Wednesday 4 October 2023

It finishes where it began

 There is quite a difference between Belgium and the Netherlands. The most important difference for me is the bike riding infrastructure. Scattered and not very well designed or used in Belgium; prolific, populated and smooth throughout the Netherlands. I’ve not been able to overcome my tendency for serious caution despite bikes frequently having right of way as cycle paths in excellent condition snake both sides of roadways. Roundabouts, terrifying encounters elsewhere, have separated bike lanes and again, vehicles give way.

The population seem to be much less reliant on mobility aids and overweight people are definitely in the minority. I’m assuming this is due to daily riding to and from school, work and the shops. Oh, and age is no barrier.

From Charleroi we pedalled to Namur, a clean and bustling place right on the Meuse. Our accommodation was in the middle of the evening jollity, hundreds of people sitting outside in the warmth of early October.



We rejoined the cycle way along the Meuse, stopping in Huy for a coffee and cake. Bars are full of usually older men and women taking a morning beer.


Liege was especially vibrant. People everywhere enjoying themselves and lots of students kicking up their heels to celebrate the start of the academic year. If you’re in Liege, don’t miss the railway station. Coloured glass panels form the roof. It’s so much not like Southern Cross.

Rain was forecast so we took in the gallery before catching a train to Maastricht. We then rode onto Gulpen and visited the place where three countries intersect.






Our last day was from Gulpen to Maastricht where we dumped our stuff and rode out to Bokrijk to ride through water. This feature was provided by the Limburg area to encourage tourism.







So here we are, returned to Maastricht from whence we ventured out. We’ve ridden 1624kms. Not a bad effort. And let’s hope there’s further posts to follow.

Sunday 1 October 2023

The Belgian Leg

 We’re 1372kms into our five weeks of riding and have only been wet once. That was navigating the last 10kms to our Airbnb in Charleroi. Not a bad record.




From Reims we rode to Laon, the former capital city of France. Perched high on a hill it was satisfying to ride to our gorgeous hotel using battery power to reach it. Pierre our host bought the rambling house and gave it new life with style and humour. I lit a candle for Jo in Notre Dame.

Riding to Hirson the following day was our first real food desert experience. Not a soul stirred in the villages we rode through. The farms were more akin to Australian stretching across broad plains. 

Hirson was unremarkable. Gritty and somewhat grimy. 

Onwards to Mons, a busy city, also unremarkable. Life was generated by the city’s students who outnumbered the old, poor and the workers. 

Charleroi was meant to be an easy ride along a canal. Detours however saw us crisscrossing the water many times and the expected distance of 42kms lengthened to close to 70. 





What a dispirited city it is. Grime, rubbish, people doing it tough. Best thing is to leave. I can’t imagine the lives lived here are full of optimism, opportunities and joy. We did however find the small and beautiful gallery. Not surprisingly we were the only visitors bar one other. Des and I also watched the Grand Final, albeit on an iPad after shelling out $46 to the AFL for the privilege. Bit hard to soak up the atmosphere but Des is very happy to take the win.



A few more days on the road is all that remains. Soon I’ll get the hang of the e-bike.