Grossglockner to Oberalpass (366 miles)

Pushing the bike out from the garage (they really looked after me), it was drizzling & everywhere was damp. The Gros was obscured but I just put that down to its height. Plenty of blue sky around. Headed straight up the Gros & parked in a spiral multi-storey (for bikes). I was the only bike. In fact there was only me & one couple in a car keeping an eye on the glacier. That’s not quite true. There was briefly a group of Italians lados in five matching convertible R8s but they stayed long enough to take pictures of themselves & their cars. You do feel high up here. Despite the cloud you get the sense the mountain is in charge. I head off through the park – the roads are fantastic to ride but being wet caution is needed. Lumps & bumps tend to step the back wheel out. Still heading down, I’ll soon be out of the cloud - even saw a rainbow between the peaks – a good sign. No, quickly realised the weather is clearing from behind me & I’m heading into it. Light rain turned to heavy rain. Heavy rain turned to (what felt like) a mountain monsoon. Steams of water flowed over the road. I headed on out of the national park to Innsbruck. The trunk roads are slow so head off to the motorway – it’s a sea of spray as hundreds of artics from every nation fight it out for space. By mistake, I head off down the Brenner Pass to Italy. Not the plan but the weather improves. Temperatures jump up (2.5 degrees at the Gros – to 22 at border). That’s good BUT the bad news is I need to navigate through the German camper vans & Italian apple tractors again. After the drenching the frauleine is not loving life either. She indicates randomly – oddly always left as if to say “come on overtake you halfwit!” - & then puts the hazards on. I dig in & cover many new passes. As the day draws to a close, I decide to continue. The bike has good lights & I’m only inches (on the map) from my rendezvous point in Switzerland. Those inches are actually mountain passes though. Two things tell me this is not a wining idea. Firstly, the moutain roads are punctured by roadworks where the road surface disappears. In the dark you don’t know until the bike jumps off the tarmac & then you are rodeo riding. Secondly, coming around a bend I see signs to slow down. As I creep by I see a bike embedded in the crash barrier. Right time to stop.