After the technical opening drama of the first day, day 2 got off to a surprisingly conciliatory start: I had slept well.

This was not at all a matter of course, as Aalen had once again put on a great downtown program on Saturday evening. Loud cars, bawling, party atmosphere – in short: there was still a lot going on outside. But I was obviously so exhausted after the blinker, rest area, workshop and night drive that even that couldn’t do much more.

So in the morning we set off again, halfway recovered. The old lady turned left again, I was optimistic, and actually everything could have been quite relaxed now.

Of course it wasn’t. It was already humid at the start. Really humid. It was around 27 degrees and the air was so heavy that you were sweating before you even had your helmet on. Despite wearing summer clothes, summer gloves and a summer scarf, it felt more like a rolling laundry room.

On the way, I took a break in the shade to cool down a little. And right there I suddenly heard the rumble of a thunderstorm. Not directly above me, but close enough to take it seriously. So I checked the weather app. It quickly confirmed what the rumbling had already announced.

On the rain radar, a huge storm front was heading my way. And not just a bit of “light blue, it’ll be fine”. No, it was also purple. For me, purple in the rain radar means something like: as a motorcyclist, think carefully about whether you really want to go in there. So we continued with a clear goal: stay ahead of the front.

That worked surprisingly well at first. The radar claimed that the rain would still catch up with me at some point, but I hoped for the tried and tested mixture of timing, luck and a slight overestimation of my own abilities. To be on the safe side, I stopped at McDonald’s again, had a drink and waited briefly to see if the storm would really start.

It did not. So let’s move on.

The landscape in the Ostallgäu became more and more beautiful, but the weather wasn’t really any more relaxed. It remained around 26 degrees, humid, with a warm wind and the feeling that the air urgently needed to be aired out. Thunderstorms and heavy showers continued around me, but I stayed dry.

And then came the moment I had been looking forward to since April: the Alps appeared.

Snow-covered peaks, still a little hazy, but clearly there. No more distant hints, no more “they should be somewhere back there”, but real mountains right in front of your nose. After all the worrying about closed passes, weather, rain and technology, this was a pretty nice moment.

The Alps in front. The thunderstorms behind. In between, me and the old lady.

We continued towards Oberjoch and later to Haldensee. There, the day suddenly showed its friendly side: sunshine, 24 degrees and a light wind. Exactly the kind of wind that you not only notice after hours in humid air, but also welcome with applause.

I was even offered a free parking ticket in the parking lot. Just like that. Small gesture, big impact. Sometimes it’s moments like this on the road that stick with you. I stayed for a short while, enjoyed the view, the sun, the lake and this brief break between the thunderstorm radar and the onward journey.

When I wanted to leave again, there was still plenty of time left on the ticket. So I gave it away to an elderly couple who had just arrived. They were very happy about it. The man thanked me several times and was still looking after me as I drove out of the parking lot. A small gift like that costs nothing and still makes the day a little nicer for both parties.

Then we continued over the Hahntennjoch.

There was still snow at the top in places, but the hoped-for cooling still failed to materialize. The air was stubbornly humid, as if it had decided to accompany me personally today. Nevertheless: Hahntennjoch, mountains, curves, leftover snow – that’s exactly what I was out for.

I then drove through Imst and on towards Sautens. The accommodation was a little way behind, accessible via a very narrow road that felt like there was just enough room for one car. Two kilometers before the finish, the lightning app was still reporting lightning strikes in the area. So the weather was far from over. But I had stayed dry.

And then I arrived at Jolanda and Friedrich’s in Sautens. What a welcome. They were incredibly nice straight away and provided me with drinks. The old lady also got her well-deserved place: dry in the garage. After the first day with a faulty blinker, soldering iron and night driving, it felt almost luxurious.

Later, we had dinner with a view. And what a view it was: garden, mountains, dramatic clouds, green slopes and an atmosphere that automatically makes you shift down a gear.

With a view like this, the food tastes twice as good. Day two had thunderstorms on my neck, muggy air in my helmet and the first real Alpine moments under my nose. But in the end I was dry in Sautens, the old lady safely in the garage, and somewhere between a garden view and a mountain backdrop, it was clear:

Now the journey has really begun.

Conclusion: After the drama of the first day, we were finally rolling again. The Alps came into view, the biker’s heart beat noticeably faster – and with the first magnificent views, it felt as if the journey was making peace with its bumpy start.