The Swiss Allure and Its Hidden Dangers

Nomadic Tales

A common mantra in the travel community says "It’s about the journey, not the destination!" I take this to heart, though not because I’ve found inspiration from motivational quotes. I just genuinely enjoy the ride. While I usually have a general direction in mind, I’m not too concerned with sticking to a schedule. This attitude traces back to my very first bike trip, when I was regularly clocking 150 km per day and stubbornly refused to take even the smallest detours. Back then, my only focus was covering distance; any distraction felt like a setback. I finished with some impressive numbers, but there was nothing to it except placing “I’ve been there” pins on a map and a hollow sense of achievement.

Since then, my daily average has steadily dropped. These days, I’m perfectly content covering about 40 km a day, giving myself plenty of time to explore, sightsee, or simply enjoy the moment.

Of course, this relaxed approach sometimes backfires. I’ve missed events because I showed up a day late. But it also pays off in ways you can’t predict, like spending over a month on the road under daily yellow and orange thunderstorm warnings without catching a single drop of rain.

One story stands out above the rest. A massive superstorm hit the area I was headed toward, just six days before I arrived. In a six-month trip, missing the "storm of the century" by less than a week feels like a very near miss. In less than ten minutes, wind gusts exceeding 217 km/h devastated Le Locle and Chaux-de-Fonds, leaving behind one fatality, 15 injuries, and CHF 120 million in damages.

At first, I didn’t notice much in Le Locle, just a line of broken trees along a trail, which I naively assumed was a landscaping project. As I was approaching Chaux-de-Fonds, I came across a garage with its concrete roof collapsed and the next building’s glass facade torn apart. At first, I thought there must have been an explosion. But that theory quickly fell apart as I rode on and saw more and more damaged buildings lined up along the road, with wrecked roofs, broken windows, splintered wall panels and missing window blinds.

Switzerland, jul 2023

Unforgettable Sights & Hidden Gems

Fonderie de Cloches Obertino Charles - A Living Legacy of Bellmaking in the Heart of the French Alps

The strongest winds I’ve ever faced on the road were in the High Atlas mountains. Riding was impossible and even pushing the bike was a real struggle. I estimate those gusts were under 100 km/h having learned what riding in 50+ km/h winds felt like other times when I was closely monitoring the weather. If I had ever been caught in 200 km/h tailwinds while riding, I wouldn't have had a chance. The bike would have been uncontrollable, and a high-speed crash would have been inevitable. For context, the fastest I’ve ever gone was 60 km/h downhill and once was more than enough for me.

Tucked away in an unassuming house in a small village in the French Alps lies one of the last remaining bronze bell foundries in France, offering visitors an educational and immersive glimpse into a centuries-old craft. Founded in 1834, the family-owned Obertino foundry has been casting bells for nearly two centuries.

In the French and Swiss Alps, bells play an essential role in livestock management, used primarily by farmers for cows, sheep, and goats grazing in alpine pastures. Commonly known as "cowbells" or "alpine bells," they’re not only functional but also deeply tied to the region’s cultural identity. Obertino’s clients range from farmers and chapels to schools, boat owners, and musicians. In addition to practical designs, the foundry also offers polished bells, some of which can be customized with engraved letters or symbols.

What truly sets this place apart, and the reason I chose to write about it, is the workshop experience. Periodically, the foundry opens its doors to the public, allowing visitors to witness the full bell-making process. Even from the street, a large viewing window offers a clear look as the founder guides you through each step. The spectacle is mesmerizing: the glowing hues of molten bronze, the scent of burning charcoal and rising gases, the rhythmic clang of metalwork as a new bell emerges from its mold. It’s a sensory journey through tradition, craft, and living history.

Roadside Hacks

Bike travel demands that all your gear be compact and practical. A cutting board is essential for cooking, but finding the right balance between size and usability can be tricky. A large board takes up too much space in the bag, and its single-purpose nature doesn’t justify the extra weight. On the other hand, a small cutting board is often frustrating to use while camping.

After trying several options, I found that a small bamboo board worked best, but it came with one major downside. Barely larger than the pot itself, the board would often slide around or even tip into the pot, sometimes spilling food everywhere.

 

To solve this, I designed a custom mounting point that fits perfectly with my camping pot’s split handle. The pot I use has a foldable handle where two halves rotate in opposite directions and meet at the center. The mounting point sits right between the handle’s pivot points, so when the handle is extended, the cutting board locks snugly into place. No more sliding, and it’s now easy to sweep the chopped ingredients straight into the pot below.