Six days mountain-biking in glorious, green and sunny Switzerland nearly rendered me permanently blackened and bruised. Fortunately, I heal and (mostly) learn lessons quickly. Charging down steep and technical slopes on a rented bike on the first day on a bike (if you exclude the Parisian Velib, which we do) for nearly 18 months makes for one scratched-up chick. But pain is forgotten and scratches heal and now all I remember is the mountains, the laughs, and the incredible food at the chalet at Bike Verbier.
Thanks to my affable and patient British biking companions and to the wonderful Lucy who gave me many a sneaky tutorial, a well-timed encouraging word ("Don't look round the corner, just keep riding it!!") and an even better-timed slice of afternoon cake, I made it through the days. Our evenings were spent outside under the stars eating lots of incredible food, telling stories and nodding off into our glasses of wine.
Yes, french Switzerland was postcard perfect, the people friendly although slightly incomprehensible (my French is not quite up to dialects, yet...) and the riding superb.
It would be remiss of me not to include a pic of a friendly bell-laden cow:
And a shot of a lovely cobblestoned town:
And a cartwheel in a field:
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