Biking in the Alps

Biking in the Alps

Twenty-nine years ago, Mark took me to the La Loire Valley to bicycle. Married 2 ½ years, this was the first of many adventures where Mark challenged my physical and mental states and changed my attitude from “No, there’s no way I can do that!” to “Yes, I can do it.” And usually I survive the experience and am better for having done it.

So yesterday when we planned the biking trip to Eisbee Lake, 8 km. away, I looked at the path on the map and said, “I can do this.” At breakfast, we made sandwiches from the rolls and meats and added the fruit in the room to our picnic bag. We headed out about 1 p.m. after a leisurely morning, and not even a half-hour into the ride, we stopped on one of the many benches facing the massive mountains to eat our lunch and observe the numerous hikers and bikers that passed us from both directions.

The path wound its way through the town of Grainau where we stopped at their 12 person chapel (it was that small) dedicated to John the Baptist but full of statues of Mary. A few minutes later, we passed another beautiful church with tiers of statues commemorating burial sites, so that the church looked out over the graves.

Though I wanted to see the lake, we got discouraged when we came to signs along the way which declared that our destination was further than we thought. Two or three times along the way, Mark said, “We can turn back now and park our bikes at the hiking trail and do a little hiking.” I said, “We will always be sorry not seeing the lake. Let’s go.”

Biking a little further, we came upon a gravel trail and navigated it just fine until the hills became steeper. In higher elevation now, we were getting more breathless, so we walked our bikes up the steep hills, stopping along the way for the glorious views and listening to the music of the cow bells as we passed cow fields.

Three hours from the time we left the hotel, we saw clean and clear Eisbee Lake at the base of the Zugspiche Mountain. We celebrated with a sprite and a beer with a pretzel at the lakeside hotel restaurant as we took in the view!

Later, we biked to the train station adjacent to the hotel, since Mark calculated that our trip home on the trail would be two more hours of biking. At 4:45, we walked into the station to find out that bicycles could not go on the train! So we headed out and retraced our tracks. The whole trip had been uphill, so that meant the return would be downhill. I loved biking downhill! However, on the gravel section, I was afraid of skidding (voices of Laura came to me: trust your bicycle), so my hands were white knuckled until we got off the gravel path.

Then it began to rain, and Mark stopped at a shelter and said he was holding out until the rain stopped. Since I had my rain jacket on and a good hat, I thought he was being a little cowardly about so little rain, so we rode on. The last part of the trip was exhilarating because it was downhill on a paved path, so we made it back to the hotel in 45 minutes, 4½ hours from the time we had left.

Occasionally during our trek, a tour bus would pass along the roads we were biking, and I would think, “One day when I am a widow, I will sit on one of those buses and look out at this scenery from the bus and be relaxed and probably be fat from sitting so much.” In all likelihood that won’t happen because I know how much a tour bus misses by not being out on the open road, seeing things closer and being able to stop to really see what’s around you. As I soaked in a hot bath afterwards, I added biking in the Alps to my memories of adventures with Mark.