Even with a faulty-spark, making for an even-more underpowered vehicle than usual, coupled with regular stalling, the Gotthardpass was still one heck of a drive. Hairpin after hairpin with ear-popping changes in altitude. I’m not convinced that Yoko enjoyed the drive as much as I did.

Believe it or not, many of these mountains were hollowed-out during the Second World War to give the Swiss folk a safe haven in which to take cover amongst the impassable mountains. Innocuous doorways mark the entrance to these vast underground networks. One human warren has been converted to an unmarked swanky hotel and we managed to find it, although not without knocking on the wrong door first. I spotted a ‘hidden’ door and pulled-over. I should have realised that perhaps this was not a hotel when pressing something resembling a doorbell set-off a military-style air-raid siren deep below our feet. Squiffy had a mini-panic and firmly requested that we returned to the car immediately. After peering into the behind-the-mesh-door darkness for a while, I gave up and turned to walk back towards the car. I noticed the binoculared-eyes of a man in a parked car a little down the road follow my every footstep. No doubt he is reading this blog. (If so: Sorry if I woke your platoon by accident…)

We identified the hotel a little bit further on and called them to see if we could get in for a drink. Unfortunately, as we hadn’t made a reservation we were politely turned-down. Shame.

Still, all a bit James Bond hey?

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