Day Ride: Crans-Montana to Swiss Passes

Three of Europe’s most well-known mountain passes, all covered in one day of mind-bending scenery and nerve-wrenching hairpins.

Words & photography: Simon Murphy

A big GS blasted by, cranked so far over that I wondered how the hell it would recover. A second followed, the rider’s long blond plaited ponytail acting as a swingometer, as both bikes heaved one way then the other through the tight hairpin bends. I glanced in my mirror and saw the batwing fairing of a Harley hard on my tail, before looking forward again to see the BMWs disappear around the next bend. The Glide went through, too, leaving me with shame and admiration in equal measure. I tried to console myself with the fact the big cruiser wasn’t two-up, but it didn’t help.

All roads led to the mountains from Crans-Montana, my base for the few days I would spend in Switzerland, and it was from there with my lightened, luggage-free, Suzuki DL 1050XT, that I sped east along autoroute 9 (or autobahn or autostrada, depending on which part of the country you are in) towards Brig, intent on a day riding three of the most iconic passes in the Swiss Alps: Furka Pass, Susten Pass and Grimsel Pass. I was soon off the motorway and back on picturesque route 19 climbing the Rhône Valley, following my Beeline as it sent me ever upwards towards Obergoms. The road was quiet, open, and perfectly smooth; the land on each side dropping to scrub grass and meadows before rising rapidly to conifers and towering snow-capped rock. I passed through villages with churches that had onion-shaped spires and tall roadside chalets, each made of a dark, heavy wood that looked as if they would be capable of supporting a ton of snow in winter, while rising above any drift blown their way.

The climbs became less gradual, but the bends still swept rather than doubling back on themselves, something I knew was soon to come. It was very hot and when a tunnel appeared, I welcomed the cool darkness. The road weaved below sheer rock faces protected by sturdy canopies. I started to look down into valleys covered in trees. The real climb of Furka Pass started in Obergoms. Steep switchbacks had me craning my neck up and to the side, where the road I was following could be seen running parallel above.

After a couple of hairpins, I’d settled and sorted my approach, line through and exit. The tall Suzuki, with enough speed, didn’t falter in second gear and ran smoothly, confidently holding its path through every 180-degree turn. The now-abandoned Belvedere Hotel stood on the inside of one tight bend, as the road climbed sharply past the Rhône Glacier. Famous for its appearance in the 1964 Bond film, Goldfinger, the hotel was an obvious draw, but it was the car park and café opposite that provided a place to stop, look at the spectacular mountain vistas and generally take it all in. The Beeline’s next waypoint was Wassen, which took me through Hospental and Andermatt, from where I joined route 2 and headed north.

Being a simple ‘turn-by-turn’ device, the Beeline has no map detail on its dash-mounted display, so I don’t always get it right. There was a confusion of roads and roadworks in Andermatt, which had me flummoxed for a while, but sometimes with the Beeline you just have to stop and check with Google Maps. The road was now running close to autoroute 2, which cut its own straight path through the rocky slopes as we continued turning this way and that, sweeping now through the lower treelined slopes of mountains to come. The V-Strom glided along, the motor sweet. I have everything concerning the bike’s electronics set to maximum intrusion – engine management at its softest, ABS at its most aggressive, ditto traction control – and I suppose I could have given the throttle a bit more umph, but I’m used to it now, so I left as is and continued winding my right wrist through angles in harmony with the twists of the road.

From Wassen, the next destination for the Beeline was Innertkirchen, which would come after a near 30-mile run on route 11 across Susten Pass and some of the most spectacular, iconically Alpine views of the day. There would be 26 bridges and tunnels through the rock massive, and countless viewpoints. The Eiger wasn’t too far off, although not in view, but I wouldn’t have been surprised if it were, such was the grandeur of those snow-covered mountains.

We were heading for over 2000 metres above sea level on a road that can only be described as glorious, panoramic and breathtaking. Between the switchbacks there were miles of sweeping bends, sheer drops, tunnels and more of the awesome scenery I’d come all this way to enjoy.     

It cooled as we climbed and unsurprisingly, on such a sunny Saturday, there were hundreds of motorcycles out. The supermotos were obviously built with switchbacks in mind; the big adventure bikes were giving it their all; sports bikes screamed through; and even the cruisers held up their end; but they all had two things in common: Swiss number plates and the ability to pass me. Surrounded by the snow-covered peaks and climbing higher and higher, it became obvious why the Bond filmmakers had come; why companies like Porsche used the backdrop for promotion videos; and why this was surely motorcycling paradise.

I had another café stop before turning south on route 6 and heading back to Obergoms and the road to Crans-Montana. Grimsel Pass continued through the pristine mountain landscape, but the road felt a little straighter, with fewer hairpins and longer sweeps between rock faces on one side and Armco barriers above steep, tree-covered slopes on the other. Quaint Swiss villages came, and close to Gletsch, a lake with a large dam and hydroelectric plant. Then it was a long series of hairpins again before finally I was back on route 19 and riding to Brig and Crans-Montana. I filled up – fuel stations in the Rhône Valley came every few kilometres – and soon joined the autoroute, not forgetting to display the motorway vignette I’d bought at the border with France on arrival a few days earlier. There were just a couple of other motorcycles on the road, both happy to sit a few cars back.