teerex51
The Italian Scallion
Last Friday SkooterG showed up in Milan 
and together we played tourist for a few hours. Curiously, the opera house (La Scala) left him cold while I caught him ogling T&A with unsettling frequency. :dribble:
The following day, Cap'n Hook and I were going to show him our pièce de résistance, i.e. the Swiss Pass Rollercoaster. In spite of the positive weather predictions, Saturday dawned gloomy and severely overcast. Heck, we said, it's going to burn off at some stage.
We took off on three bikes. Greg was on my 2005 FJR1300, I rode the C-14 and Hook (whose bike is still recovering from an ugly confrontation with a concrete wall in Sardinia) had borrowed at gunpoint his son's Honda CB1000. Greg developed a special fondness for that nifty little number... :lol:
We headed north to Lake Como (that looked the same steel gray of the clouds) and entered Switzerland. We bummed a toll-road ride to Bellinzona (we figured that buying the yearly pass sticker was an extravagant expense for a single day) and exited the Swiss superslab at Biasca. Minutes later we were zooming down narrow valleys with small stone houses built on the rocky slopes...a real Swiss picture postcard when the sun is shining. Kinda sinister if you ask me when your shield fogs up and the twisty road is wet. :huh:
We climbed the Lucomagno Pass in winter-like weather. Hook was freezing his ass off on the naked bike and for some weird reason the back of his suit and helmet were wetter than the front. Once at the pass, a shade below 7,000 feet, we made a stop for hot beverages.
Descending from the Lucomagno toward Disentis the weather suddenly cleared and we were awed by the beauty of the landscape.
Green meadows and turning leaves in soft pastel colors. A promise of warm sunshine in the air and maybe a restaurant where we could stuff our faces.
Because of the inclement weather the roads were almost deserted, except for some die-hard cyclists who were rocketing down the sweepers. Thinking about the size of their contact patch (a gnat's ass on a good day) made me shudder as I manhandled the C-14 into the twisties. Hook had a better time on the CB1000. He only had to think: "lean" and his bike woud scrape pegs. It seemed Greg was enjoying my FJR, too. I caught glimpses of him zooming in and out of switchbacks whenever I managed to catch up. :angry:
Once in Disentis, we turned left and started our climb to the Oberalp Pass. The village of Sedrun lies on the way and it was bathed in sunshine as we entered it.
The idyllic view touched a chord in our hearts and we said in unison: "Lunchtime!"
A blond waitress with a dirty laugh served us a wholesome meal of barley soup, salad and lasagne. Hook was so famished that he ate a cheese fondue and had some room left for lasagne, too. :blink: We spent over an hour in Sedrun. The thought of gearing up again to climb the Oberalp made us kinda lethargic.
The mountains looked cold and unwelcoming, while in the village we were getting high on the woodsmoke and food smells. :dribble:
But a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do. (Plus we saw some dudes on Hogs heading up the road and figured they might soon need our help... )
Oberalp (elevation 6,700) was exactly where we'd left it last year.
At the Pass, Greg developed a special fondness for this white cow and was very disappointed when he realized it was plastic.
From Oberalp we glided down to Andermatt, after running parallel to the tracks of the Glacier Express for a while. Once in the valley, we made a beeline for the Furka Pass. The slopes looked golden in the sunshine, but the pass itself at 8,000 feet was frickin cold and windy. We horsed around for a few minutes but daylight was running out on us and we still had a ways to ride.
We returned in the direction of Andermatt down the Furka road and turned right for the fourth pass of the day, the Gotthard.
Unfortunately, the cloud cover was so low that the pass (at 6,900 feet) was awash in a wet and chilly cloud.
There we soon found ourselves surrounded by disoriented cagers who were applying Rule #1 of low-visibility mountain driving. (Straddle the lane divider and tailgate the guy before you).
We showed Greg how you quickly dispose of obnoxious Sunday drivers with a twist of the wrist and a blast of the Nautilus.
Once on the valley floor in Airolo we quickly made our way back to Milan where several beers were waiting to be slaughtered.
Bottom line: some 460 kms of fun riding and Greg's introduction to the Swiss Passes. A most enjoyable day.
Stef
and together we played tourist for a few hours. Curiously, the opera house (La Scala) left him cold while I caught him ogling T&A with unsettling frequency. :dribble: The following day, Cap'n Hook and I were going to show him our pièce de résistance, i.e. the Swiss Pass Rollercoaster. In spite of the positive weather predictions, Saturday dawned gloomy and severely overcast. Heck, we said, it's going to burn off at some stage.
We took off on three bikes. Greg was on my 2005 FJR1300, I rode the C-14 and Hook (whose bike is still recovering from an ugly confrontation with a concrete wall in Sardinia) had borrowed at gunpoint his son's Honda CB1000. Greg developed a special fondness for that nifty little number... :lol:
We headed north to Lake Como (that looked the same steel gray of the clouds) and entered Switzerland. We bummed a toll-road ride to Bellinzona (we figured that buying the yearly pass sticker was an extravagant expense for a single day) and exited the Swiss superslab at Biasca. Minutes later we were zooming down narrow valleys with small stone houses built on the rocky slopes...a real Swiss picture postcard when the sun is shining. Kinda sinister if you ask me when your shield fogs up and the twisty road is wet. :huh:
We climbed the Lucomagno Pass in winter-like weather. Hook was freezing his ass off on the naked bike and for some weird reason the back of his suit and helmet were wetter than the front. Once at the pass, a shade below 7,000 feet, we made a stop for hot beverages.
Descending from the Lucomagno toward Disentis the weather suddenly cleared and we were awed by the beauty of the landscape.
Green meadows and turning leaves in soft pastel colors. A promise of warm sunshine in the air and maybe a restaurant where we could stuff our faces.
Because of the inclement weather the roads were almost deserted, except for some die-hard cyclists who were rocketing down the sweepers. Thinking about the size of their contact patch (a gnat's ass on a good day) made me shudder as I manhandled the C-14 into the twisties. Hook had a better time on the CB1000. He only had to think: "lean" and his bike woud scrape pegs. It seemed Greg was enjoying my FJR, too. I caught glimpses of him zooming in and out of switchbacks whenever I managed to catch up. :angry:
Once in Disentis, we turned left and started our climb to the Oberalp Pass. The village of Sedrun lies on the way and it was bathed in sunshine as we entered it.
The idyllic view touched a chord in our hearts and we said in unison: "Lunchtime!"
A blond waitress with a dirty laugh served us a wholesome meal of barley soup, salad and lasagne. Hook was so famished that he ate a cheese fondue and had some room left for lasagne, too. :blink: We spent over an hour in Sedrun. The thought of gearing up again to climb the Oberalp made us kinda lethargic.
The mountains looked cold and unwelcoming, while in the village we were getting high on the woodsmoke and food smells. :dribble:
But a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do. (Plus we saw some dudes on Hogs heading up the road and figured they might soon need our help...
)
Oberalp (elevation 6,700) was exactly where we'd left it last year.
At the Pass, Greg developed a special fondness for this white cow and was very disappointed when he realized it was plastic.
From Oberalp we glided down to Andermatt, after running parallel to the tracks of the Glacier Express for a while. Once in the valley, we made a beeline for the Furka Pass. The slopes looked golden in the sunshine, but the pass itself at 8,000 feet was frickin cold and windy. We horsed around for a few minutes but daylight was running out on us and we still had a ways to ride.
We returned in the direction of Andermatt down the Furka road and turned right for the fourth pass of the day, the Gotthard.
Unfortunately, the cloud cover was so low that the pass (at 6,900 feet) was awash in a wet and chilly cloud.
There we soon found ourselves surrounded by disoriented cagers who were applying Rule #1 of low-visibility mountain driving. (Straddle the lane divider and tailgate the guy before you).
We showed Greg how you quickly dispose of obnoxious Sunday drivers with a twist of the wrist and a blast of the Nautilus.
Once on the valley floor in Airolo we quickly made our way back to Milan where several beers were waiting to be slaughtered.
Bottom line: some 460 kms of fun riding and Greg's introduction to the Swiss Passes. A most enjoyable day.
Stef
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