'It’s a holiday, everyone is heading south, the tunnel only has one lane,' the girl at the information bureau said. We’d tried our luck at one mountain pass (Furkapass) to find it closed.
‘Can we go this way?' I pointed to our map, at the Gotthardpass there was one other option.
'Yes, it will add an hour to your journey, but it’s open.'
We meandered up mountain with a glut of switch-backs, drifting snow and short tunnels that felt like freezers. We felt the chill nip at our bodies, I dug out another scarf and wrapped it around my head, heaving on my helmet – snug, warm. The freshness cleared our heads, the brightness causing our eyes to squint.
The day was a balm for our tired motorbike riding souls. Grand lakes stretched out revealing their shiniest bluest. The unblemished sky was stupidly blue. The mountains shone glistening white with a speckle of black rocks, patches of green eased the starkness and softened all the edges. It was ridiculously marvellous.
Click here to enjoy the ride!