The night in Bellinzona was pleasantly quiet. The old lady was allowed to spend the night in an underground garage for ten francs and was finally dry for once. An investment that paid off, because when I looked out of the window in the morning, it was already raining. At least the clothes had survived an involuntary lemonade shower the night before and were dry again, smelling lemony fresh.

For breakfast we had a Nutella muffin and a cappuccino, which got a solid three out of five coffee cups. Not a highlight, but perfectly fine. Then we set off towards the Nufenen Pass.

The rain continued to accompany me at first. I was on the road for over two hours while the clouds spread their load over the Alps. While the cars were piling up at the Gotthard, I drove comfortably past the highway. The tunnel was closed at times and the vehicles were far behind. But that wasn’t a problem for me. After all, Pawtrail doesn’t mean tunnels, but passes.

The closer I got to the Nufenen Pass, the colder it got. After the twenty-five degrees the day before, the twelve degrees felt surprisingly fresh. Once I reached the top, temperatures of around six to seven degrees, lots of snow and, unfortunately, lots of clouds awaited me. The really great view was therefore denied. Nevertheless, the Nufenen Pass was something special for me today. It was my first time on the road and it was also the snowiest pass of this trip. The real highlight, however, were the mountain goats that stood in the middle of the road and were unimpressed by the passing motorcycles.

After so much rain and cold, it was time for something warm. We had spaghetti bolognese. We’d rather not talk about the price. Let’s put it this way: the spaghetti from the day before suddenly seemed like a special offer. It still tasted great and with sun, clouds, wind and a pleasant fourteen degrees, the world felt a lot friendlier.

We then continued over the Grimsel Pass. Motorcyclists immediately understand why this pass is so popular. The bends simply flow into each other perfectly. It is incredibly pleasant to ride and is still one of the most beautiful passes in Switzerland for me. Today you could hardly keep your left hand down. There was so much motorcycle traffic on the passes that I felt like I was saying hello more than shifting gears. Nufenen, Grimsel and later Furka were firmly in the hands of bikers.

I deliberately skipped the Furka Pass at first. Not because I don’t like it, but because I already know it. Just like Grimsel and Susten, there are already reports and pictures on Pawtrail Adventures. So today I wanted to ride more than take photos.

At least that was the plan.

Because a surprise was waiting on the Susten Pass. Closed. The planned remaining stage suddenly turned into a major detour. Instead of a good hour’s drive, the sat nav now showed three hours and 164 kilometers to go. So back we went. Grimsel once again. And yet another Furka. Honestly? There are far worse places for a detour.

I made a short stop at the Belvedere. However, it was packed there. Motorcycles, cars and people everywhere. So I quickly moved on. Shortly afterwards, I had one of the best moments of the day.

While most of the visitors stayed on the main road, I turned left onto an old gravel road. I had heard somewhere that there was an old fortress up there. And indeed – I found it. An old Swiss military fortress, excellently preserved and practically deserted. While there were streams of visitors down below, up here I had peace, history and a fantastic view of the Rhone Glacier.

The fortress is one of the former Swiss defensive structures on the Furka Pass, which were once built to secure the important Alpine crossings. Today it stands almost forgotten above the well-known route. What was even more surprising, however, was that hardly anyone took any notice of it. No crowds, no cars, no queues – nobody was here. Just the mountains, the fortress and the view. From there, a path led even further towards the Rhone Glacier. The first snowfields were already visible. From the footprints in the snow, you could guess that some hikers were already out and about here, but I simply didn’t have the time today. Due to the closure of the Susten Pass, the schedule had already been thrown out of kilter anyway.

If the Susten Pass had been open, I would probably never have ended up here. A more than adequate and surprising compensation for the closed pass road.

There was a refreshment stop later in Andermatt. A nut croissant, a salami mutschli and a cappuccino were to provide for the evening. And then came the coffee. My rating scale actually ends at five cups of coffee. Not this cappuccino. Six out of five coffee cups. Perfect temperature, perfect milk foam and simply excellent taste. The best cappuccino of the entire trip so far.

The route finally led me on towards Seedorf. I took a wonderfully winding route parallel to the Gotthard highway through the valley. While the traffic jammed up on the highway, I was able to enjoy the bends and relax at the end of the day. After days of speaking Italian, it was also a relief to hear German again. The language barrier disappeared and many things immediately became less complicated.

In the evening, I was drawn to Lake Uri. Nestled between the Alps, it lay quietly before me and provided a worthy end to this long day of riding. Interestingly, this showed once again how important it is to choose the right navigation. While Google Maps and Apple Maps had sent me along the main road, Komoot led me along small paths through fields, along a stream and with wonderful views of the mountains on the way back. Almost a bit like Pawtrail on foot.

Back at the accommodation, however, an unpleasant surprise awaited me. When I parked the old lady, I initially wondered why she was so difficult to push. The reason was quickly found: The rear tire was flat. Completely flat. Of all things, the tire that had only been fitted shortly before the trip.

On closer inspection, I discovered something in the tread. I couldn’t tell whether it was a nail, screw or something else. One thing was certain: there was no air left. I used my small electric pump to bring the tire back up to two bar. Now it was time to wait.

Tomorrow is Sunday. Garages are not open and the question is no longer which passes I will ride. The question is rather: Will the tire still have air tomorrow morning?

Conclusion: Even though the day began wet, cold and tiring, it ended with the feeling of having been on the right track. Perhaps it’s not the perfect plans that make a trip special, but the detours, the small discoveries and the moments when a problem suddenly becomes a story.