Aston Martin Zagato on the Furka Pass
We head to Bond’s stomping ground in Goldfinger to test a very special Aston
Posted: 01 Oct 2012
Menacingly picturesque seems the flavour of the day on the Furka. This isn't the Switzerland of soft-green rolling meadows and clonking cowbells and Julie Andrews. This is the Alps at its most brutal: glacier-cut cliffs looming over rocky valleys, the Eiger lurking behind. For three hours after dawn, we have the Furka in all its deserted perfection, diving over silver-blue rivers, tacking from switchback to smooth switchback.
And then, on the stroke of 9am, they arrive in their hoards to ruin our fun. The motorbicyclists. Hundreds and hundreds of them, buzzing like masochistic flies, blazing and burbling, undertaking and overtaking, often simultaneously. TG is not given to the traditional driver-biker animosity - personally, I've always found motorcyclists most courteous, a courtesy I'd guess has much to do with their high risk of being converted into a leather-wrapped black pudding if something goes wrong - but the bikers on the Furka are, for want of a better word, idiots.