Allow me a brief tangent.
Back in August of 2024, after touring along the Pamir Highway, I flew into Rome. I jumped on a train and re-built my bike just in time for the carriage to pull into Camucia, and with the light fading, pedalled up to Cortona, a hilltop town in Tuscany.
My summer of bikepacking was in full swing. I had converted the last of my emergency US dollars, and I intended for the €200 to last the two weeks I had planned in the Italian countryside.
Accommodation was free, Meg was occupying a single bed in the town’s convent, thanks to the kindness of the Sisters (I took the floor), and my appetite had shrunk from several weeks of high-altitude illness in Tajikistan. Occasionally I’d get a free pasta from Quanta Basta, the family run restaurant where Meg had spent the summer running plates, pouring wine, and tolerating Americans. Otherwise it was tins of fagioli and slices of margherita.
I spent the days cycling, busying the legs in preparation for the TransPyrenees Race, and the evenings becoming familiar with the faces of Enoteca, the bar that was televising the Paris Olympics and welcomed me because I’d shown an interest in local Etruscan archaeology.
It was the sort of two weeks that you might wait your whole life to retire for, but I think are best enjoyed at the age of twenty-eight, when you invite unexpected situations and have the energy to mix with strangers. Then again, who knows?
After a final trip to the lavanderia, my clothes no longer held the scents of Bishkek traffic, and I embarked on a full day of train travel to Milan. I arrived close to midnight, found myself a $28 coffin in a shared dormitory, and went to sleep.
The following morning, after a short train to Como, I set off on three days across Switzerland, carving through the Alps and descending towards the French Jura. Other than some wayward routing around Interlaken (due to road closures) I could recommend every kilometre of the journey with confidence. In this respect, perhaps this trip was a first of a kind.
Without sharing a full turn by turn route description, I’ll briefly make the case for this being included in your height-of-summer riding plans.
Como is only one hour train from Milan, which is well connected for anyone pursuing a no-fly holiday. And Italy, well, San Marzono tomatoes and arancini - what a way to load up for a few days of cycling.
The route includes three iconic Alpine climbs: Tremola San Gottardo, Furka Pass (Wes Anderson hotel), Grimsel Pass.
Swiss asphalt is in immaculate condition.
There are camping options along the route (in Andermatt and Interlaken) to dodge unaffordable accommodation prices.
Also, I have a lovely friend in the town of Burgdorf, Bruno (friend I made in Tajikistan), who might be willing to host you.
The transition into the Jura is beautiful: softer and more comforting than the dramatic peaks of the Alps.
Finishing a bike trip in France is always great. And, again, well connected on TGV/TER rail to the rest of Europe.
Route at a glance
Start: Como, Italy
Finish: Belfort, France
Distance / Elevation: 447km / +6570m
Highlights: Tremola San Gottardo, Furka Pass, Grimsel Pass, bars of ovaltine chocolate.
Terrain: Road
More of this coming throughout 2026. Any questions in the comments welcome!