Crossing the Alps by bike — when your inner bas­tard barks

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Crossing the Alps by bike is an adven­ture that every healt­hy and fit cyclist can mana­ge. But no child­ren’s car­ni­val eit­her. The best thing to do is to join an orga­ni­zer who knows how to skillful­ly silence your inner couch pota­to. A cycling self-expe­ri­ment bet­ween Augs­burg and Bolzano.

The dogs come in the midd­le of the night. From all direc­tions. And with the cre­scen­do of furious bar­king, the panic swells. Escape? Point­less! Play­ing dead? I don’t dare. So wait and pray. Then they are the­re. And I was wide awa­ke in one fell swoop. The bedpost is har­der than the forehead.

Just dre­a­ming. Just like Nena. I am safe. In a warm hotel bed. In Bol­za­no. The dis­ori­en­ta­ti­on after the night­ma­re instant­ly gives way to deep rela­xa­ti­on. Only a bump grows out of his fore­head. No dogs far and wide. Three nine­teen. All good. Even though the last few days have been some of the most inten­se of my life. My first crossing of the Alps is behind me. Count­less kilo­me­ters, beau­tiful clim­bs, even more beau­tiful des­cents. Inde­scri­ba­ble emo­tio­nal cine­ma bet­ween eupho­ria and exer­ti­on. And I was final­ly able to silence my inner bastard.

But first things first! If you’­re half­way through your life, like me, you do the math. Wha­t’s in the account counts. How many child­ren have your sur­na­me. What went well and what went bad­ly in life 1.0. And then all of a sud­den it’s the­re: the desi­re to break out. Even if only for a limi­t­ed time. Lea­ving ever­y­day life behind for a week, set­ting off with only the bare essen­ti­als, dis­co­ve­ring new hori­zons every day and enjoy­ing “La Dol­ce Vita” in South Tyrol at the end, exhaus­ted but hap­py — a won­derful idea. Cycling to Ita­ly. That should be it! My per­so­nal decla­ra­ti­on of inde­pen­dence on nar­row tires.

If you want to cross the Alps by bike for the first time, it is bet­ter to ent­rust yours­elf to an organizer

But if you want to be free, you have to orga­ni­ze. Which is the best rou­te? Whe­re to stay over­night? What to take with you? Lea­ve what at home? How do I mana­ge not to end up in the forest at some point? How do I get from the finish back to the start? I’m just too phleg­ma­tic (and over­work­ed) to turn all tho­se ques­ti­on marks into excla­ma­ti­on marks. And wants to. So I need help. An orga­ni­zer who is fami­li­ar with such things. Like Feu­er und Eis Tou­ris­tik from Tegern­see. A few clicks on the inter­net and I’ve alre­a­dy got my top 3 in my sights: eit­her from Munich to Venice or on a rou­te cal­led “Alpe Adria” from Salz­burg to Gra­do or from Augs­burg to Bol­za­no. I sur­fed around a bit on the home­page and it was as clear as day to me: I wan­ted to go from Augs­burg to Bol­za­no, one of my favo­ri­te cities in South Tyrol. I want to cycle across the Alps on the “Via Clau­dia Augus­ta”, the ori­gi­nal mother of all Tran­salps, so to speak. Over the Fern­pass and Reschen­pass, who­se names have reso­na­ted sin­ce my child­hood, when we dro­ve from the All­gäu to the lake in a VW Beetle.

The key data sounds temp­ting: seven stages, a maxi­mum of 500 meters in alti­tu­de every day — one day is all downhill! — as well as beau­tiful hotels in the stage towns of Lands­berg, Schon­gau, Füs­sen, Imst, Reschen­pass, Meran and Bozen. But the best thing of all: Feu­er und Eis always has my back. In other words: I don’t need a ruck­sack or pan­niers, my evening wear is always chauf­feu­red from hotel to hotel. And I fol­low the GPS track on my cell pho­ne. Wit­hout annoy­ing fel­low cyclists. Tha­t’s exact­ly the free­dom I’ve always been loo­king for!

Bet­ween exci­te­ment and rela­xa­ti­on: if you find the right balan­ce, you will arri­ve safe­ly by bike

The bat­tery is emp­ty. So not the one from the bike, becau­se I ride a mus­cle bike. If it’s all right, then it’s all right. I’m flat, I can’t take any more. Could cry from exhaus­ti­on. In my eupho­ria of free­dom and care­free­ness, I made the typi­cal beg­in­ner’s mista­ke: I dro­ve far too fast. I stub­born­ly cran­ked the real­ly big gears uphill, even though I could count the stac­ca­to of my heart racing in my caro­tid artery. Now I have a “hun­ger rest”: the body swit­ches to idle gear out of self-pro­tec­tion and only lets you do the bare mini­mum. Dis­moun­ting, lying down, drin­king, eating. My thigh vibra­tes like a bass spea­k­er, almost making me laugh. How embar­ras­sing. It’s just as well that, apart from my inner bas­tard, nobo­dy is wat­ching as I careful­ly get back on my bike after an hou­r’s pit stop in a mea­dow some­whe­re in the Paf­fen­win­kel. Does­n’t my new watch have a heart rate func­tion? I real­ly must try the­se out tomor­row. Still sit­ting on the flower mea­dow, I vow never to ride abo­ve a pul­se of 130 again.

But even midd­le-aged peo­p­le reco­ver at some point. And after lunch right by the Lech in Epfach, the spi­rits return with a hal­le­lu­jah. The stage desti­na­ti­on of Schon­gau is alre­a­dy within reach.

Wages for crossing the Alps? Memo­ries that are etched in the mind for a lifetime

On a mul­ti-day tour by bike, you are con­stant­ly lear­ning: Ear­ly break­fast, ear­ly start, ear­ly arri­val at the day’s desti­na­ti­on, ear­ly in the well­ness area. Also a lear­ning expe­ri­ence: if you can whist­le, you can cycle almost inde­fi­ni­te­ly. Becau­se as long as the mus­cle motors are sup­pli­ed with enough oxy­gen, they (almost) run them­sel­ves. Spea­king of run­ning: I’m glad I can cross the Alps by bike. And does­n’t have to hike. Once you reach the top of the pass, you hurt­le down the val­ley with no effort at all (and no strain on your kne­es). By the third day — bet­ween Schon­gau and Füs­sen — a sta­te cal­led “flow” sets in. The balan­ce bet­ween exer­ti­on and rela­xa­ti­on. When your body has cali­bra­ted its­elf exact­ly bet­ween over- and under­load, it for­gets time and space. And works almost as effec­tively as a per­pe­tu­al moti­on machi­ne. You just have to fill the top with fuel every few hours. And dis­po­se of was­te down­s­tairs. Crossing the Alps is a kind of cathar­sis: if you crank over all the moun­ta­ins under your own steam, you cle­an­se your body and mind of the gar­ba­ge that has accu­mu­la­ted over the years.

New day, new tou­ring luck! And with every kilo­me­ter to the south, with every pass I con­quer, my self-con­fi­dence grows. And the joy of cran­king towards the finish under your own steam. The stage from Füs­sen to Lan­deck? Easy! Except for the eyes, which don’t know whe­re to look for all the cul­tu­re and natu­re. The next day we cross the Reschen Pass. But I can be com­for­ta­b­ly shut­tled up the­re by Feu­er und Eis Tou­ris­tik. You don’t tre­at yours­elf to any­thing else. And then I’m alre­a­dy in my own pro­mi­sed land: South Tyrol. Through the Vinsch­gau Val­ley, the tires race almost con­stant­ly downhill to the palm trees in Meran.

And now it’s three nine­teen. The dogs were just a bad dream. I mana­ged to cycle from Augs­burg to here in Bol­za­no under my own steam. What remains? Reli­ef, pri­de, anti­ci­pa­ti­on for the fami­ly, a first idea for next sum­mer. And a bump on his forehead.