Today was our long awaited excursion to St. Moritz in Switzerland. We chose to make our way there via the Italian Alps.  After a hearty breakfast, we gather in the hotel parking lot overlooking the mountains and everyone climbs on board their bike.

As I soon discover on this trip, the mornings are my favorite part of the day.  The air is cool and crisp, the mist is still hanging in the mountains, and the sun is shining.  There is nothing like the moment you slide onto the back of the bike.  The anticipation of the day — what you may see in this incredibly beautiful countryside, the inspiration you know you are going to feel from just being in this moment.  Holding onto Raye, racing past life, the rush of the bike’s power, feeling the wind blowing by — it is hard to describe, but I can tell you it is an intoxicating feeling.  The experience made me feel like I can do anything.  That somehow there is still much of life to discover, something still amazing left for me to do and I can’t wait to get there.

Our first stop is an interesting site.  On the edge of the Italian/Austrian border is a lake that flooded a valley years ago.  You can still see the church steeple coming up through the water where the town stood.  Very reminiscent of the last scene in the movie “Oh Brother Where Art Thou.”

Out in the flats between passes, we come across two gigantic windmills positioned just beside the lake — this is such a windy spot and hydro-electric power and wind power are the two alternative sources of energy in this area.  I think about one of my clients in the oil and gas industry that is working to be a part of the energy solution in America by developing a new natural gas find in Arkansas.  Alternative fuel sources are great long-term ideas but not practical for all of us who love to sap up as much energy as we can to move at high rates of speed in our lives.  I don’t know many people, really, who would give up easy access to energy — even at today’s prices.  But a lot of the world’s problems wouldn’t exist if more people did have the affordable energy sources they needed.

We drive through an old town that has cobblestone streets and many old buildings.  Children holler “hallo” to us and wave as we go by.  Motorcyclists seem to be a common and welcome site through these communities.  In fact, we pass many other motorcycle groups throughout this trip. I’ve learned the biker’s greeting — simply drop your hand out off the side of your leg in a very nonchalant wave.  I knew of this gesture in the states, but I didn’t realize it was a sign of camaraderie that is universal.

Heading into the mountain passes, we encounter more switchbacks — kehren (turns) — that are numbered and also show the meter height.  We are about 2,500 meters high, which is the equivalent of 7,500 feet or so.  Nearly as high as Vail Pass I think.  But I don’t feel the effects of the altitute, probably because our base hotel is also in the Alps.

Our guide leads us through an interesting engineering creation found throughout the mountains of Europe.  They are open tunnels on one side called “galleries.”  As you ride through the tunnel, you can see out one side and down into the valley below.  There are a lot of these, and it’s fun to look out while you ride through them.  Frank tells us these are built to catch snowfall and prevent avalanches that close roads.  Passage through these areas is critical, and you can’t have major roads shut down for months at a time from snowfall.

We stop to eat lunch just on the other side of the Swiss Alps at a small “gasthaus” guest house (hotel) that has an outdoor café beside a creek.  This is very common, to round a bend in the road and see a gasthaus standing by the side of the road.  “Zimmer frie mit warmen kuche.”  Rooms available with warm cooking.  Then also the name of the family, “Familie Schmitt.”  We guess this is a longtime tradition of local families opening their homes to travelers for extra income to supplement whatever they get from their farming enterprises. On evening walks behind the hotel where we are staying, we follow a narrow road up to a hilltop and we pass no fewer than three or four of these small family inns.  In fact, the inn where we are staying is run by the Wilhelm family.

After lunch, Raye and I are tempted by the hammock hanging in the yard — riding through the Alps is hard on Raye to watch the road and we move around a lot as we speed up, slow down, turn right, turn left.  It’s great fun for me, but Raye watches the road and really concentrates.  Several friends said before we left on this trip: “Be sure to come back in one piece.”  As you grow older and have children, you begin to realize the importance of taking only calculated risks.  Those black diamond runs on the ski slope during our winter vacations used to attract our adventurous spirit, but we have come to appreciate the fact that someone has to raise our children — and we’d like it to be us.  So we don’t take as many chances on our trips like we did when we were in our 20s and invincible.  This trip is no exception.

Once the bills have been paid, our group sets out for dark-looking skies toward St. Moritz.  The ladies are determined to shop there.  We can see it off in the distance set in a stunning valley.  As we pull into town, the evidence of wealth is everywhere — in the cars, the hotels, the architecture, the shops — even in the sailing club set beside the beautiful lake that the entire town overlooks.

The ladies are given exactly 30 minutes to power shop, of which 10 minutes are spent climbing the steep hills to get into the middle of the shopping district from where we park our bikes down by the lake.  I am used to working at a fast pace, though, so we make quick work of a gourmet chocolate shop — gifts for family, friends and clients.  And I manage to grab a fleece jacket for myself with the town’s name stitched on the chest.  We simply window shop the expensive designer establishments manned by well dressed attendants.  Our motorcycle attire hides any sign of money any of us may have, but the way we looked I’m not so sure we would be that welcome anyway.

Just now at 4:30 p.m., we hop the bikes for the two-plus hours back to home base in Austria.  As luck would have it, we encounter not just rain but lightning and hail, which makes an impressive noise when it hits your helmet.  I know Raye and the other drivers are becoming concerned about the slickness of the roads.  They look a little frothy on the edges, which is surely an indication of the rain mixing with the oils and other liquids left standing on the roads since the last rain.

We stop in a small town under the only available covered spot and don our “frog togs” — rain suits.  This is no small feat to get these suits unpacked from the saddle bags and then pulled on over leather clothing and motorcycle jackets.  Everything sticks together, but finally everyone is covered the best they can be.  Even still, we are already wet and cold and for the first time I am wishing we were already back at the hotel.  My wet leather gloves stay wet and my hands never warm up the rest of the way back.

No one seems too excited about the rain as we ride through small town after small town.  People have disappeared from the streets for the most part.  Even at the Swiss border we are waved through without so much as a passport check.  After an hour or so and a painfully slow maneuver  through the Innsbruck evening rush hour traffic, the sun breaks through to light up the last leg of the way.  Tired and ready for dinner, our guide doesn’t hesitate to take on the last few miles. We race up the side of our mountain at 130 kph — at least 70 mph.  Conversation at dinner is quieter than usual as everyone is ready for a good night’s sleep.

iPod playlist: The Moody Blues, The Doobie Brothers, Steve Winwood, Santana, Steppenwolf.

Want to see more photos? Click on the set “Wednesday: St. Moritz” to see highlights of the hairpin turns and immense peaks.)

Prologue: Forget that we had been planning for this trip since January. Six months later, as my husband and I stand in line to board the flight from Dallas to Zurich, I’m still struggling to unplug from my life for a while — I lob in one last call to the office.

Perhaps you have the same feeling right before you leave on vacation — is it really worth it to go?  The answer is always a resounding yes, of course, but it takes unplugging before you are sure.  And this trip could not have come at a better time for us.

Many people have asked me about this vacation: How did we decide to take a motorcycle trip through the Alps?  From the beginning, I should confess that I am a destination person, much more interested in finally getting somewhere rather than experiencing the journey itself. So a nine-day trip to Europe — with most of that time spent on the back of a motorcycle riding through the mountains — was a bit out of character for me. Shouldn’t we be seeing famous cities, museums or monuments, collecting passport stamps? I should be taking a cooking class at some Italian culinary academy by day and European art classes by night. But this trip was the right idea for us: I wanted to go back to Europe, and my husband wanted to do something with motorcycles, which he truly loves.

So with Raye an experienced rider but me never having so much as ridden with him to the corner market, we decided to book a biker’s dream trip through the Alps.  We agree to rent just one bike, and of course Raye will drive.  I have signed on for a true back-of-the-bike experience, determined to find out if I can learn to like motorcycle riding and, most importantly, to see if I can make the journey matter.

I hope you enjoy this travelogue.  Indeed this trip taught me a lot.  Please feel free to post comments, share your reflections on the joys of motorcycle riding, traveling in Europe, or simply what your own travels — wherever they may be — have taught you.

Friday/Saturday

We arrive in Zurich after a 10-hour overnight flight from Dallas. We did score an exit  row, however, which helped immensely. I only worked a few hours on my laptop, and the rest of the time dozed leaning on Raye’s shoulder listening to my iPod.  It is hard to sleep with the anticipation of the trip ahead.

Once arriving at the Zurich airport early Saturday morning, we catch a local train to the Zurich Hauptbahnhof (main train station). We only have about 90 minutes to wait for our train to Innsbruck, but in that time we simply sit on top of our luggage and watch people scurry by.

Saturday morning must be a busy travel time — or at least it appears so — as we watch couples, families, school or children’s groups and young men dressed in military uniforms moving all around us. At least they seem to know where to go, which is more than I can really say for us. We are a little bit turned around but find some young women who speak English. They point us to the correct train platform. Our train arrives remarkably on time, and we board with no problems, finding the first class coach easily — it is simply marked with a big “1″ on the side of the car. Locating our seats, we gratefully sink into them for the four-hour trip.

The train takes us alongside a beautiful lake outside of Zurich and then on through the Swiss and Austrian countryside. At every turn, Raye and I are just stunned with the beautiful scenery. The lake is gorgeous, glacier fed and glassy. The mountains are soaring and covered with lush trees and shrubs. Very jagged and steep. It’s not even like the Rockies because these mountains are so green and soft looking. It reminds you exactly of the opening scene from the “Sound of Music.”

We meet and visit with two college girls from Georgia who are headed to a six-week program at the university in Innsbruck. I helped them with several questions and thought of our intern, Luci, who is on a similar program in Florence this summer. Raye helped them unload their giant rolling duffel bags. After hitting the ATM together for Euros, we wave good-bye. They were very excited about their adventure.

Our hotel is just across the street, as it turns out. Traditional European style with wood paneling covering the walls and ceiling. I love hotels, having worked in the lodging industry for many years. First-class facilities and attentive service. The employees wear traditional Austrian attire and speak excellent English. We have an expansive view of the mountains outside our hotel window. The whole city sits in the heart of the mountains, and everywhere you look they are standing guard over the area. Must be why the Olympics were held here. I am hearing German spoken everywhere, and some of it is coming back to me. Raye can’t believe it since he thought I was barely able to translate “Hogan’s Heroes.” It will be interesting this week to see how much I really remember.

In order to stay awake this afternoon (and hopefully acclimate to the correct local time), we walked through Old Innsbruck and ate lunch at a café outside a hotel that was built in the 1500s. Wow. Lots of people wandering around looking at everything. It must be a real tourist city. After a short nap (we hadn’t slept since Thursday night remember), we have dinner on a terrace of the Weisses Rossl (white horse) restaurant. It is a gorgeous evening and it stays light even nearly until 10 p.m. We enjoy traditional Austrian fare – glazed pork with dumplings and green beans, and a beef and potato hash with cabbage and bacon salad. Then homemade apple strudel and coffee for dessert. We talk about the adventures ahead.

A short stroll back to the hotel and we collapse into bed by at least 11p.m. Current time at home: 4 in the afternoon.

Sunday mid-day
We slept 11 hours last night and this morning walked across the street for cappuccino and a brie sandwich for breakfast. The weather is about 70 degrees and sunny. It is just a slice of heaven here. Our biggest concern right now is hooking up with our tour company to get to the base hotel, which is in a small town outside of Innsbruck. The tour company is supposed to pick us up here. Since we are across the street from the train station, if our wires get crossed, we are simply going to catch a train to the closest town and figure it out from there. Headed for the shower now.

Sunday evening

We did make our pick up with no problems. Frank, a friendly outdoorsy kind of young man, quickly loaded our bags into a van and took off flying down the autobahn to our new hotel in a small town in  the Alps. As it turns out, Frank is our tour guide and host for the week. He and Raye hit it off from the beginning as most avid cyclists do.

We met several other couples on the ride up; all are friendly and conversational. They are from different parts of the United States including Georgia, Wisconsin and Washington — and we also have one fellow from Germany.

A first look at our bikes was a thrill for the guys. Not being a big motorcycle fan at this point, all I can tell you is our bike is red and big. Its engine just hums, according to Raye, and it’s very powerful. I find out that we are driving a BMW 1200 RT and determine to commit that to memory in case I am ever asked.

We eat in the hotel dining room from a buffet of traditional Austrian meats served directly from the chef’s kitchen.  Then we convene to a cozy meeting room with a window looking out over the Alps by twilight.  I struggle to stay focused on the conversation led by Frank, which is a review of the map and road rules for the week. Conversation on the back deck of the hotel and a walk through nearby trails ended our first night. What a beautiful place this is.

I hope I like riding on the back of the bike. I came a long way to find out about something my husband loves.

Want to see more photos? Click on the set “Innsbruck — Arrival Day” to see highlights of this beautiful Winter Olympics city.  You will also find my favorite photos put together in one set.  I recommend you view each day’s photos by clicking first on the set you want to view, then click on the words “view slide show” in the upper right hand corner of the screen.  At any time you can find out more about each shot by simply clicking on the photo itself.