In the wild heart of the Abula Alps

As dreamy as our campsite was, it was bitterly cold up there. So, early in the morning, I crawled out of my sleeping bag shivering slightly, eagerly awaiting the first rays of sunshine that would soon reach us. My thoughts were already somewhat uneasy about the challenges that this day would bring. I had very little information about the pass we wanted to reach. I didn't know how to get up there or if the trail would be rideable with our luggage afterwards. Plan B would be to push the bikes all the way back down to the Albulapass.

But Plan B shouldn't become a real alternative, so we filled ourselves up with a hearty portion of porridge, bid farewell to the Trio Infernale that was already watching us lustfully from a safe distance, and shouldered our bikes. In front of us was a steep ramp that rose up like a wall, then somehow ended in steep rock walls. Pushing up there was sweaty and a bit unstable on the loose scree, but still doable. But then came the first rock wall, and the path became even steeper and continued up over several rock steps. There was no other way, we had to dismount and push twice - first with the luggage, and then again with the bike. Over rocks, through pathless terrain, and over snow fields. Until we finally stood at 2900 meters on top of the pass. Pretty exhausted, but rewarded with a fantastic view over the entire Parc Ela, the largest nature park in Switzerland.

Fortunately, the trail that was supposed to take us to Preda was actually rideable and far exceeded our expectations. First, a line snaked through a huge slope covered in loose slate. Not easy to ride, we somehow balanced ourselves through a barren landscape like something from another planet. The material was also put to the test, with broken spokes from falling rocks and flat tires. Then we entered a wonderfully constructed path, which led us in gentle curves amidst mighty rock walls through a deserted wilderness to a small alpine pasture. The crowning finale was a flowy and easy meadow trail that meandered endlessly in tight hairpin turns all the way to Preda. Then civilization had us back.

After a short descent on asphalt, we arrived in the quaint Bergün in the late afternoon, much later than expected and somewhat battered. Unfortunately, the main climb of the day was still ahead of us. We had to climb over 1200 meters again to the foot of Piz Kesch, the highest peak in the Albula Alps. Since the path was designated as a bike route, we were spared the additional carrying sections that we had feared, and with some cheerful pushing, we reached the Keschhütte, the highest point of an isolated high valley, where we set up our camp in the midst of a treeless tundra landscape reminiscent of Norway.

Fortunately, after these two days, it was clear that Hans had passed his baptism of fire with flying colors. Now, not much could go wrong anymore, and the next few days were expected to be somewhat more relaxed.