A couple kilometers into the hill I realized I I hadn't really started my 30 kilometer ascent to Saas Fee. Suddenly the grade kicked up a few degrees and I began climbing the 2000 meters of elevation. Traffic was heavy. It was the only road through the Alps. At the crux of the hill and the flat I made eye contact with a girl selling apricots on the side of the road. She gave me a sideways smile.
SLEEPING FOR FREE isn't hard-- it just requires some sneakiness. I was only going to stay one night at the campsite, but bad weather forced another. I wasn't going to pay for it, though. Unfortunately I'd made good friends with the girl at the reception desk, and during my escape we locked eyes. It was a tense moment but she had nothing on me. I was packed up and leaving. For all she knew I was visiting friends. I hope she didn't take it personally.
I was off to a ski resort town in the Alps to meet Mr. Wirth, a successful hotel owner, at his latest acquisition. I got to Visp from Vevey and my directions were simple enough from there. To quote: "go to Visp and then go up." And up I went.
After two days of easy riding I was ready for a challenge. The road to Saas Fee was one giant, 38 kilometer hill cutting into the Alps with over 2000 meters of elevation. There were several towns along the way nestled into mountain cliffs. I traversed over bridges so high in the air I got off and walked my bike out of fear.
I couldn't help feeling silly when I was huffing and puffing through mountain villages where people were going about their daily lives. Sometimes I would have to go through tunnels under mountains. Any car in a tunnel sounds like a freight train.
After Saas Grund (Hasidic Jews everywhere!) the hill really got steep. The switchbacks were tight. It was an exciting last few meters. I turned a corner and suddenly I was face to face with a huge glacier rolling over the Alps above Saas Fee.
Entering Saas Fee you're presented with two options: drive your car into the biggest downward spiral of a parking lot you've ever seen, or turn around and go home. I turned right from the parking sea shell and went in under a gate. The town was jam packed with German speaking Swiss. Given its proximity to the border, I was expecting Italian.
I looked for my hotel and suddenly realized that all the buildings in Saas Fee were hotels. I eventually rolled passed mine. A man pulling weeds in a tiny garden called my name. It was Mr. Wirth! He was tall, happy and wore a red turtleneck. Imagine Werner Herzog as a happy hotel owner.
He showed me to my room, which was actually the owner's suite, and recommended I got some rest. We would meet in two hours and go to dinner. I stood on my balcony and admired the looming glacier up above. Then I took the longest shower ever.
I went to dinner a little less stinky. Mr. Wirth promised me an authentic Swiss experience and he delivered. A three piece band consisting of two accordions and a base played all the Swiss hits. Eventually the restaurant owner joined with his Sax, then his recorder. I let Mr. Wirth order for me. His only question was: "do you like cheese?"
While digging through my cast iron skillet of potato hash, cheese, eggs, ham and pickled vegetables, we talked about the high wages of Swiss workers, how Swiss were possessive and rude most of the time, and covered some basic Swiss history. We finished with herbal tea and a half portion of apple strudel.
During the meal two old Swiss couples danced to the music. One couple was clearly more enthusiastic and eventually booted the other couple off the floor. Something was medically wrong with the dancing man. He could barely walk, and when we complemented him on his moves I noticed he could barely speak. It was really the way he handled his wife. With a plastic grimace on his face, he spun, dipped and pushed his companion around with jerking, quick movements of his arm. She was intensely receptive to his commands, and there was lots of love between the two. After she helped him back to his seat, she would yodel with the band, much to the appreciation of the rest of the diners. "Typically Swiss," remarked Mr. Wirth.
After the meal we went back to the hotel and I ventured out to the festival to meet the girl from the tourism office.
ALONE
Morning came and I drank the perfect amount of coffee: too much. Looking out at the Alps I pondered my next move. Visp-Milan-Munich-Berlin? Visp-Milan-Yugoslavia? This hotel sure is nice.
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