveling the roads of my native land, Veneto. We arrive in Martigny in the scorching heat of early afternoon, without any hitches.
Now the question is: What to do next? Ride our bikes in the afternoon? Stroll around the city? Sleep? No. Micha and I have decided to engage in one of the most essential activities for any creature: play! The camping offers a long list of games to entertain its guests. Foosball, bocce, ping-pong, and… mini-golf. After enjoying several beers, we dedicate ourselves to the latter. Micha has a real knack for it and keeps telling me: Just go more delicate. It turns out that bikepacking can sometimes offer unexpected lessons. For instance, I never knew I could hate mini-golf so deeply!
Distance: 71.4 km · Elevation: 510 m · Komoot
“One pedal stroke after another.”
The final day has arrived. From Martigny, we will finish in Lausanne. We don’t have much elevation to cover, and the route is relatively short. A perfect way to conclude a beautiful journey! The landscape and sky seem to mirror those of yesterday, and after our champions’ breakfast (boiled eggs, avocado, and cheese — finally, the last one!), we begin to pedal.
We are tired, both physically and mentally. Spending eight days with four other people, essentially 24/7, is no simple feat. But this group has worked well together. Sure, there were some minor tensions, but they were nothing compared to the smiles, satisfaction, and emotions that have brought us this far. It’s as if everything else disappeared for eight days, a flash of time outside the usual dynamics and routine. An ode to effort, but the beautiful kind of effort. The kind of effort that you choose, and that in the end, is truly simple: one pedal stroke after another.
Below are notes on the main gear and accessories used on the trip — a personal memo for future trips that might also help fellow first-timers. Rating scale: +2 (strongly recommend) → −2 (strongly advise against). Underlined items are things we did not bring but should have.