Up! Up! Up!” The words were softly pronounced, barely justifying the exclamation marks, as if the overalls-clad man, having registered the grimace on my face, feared shouting would cause me to topple over. And up, up, up I’d gone. With 6,200m of elevation in 222km over three days, the Haute Route Davos, based in Europe’s highest city, was certainly living up to its name.
“Up! Up! Up!” - that universal call to climbing cyclists - accompanied me and my fellow participants in this Swiss sportive. It rang out from the wooden eaves of village chalets and farmyards, from the mouths of schoolgirls and grandmothers. The cows tinkled their bells too, I’ll never know if in support.
No amount of rolling hills of home can prepare you for high, Swiss climbs stretching beyond the hour-mark: their lack of respite, their paradoxical monotony among the awe-inspiring scenery. As a rider said to me on the last day: “You really threw yourself in at the deep end.”
The event organiser Haute Route runs multi-day sportives in Europe’s most hallowed cycling arenas. The five-day Haute Route Pyrénées and Haute Route Dolomites along with the seven-day Haute Route Alps run point to point. The stages are up
