Wednesday, December 10, 2008

Over The Pond – Part 8

The Alps – Livin’ the Dream.

The next five days were somewhat of a blur. Some adjectives that spring to mind are whimsical, breath-taking and challenging. Mostly, I was simply overwhelmed.
You, faithful reader, will be pleased to know that I will strive to be succinct in my review of Tiefencastel and the rally. The events of the next five days have already been covered in various reviews, both pictorial and narrative. To relate my take on every personal detail of this amazing event in this amazing country would become tedious, I’m sure. Suffice to say, my mind was truly and totally blown. I will share just a few observations and offer a representative framework which hopefully will allow you to accurately fill in the spaces. In truth, no amount of rhetoric will give you the true picture. You need to experience it first-hand.

First of all, the event was the 7th Annual GCE rally.
The GCE is a loosely knit association of GTR enthusiasts. Essentially it is Cog’s European cousin. The acronym GCE stands for “GTR Club Europe”. My understanding is that there is no structured membership - the alliances are maintained simply through a network of like-minded riders who enjoy getting together from time to time to swap war stories and drink beer.
There is a much larger GTR Owners Club in Europe with an official membership numbering in the hundreds which follows a more traditional club structure. There is no connection between these two clubs. Involvement in one or the other seems to be dictated by individual needs and ideologies. The GCE culture would seem to espouse a philosophy of “we don’t need no stinkin’ constitution, newsletter or board of directors. We just wanna go for a ride with our buddies… oh yah, and drink beer”. The casual flow of the event and participants seemed to embrace this philosophy.

Anyone who has been involved with any of the events that I have organized over the years will immediately appreciate how well that fits with my preferences. Keep it loose, keep it safe, and keep it fun.

This “loosey-goosey” attitude about club structure does not, however, carry over onto the road. European group rides are definitely more structured than what we are familiar with on our side of the pond. Each day of the rally, specific guided rides were conducted and controlled by a ride leader and a “sweep” rider who is in constant radio contact with the leader. Illustrating the level of structure on GCE group rides is this hard and fast rule - Everyone is responsible for his or her tail rider (the rider behind them). If you lose your tail rider, you have to buy a round of drinks at the end of the day for the group (with a rally attendance of over 40, this can get expensive). This one rule covers a multitude of activities including passing within the group. If you want to “freewheel it”, advise your group leader at the next rest stop and take your leave to wherever suits your fancy. I spent a couple of days with guided tours and three days of freewheeling. It was a good mix.

The site of the event was a tiny Swiss town called Tiefencastel; year-round population of less than 400. Apart from being absolutely storybook beautiful, the primary appeal was its location. At the confluence of the Albula and Julier passes, Tiefencastel is within day-ride distance of some of the best of the Swiss, Austrian and Italian Alps. What we got was just a taste of it, as it would take at least a month to truly explore this piece of our world.

From our cozy high alpine refuge, Zurich, Bern, Innsbruck and Milan are within a day’s ride - but we were more interested in names like San Bernardino, Umbria, Fluelapass and Stelvio, all high alpine passes which, for decades, have teased bikers with dreams of riding alpine twisties. If you venture into this playground, bring your “A-game”. I got a serious schooling in switchbacks. Some of these tracks are definitely not for the timid! I had some moments that swung erratically between stark terror and delirious elation. These are memories to last a lifetime.

My first group ride took us to a small ski resort town of Arosa situated high in the mountains. The road to Arosa served up 350 turns in 18 miles - great fun, and a great way to get familiar with the group. At around the halfway point to Arosa, our group leader Bernt led us into a lay-by and announced “free ride from here to Arosa”. Jim and I looked at each other, grinned, and we were gone. After regrouping in Arosa (with much laughter and high fives) we backtracked a short distance, then took a run into Lago di Lie, basically an end of the road restaurant just over the Swiss/Italian border.
To reach Lago di Lie, we had to travel through one of the many tunnels that I came to recognize as a hallmark of Switzerland. During my three week OTP visit, I passed through tunnels as refined as interstate highways, complete with underground interchanges. One tunnel that we traveled through on our way to Tiefencastel was over seven kilometres long. At the other end of the scale are tunnels that looked as though they had just been chewed out of the mountain by some giant mole. No lights, jagged edges and low ceiling – you’d better not meet anyone in the tunnel, because someone would have to back out. That’s really not something you’d want to do on a bike. The tunnel to "Lago" was one such tunnel and we required special permission and a pass to traverse this subterranean worm hole.

In addition to the constant dripping from the ceiling and weeping walls, the tunnel roadbed was equal parts water and ice… we proceeded with extreme caution. Although only a few hundred yards long, twists and turns had us completely in the dark for most of the length. I was really glad to emerge into sunshine at the other end.

With my arrival at Lago di Lie, I had now officially been to Italy, even though my visit would be measured in yards not miles. Europeans pass from country to country like we travel from state to state or province to province. Still, the notion of adding another country to my itinerary was a rush. I was beginning to feel like quite the international traveler.

As stated initially, the following days were a blur of amazing images. From San Moritz - where the Really, Really Rich & Famous play, to the breathtaking vistas of Passo de Stelvio. Switzerland is so different. Amazing, stunning, breathtaking and diverse. Whatever fanciful notion you may have of Switzerland, I can assure you that it is all that and more. Do the trip at least once in your lifetime. You will not be disappointed.

Jim’s description of San Moritz as “a centuries old European town with Rodeo Drive plopped in the middle” is pretty accurate. Gucci, Cartier, Prada, Versace, Emilio Pucci, Louis Vuitton, Van Cleef and Arpels – they were all there and more. Being that this was my first visit to fantasyland, I was not going to let it pass without playing it up a bit. After strolling the promenade, I entered Prada. The salesclerk reminded me of that great scene with Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. If you saw the movie you’ll remember the scene. The proprietor of this establishment was about as thrilled to see me as the snooty salesclerk was to see hooker Julia Roberts in her snooty Rodeo Drive haberdashery. After surveying me from a distance with an air somewhere between disdain and revulsion (…and of course, I’m playing it to the hilt now) her manner improved slightly when I told her I was on vacation from Canada and was looking for a gift for my wife. Then I told her I was looking for a T shirt that said “my husband went to San Moritz on his holidays and all I got was this crappy T shirt”. The cold front came in faster than a Wayne Gretzky slapshot. She turned on her heel and disappeared into the back. Leaving the shop, still laughing, I turned with camera in hand to take a picture of the Prada sign. Miss Prada reappeared, glared at me and closed the door. I was still laughing when I got back to Tiefencastel - so much for my ambassadorial skills.

Nestled amidst the scenic splendor of the five days in Switzerland was the obligatory OTP tradition of “surrstromming”. On that subject, I will only say that the entire event lingers in my memory as prominently as any other from my holidays, even if not for the same reasons. Hans officiated over the ceremony. I can attest to the fact that in the end, enough shots of really strong liquor can kill almost any taste in the mouth – almost. The OTP price was paid and the party raged on.

Although inclement weather threatened a couple of times, it held off until September the 7th, the morning of our departure. Harry van der Laan and Marc Kleefstra had already left on the 6th , and Jim and Sean had left for Frankfurt the morning before that on the 5th. Most of the rally attendees were preparing for departure sometime later this day. Rally Masters Ria and Hans-Peter Heim had expertly planned every detail of this dream rally. Nobody wanted it to end. Departure day had arrived though and the rain, cooperative up until now, couldn’t hold off any longer.

Our departure group was different from our arrival group. Phil Tarman had charted a more easterly route, intent on spending some more time at Dachau before returning to Frankfurt and his flight home. Ad joined Gie, and me for the ride out. German member Wolfgang Ziehe and John Zonneveld from northern Netherlands also joined us.

Much time was spent huddled under eaves out of the rain. Lingering farewells were shared with new and old friends but eventually we had to venture out into the wet. By ten o’clock we could delay no longer, and our little caravan, now grown to five, bid Tiefencastel and the Alps one last farewell and headed north to Germany.

Over the next two days our group dissipated as one by one members left for their own route home. Ad and I were not to arrive back in Princenbeek for another three days, but that’s a story saved for the concluding chapter of this odyssey. My flight out of Schiphol was still five days away.