Lots of snow had fallen weeks ago, then we had lots of sunny days, turning the valleys green/brown again and consolidating the snow higher up. Snow that didn't consolidate came down as wet snow avalanches. Then cold spells followed, turning all into a firm crust.
That's good.
If I want snow I need to go higher up and the conditions where favourable.
The closer the weekend got, the more nervous I was. The idea grew, that I could try to ride up to the Furka pass and then up to the Grimsel pass and over it.
Passes often run through deep valleys and through gorges, which are a deathtrap in winter. The routes run across steep avalanche prone slopes. Only with years of experience and knowledge in avalanche conditions, alpine winter skills and other outdoor skills can such a trip be safely conducted.
Enough of that.
I left Oberwald in the Goms (VS) on a road covered with larch needles. Tons of traffic on summer weekends, not a single person in winter. The road is closed.
I sneek past the barrier like a teenager up to mischief.
Snow melts, the molten snow freezes again. Ready is some slippery sh*t. I check for some snow-filled gullies and am distracted until I realise the rear slipping with every rev. Steeeeaaady...
Finally, after about 300 m climb I touch snow. The snow is crusted, but still I can't ride on it, so I lower the air pressure - problem solved.
I ride on towards the desolate, former hotels at Gletsch. In the late 19th and early 20th century many British tourists visited the Rhone glacier snout, only a few hundred meters away from the hotel in 1870, the glacier now sits much, much further back, on top of a rock face - leaving the hotels trapped in between two loud roads - Furka pass road and Grimsel pass road. The hotels soon where shut, leaving back a gloomy atmosphere. This gets multiplicated in winter. This is desolation.
I start the climb towards the Furka. The road is blocked by many old avalanche cones so I use the old train tracks, but not for long. My motivation dips as I see the Furka completely swallowed in fog. Further on I see more cones I'd have to climb over and then there's the place beneath me, that has always interested me on my frequent visits up here in summer/autumn for regular biking, the Gletschbode. You wouldn't want to visit it in summer, moto and cars revving up the corners and tons of day tourists mocking around. But now it's a different story.
I turn around and head back down to Gletsch for some exploration of the Gletschbode with it's pioneer trees and the very young Rhone. Up here it's called Rotten (yes, really) and after a long journey it'll turn into the water-richest river in France. Giving water to some of the best wines.
Got to love it. My beloved Chubby Chubber takes me to places I hadn't dared to imagine to visit by bike only two years ago.
Young Rotten.
Probably between 2 and 3 psi.
Muttbach. I was getting cold feet. Fording the stream forced me to give the feet a rub and some bashing. Back into the boots with very red toes. Then the blood flushed back and warm they went again.
It also helped that the terrain became too rough to ride. My clipless boots have a soft sole, enabling the feet to move whilst walking, which will help to get them warm again. This way HAB is fun.
Fording the Rotten itself was easier. I found a spot with ice free stones to bring me to the other side.
1910 glacier front. Not any more. The Rhone glacier sit's in the fog, a few hundred meters higher up in a deep carved out basin - further melting away.
Then again - all rideable. Tons of fun. Heaven.
Peace for my untroubled mind. I enjoy every single breath. Solitude. Cold. But I feel deep comfort.
Hiking path tries to hide from me.
Isengrim was here too.
Back at Gletsch I go back to more serious business. Up to the Grimsel.
Conditions are mint (as Rach Atherton would say).
Snow conditions still are mint. It's only traversing cones where I mostly have to push. Bug the fog is a bit uncomfy.
I don't know this side of the pass that well and can't judge the terrain. The snow is solid, but there's quite an amount of adventure to it.
A lot of the tension falls off. Still I have to get down on the other side and know, depending on the cornices, it could be impassable with this gear. At least I know, that I could always turn around and drop back down to Gletsch.
Shut for good. No hot chocolate, no Horlicks.
-6 °C and good for me, only slight wind.
Aaregranite and ice, an alpinists dream.
I'm starting to think about a place for the night. I'll just get the worst part done and then kip.
So I drop into the descent.
Well, not really. Not much faster than quick walking pace I slowly sneak down through blindness. It's very close to being a white out. I get some unexpected blows on the handlebars as I overlook drift snow in the thick fog.
I nearly miss a turn at one point.
Tension, concentration.
I'm challenged and have to stay focused. There are some reasonable drops on one side.
Then, still in the soup, the snow becomes thinner and the confinement of the road visible.
I can start to relax a bit.
Some refrozen thaw water is making thing tricky again. Doesn't help that due to the thick fog, the road is slippery and slightly iced up in many places.
It's getting dark. The snow suddenly disappears. I'm left with a fresh and very thin layer of snow. Air goes back into the ballon tires. I'm not tired, the weather's miserable and I can be home in about 3 h... yes, that's it. I'm going home for the night.
One finger brake. Rime builds up more and more on the way down to Guttannen and Innertkirchen, though it soon disappears as I ride through weak rain towards the end.
Thank god the train is heated.
