Seven thousand altimeters, in two hundred sixty-seven kilometres. In Switzerland you can then (only) be over five mountain passes. By bike. In one day! But why should you? Because you can then add the ´platinum Alpine Brevet´ in the shoebox? Nice, but a real why. Why should you cycle the Alpenbrevet in Switzerland?
Text and photos: Erwin Reijneveld
Alpine brevet - what an idea
There was little time between getting the idea and setting it as a goal. Less than writing down the last few lines. At the same speed, your life can suddenly look different. You get to hear it, or everyone hears it but you... Both non-fiction screenplays were shown nearby this year. It proved a breeding ground for a cliché of sorts. You know it, so I won't mention it.
One time extremely long through the high mountains. One time going crazy. The Ötztaler, Tour Des Stations whether it Alpine Brevet. Plenty of providers who facilitate such madness. For years, they have sometimes blown through my mind for a moment, only to leave just as quickly. But now the Alpine Brevet just made an extra round through my mind. I'm trained, looking for another challenge after the summer and don't need to train very much extra... Too late, I'm already bidding on Marktplaats. Same evening already bingo! This year I'm cycling the Platin distance!
Three hundred and seven
A summer holiday with rides in the Jura, Alps and Vosges. And yet my 'Join score' (formerly the even more elusive 'condition') back without compassion. After returning home and doing holiday laundry, there are three weeks left until September 2, 6.15am in Andermatt. So as many cycling hours as possible. Including 307 kilometres from home to Maastricht, with a diversion through Belgium. I emptied my handlebar bag and the route contained just under 1800 altitude metres. Sweaty and satisfied, I took the train back to Utrecht. Or that day when two children's parties had to be taken care of, and I started four hours of endurance training at 6.30 in the morning.
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Pack and go
Work done, dinner on and families waved goodbye. It is Thursday evening and the three of us set off for the mountains. Training plans versus labour, dodged or caught flu, equipment stress, every facet of the run-up is a done deal. Only the preview remains. When that too is done we reach Motel Drei König near Stuttgart. Not for nothing is it called 'the transit hotel'. Enter yourself.
Coffee ride
We sleep there, plunder the breakfast buffet and quickly enter Switzerland. Just after lunchtime, the bikes go off the carrier for 'The Coffee Ride'. A feeling that never wears off. Yesterday in the office, today cycling in the high mountains. 25 kilometres of (predatory) bird-watching and bullying the muscles as little as possible, ending of course with the namesake drink of this phenomenon; coffee. Preferably sipped on a sunny terrace, where you'll be in lycra and wearing your snazzy sunglasses overlooking a square and your bike over the picturesque surroundings. Pure happiness.
And then focus suddenly set in. In traffic to Andermatt, getting the start number and arriving at the flat later than previously desired. Whipping up pasta and getting everything ready for tomorrow. Palpable tension. The alarm clock gets to read that we want to hear from the thing at 4.15am tomorrow. Stuffed, we go to bed. Every hour of sleep is taken.
Showtime
The night was short, the day will be long. Oatmeal and coffee are steaming in front of us. With a water bottle next to it, because you need to start hydrating right away. The pent-up focus has not gone away. Conversations are for later. Then motored through the dark over the Gotthard pass. Not a single person is left on their feet, only cyclists. These gather via yellow vests and flashing torches at the temporary car park. Stick everything you need with you and head for the start. Many dive onto the mobile toilets. 'Toi Toi' they are called here. Indeed! Put it on.
Süstenpas
My travelling companions start at 6am, I am allowed 15 minutes later. The eight degrees above zero stimulate the desire to start. That happens with a descending line and a ribbon of flashing lights to the foot of the Süsten Pass. With the first vertical metres, the first jackets also come off. I keep my power output on plan at around 220 watts. A factor has to be taken off because of the altitude (so I was told yesterday), but already I am being passed a lot. Mostly by panting people. It's also always the same, holding back is an art.
Beeping noises
I hear the soft squeak that has been coming from my front wheel since yesterday. Where is that marmot I see some thinking, as they peer over the ridge near me. The wheels were serviced last week. The equipment has to be in order on time, to avoid equipment stress. One form of stress came a few days before anyway: "you really can't cycle with this bike" said my bike mechanic, who then read my despair and dropped everything to replace the bottom bracket bearings to save my upcoming challenge. Kudos!). So now just the squeak in the front wheel, accept it.
The road creeps uphill, almost limitlessly straight. To make a convincing move to the left at about 1,900 metres, which makes me see the track followed filled with peers. The moon is still visible. A first flank of the Susten is highlighted. Higher up, snow can be seen. The sky is taut and increasingly blue. The beauty is overwhelming.
Grimsel Pass
A fast and beautiful descent towards the next obstacle, the Grimsel Pass. But first I have to get through the supply station. Although it's not a cyclo I fall into habits. Bike aside, dump waste and pee, grab new supplies and on my way again. Take it easy man. More so because of an annoying dizziness. Is it the altitude, or did I just take too many carbs in too short a time? Whatever it is, this doesn't feel pleasant. And at this stage of the day, it should all still come naturally. For a moment the thought creeps in of what it would be like to arrive back in Andermatt unfinished. A thought as rare as it is bad, foe! I decide to go on a hunger strike.
Some time later, it seems to work and I do start supplementing carbs again. The balancing act has begun. Via a beautiful cobbled cycle path, we bypass the tunnel. Only to ride into the full sun, which will be a factor today! I set the bike aside and start lubricating from the travel pot of sun cream I brought with me. How proud my mother will be. Back on the bike, I reel back the people who were just passing as I lubricated. Erwin, it's not a cyclo! I begin to feel good, slightly euphoric perhaps. There hasn't been this feeling yet today. The last five kilometres uphill go by themselves. It is beautiful here. I won't take a picture of it, just believe me. Go see that!
Superb descent
The descent of the Grimsel Pass is even more beautiful. With a gracefully draped ribbon of hairpin bends, the imposing Rhone Glacier and the Furka Pass. For a moment, I consider taking a photo anyway. Further down the descent, I pass two familiar oncoming cars. My travelling companions are climbing towards Furka in good spirits. Facing Ulrichen, the next white giant becomes visible; the Weisshorn (4500m). Can you actually get tired in this beauty?
Via the far too busy provisioning point (excuse extremely friendly Swiss volunteer, I do put my bike here for a moment), I am soon back on the route. Only to stop at the lowered railway trees. Together with the stabbing coach from just now and today's infinite number of traffic lights (to which everyone obeys!) for roadworks, this one will do. After all, it's not a . exactly!
Nufenen Pass
It goes up again. The Nufenen Pass is the mountain on duty. I take a gel from the supply for the first time today. An unfamiliar gel. But what could be wrong with that? Nothing, it seems. Indeed, what a blissful gel. Still, I check the ingredients list, ah it contains fat. I turn fine uphill. Only at the top will I allow myself to look at the remaining altitude metres, because then I will be over halfway. Just before the summit, I straighten my back and throw on the windstopper. Several dozen people clap at the uphill group I am part of, a little reverence I dare to read into it.
Then the descent I was looking forward to, 60 kilometres until it goes up again. A descent that starts with a view of a frozen lake slightly below me. As I watch it comes the traditional overtaking of a faster descender. There is always one, usually one sometimes two, rarely three. I don't descend like a wimp, but I leave the big risks for the enthusiast. Fast downhill turns into a very faint downhill. I try to keep my pace and pass the hay bale where I hid a bag of gels early this morning. Because the gels I got are so much appreciated, I leave the bag where it is. Stupid!
Fast men
From behind comes a group of fast men (a law in cyclo's, even if it is not a cyclo). The engine of the group has a unique approach. Any fool who grabs a lead gets high fives and a tray of compliments on him afterwards from this 'Pas Normal Studio rider'. He is, of course, on a fat S-Works. A strongly represented combination today. I try to push my moustache, but am not up to it. In the lead, I am also heading for the high five and compliments. Meanwhile, I am being slowly grilled (of course, it is not 60 kilometres of descent as the brochure said) in the baking oven between Airolo and Biasca. Still, the kilometres fly by in this group.
First aid
At the first hop, the group comes to an end. A ´non-S-Works rider´ rides away, I pick up my old rhythm again and nobody takes over. Yet a little later I stop for a second grab from the jar of sunscreen. I am already burning enough today, the skin does not need to show solidarity. The drink cans are getting empty and devoid of knowledge I ask two men about the next supply. Twelve kilometres to go. But a few kilometres further on, the 'PNS boys' stand at a sudden oasis. Stone-cold water from a natural spring with a small basin in front of it. Everyone dives on this coolness. A water bottle of stone-cold water goes down my back in portions for the next few kilometres.
At the longed-for provision I take cola, Swiss biscuits and yet again the gels. Still again. Because the magic of the first one is long gone. Friend, what should I do with that fat, my stomach seems to want to make clear. I reply with cokes at every opportunity. Furthermore, I keep teasing the stomach, because it will need carbohydrates to get back to Andermatt.
Lukmanierpas
Two more mountains to go. Four times sixty minutes of cycling are considered 'only four more hours' in my head. I share this message with the 'Silbermen', who will be long inside. As I did earlier in the day, I also send a short message to my wife and mother. The responses appear on my Garmin, including an encouragement from my daughter. Recently an expert in cycling up a mountain.
Fortunately, this climb is mostly in the shade. Breathtaking Switzerland did not give way for a while, with a thirteen-in-a-dozen valley now behind me. But here on the Lukmanier Pass, beauty returns. The wide roads with fast cars and motorbikes around Grimsel, Furka and Nufenen are not an issue here. The remaining altimeters descend in peace. Although, tranquillity. Funny really how tranquillity can emanate from cowbells. Because in the end, it is noise after all. Stopping devouring got gelles starts to pay off. I feel better, although the lump in the stomach remains. Then the summit, from the tunnel I cannot judge whether it is a nice one.
Now downhill to the final resupply. Along the way, suddenly my two travelling companions are standing, fantastic! The support does me good. They don't have to do this, but are there anyway. It gives me the opportunity at the feeding station to dump all the crap I got and get my own gels. Later, I throw my arm warmers, second water bottle and light into the brand new support car. Luxury!
Oberalppas
With the Oberalp Pass, the final hurdle begins. The sun slowly switches to evening mode, glowing beautifully. A sign on the verge tells me this is the last gas station before Andermatt. 21 kilometres to go. I fill up with a bit of intoxication in advance. Stoked by the follow car, I let the powers go wild and pedal smoothly up this delightful climb. With the summit comes the euphoria.... No need to eat, drink and go up, gravity is enough to get to the finish.
The remaining 11 kilometres would be unremarkable in fresh condition. Now they are of rare beauty. The emotional sauce of now cycling almost 268 kilometres makes all the difference. At the giddy (give up) thought on climb two, the same place was a nasty thought, now Andermatt represents personal victory. It's applause gathering in the streets here.
Finish
I cross the finish line. The speaker blares my name. As a finisher of the Platintour. My name, just moments ago and soon to be just another unknown name. The corresponding man sits down on the top tube. Nothing more for a moment. Just absorbing all the feelings. Harvest time after 12 hours of cycling through a postcard.
