New day, new country! This is what you get in this land-locked continent of tightly packed countries. At least we mostly abolished borders. Today, I would make my way in Switzerland. Small issue: Switzerland is surrounded by foreboding mountains.

Last time I’d crossed into switzerland, cowed by the elevation needed to cross the Alps, and the effort required to climb a 2000 metre pass with a heavily loaded tour bike, I’d planned on taking a train under the mountains. Naturally, at the foot of the mountain, I had abandoned all caution and made my way up the pass. A fun climb, but totally unplanned, it had left me with dwindling supplies at nightfall.

This time would be different. My gearing had not changed, and I felt significantly more out of shape. I would not climb passes!

Luckily, the North of the country is much less mountainous. It is hilly, but not quite mountainous.

Still, before reaching Switzerland, I had a pilgrimage to complete: I was going to see the source of the Neckar, an affluent of the Rhine that had guided me for a few days.

It was underwhelming. I found a bog, with a shallow lake and some birds.

I found a place to eat my breakfast: pastries from a local bakery, and got back in the saddle. Mentally unready for the increasingly steep hills the morning had in store for me.

Climbing up an down these hills, I crossed another cyclist and stopped for a chat. Unfortunately, my German is limited, and his English was non-existent, so our conversation was mostly city names and pointing. The intent was clear enough though.

When cycling through Europe, borders seem to only exist on main roads. Most of the time, the only notification that you’ve crossed a border is a change in the names of shops, but borders are milestones in a trip, so I was staying alert for signs that I crossed the border. I kept an eye on my bicycle computer, and without noticing it, crossed in Switzerland. Annoyed, I backtracked, looking for any trace of the border. Eventually I noticed it: a lone rising-arm barrier, forever locked in a vertical salute.

That was underwhelming.

Pretty soon, I had all the confirmation I needed that I was, in fact, in Switzerland. A gleaming building, on the outskirts of a village; the headquarters of watch-making company.

Feeling happy that I had reached this milestone in the journey, I happily pedalled onwards. Soon, I reached the Rhine. In a sense, I had returned to the origin of my journey: following down the Rhine from Cologne, until I had picked up the Neckar.

Faint at first, I started hearing a low growling. It grew louder with every turn of the pedals, until a bend in the path revealed the Rhine again. Just up-river, I could see a massive waterfall. Little tourists boats dove towards it, and let themselves be pushed away by its strong currents. I looked for a place to stop for lunch, and spotted some benches overlooking the river.

As is tradition, once I resumed my journey after a hearty sandwich, I found a spot that would have been significantly nicer.

Unbknowst to me, the morning’s border would not be the only border of the day. Cycling easily along a perfectly smooth road, I passed a sign that announced the speed limits in Switzerland. Without ever seeing it, I had crossed into Germany, then back into Switzerland. This time, I did not bactrack to look for the border. One was enough for the day.

The rest of the day was uneventful. I saw rolling hills, struggling up each one, and gliding down to face the next challenge. Surprisingly the biggest challenge was finiding water sources. The villages were too small for shops, and the usual roadside fountains had not been turned on yet for spring. When I found one, the dribble of water from the spout left me ample time to recover whilst I refilled my bottles.

I arrived in Zurich exactly on time. I was expected at 17:30, and at 17:30 I wrote to tell my hosts that I was in front of their house.