Today i was woken up by cow bells, possibly the most annoying noise at 7am apart from a standard Nokia alarm. There were a lot of cow bells aswell, it sounded like 100 wind chimes made from cutlery and mess tins in a gale force storm. I had had a good sleep though so I was ready and prepared for what was going to be the hardest riding day yet. The "pain event" as I will call it from now on began with me doing three things at once, who said men can't multi task? I had to ride Nigel up an endless hill whilst avoiding large clumps of poo that must've started off coming from a Stallion and ended up a Shetland there was that much. All whilst trying to get a bit of corn on the cob out my teeth! That'll teach me for testing it for the farmer! By the way I had previously knocked to say thankyou to the old couple but no one was in. Two hours later and the corn was still there and so was the hill, the poo had stopped thankfully. I couldn't understand it, the houses on the hillside were pointing down, the railings by the road where all aiming down as if I should be freewheeling but the river by my side was running towards me and my legs were struggling with every rotation. Was I going uphill or down? I couldn't get into a rhythm and with every crest of a hill I would turn the corner to see yet another hill, there really wasn't any sky left! If there were any doubts that I wasn't in the Alps all I had to do was look down to my right and I could see a ski jump and ski lifts. I would watch the cars up ahead to see if when they turned they disappeared downwards or upwards, it was always another up! Legs almost stationary I trundled on taking every white dashed line as it came. In France I used to guess how many dashes until the crest then count them to see if I was right, I got it pretty much spot on most times. I couldn't do that here because there was no crest to be seen! I had to stop for lunch so decided to park up in a bus stop (my favourite place) for some jam sandwiches. I hadn't seen many people for about 3 hours other than in the shop where I bought the bread. As I sat at the bus stop I saw 3 lads, must've only been about 7 years old walking up the otherside of the road. One of them did a knock and run on the house opposite me and all 3 of them hid behind the bushes at the front of the garden. I laughed as the old man came out like a scene from the film "Dennis" shouted something in swiss and literally picked the lad up by the ear and took him into the house. Then I stopped laughing, called over to the other boys to see if they knew the old man but they didn't understand me. About 5 minutes had past and I got my bottle ready to go over and "ask for more water" then all of a sudden the kid came out with a bit of a cheeky grin on his face and scarpered off into the fields behind me. I have no clue what the old man did but if it was me, I would've showed the kid some better hiding places or explain the second part of a knock and run procedure a bit clearer!
After this I continued to push hard up the hill from hell and I eventually reached the top. A great sign to see for a cyclist is a little triangle with a percentage facing down the slope! 10% is a decent slope and I couldn't wait to bump up my average speed. I don't know how long I was going for but it was a long time! All the way down into a town called Buchs, the view again opening up to reveal a massive valley that seemed to be surrounded by mountains leaving me completely breathless. From there it was just a few more miles to Vaduz and another country to tick off, Liechtenstein. Vaduz was pretty boring really. Nobody there and nothing to do, so I rode to the footy stadium took a picture, stopped at a McDonald's where I wasted my free hour of Internet talking to a South African lady and then decided to push on. I had planned to stay a rest day in Vaduz but even with a strained left leg I would rather head toward Davos and give myself a shorter day tomorrow then have to twiddle my thumbs in Liechtenstein. After speaking to a man at a petrol station I was again heading in the right direction and coming up against yet another incline. Luckily this one was not so bad, took me about 30 minutes to get to the top but this time the view was even more amazing. I love mountainous areas and I'm a firm believer that to get the real quality in life you have to put in the hard graft. This philosophy is certainly true with cycling and before I could get my camera out to take it all in I was flying down the smoothest meandering road leading into a beautiful town called Meilenfeld. The smells and sights that I wanted to have in France. I was getting in this area by the bucket load. That's one of the hardest parts about cycling aswell, either not being able to afford to stop or afford to buy all the amazing food you ride past each day. I pushed harder towards Davos. Now every time I see a road sign I have to say to myself "green good, blue bad but not in this country" Even though the sign to Davos was blue I wasn't allowed on it but luckily there was a much safer cycle path that ran alongside it. This also meant that I didn't have to risk anymore close shaves with the slightly less considerate drivers in this area!
Thankfully the Swiss invested in some tunnelling equipment otherwise my route would probably be twice as long and twice as hard. I approached the tunnel all set to play the tunnel game where you hold your breath for the whole time you're in darkness. I went for it and after about 15 seconds my legs seized up, i felt like i was going to pass out and I realised I wasn't David Blaine. The tunnel was 240metres long! After this I was happy with my days work and I could see a rain cloud ahead looming over the mountains so was on the look out for the perfect farmhouse. I chose one with a few fields out front, corn and something else and I could see some grass fields to the side. I knocked on the door and the son answered but to save any issues I asked for his parent. A lovely lady called Brigit came to the door and although not fluent in English, she could understand me pretty well. At this point the husband Simon returned home from work and they spoke a little and I ended up getting a guided tour of multiple out houses that they had. They owned around 20 cows but they were all up in the Alps so the barns were clean and tidy with only a hint of smell. A smell which honestly wouldn't even come close to tarnishing my sleeping bag but I didn't tell her that. She finally took me to an upstairs section of another barn where they had a trampoline, some machinery and some haystacks. "Is the trampoline ok?" She asked. It's perfect I thought, didn't have to set up the tent and would be a pretty comfortable nights sleep. We then talked for a bit about family and the farm and they make the nicest cheese she said. Only an hour or so later as I was laying down writing this blog the son came up with some of their cheese, some bread and a piece of glazed fruit pie that was delicious. She wasn't wrong about the cheese either and she had cling filmed some more up for me, I'm guessing to take with me tomorrow. That piece didn't touch the sides either and I couldn't say "danke schon" enough to her but I think she could tell I was happy with the two plates returned basically licked clean. I said goodnight and went off to my bouncy bed. Another adventure complete and yet more evidence of the kindness of strangers. Good times.
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