In This Swiss Alpine Valley, Ride the Ferrari of Bikes Up the Pass 007 Raced

Andermatt is a destination unknown to me, a small village on the way to Milan from Zurich. Surrounded by alpine pastures and rocky peaks, cyclists find themselves at the foot of the climb for Oberalp Pass, Saint-Gothard Pass, and the emblematic Furka Pass. While Furka may not ring a bell by its name, its image is almost instantly recognizable worldwide: the road to the top, and the Hotel Belvedere with its view over the Rhône Glacier, are part of the 1964 James Bond classic Goldfinger.

The new part of Andermatt is called Andermatt Reuss for the Reuss River that flows next to the resort part of Andermatt, which has been in development since the late 2000s. Today, it’s blossomed into a pedestrian-friendly space with luxury hotels, fully outfitted apartment buildings for short stays and year-round residents, upscale shopping, and restaurants. It’s difficult not to notice the Ferraris at the entrance of the Radisson Blu Hotel, where I’ll be staying. My Dacia Duster looks out of place, but the hotel itself feels warm right away. A central fireplace anchors the lobby, with a large space to the side for the Bär Bar.

I also feel a bit out of place when I enter the BMC bicycle showroom just a few minutes’ walk from the hotel. But immediately, Lee Hewett approaches me and calms my fears.

“Don’t think of this as a bike shop. Think of it as a showroom and test station.”

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Hewett and his business partner, Matt Frichot, run Swiss Cycology Tours and have been guiding cyclists around Andermatt for years. When Andermatt Swiss Alps began looking to partner with BMC on a high-end space, the timing lined up perfectly. BMC approached the duo to run the alpine test center, giving visitors a chance to rent high-performance bikes, the Ferraris of the cycling world, to tackle the surrounding passes.

“We’re here seven days a week,” Hewett says. “Sometimes people just walk in on a whim and want to hire a bike for the afternoon. Other times, riders plan a whole weekend away and need everything prepped and ready to go.”

More cyclists for our ride start trickling in. Within an hour we’re all fitted for bikes and shoes, and then head to Spün, the Romansch-inspired restaurant inside the Radisson for some beers and a carb-heavy dinner before the ride.

(Not) racing up the James Bond pass

Photo: Francesco Bonino/Shutterstock

The next morning, after hitting the breakfast bar’s omelet station and in-house smoked salmon, I walk into the airy showroom. Cycling cleats, laughter, and the hum of the in-house espresso machine create an excited ambiance before we all click into our bikes and make the first pedal stroke.

“This is absolutely a race,” says retired Swiss cycling legend Fabian Cancellara, with a wink. Then he briefs us to expect the main climb to take between 50 and 90 minutes, bringing our total moving time from town to the top to roughly 1 hour and 15 minutes to 2 hours.

The ride starts with a flat, straight shot across the valley floor from Andermatt to Realp, a small mountain town known as one of the gateways to the Furka Pass, taking about 15 to 20 minutes. Right out of the gate, two groups form, and I seem to fall in at the back of the first, faster group. Not sure if this is where I should be, I pedal along, chatting with a Frenchman. Once we clear Realp, the climbing kicks off. We go from flat to an average seven percent climb. About halfway up, I overtake an older Brit, who says something along the lines of, “There’s no warm-up; it’s just up!” That feels accurate.

Around me is an alpine postcard: wildflowers in the fields, cow bells tinkling, the occasional cheese shop. The first half hour is full of switchback turns. We reach what I think might be a plateau, but it’s really the final climb, with the pass way, way off in the distance. Most of the snow has melted off the summits, but there are still a few snowdrifts holding out in the shadows.

The hardest part of the climb turns out not to be the cycling but accepting the constant vroom-vroom of the motorcycles and cars as they pass. At the top, I eat a banana, snap a few shots of the glacier, and clip back in for my favorite part of cycling a mountain pass: riding down. It’s an out-and-back ride, so I don’t need to think about the route: just straight down, back to Andermatt. My revenge on the fancy cars and motorcycles is sweet: on this narrow road, traffic jams are constant, but on the bike, it’s easy to weave around the stopped cars. Back at the shop, Hewett asks me how I liked my bike and laughs when I ask if I can keep it.

Treating myself at The Chedi

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After a shower, a few glasses of celebratory Champagne, and a tipsy walk across town, the mood of the evening shifts to what I think might be the embodiment of soft luxury. As the last light of the day fades away, we enter The Restaurant at The Chedi Hotel. The dusk outside comes in with us, with dim lighting in corners and tableside firepits. This is clearly the place to be, any time of the year, in Andermatt.

Dining here is an absolute dream, especially since I wasn’t expecting such a lavish, multi-course feast after a long day outside. Glancing at the menu, someone at our table asks, “Which dumplings are you going to choose?” A little panicked, I set about making tough decisions. But happily for us, it’s a fixed menu, and we get to taste them all. When four main dishes come out for the table to share — pike perch from Lake Maggiore, murgh makhani (butter chicken), pad thai, and The Chedi’s black pepper beef — I know this isn’t one of those upscale restaurants where you leave hungry.

Even after a day of cycling, I’m not sure I’ll be able to eat dessert until I see it. A beautiful ring of Sakura cherry and almond, rich cherry crème filling encased by almond and cherry chocolate, comes out of the kitchen. I make eye contact with the dessert chef, and she looks at me expectantly. It’s almost sinful to enjoy a dessert so much, but I figure it’s my treat for the tired legs I’m sporting.

At that moment, in the heart of the Swiss Alps, I realized my six-month cycling hiatus is officially over. I showed up to Andermatt feeling out of place, but the next day, after a dip in the hotel pool to soothe my legs, I’d be leaving this beautiful alpine resort with fresh mountain air in my lungs, an epic pass under my belt, and a new belief that each effort deserves a little luxurious reward.