We’re not Bicycle Athletes..

  Oostende to Brugge to Antwerp (Belgium) Stage
130 km Distance
 Sunny and all day headwind Weather
 Ann from Couchsurfing Companion

After an unexpected final 25km the day before and an inspiring dinner I awoke refreshed in a bed big enough for 3 - a luxury for the usual camper. Peeping into the kitchen I found Katrien enjoying a cup of coffee. We chatted briefly before she scooted off to work and left me to breakfast alone. 

As I left the kitchen for the garage to saddle up my steed I stole a photo of Henk and Katriens 'world domination' map tucked in an alcove aside the small dining table. Flagged with yellow stickers the only continent left to mark was Antarctica - and I wouldn’t have put it past them. With a thirst for adventure and no fear of confrontation I could see these two journeying well into an early retirement. 

Prior to connecting with Henk and Katrien through Warmshowers I’d also requested to surf Ann’s couch in Brugge. She’d been out traveling herself so couldn’t host me but mentioned she was without work and with a lot of free time - would I possible enjoy a travel companion? She thought that my plan of riding to Antwerp was brave. A quick googlemaps search on her end revealed at least 6+ hours by bicycle - a distance she’d not attempted before. Having completed a survival run (it sounded kind of serious) a few days before heading into uncharted biking territory would hardly be enough to deter her. Over email we’d reassured each other that neither of us were bicycle athletes and we’d agreed to take it easy.

While I waited for Ann in our designated park meeting place I decided to breakfast on some muesli from my favourite stainless steel bowl I’d picked up long before in Myanmar. I’d improvised many meals this way - sat under a tree in the grass - while I’d contemplated being and watched life pass by. Shortly after Ann arrived on her typical Belgian bicycle (flashing a glance at Chuck I felt a little apologetic) with supremely padded saddle - after a few hundred more kilometres I’d be wishing for something a with a little more cushioning. We greeted with two kisses and continued with introductions on the road.

As we rolled along the canals surrounded by farmlands and forests conversation with Ann flowed freely. We shared the task of navigation - comparing our points to make sure we were still on track. Hours passed as we steadily battled a persistent headwind and found ourselves much hungrier than we realised. We unanimously agreed on a sunny riverside picnic spot where we refuelled with dark bread and avocado. Although we’d ridden solidly for the past 4 hours Ann’s printed map revealed that we were still only halfway.

The afternoon we rode in shared silence - focussing on pushing forward one pedal after another. Earlier in the day Ann had mentioned home made ice cream from dairy farm houses - in the warm afternoon sun we remained vigilant for signs promising road side refreshments. During the longest part of the afternoon we heard the distant beckoning song of an ice cream van although couldn’t be sure if it had just been our imaginations. 

Rolling into a town an hour out from our destination we surveyed the limited fare available for much needed sustenance if we wanted to make the final stretch. On account of ‘doing as the Romans do’ I decided on waffles from a street side stall. Sitting on a stoop beside the town church I noticed an iron collar attached to a stone pillar. It wasn’t locked and the perfect size for a small neck - so I slipped it on just to make sure my assumptions were correct. Ann offered the theory of it being used to hold village wrongdoers to shame, potentially with stones - I’d thought tomatoes but Ann was probably right.

Riding into the outskirts of Antwerp I was reminded of Melbourne - large streets, city trams, commuter bicycles, a golden light reflecting from glass buildings and people out to play for the afternoon. We’d decided on a celebratory beer before Ann took the train back to Brugge and arranged to meet my Antwerp host at the station. We’d left him waiting, hopefully not too long, as the final 10km always takes longer than anticipated.

We tailed him to a known beerspot where I learned about a hand code for ordering beers in Belgium. Standing looking thirsty apparently doesn’t do the trick - I’d decided I’ll try his method next time. As we saluted our classes an ice cream van pulled up alongside the bar. Ann and I looked at each other and laughed. I guess that ice cream would have to wait until tomorrow. 

Henk and Katrien’s world domination map 

Riding through forests alongside the canals 

Enjoying the ride with Ann 

The biking trails meandered off into farmlands from time-to-time 

Houseboats in the canals 

Ann enjoying a strawberry topped waffle 

Doing as the Romans do 

Finally arriving at the Antwerp main station 

In Brugge..

  Gent to Oostende (Belgium) Stage

71 km Distance

 Nothing Elevation

 Melbournesque Weather

So Ben walked into my room in the morning and proclaimed that I was really messy. I looked at my little backpack and panniers and the few items which were sprawled beside them and scratched my head. Had I really unpacked I think I would have given him a heart attack!

I wasn’t planning on heading to Gent but after receiving a warm and genuine invitation from Couchsurfer Ben to visit his home and understated city I decided to pass through. And I was indeed delighted to discover it through the eyes of a local and ex-tourguide. Ben lead me in and out of side alleys filled with graffiti, pointed out local landmarks and shared city legends which seemed to always feature an observant old lady.

Besides being a wonderful host and excellent city guide Ben best described himself as a writer. I followed his narrative as he recounted characters and story plots of the project he’s currently undertaking. Growing up in a ‘Sci-Fi family’ who were divided between Star Wars and Star Trek he hoped to write for a new generation an epic of space exploration and terra forming. A man driven by passion and imagination I’m sure whatever he creates will be nothing less than spectacular.

Only half an hour out of Gent on my way to Brugge I met Uwe - German bicyclist and long time traveller. He’d recently been laid off from his job after 30 years of service but he didn’t mind so much - this was evident as he told stories of all the bicycle trips he’s undertaken in the last few months. He mentioned a wife who’s only rule was ‘come home at least once every three months’ and that she’d probably also be just as likely to kick in the job and join him if the opportunity presented itself. My little legs had to push a little harder to keep up with old Uwe but it was worth the extra effort to gain a few little nuggets of wisdom and motivation for the next trip.

Arriving in Brugge 3 or so hours later the weather turned less favorable for cycling and we donned our wet weather gear. Uwe was in search of a place for a coffee and a croissant while I preferred to find a park to eat my avocado and bread. We shook hands, thanked each other for the conversation and parted ways.

After lunch and a siesta in the park the clouds parted and the sun finally showed it’s face. A perfect time to explore the UNESCO protected old city of Brugge. I recalled the scene from the movie when I saw the old clock tower and tried hard to imagine how it might have been decades ago. I found old Fidel - a placid golden labrador who lies enjoying the sun in his infamous window beside the canal. A guide in a passing tour boat slowed as he approached the window and when he pointed up to Fidel the group sighed a collective and appropriately timed, ‘Awww.’

As the afternoon pushed on I grew a little tired and decided that I would kick on to my hosts’ place 7km outside the old city. Struggling to find the house I called Henk who described surroundings which weren’t familiar and I realised that I’d written down the wrong town on my tattered hand-drawn map. In fact I was still 25km from where I needed to be and hadn’t accounted on needing energy for another hour and a half of riding. I had a momentary sink in spirits before ditching my blues and focussing on the solution; saddle up and keep on riding.

When I arrived at Henk and Katrien’s place the sun was setting and the fields surrounding were a brilliant golden-green. Henk inspected my luggage and estimated a 15kg total - 'not bad,’ he thought. I still thought it was a tad too much.

Stepping inside I was greeted with a smiling Katrien and when I came back downstairs after a long hot shower I pulled up a seat at the table set for three and a feast of home cooked spaghetti, red wine and a dessert of apple cake! Over dinner Henk ran to the other side of the room to pull out maps and photo albums from cycling trips in Tanzania, Indonesia and Australia as he recollected stories from their many overseas adventures. He apologised for the state of the house (which wasn’t anything to be sorry about in my opinion) and said that they’d probably spend more money on fixing it up if they didn’t spend it all on traveling. At this point I’d be happy to take a leaf from their book - priorities well sorted I’d say!

Graffitied alleys in Gent

Housing and symmetry in the neighbourhood of Gent

A man paints the window frame of a house in the old city of Gent

Coloured houses in Gent

Enjoying a coffee with Ben in his favourite cafe where he spends much of his time working on his novel

A lone park bench aside one of the many canals in Gent

The smallest house in Gent 

The old city of Gent

The postal service bike

A rainy arrival into Brugge

Picnicing in the park in Brugge

Alternative uses for bicycles in Brugge

A squatted house in Brugge where the residents print their own magazines and create other arty stuffs.

Looking up in the main square in Brugge.

Chuck rolls into town.

A passing tour guide smiles as he passes by.

Fidel enjoys the sun in his usual perch.

Taking a rest and Belgium hot chocolate.

Belgium, Brussels and Bicycles

  Bruussels to Gent (Belgium) Stage
71.3 km Distance
 Nothing Elevation
 Overcast and moody Weather

Last Tuesday it was my birthday and my feet had started to get a little itchy. So I dedicated a number of hours to researching potential next moves in Europe. Heading south to Morroco was looking favorable but the sweltering Spanish summer had already started to show its bite. And anyone who has spent time in Andalucia during the months of May and June will know the type of inferno I’m referring to. On reflection north was a better direction to be headed. It just so happened that a cheap flight, from a random small airport close by to where I would be visiting over the weekend, to Brussels in Belgium appeared during my investigations. In the wee hours that night I pounced on the opportunity - flight booked. 

I wanted to be in Germany anyway by the start of June and arriving by alternative means of transport is kinda my thang. So my first days in Brussels were spent searching for the not-so-perfect bicycle, upgrading my backpack with two wheels, which would get me to Bremen in the next 10 days.

My wonderful hosts in Brussles, also bicycle enthusiasts, pointed me in the right direction. I scoured flea markets, second hand bicycle stores and online platforms. I was surprised at how expensive the options were - but calculated if I could sell the bike when I got to Germany then I could absorb some of the cost. 

Finally I found Chuck. An old and heavy bright green mountain bike which looked worse than it rode. A plus for detouring would-be bicycle thieves. I had all I needed; spare inner tube, puncture repair kit, bike pump, equally weighted panniers and elastic straps to tie down my backpack. I added two 15mm spanners to my inventory in case of rear wheel deflation and late Wednesday afternoon we saddled up and hit the road.

Navigating through Belgium on a bicycle is a breeze. With the notch system planning a route between two points is as easy as selecting your departure and arrival point on the online map. Jotting down the numbered ‘notches’ and following well signed paths along the way it’s difficult to lose the way. 

I was delighted that my first planned route never crossed a main motorway, ducked in and out of farmlands on gravel paths and snaked along the beautiful tree-lined canals. After a few days of organising logistics I was glad to be finally on the road with the wind in my hair. 

My hosts from Warmshowers in Brussels - enjoying a picnic on the roof.

Homecooked pasta salad and blue cheese quiche - hospitality at its finest.

Street art and 'green spaces’ in hidden alleyways in Brussels.

The long halls of the underground music conservatory in Brussels where one of my hosts studied classical oboe performance. 

Chuck all loaded up, rocking and ready to go. 

At a canal crossing along the way - I giggled as I rang a large bell aside the dock to call the attention of the ferry lady across the way.

Navigation in the 21st century - connecting the dots.