ZCT298: A Bridge Too Far

[HerrNove]

A Bridge Too Far
an homage to Switzerland and to Trackmania's trial maps

Siamo nel profondo sud est della Svizzera...

The Alpine lake of Zwüschetspitzli lies in a wonderful landscape. It has three tributary rivers: from west comes the Chluftach, from North the Stägglaa, from East the Felsrunz. Lake and river seem to have dug their way through the infinity of mountain peaks surrounding the region.

The best part of the place is the islet in the centre of the lake. It's called Chliiinsel and it's beloved by inhabitants and visitors alike. Not only it hosts a variety of plants and flowers, but it offers a fantastic view over the surroundings. Just north of the island, instead, as in a distorting mirror, the so-called Seich rises from the waters. It is a nightmare of ice, steel and concrete that defies description, and whose origin is debated. Some people whisper that the mysterious construction is the leftover of secret experiments carried out by the Swiss Navy in the Sixties. Others deny those rumours: the moderates say that no experiment ever took place, the radicals claim that no Swiss Navy exists to begin with. In any case, everybody agrees that one should not speak too much about the Seich.

Other signs of human activity are also well visible. Sturdy embankments have been built along the lakeside, as well as an intricate road network twisting through peaks and dales of the region. The most infamous symbol of this sprawl of concrete is the Wellenformbrücke, a sinuous bridge crossing the southern part of the lake. Ostensibly a fundamental part of the "East-West Cantonal Line #3", the bridge costed billions and required an amount of upkeep that nobody was willing to pay. After decades of neglected maintenance, the road has started to be associated with a number of inexplicable, freakish accidents: legends speak of cars falling through solid concrete or suddenly jumping over the low guard-rails and sinking into the cold waters. The responsibility for this cursed work and immense waste of public money is unclear: German speakers like to blame the Italian influence, Italian speakers point the finger towards the nearby Austria. Both groups are unanimous in saying that the Swiss spirit cannot be at fault.

It is in this place that you and your friends have decided to spend the weekend. Your plans to impress the girls with your luxurious racecars folded immediately as you found out that the parking around the hotel was almost exclusively filled with Porsches. You need robust means to stand out, so you go for the honourable solution: organizing a dangerous road race and letting the voice spread. The plan succeeds: in a matter of hours, everybody in your hotel knows you are cool kids. As the sun sets, you are sitting in the hotel's bar, tasting your Apéro and enjoying a pleasant conversation with a beautiful lady you just met.

– So you plan to race this weekend? So daring! It takes real courage to go fast in this place!
– No need to be afraid, babe... we raced through much more insidious paths. For our bolids, these Alpine roads are almost a railway.
– Oh, I am quite sure you know how to stay on track. But this is not the biggest danger I was thinking of. We are in Switzerland, you know, and people obey rules for a reason. Do you know what is the penalty for speeding here?
– Uh, I guess a fine of some hundred of...
– No, the guilloutine.
You almost choke on your cocktail, but manage to collect yourself.
– I guess an old law, eh? Surely they won't apply the death penalty for some minor misdemean...
– Last weekend two pedestrians were shot for jaywalking.
– ...
– But you seem to know what you are doing. I am sure that you'll make it home in one peace. But tell me, have you and your friends agreed on the race course already?
Partially shocked but trying heroically to keep a nonchalant attitude, you take out a map. You have already studied it for hours and were planning to spend the night analysing the details, but you pretend it's not a big deal.
– You see, it's very simple: set off from the Chliiinsel, visit the western then the eastern shore, finally return to the start point. As for the route, I was thinking...
– Let me help you!
A marker pen has appeared in her hand. Its color is scarlett, just like her nail polish. Before you realize, she begins to draw a line from the start point.
– You know, my ex boyfriend had a Ferrari...
The line arrives at the first obstacle. It's a descending ramp, its shape resembling a snail shell. But the lady does not like snails, and her path passes through the ramp in a straight line, as if the barrier were not there.
– He could drive that car really fast, and I was his navigator!
Now the pen has arrived at a fork in the road. From your assessment, there is actually no choice and one seems forced to turn. But the lady's line begs to disagree.
– I remember our most memorable race. We set off from Coconut Beach (beautiful place, you should visit it!)...
You are now totally mesmerized. You stare at her eyes and her mouth. Somewhere in your peripheral vision you can see the red line is now heading eastwards – is it really traversing the Seich?! How on Earth... – but you are unable to focus on the exact path.
– Then we went through the Devil's Canyon and Cloudy Mountain...
When you manage to collect yourself, the scarlett marker is already in the final streak. Take the ramp to the Chäs-und-Brot-Brücke (a movable bridge, what if it is raised?), then full throttle to the end line.
– ...and at the end, they gave the trophy to me! My boyfriend was so annoyed, ah, ah. But believe me, I had fully deserved it!
You take a look at the path she has drawn. The red line reminds you of those Indiana Jones films. It will take guts to execute.
– Well, I have to go, champion. But now I am sure that you have what it takes to get the first place. I'll be back in some days and we'll celebrate your victory together!
You cannot think of a reply as you watch her heading to the exit, where a limousine is waiting. Just before crossing the door, she turns towards you for a moment, smiling:
– And don't forget to fasten your seatbelt!

[alanrotoi]

     yay!

[Shoegazing Leo]

892TCZ (Reversed)

[HerrNove]

Intermezzo

Freifrau Elisabeth Marie Esther Salis-Bothmar, the old descendant of a side branch of the local nobility, sat in the main hall of her family palace. The residence had been built on a cliff overlooking the Zwüschetspitzli, and the huge windows offered a excellent view of the lake and its surroundings.

Together with the baroness was a younger woman, who had been a friend of hers for a long time and was spending a couple of weeks in the palace as visitor. The past days had been very pleasant, but that evening the guest's mood seemed bad. She had spent the whole afternoon on the outside terrace with a pair of binoculars, looking at the fast cars running on the roads around the lake. More and more she seemed displeased with what she was seeing. As it often happened, the baroness was trying to understand what troubled her and offer consolation, as well as a cup of tea with cookies.

– Would you rather be on the seat of those cars instead of here, my dear? I can understand! When I still could ride Pegasus, my thoroughbred, alongside my husband...
– It's not that, my dear Lisette. But they are ignoring what I told them!
– You told them to to fight for your hand, dear? Maybe they just need to agree on which weapon to duel with.
– I had told them – she had to stop – I had told them the best route. So clearly! And they are ignoring it! Men are always the same!
– We send them signals...
– ...and they are unable to catch them! Even the most basic! Unless one throws them something heavy on top of that!
– Come, come, my dear, maybe there is a simple explanation. Men are shy, after all. They do not want to be seen following a woman's suggestion.
– So what can I do?
– Look, the sun is setting. Soon it will be night. Maybe, with the favor of darkness, those gentlemen will follow your indications without fearing their actions will be seen by others...

[dreadnaut]

Barely any time to read stuff on the internet, but this thread made my day. Thank you @HerrNove

[Cas]

Very tough track! 

[HerrNove]

Very tough track! 

Yes, it seems to have scared away half of the field :-|

After everything is said and done I'll collect the feedback and take it into account for the future.

[dreadnaut]

I think the amount RH required for the 'trials' part might put off many. @mrdries would love this though!

[HerrNove]

I think the amount RH required for the 'trials' part might put off many. @mrdries would love this though!

Oh, I was not aware that someone had already investigated the idea, with multiple concept tracks. Even my "ice junction" puzzle has been anticipated

[dreadnaut]

Mrdries came up with a lot of interesting combinations in that thread, but I think your loop to bridge, bridge to pipe, and bridge to loop combinations are new — and enjoyably frustrating

Also interesting, his Catalogue of Composite Track Elements.

[Alain il professore]

Hello my friends,

Hints published. GNU licence, free as in freedom. Have a nice ride by the SHNIIITZEL lake which is as transparent as it can be read and seen at this moment of the year.

Yours, Alain il Professore.

[HerrNove]

Intermezzo 2
where no further hint is revealed, but the story goes forth

You have barely the time to brace for impact before your car crashes against the obstacle. The hit is harsh and leaves you stunned in your seat for a few seconds.

Slowly, you start to move your body to check if you are hurt. You're lucky: no pain comes from your arms and legs, it seems you've managed to get through unscathed.

The same cannot be said for your car: outside the windshield you can see a column of smoke rising from the twisted sheet metal. Suppressing a sigh, you open your leather suit and extract a walkie-talkie from the pocket.

– Willi, can you hear me? Over.
– Grüezi, mein Herr. How can I assist you?

Willi is an apprentice at Tobler Autowerkstatt, the best car repair shop in the area. In the past days you have become such a good customer of them that they have agreed to have one of their team on call for you whenever you go out for one of your runs.

– Willi, I am afraid my car needs your services again, but it's not in the condition of driving to your garage. Would you mind organizing the recovery?
– Sehr gerne. Just give me your location.

You tell him. The first times, some of your whereabouts would be met with an astonished "Wie bitte?!", but now the guys at the shop are used to your adventures.

– I'll leave the keys inside, nobody is going to steal the car from this place.
– Alles klar. And don't worry, mister: we will collect your vehicle and very soon you will be able to ride it again!

Of that, you are sure. The guys at Tobler's are really wizards of their craft. You do not know how they always manage to salvage the wreck, nor how they procure so quickly the hard-to-find components to repair it. But, as a matter of fact, they have always given you back your car in a matter of days, ready to run again.

– Merci, Willi, I knew I could count on your help! Over and out.

⁂

Now that the return of the car is provided for, it's time to think about your own. You need some equipment, which you keep in the narrow cockpit space beside your legs. It would be better to store it in the trunk, but your car does not have one. You browse and take out what you need: an inflatable raft, a hand pump, a paddle. Your muscles are tired from the racing, but they are going to be called to an even bigger effort now. Well, at least this time you won't need to take the rappeling gear.

It takes some time before you finally manage to start your navigation on the cold waters of the Zwüschetspitzli. You paddle with a slow but steady rhythm, as you need to manage your energies to reach the shore safely. With some luck, you might be able to make it to the hotel for dinner.

The sun is setting, and all around the lake you can see the lights starting to be switched on in the streets and behind the windows. At one of these windows, unbeknownst to you, a pair of eyes is watching attentively.

[HerrNove]

Finale

You look again at your image in the mirror, checking for any imperfection in your appearance. You prepared for many dates during your life, but each of them felt new and special, and this one even more.

You are alone in the hotel. Your friends left this morning, after recovering from yesterday's victory party, which lasted till late night. There is no place for envy among your group: each race winner gets respect and admiration. This time not only your close friends took part in the celebrations, but also many of the hotel guests, who were impressed and admired by your driving skills.

But all this already belongs to the past. A special person told you she was particulary touched by your performance, and gave you an appointment for today at 18. Only ten minutes left! Unusually, you are not going to pick up your date: she told you to wait for her.

You go down into the lobby. The other guests at the bar greet you friendly; one of them even offers you a drink, but you politely decline. You sit down on an armchair and wait.

Finally, exactly at 18, the moment comes. A beautiful sports car, of a model you have never seen before, flashes before the hotel. You lose sight of it for a moment but hear the brakes engaging and the powerful engine stopping: the driver is waiting for you.

You go outside as fast as you can but trying to appear calm and collected. As you approach the vehicle, a part of you cannot help wondering about its type: the car does not bear any emblem, and despite your vast knowledge of brands and models you cannot guess which automaker could make this beautiful creation. Is this a unique piece from a artisanal coachbuilder?

Now you are just a couple of steps from the car. The windows are tinted and let you see nothing inside. For a moment, you wonder whether you should enter from the passenger side or you will have the honor to be the driver for your lady. Then, after hiddenly taking a deep breath, you open the left door.

The car is empty.

Not totally empty, it turns out. After recovering from the shock, your eyes identify a small object left on the driver's seat. It's an origami, folded in form of a box. You take it into your hand and feel something is inside. Slowly, silently, delicately, your fingers begin to unfold the paper.

After a long minute, the content of the box falls into your hands: the car keys. But that's not the only secret the origami was holding, as the opened piece of paper reveals some words. Only seven, in elegant handwriting, written by a red marker pen you know well:

Nice job
Keep the car
Go home

You lost her! You collapse into your seat, blinded by the pain, and for a moment you cannot think of anything. Your spirit crumbles and you cannot keep yourself from sighing and panicking. Just like a teenager, you go over each instant of your brief encounters and conversations with her, looking for any misplaced gestures and words. What did you do wrong? Or was it already in your destiny, that this date would not take place?

Your mind continues to agonize for a long time. But, slowly, the pain starts to become tolerable. Ancient words come to your mind, connecting you to the universal human experience of victory and defeat.

Yet when I surveyed all that my hands had done
    and what I had toiled to achieve,
everything was meaningless, a chasing after the wind;
    nothing was gained under the sun.

You finally re-open your eyes. The weather is beautiful, the road in perfect condition. You insert the key into the ignition, and turn. The roar of the awakened engine is a joy for your ears. You press the gas, first prudently, then more confidently, and perceive the immense horsepower under the bonnet. You might have failed to achieve what you were longing for, but you must honor the gift that was given to you.

And quickly you drive away. A sign points you to the autobahn, but you ignore it and navigate instead towards a narrow and twisty road stretching across the mountains. A wonderful drive is expecting you. And, beyond the snowy peaks, there'll be other battles, other adventures...

The End.

[Alain il professore]

Epilogue
where the last watcher is revealed, and the road finally admits what it had always known

Everybody knows that, when winter comes, the boldest drivers of ZakStunts do not really rest. They pretend to. They speak of fireplaces, woollen socks, quiet evenings, and a temporary retirement from dangerous curves, but as soon as a frozen road appears somewhere in Stunts Valhalla, they hear the old call again.

This particular race had taken place in one of those regions of Valhalla that resemble Switzerland so much that even the mountains seem to fill forms in triplicate before allowing avalanches to occur. Some said it was German-speaking Switzerland, because of the strictness of the guard-rails. Others claimed it was Italian Switzerland, because of the sun on the lake, the elegant villas, and the strange habit of solving impossible problems with a smile and a gesture of the hand. The wise, as usual, answered nothing and ordered another winter grog.

Not mulled wine. Winter grog.

More lead battery acid and less ethanol, because ethanol, as every responsible pilot knows, is bad for the liver.

From the large windows of the hotel, Aburaf70 had watched the whole affair.

The hotel, as everybody knows, was the preferred winter resort of the pilots of ZakStunts whenever the roads of Stunts Valhalla became white, treacherous and irresistible. It stood above the Zwüschetspitzli with the solemn confidence of a place that had already seen too many damaged suspensions, too many impossible shortcuts, and too many drivers swearing that, this time, they had finally understood the track.

ABU sat in the lounge, in one of the armchairs nearest to the window. Before him, on a small table, stood a winter grog, a plate of biscuits, and a pair of binoculars. He did not always need the binoculars. From the hotel, the view over the lake, the island and the strange works of concrete was excellent. More importantly, after so many years of racing, he knew that the most revealing part of a run was not always the car itself, but the hesitation just before the driver chose a line.

A waiter approached, looking respectfully worried.

– Another winter grog, signore Aburaf70?
– Not yet. This one is still smoking.
– As you wish. Shall I bring more biscuits?
– Biscuits are safer than bridges. Bring two.

Throughout the race, he had watched with great benevolence.

He had seen the brave pilots of ZakStunts try, fail, try again, crash, recover, disappear behind bridges and reappear where no sensible driver should ever have been. He had seen some follow the visible road with touching sincerity. He had seen others begin to suspect that the visible road was only a polite suggestion.

At times, he smiled.

Not because the mistakes were ridiculous. They were not. They were necessary. In Stunts Valhalla, every good line first appears as an insult to reason. Only later, after enough wrecked cars and enough silent replays, does it become obvious.

On the terrace, Freifrau Elisabeth Marie Esther Salis-Bothmar had joined him for a moment, leaning on her cane with the dignity of someone whose family had owned the cliff long before the road engineers had begun to make expensive mistakes below it.

– They are very determined, are they not? she asked.
– Determined, yes, replied Aburaf70. Informed, not always.
– My friend says she gave them the route quite clearly.
– Ah. Then the problem is not the signal.
– Men?
– Men, cars, bridges. It is often difficult to know which one refused to understand first.

The younger woman was still nearby, her binoculars in hand, her expression divided between irritation and reluctant admiration. She had spent the afternoon watching the cars run around the lake, and the more they ignored her indications, the more the setting sun had seemed to turn the mountains scarlet in sympathy with her nail polish.

– I drew it for them, she said. The ramp, the fork, the Seich, the bridge. Everything.
– Maybe they thought it was decoration, said Lisette.
– Decoration? It was the best route!
ABU nodded slowly.
– A good route is like a good theorem. Obvious only after someone else has suffered for it.

Below, near the cold waters of the Zwüschetspitzli, a small shape could be seen paddling with slow, stubborn movements. The unfortunate pilot had survived the crash, recovered his inflatable raft, and was now crossing the lake with the dignity of a man who had discovered that some shortcuts continued even after the car had stopped.

Aburaf70 raised his binoculars one last time.

– At least he planned for water, he murmured.
– He did not plan for the obstacle, said the younger woman.
– Nobody plans for the obstacle. They merely become acquainted with it.

In the distance, a tow truck from Tobler Autowerkstatt was already moving along the lakeside road with admirable calm. Willi sat beside the driver, holding a clipboard and looking at the landscape with the expression of an apprentice who had long ago stopped asking why a racing car had to be recovered from places where no road officially existed.

The walkie-talkie crackled.

– Tobler Autowerkstatt, recovery team on site.
– Grüezi, Willi, said Aburaf70, taking the device from the table. Do you have the vehicle?
– Not yet, mein Herr. We have located smoke, debris, and one paddle mark. We believe the car is nearby.
– Excellent progress.
– The keys are inside, as usual.
– Of course. A gentleman always leaves the keys.

Lisette smiled.

– Your young friend is very efficient.
– Tobler's people are wizards, said Aburaf70. One day they will repair a car before it crashes.
– In this valley, replied the younger woman, that would save time.

The night deepened. Lights appeared behind the windows around the lake. On the roads, engines still moved like restless thoughts. Some pilots were still trying the obvious path. Some were testing the ridiculous one. A few, perhaps, had begun to understand that the ridiculous path and the correct path were sometimes the same thing, separated only by speed, angle and courage.

Wise ABU watched them all, as patient as a millenar templar knight.

He watched the cautious drivers, who lost time but preserved dignity. He watched the reckless ones, who lost dignity but sometimes found time. He watched the silent ones, who posted nothing and learned everything. He watched the noisy ones, who revealed too much and wondered why the valley had eyes.

Then he lifted his winter grog toward the lake.

– To the brave, he said softly.
– To those who listen to signals, added the younger woman.
– To those who send them, said Lisette.
– To those who repair the consequences, answered Willi over the radio.
– And to those who know, concluded Aburaf, when not to show their best replay.

For a moment, nobody spoke.

Below, the tow truck stopped near the smoking wreck. Farther away, the raft reached the shore. Somewhere on the road, another engine started again, hesitated, and then turned toward the impossible.

The younger woman leaned closer to the window.

– That one, she whispered. Look.
Aburaf did not need the binoculars.

This car was not following the road.

It was following the route.

He smiled, very gently.

– Finally, he said, someone remembered that at Zakstunts, there's no WRONG WAY.

And over the Zwüschetspitzli, above the lake, the island, the Seich and the bridges that had lied all day with perfect Swiss politeness, the winter night closed like a perfect evaluation table after a well-driven replay.

[Spoonboy]

I'd like to thank @HerrNove for this track, and this month's unforgettable experience. Also to him and @Alain il professore for the story that we have raced with, its mystique and humour following us at every turn.

For me, I'm sure for many of us, it has added a new element to our enjoyment of our race together. I have loved the ghostly mystery elements and seemingly impossible routes, that all play tricks with our minds and laughingly challenge us to try jumping into the void, to that distant road.

I haven't been this bewitched by a track since maybe ZCT274 Mirage. In a similar way, this track played with our normal perceptions of the game, pushing us further towards exploits and efforts we might have thought impossible before.
It is these exploits of the original game that make it what it is to us today, keep us trying new things and that challenge us to improve. I applaud @HerrNove for pushing us in this way and for presenting it so well.

I would welcome more of this narrative style being added to submitted tracks, and hope you (and other future authors) might give us more experiences like this. Though I'm sure both the track and its story have taken much time to create, it has added so much.

I wish I could have perfected my line across the Seich, but I'm glad to have found it, knowing those attentive eyes were watching me. That perverse circus of concrete will stay in my memory of Stunts challenges forever, shrouded in mist on the horizon.
A shame that HerrNove's canon line didn't provide the winning lap. I had a lap that took this route from the loop, but couldn't make it faster than my posted one. Congratulations to @VictorNarl, but special mentions to @MiDiaN, @Frieshansen and others that solved the mystery.

This has been a new chapter in our journey together, my friends. Let's drive on to the next adventure, keep pushing and yes, keep turning toward the impossible.
Anelio is with us.