Monday

Today, we awoke in a fog-shrouded village in the Swiss Alps. That alone should explain what kind of a day it was. If the word “picturesque” had a home, it would surely be St. Morritz, Switzerland. And as much as I love Italy, there’s something to be said for Switzerland and their meticulous organization. In fact, it was wonderful to cross over the border just to be on Swiss roads; there was a noticeable difference. It reminds me of a joke:

A definition of heaven and hell in Europe.

In heaven:
The British are the policemen, the French are the chefs, t he Italians are the lovers, the Swiss organize everything, and the Germans are the mechanics

In hell:
The British are the chefs, the French are the mechanics, the Italians organize everything, the Swiss are the lovers, and the Germans are the policemen

So true.

"Picturesque" is the only word you can use to describe this place.

So, three of the four geramigos went on a ride to Stelvio pass today. For reference, it is the highest paved road in Europe. And these guys rode it. Seriously. To describe what it looks like, imagine a gigantic spaghetti noodle dropped on the side of a sheer mountain, full of insane twists and turns at impossible angles. That’s pretty much what it looks like. All three of them said it was the most difficult climb they’ve ever done. Here are a few cool pictures:

This is switchback number 47. Which means there are only 46 left.

I told you it looks like a spaghetti noodle.

These faces say "We did it!". And also, "I can't believe we are paying a ton of money to come here and hurt ourselves."

Another shot of the pass road up. Craziness.

Meanwhile, I was driving back to pick up Craig Hale, the fourth geramigo that has had a miserable time just getting here; wait til he starts riding tomorrow. His plane leaving Salt Lake was delayed, then he wasn’t able to land in New York so they rerouted him to Pittsburgh, then he stayed the night at a hotel in New York, then finally arrived in Milan this morning. He also really stunk, as he hadn’t showered or changed clothes in 3 days. But because we were already so far away, he had to hop on a train and meet me in a little town called Sondrio. I picked him up there this afternoon and we spent 4 hours (remember, no showering...) in the car getting to Bormio, which is where we are staying tonight and tomorrow. He’s done really well and seems no worse for the wear, and we finally managed to meet up with the crew this evening at about 6:30.

A cool little chess set I found outside of a cafe in St. Morritz.

I think this is an appropriate time to talk about the GPS that I have. I borrowed it from my brother in-law Steve, and it has been a life-saver. However, every once in a while she (I can’t tell you what we call her; Greg made me promise not to. You’ll have to ask him) tells you to go the wrong way. Take tonight, for example. Senior Stinky and I were trying to come up the opposite side of the Stelvio Pass to meet them, and we had the coordinate in the GPS, but somehow it directed us to go up an entirely different way. The whole time I was driving I was saying that it felt like we were going the wrong way, but when we got to the top I asked the guard if we were at the Stelvio pass and he said “Dude… you’re about 2 hours away from there. You need to turn around, and on your way down I would throw that thing out the window.” So, we went back down, started up the right road, and found the riders.

One more item of notice: because “Greg” and “Craig” sound so alike, Greg is now going by Paolo and Craig is going by Antonio. Perhaps this isn’t quite fair, because the phrase “going by” implies that they have had some sort of choice in the matter; really, I’ve just decided to call them that. It makes life easier.

Ok, it’s late now, so I’m off to bed. Arrivederci!