Countries: Switzerland, Distance: 122km, Elevation gain: 6,000ft

With hindsight I can look back and confidently assert that this was the most spectacular day I’ve ever had riding a bike.

Of course life isn’t lived in hindsight and setting out early from Lucerne I’m uncertain as to what the day holds in store. Sticking with the ongoing theme of route planning on the fly, I’m going to climb to the Alpine town of Andermatt, where I’ll be forced to make an irreversible decision as to the future direction of the tour. Irreversible, as to backtrack would mean re-crossing The Alps.

There are two options, each with their respective merits:

• Head South over the Gotthard Pass, towards Lugano, Como and Northern Italy. I have no doubt this will be stunningly picturesque but arguably less challenging than;
• Heading East over Oberalppass – towards Liechtenstein, Bavaria and Eastern Europe.

However, to even be in a position to make this decision I first need to get to Andermatt which means leaving Lucerne! The day starts wonderfully, the Swiss cycling infrastructure is excellent and the views exceptional. Lake Lucerne is glittering to my left while imposing mountains punch skywards in all directions. I suspect, without hyperbole, that this may be the most paradisiac stretch of road I’ve ever cycled.

I’m keen to push on this morning. Despite blue skies the forecast suggests potential storms later in the day. Alpine environments are famously changeable and I’d rather not find myself overexposed to the elements should the weather turn. With a gentle tailwind and flat lakeside topography I initially make excellent progress until the road disappears, quite literally, into the lake. To continue, one must wait for the ferry, which isn’t due for another 40 minutes. While nervous about the ever narrowing weather window, being forced to take a break is often a blessing in disguise, so I find a local café, enjoy a latte and watch the world go by until the ferry reappears.

This is a popular cycling route and before long I’m among a group of cyclists. We chat, compare kit (including a family towing a splendid poodle in a specially designed trailer), and exchange stories. Yesterday my friend mentioned that to really experience Lake Lucerne, one must get out on the water. It’s not until I glance over the side of the boat revealing: a peaceful, shimmering, electric blue utopia that I appreciate how right he was.

It’s not all plain sailing, however, as before long the Ticket Inspector arrives. He won’t accept card payment, which I guess is reasonable, nor will he accept coins (huh?). We’re dealing here, ladies and gentlemen, with a real jobsworth dullard. Observing the absurdity of the situation, one of the lovely women (and proud owner of the trailered poodle) I had previously been chatting with insisted on covering my ticket, and wouldn’t allow me to repay her. Apparently her daughter recently cycled the West Coast of the USA and people were hugely supportive of the trip. This is her way of paying forward that kindness. It made an impression. What a wonderful gesture. Thank you.

Arrival on the far side of the lake signals the end of the flatlands and gateway to The Alps. Of course there are hundreds of ways one could traverse the range, but Eurovelo 5’s initial approach is to utilise a good quality cycle path adjacent to a busy road. Despite the segregation, the extended tunnels and hauliers make for an intimidating start as the engine noise reverberates and echoes through the dark.

Thankfully, these are only the foothills, and are soon a distant memory as the road quietens and the views open. Time for a quick bite before the climb starts properly. It’s while I’m sat here by the river, watching the grey clouds rolling high up among the peaks that I meet a Swiss couple who are walking from Lugano in the far South all the way North to their home in Basle. Equipped with bivvy bags and dry rations, they invite me to join them and share their meal. In normal circumstances I absolutely would, but the time pressure is severe so we say our goodbyes, wish each other luck and head off in opposite directions.

Gulp. The sign say it all. 1560m (5100ft) of climb over the next 34km. A quick bit of mental arithmetic reveals that those 34km will average an approximate 5% incline. Achievable right? In this moment I’ll do whatever mental gymnastics required to contextualise the task ahead.

However in reality, I like the grind. I like mountains. Despite the heat I’m having a lovely time. There’s a blissful simplicity to the task at hand. Keep toiling, enjoy the views and appreciate how lucky you are to be here. I promise myself that I’ll return to The Alps on a slick, lightweight roadie to experience these climbs unencumbered, but even with ballast I’m in my element, and stay there for the hour or so it takes to arrive in Andermatt.

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Grateful for the temporary respite, I refuel, hydrate (alcohol free beer is my new go-to drink of choice) and decide I’m going to head East over Oberalppass rather than South towards Gotthard. In typical Alpine fashion, the weather closes in the ten minutes I’m in the store and I find myself looking up towards the heavens wondering if it’s safe (or wise) to complete the Alpine crossing today. I’m 75% of the way up the mountain, but it is in those final 25%, towards the summit where you’re most exposed and at risk to the elements. It’s still largely dry but dark cumulus are drifting across the skyline and I’m aware the situation could change in an instant. Before long, however, a couple start the climb, and I riskily shift my position and follow their tracks, they wouldn’t attempt it if it wasn’t safe right?

Another sign outlines the new task at hand: 600m of climb in 10 kilometres. Well at least the maths is easy. The scenery is immediately distinct from the preceding section of the climb. Long gone are the straight roads and riverside views. This section is a series of exposed switchbacks chiselled into the mountainside with a superb green panorama across the valley. Jacket on, jacket off, too hot, too cold – the conditions are all over the place. Soon enough though, I settle into a rhythm and catch the couple whose decision to tackle the climb confirmed mine. It transpires they’re doing a 3 day tour of Switzerland and we decide to ride to the summit together.

It not until now, some 500m from the summit that the significance of the situation registers. Since departing Dover some 9 days ago, I’ve been consumed by a sole goal, to cycle to The Alps. With so much daily uncertainty that very concept has seemed far-off, ethereal and hypothetical. Now, with the summit so clearly attainable a mixture of pride and relief catch me completely off-guard  and I can feel tears pricking my eyes. Thankfully my shades are just dark enough to hide the emotion from my new friends, and we contemplatively cover the final meters together. A wonderful moment and fitting finale to the first section of this trip.

Of course, what goes up must come down and after the obligatory summit photos comes our reward, tens of kilometres of: fast, flowing and filmic descent. Despite being the middle of summer, it’s chilly at the peak, so we jacket up, say our goodbyes and I watch as they kamikaze down the switchbacks in a way surely only locals can. My descent is far more leisurely, stopping every 2 minutes to capture the incredible views. Despite my uncertainty, the bike handles fabulously. I am not a religious man, but the feeling of sweeping down the mountain, taking in the scenery and feeling as the warmth returns to my body is borderline transcendental. Akin to looking up and observing the stars, there is a permanence about mountains which contextualises the everyday problems we face.

Before I know it, 20km have passed (I’m not sure whether I even had to peddle), and I’ve arrived at my accommodation. The Alps have been crossed. Tomorrow promises a host of new possibilities as we head East and further into the unknown.