Day 1 started late on Sunday night as the five participants met at Newton Abbot station at 11.45pm.  Our bikes had been dismantled and packed into special £40 bike bags that Eurostar had insisted we buy in order to take our bikes with us to France.  The overnight sleeper train arrived on time and it wasn't long before we were enjoying a comfortable night in sleeper bunks, soothed by the gentle sway of the train gliding effortlessly over the track.

Complimentary orange juice and biscuits at 5.20am did little to prepare us for what proved to be a tough journey across London from Paddington to Waterloo.  Our bike bags were not especially heavy, but the shoulder and hand straps became very painful after a few minutes of walking.  And of course we had panniers and bar bags to carry as well.  Oliver's mother had prepared some towel handles for his bag, but the rest of us had to improvise with gloves and items of clothing.  It was with great relief that we stowed the bags on the Eurostar train before taking our seats on the 7.35 departure.

The train to Paris was comfortable and fast, giving us plenty of opportunity to catch up on some sleep.  At Paris Gare du Nord we reassembled the bikes while Michael explored the possibility of leaving the bags at the station for two weeks.  The quoted charge was around £70 per bag, so we thanked them very much and strapped the folded bags onto the panniers!  We whiled away a few pleasant hours on the banks of the Seine before catching our final train from Gare de l'Est to Basel in Switzerland.

Our reserved seats on the crowded SNCF train were already occupied by other passengers who seemed unwilling to give them up.  The guard seemed keen to help out, so he opened up a special air-conditioned compartment adjacent to our bikes and gave us exclusive occupancy rights!  Soaring, thundery temperatures left us all suffering a little, but we were probably the most comfortable passengers on the train.

At 7.50pm we finally arrived in Switzerland.  Our first night was to be at Mariastein-Rotberg youth hostel, about 10 miles out of the town and close to the village of Flüh.  We were immediately struck by the cleanliness and peace of the town - and were entertained by the funny German names that resembled English words.  The final climb in the dark was a little painful after such a long day, but eventually we found our way to the hostel and dragged our luggage up the hundreds of steps to the chateau entrance.

Switzerland has had the good sense to set up a set of nine national cycling routes that cross the country in all directions.  All the routes are clearly signposted on the ground, leading cyclists along gentle gradients and quiet cycle paths whenever possible.  We had a choice of routes today: backtrack to Basel along route 7, follow route 3 over the mountains (779m) to Aarau and then take the level route 5 to Solothurn, or take a shorter, more direct and more scenic mountain route that was only a local cycle route and climbed to 943m.   The latter sounded more attractive even though we had no clear maps for the central part of the route, so we set off with eager anticipation.

We arrived at the village of Laufen after just 10 miles of climb and descent, so we bought lunch at the local shopping centre and enjoyed it by the roadside.  The big climb began shortly afterwards, taking us along numerous hairpin climbs through typical Swiss mountain scenery.  After catching the tail-end of the thunderstorm we eventually reached the top, only to find that our route was taking us down a very, very long descent to a village that we could see a long way below.  We double checked our route as well as we could, but our worst fears proved correct: there would be another long climb to follow. 

Our late start was now coming back to haunt us, but we struggled on and finally reached the 943m pass with nothing but downhill ahead of us.  We maintained excellent speed all the way to the youth hostel, finishing with a lengthy cycle path that followed the river Aare for miles.  We were certainly beginning to like the Swiss cycle routes!

On leaving the hostel we located a cycle shop where Michael could buy a replacement tyre, then we set off to follow Route 5 down river.  The path took us through fields of sunflowers and sweetcorn, and then alongside the river Aare.  Suddenly, near Altreu, we were stopped in our tracks by the site of a white stork in its huge, untidy nest on the roof of a house.  These rare birds thrive in the traditional agriculture of this region, and we saw several more birds and nests during the course of the next half an hour.  There are around 100 pairs in Switzerland, reintroduced since 1948.

We stopped briefly to explore the village of Büren with its impressive wooden entrance bridge, destroyed by a fire in 1789 but reconstructed in 1989.  Boats using the river must be constructed to be especially low in order to pass under the bridge.  We bought some of the superb yoghurt drinks that we had grown to like so much, then proceeded to Biel and the Bieler lake.  At Mörigen we enjoyed lunch by the lakeside, entertained by a family of children playing in the water and, later, by our own frisbees.  Pressing on through Lüscherz we soon found ourselves at Thielle with a difficult decision to make.  We were staying at a hotel that night with no possibility of a self-catering kitchen.  We were at the head of another long lake.  Our hotel was part way down the south side, but the only shops were towards Neuchâtel, part way down the north side.   We decided to make the detour, and found a huge Migros shopping centre in Epagnier which provided us with good food and comfortable seats for its consumption.  This was now definitely French-speaking Switzerland.  An enormous mound of burning straw in a field turned out to be a demonstration by the local fire service.

Under the main road bridge was the most incredible BMX track we had ever seen.  If the signs hadn't pointed out that it was only for the use of club members we would almost certainly have given it a try!

Now, finally, we faced the prospect of a little climbing - a gentle 200m climb over 20 miles.  As we reached Golion in sweltering temperatures we got our first glimpse of the world famous Lake Geneva, and soon afterwards we were riding through forest tracks on our way to Lausanne.  Pausing at the side of the vast lake we suddenly realised that whilst the Swiss have no coastline, their many lakes offer a superior replacement.  There was a sandy beach, children playing in dinghies and swimming, people sailing boats as part of a club - all the fun of the beach was taking place here on the lake.  We could easily have tarried longer.

Proceeding to Ouchy we discovered that we had passed the hostel again, but we noted the take-away food bar for possible use later.  Lausanne hostel turned out to be very large, very modern and very uninspiring.  It was obviously used frequently as a conference centre, and whilst it was comfortable and clean it lacked the character that we have come to expect from youth hostels - and a members' kitchen!  We had some difficulty finding rooms with opening windows - we would probably have suffocated if we had stayed in the rooms we were originally offered.

It was at Vevy that we had to switch to Route 9, heading up into the mountains.  Vevey is another lakeside town like Lausanne with delightful tree-lined walks and statues.  We soon found Route 9 and proceeded to follow the signs, but after ten minutes we noticed that we were heading further along the lake, towards Montreaux.  Clearly Route 9 started at Montreaux, not Vevey, so we must have missed a sign pointing in the other direction.  Retracing our steps we soon found the offending sign, almost completely hidden from view by the leaves of the tree in which it was mounted.

Even though we had planned to move quickly it was still nearly lunchtime when we started the long climb into the mountains.  Once again the sun made the going tough, but we pressed on through more rural scenery and settled down for lunch near the road at Châtel St Denis.  There was a seat but no shade, so we couldn't stay there too long.  Around the next few corners we came across a marshall for a cycle race who spoke excellent English.  She couldn't believe her ears when we told her we were headed for Château d'Oex, and advised us to stop chatting and get cycling!  Groups of cyclists were passing us on the other side for several miles afterwards, all keen to out-cycle the other teams - we thought they must be training for the Tour de France!

Bulle was our next stop, offering another supermarket for yoghurt drinks and evening meals.  Michael also availed himself of the opportunity to purchase a French / English dictionary, to help him with the translation of our French guide book.  We still had a good way to go, so we quickly returned to the saddles and set about following Route 9 past another lake and through Gruyeres (famous for its cheese) to the quiet back roads again.

During the tour we passed through many small villages, and nearly all of them boasted a public water trough fed by fresh spring water emanating from an overhanging pipe.  Today the trough at Le Bu, adjacent to an unusual polygonal chapel, proved just what the doctor ordered, its cool waters making an excellent cooling agent and the pipe offering top quality refills for our water bottles.  The heat really was tiring.

The final sprint of the day took us through a low pass into an adjacent mountain valley, and then onwards and upwards to the small town of Château d'Oex.  The hostel was easy to find, but the warden less so: she seemed to be a part-time warden who looked after the hostel as a chore, and it took several rings of the bell before she came down from her private room.  Her desire to be left undisturbed for the evening meant that she was more than willing to let us use her main kitchen for our evening meals, so we eagerly set about learning how to use catering-style gas cookers and can openers.  She even said we could help ourselves to milk and pay in the morning!  Several flies were zapped by the "SuperZap 5" fly extermination machine while we were eating our meal in the dining room.

Today's route was to take us right up to the base of the Swiss Alps.  Without further ado we set off along relatively easy roads, passing the picturesque village of Rougemont with its melancholy church bell.  Next stop was Gstadd, bustling with activity as we rode down its main shopping street.   A German gentleman insisted on using our camcorder to take some shots of the whole group before we continued along the street, doing our best not to knock anyone over.  We would all have liked the opportunity to stop here for a while, but our plans for an earlier arrival at the hostel would not allow it.

The famous Crystal Panoramic Express train passed several times as we climbed out of the valley towards Saanen-möser at a height of 1279m.  The views were spectacular.  From there we had plenty of downhill to speed us along our way, taking us through Zweisimmen (the confluence of two rivers) and then along several interesting sections of riverside path, most with a gentle downhill gradient.  This region, known as Simmental, is famous for its luxurious Swiss houses and the wild waters of the river Simme, as well as for its speckled breed of Simmental cattle.  We certainly saw many examples of all three as we rode down river.

It was along one of the riverside tracks that Oliver had his little accident.  Michael had been setting a moderate but safe pace at the front of the group, but Oliver decided it wasn't fast enough and rode past with a smug grin all over his face.  Seconds later he had come off on a bend, sporting cuts to hands and knees and a bad elbow graze.  It took a little time to patch up the damage, but he was able to ride so we were soon back on the bikes again.

The final lap to Spiez was fast and furious until our cycle route traversed a huge gorge near Wimmis.  The cycle path had been suspended precariously under a road bridge and was made of a transparent steel mesh that enabled a clear view to the depths below!

Most railways couldn't be considered for such a steep climb, but the Swiss have a solution with their special 3-track, cog-wheel trains.  We paid around £29 each for the return ticket from Interlaken (567m) through the ski resort of Wengen (1274m) to Kleine Scheidagg (2061m), and the views were certainly breathtaking.  A breakdown in the train ahead of us meant a transfer to bus for a small section in the lower reaches, but soon we were back on track again and heading towards high mountain peaks with real glaciers.  We considered taking the final leg of the journey up to Jungfraujoch, the highest station in Europe at 3454m, but the additional price tag of £40 didn't really seem justified, especially as most of the journey was via mountain tunnel and the top of the mountain was shrouded with cloud.  Luke was disappointed, but I'm sure he'll return again one day to finish the journey.

Kleine Scheidagg itself consisted of just a station, a few shops, several restaurants and a multitude of hardy goats resplendent with traditional Swiss bells.  After looking over some of the restaurants we selected an outdoor pizza takeaway where the pizzas were cooked in special open-air wood-burning bakehouses.  The flavour was certainly excellent.  Many cyclists were circulating the paths around us, and we quickly realised that bringing the bikes up on one-way tickets could well have proved a much cheaper and more enjoyable way of finishing the round trip!

There was just time for some more photographs before we took the return train via Grindelwald.  It was on this section that disaster befell Oliver: his expensive 64Mb memory stick from his expensive Sony camera flipped across the carriage, landed on the rear part of a fold-up seat and promptly fell through a crack in the floor when Oliver tried to retrieve it.  He looked in vain for a ledge on which the stick may have landed, but the clear view to the track below left him with no hope whatsoever.

Progress was steady, although at one point we thought that a landslide on the scree slopes far above us would end our adventure prematurely.  At Guttanen (1057m) we stopped briefly to look at one of the crystal museums, displaying smoked quartz and other minerals found in the nearby area.  Some were enormous, and many were mounted still located on their base rocks.

A lunch stop on a grassy bank overlooking the fast-flowing river was followed by further climbing along hairpins, through tunnels, past many noisy Swiss cattle with their clattering bells, past the Räterichshoden reservoir at 1767m and on to Grimsel lake at 1909m.  Along the way we were joined briefly by an overladen Dutch cyclist who was half way through a solo round-Europe tour.  He certainly had staying power, but he agreed that it was more fun with two, and that he had brought far too much luggage.  We had to stop for water and refreshments at a roadside cafe, which seemed to be the only real sign of habitation in an otherwise desolate area.

Soon we had climbed the final hairpins to the Grimsel pass at 2165m, and the sight that awaited us was quite breathtaking: a sudden drop to 624m to the tiny village of Gletsch which we could see nestling in the valley below us.  The route down involved numerous hairpin  bends, all of which could be seen from our vantage point.  The route out on the other side could also be seen, however, with its intimidating set of hairpins taking us back up another 674m past a prominent glacier.  This was clearly going to be a tough finale.

The downhill took little more than 8 minutes and was truly exhilarating.  It was around 5.30 when we reached the bottom, however, and we were already tired from our earlier climbing.  The first real drizzle of the tour swept in as we reached the half-way point on the climb, and by the time we reached the Furkapass at 2431m we were cold, damp, hungry and tired.  It was quite an achievement, though: this was not only the highest road of the tour, but also the highest road any of us had ever ridden.  Ahead of us lay 15 miles of solid, steady downhill riding that proved to be one of the most enjoyable descents of the tour.  We might have enjoyed it even more if our hands had not been so cold, but the temperature increased noticeably as we descended.  Had it been worth the effort of bringing the tour to the mountains?  The unanimous decision was that it had been the highlight of the tour.

It was nearly dark when we arrived at the tiny village of Hospental at 1452m.  It was fairly primitive by Swiss standards, but it had a kitchen and some very powerful showers that turned backs into tea-strainers in seconds.  The routine was interrupted briefly when the shower failed to accept any more coins, and with the wardens having "gone home" there seemed little chance of getting it fixed.  No phone numbers had been left for us, but fortunately Michael had brought a number from the hostel web site: they were willing to come out to fix the shower, but their first question concerned how I had found their telephone number!

Shopping at Andermatt Coop was followed by an early morning climb to Oberalp pass (2044m) in brilliant sunshine.   What followed was probably 15 miles of uninterrupted downhill all the way to Disentis - another fabulous experience.

The source of the Rhine was nearby, and now we were following the Anterior Rhine for the rest of the day.  Our cycle route detoured from the main road to include some quiet tracks and forests on the other side of the river.  Soon we were riding on level riverside tracks for miles as we made excellent progress through to Ilanz.  From here the river continued through the treacherous Rinaulta canyon - often names the Grand Canyon of Switzerland - so our route took us on a long and gradual climb to the south, through many peaceful villages.  The descent on the other side was long and took us over a precarious bridge (that Tao could easily rock!), along a dangerous cycle path with panoramic views of the canyon and shear drops to the left, and past yet more vineyards.

After a little more up and down riding past the confluence of the anterior and posterior Rhines, we arrived at our planned destination for the night: Felsberg.  There were no youth hostels in the area, so Michael had been forced to find other accommodation for the night.  There were several hotels costing roughly twice the price of a hostel, but when he found a b&b for around the cost of the cheapest hostel, he had booked it straight away by email.  We had an address to go by, and after searching every street in the town we eventually found the place .. a farm on the edge of the village.  The first people we met didn't speak any English but directed us with hand signals to take our bikes into the barn.  When they then opened another door and showed us into a small stable we began to get a little worried.  There was some lovely clean straw laid out in the concrete animal bays and some greasy-looking blankets piled up on a shelf opposite.  Several flies buzzed angrily on the inside of the tiny wire mesh windows, and all of us started itching ever so slightly.  At this moment the husband appeared, and he managed a little English.  Michael laughed with him, saying we had thought for one moment that they expected us to sleep on the straw.  He laughed back, and said that was exactly what they expected us to do.  Michael laughed a little more and asked if we would have to go milk the cow for breakfast next morning as well: he laughed back and said that breakfast wasn't included in the price.  Michael asked how we were supposed to get any sleep on straw: he showed us how to mould the straw into a pillow and lay the blanket over the top.  He said we were supposed to have sleeping bags, but we could probably manage without as it was quite warm.  Michael asked if there was a kitchen we could use: he told us there was no kitchen and they didn't do meals.

This was all too much for Oliver, who was tired, hungry and used to life's luxuries.  He refused point blank to sleep on straw.  In fact, he almost refused to even try making a bed on the straw.  Tao, although not quite so vocal, was of a similar mind, so there was nothing for it but start the search for new accommodation at 7.30pm.  The farmer said he would quite understand if we chose not to stay there, so we set off to try the local hotel and restaurant.

As one might have expected, they had no vacancies, so Michael referred to the list of cycle-friendly accommodation in the cycling guide and picked a cheapish but modern-looking hotel in the nearby town of Chur and contacted them with Oliver's mobile phone.  They had vacancies, so off we set once again, hoping to arrive before darkness fell.

The hotel was shaped like a pyramid and situated on a traffic island in an out of town shopping area.  The bottom floor of the building was principally dedicated to a McDonalds restaurant.  In fact the rooms turned out to be very comfortable, and whilst the McDonalds meal was less than adequate in many ways we spent an enjoyable night luxuriating in soft sheets and hot showers.

We followed the Rhine downstream through Zizers and Landquart and on through the vineyards of Malans, Jenins and Maienfield to Fläsch.  Here our route took us on a path right beside the now large river, the water being a glacial grey colour.  We took the opportunity to test the water temperature, and would have been very happy to spend a few hours just laying there in the morning sunshine.

Now was the time to leave Route 2 and the Rhine to rejoin the Lakes Route (9) from the northern end of the country.  The going remained easy and quiet as we rode through Flums to Walenstadt, and remained easy all the way along the length of the enormous Walen lake.  Near the end of the lake the road and cycle path went through two adjacent tunnels in the mountain, the cycle path having periodic unglazed windows to the lake on the right and the highway on the left.  It really was an unusual experience.

The cycle signs let us down at the Bilten roundabout, and we inadvertently ended up following the wrong cycle route for a mile or so.  We quickly backtracked, however, and were soon following the Linth canal to Schmerikon, where a quick refreshment stop prepared us for the final sprint to Rapperswill.

It took us twenty minutes to find the hostel, which as usual was not signposted at all form our direction.  It really was a very good hostel, located in a meadow setting to the south of the town.  There was no kitchen, so the food we had brought with us was useless, but the warden here showed us an information sheet we had not previously seen which told us which hostels had kitchens!  As luck would have it, neither of the final two hostels had kitchens either.  We had arrived too late for the hostel meal, so after settling into our rooms we rode the short distance to the nearby Sports restaurant, situated adjacent to some very impressive sports facilities that included a large number of professional indoor and outdoor tennis courts.

The next few miles took us past the last big area of preserved high-swamp in Switzerland.  Peat was removed in the past but the area is now conserved for the animals and plants that thrive there.  Once we reached the village of Rothenthurm, height 923m, the rest of the day was pretty much downhill or flat, so we sat back and enjoyed the ride.  The first descent brought us to Sattel, at the head of lake Ägeri, and a seat by the side of the lake seemed an ideal spot for lunch.  The cowbells echoing quietly across the lake helped make our stop particularly pleasant.  It was here that we discovered the fastest Mallard ducks in the world, making mad dashes across the water to be sure of getting our bread scraps first!  Cowbells echoed quietly across the lake.

Just 4½ miles of level riding brought us to the other end of the lake and the small town of Unterägeri.  Swiss road-builders showed us how to do a professional job on sealing the join between two sections of tarmac whilst some of us bought more food from the local delicatessen, then there was more downhill for miles to the lakeside town of Zug.  This was a new lake - Zuger - at a lower level than the last but just as enormous.  We quickly found our way to the lakeside where there was a small market selling and demonstrating local crafts - the blacksmith making an axe kept us all enthralled for half an hour!

Riding along the lake front with its avenues of trees we noticed an ice cream hut in the shade: we were all thirsty with the sun beating down on us, so we decided we could definitely afford a ten-minute stop in this beautiful setting.  The church bells of Zug rang out in the distance, making us feel as though we were in some kind of heaven - we really could have stayed there for the rest of the afternoon, just laying on the grass in the shade of those trees with the sun reflecting off the lake in front of us.

The path took us around the northern end of Lake Zuger, past the village of Cham and several fields of sunflowers and thence to the final riverside path to Lucerne which seemed to go on for miles.  We arrived at the Lucerne lake front by just after 5.30 and, after viewing the information map of the town, realised we shouldn't have come so far down.  On the other hand we had hoped to do a little souvenir shopping in the town, and since there would be no time next morning we made use of the opportunity now while we were there.  A torrential thunderstorm blasted the streets for the few minutes we were in the shop, but minutes later it had departed, leaving us pleasant evening sunshine for our final ride through the intriguing cobbled streets.

Lucerne hostel was another modern building with a huge reception lobby, a spacious first floor restaurant, card-operated dormitory locks and motion-activated lighting.  There must have been a fault in our washroom, however, as the lights went off while we were in the shower and wouldn't switch back on again no matter how much we moved!  Tao was even caught in the lavatory - opening the door and waving his hand about didn't make a scrap of difference.  The restaurant meal offered excellent value and then, for once on the tour, we actually had a little time to just sit around and chat before we went to bed.  What a luxury!

For many more miles we followed the riverside path with no sign of shops in any direction.  When the small village of Schöftland rose up before us we all took the plunge in the hope of finding a supermarket for yoghurt drinks.  There was a supermarket, but the local bakery seemed a much better idea when we saw the range of cakes and fancies on offer.  Our favourite was a solid banana-shaped cake that turned out to be made from a banana soaked in some delicious juices, coated with special jams and finished with an all-over chocolate layer - expensive, but delicious.

Pressing on again we managed to reach Aarau by lunchtime.  The route took us right into the shopping area of the town, attractively pedestrianised and laid out with hundreds of bicycle stands, a childrens' play area and a small park.  Having purchased our food there was no argument whatsoever about settling down in the shade of a tree and watching the locals cycle and walk about their business.

Now came the final climb of the tour as we rode the quiet tracks and roads to Rohr, where the presence of a local water trough once again provided welcome relief from the sweltering heat.  The 963m pass was a welcome site when it honed into view, and the lengthy descent on the other side offered a cooling breeze that revived us all.  One more refill from the mountain spring at Rotherfluh gave us all the refreshment we needed for the final haul through the rail-side towns of Sissach and Liestal, bringing us finally to Basel youth hostel by 6.30.  This had been our longest day of cycling, and we could all feel it.

When we came down for our meal we were told that the dining room was being used for a function, so we had to wait in the common room for a member of staff to serve us there.  The common room consisted of two tables, each of which could take perhaps 5 people, but one was piled high with books and luggage and the other was in use by other hostellers who were eating a meal.  We stood around for a while until a coloured gentleman came in who spoke virtually no English whatsoever.  We tried to explain that one of us was vegetarian, but we might have made more progress by conversing with the table.  He went away to fetch the food, still leaving us standing: we were tired and hungry, and this didn't feel like it was worth £5!  After a while we cleared the other table ourselves and sat down, and then, sure enough, the meals emerged.  They looked rather unappetising, but they tasted good and were not undersized.

For some of us the day's cycling was not yet over.  Our bike bags were still at Mariastein-Rotberg hostel, and they had to be collected.  Tao and Oliver volunteered to fetch them, passing up the option of using the free tram service, whilst Gavin, Michael and Luke worked out and practiced the journey to the station that would have to be made next morning in record time.  It was gone 11pm when we finally got to bed.

And so it was that we said farewell to the country that had been our host for nearly two weeks.  We were sad to leave in many ways, feeling that we would miss the mountains and cycle paths, the lakes and the sunshine.  Our SNCF train to Paris was luxurious by comparison with our outward train: spacious, air-conditioned, comfortable and quiet - so quiet in fact that we all spent much of the journey asleep in our seats.  The train was on time of course, so we had plenty of time to ride through Paris to Gare du Nord, dismantle our bikes, pack them in the bike bags and buy baguettes and pastries for the Eurostar train.

In stark contrast to our journey from England, everybody and everything was checked for the return journey.  Our bike bags and luggage were scanned - the monitors clearly showed the frame and wheels inside.  We had to show passports, and we had to answer questions from immigration.  When all that was done there was only just time to heave our luggage onto the train before it was time to leave.  I can't think why, but we managed to get some more sleep on the Eurostar!  And this time, since we had absolutely no intention of going through the pain of carrying the bike bags across London again, we reassembled the bikes as soon as we got off the train.

The final part of our journey wasn't totally smooth, as Waterloo underground station wouldn't allow us to board trains there with bikes because "the station is so deep".  We had experienced no such problems when coming out of the underground two weeks earlier, but now we were told to ride across the Thames to Westminster underground station and board the circle line there!  We began to wish we hadn't reassembled the bikes after all!  The traffic was horrendous, but at least we got to see Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament as a bonus for our trip.