Switzerland: trams, industrial estates and room upgrades

As France goes back to work and school, we start the second stage of the journey, after a weekend in Geneva...

We left the Olympic capital that is Lausanne, in the pouring rain heading for the outskirts of Geneva. Pretty uninspiring riding round the north side of lake Geneva which was a shame, as in good weather, it's stunning. After stopping at a cafe in Nyon where Cheeks had a stressful 45 minute rant with laterooms.com to find a hotel in Geneva and I dried my socks on the chair, I think the staff were happy to see the back of us.

2km from Geneva and no campsite welcoming two bedraggled cyclists, we ended up 14km away in an industrial estate in a suburb called Sartingy. Cranes, planes, limited sleep and torrential rain made for an interesting stay, but Cheeks did experience CVG's tuna pasta supreme which is an undoubted culinary highlight. And I lost at shithead again.

We rode into Geneva the following morning, wet, smelly, irritated and looking forward to our respective hotels. Cheeks in a 1 star thanks to his laterooms.com rant and yours truly lording it up in a 4 star thanks to a very organised girlfriend.

The highlight of the morning was the first tour stack. 4 lanes of traffic, tram lines everywhere. I'm looking to change lanes, my front wheel gets wedged in the tram line and I've crashed to the floor before I can shout 'Das ist verboten'. Thankfully there was no tram approaching as my tent and water bottles went rolling all over the place.

Bruised and annoyed at my carelessness, we headed to a cafe for a Swiss speciality before we could checkin. The hot chocolate arrived in powder form (actually very tasty) but with tepid milk. This was too much for Cheeks, who let the 70 year old waiter know exactly what he felt about Swiss service after the waiter returned with marginally warmer milk which he tipped all over the place whilst deflecting Cheek's verbal onslaught. All in all, a very pleasant start to Geneva!

Ten minutes later, I wheeled my bike through reception of the Royal Manotel, with the staff and wealthy Arabian families looking on curiously. And after chatting with the staff about the journey, the girl on reception seemed delighted to tell me I had been given an upgrade to a superior suite. So I spent the next 2 hours cleaning up, watching the biggest TV I've ever seen and drying my soaking tent out in the bathroom with the hair drier.

That evening marked the arrival of Olivia for the weekend, and the temporary parting of then Blazing Saddles team. After a celebratory supper to mark the end of the first main stage, Cheeks headed off the following morning for a two weeks R&R in Toulouse whilst I head back to the Alps to gear up for the Help For Heroes Piste to Plage challenge.

Key highlights of the weekend in Geneva were seeing Olivia who provided a fantastic break from the routine of cycling and camping. I had been concerned about breaking the routine initially, but taking a couple of days out has helped refocus and recharge ahead of the physical and emotional challenge of the next 6 weeks. We saw my cousin Karen and her husband Henri in Geneva old town who cooked a fantastic supper and even washed all my clothes, their first proper wash in 4 weeks - wonderful! Again, great to catch up with family that I just don't see enough of. And finally, heading across the lake via ferry back to Nyon to see Olivia's friend Danielle and her husband Rob who put us up and provided a cracking BBQ on Sunday. Perfect preparation for getting back on the bike the next day.

It was all over far too quickly. Before I knew it, I was changing back into my tour lycra in the hotel lobby, fixing panniers, raising the Welsh flag and saying a prolonged goodbye to Olivia, before taking on rush hour traffic leaving Geneva. Mistake. Later than planned and without a decent map or working 3G GPS on the phone I got a little lost and ended up hurtling down the autoroute much to the increasing annoyance of passing truckers. As the hard shoulder got thinner and the trucks got nearer, I cut my losses and took the earliest exit and found my way into the sanctuary and familiarity of the rural France, heading south.

And with that, almost immediately the city stress fell away, angry drivers were replaced with encouraging motorists tooting and waving as they passed and I headed into the countryside.

Goodbye Switzerland. Hello France. Bring on the Alps.