Ding, Ding, Belgium

The journey into Belgium was, thankfully, uneventful. The area we are staying in is a little more built up than the site in The Netherlands. Driving down someone’s front street in a foreign country with a caravan on the back can be a bit worrying. There’s a level crossing at the end of the road and a sign pointing left for our site. We knew we were near a railway line so we can’t be far. Checking into reception, everything goes as expected, we are given a little plastic tag to operate the showers and directed to our pitch.

Our serviced pitch is hedged on three sides with a picnic table all for about 22€ a night. Whilst he’s faffing about levelling the van I wander over to the toilet block to check the lie of the land. As I get to the block a bell rings and a two carriage train pootles past. First impressions of the toilet block pleases me, relatively modern and clean. Back to the van, kettle on whilst he puts the new canopy up, chairs out of the boot, bags for life emptied into cupboards, cuppa in hand and bums on chairs in less than an hour. Ding, ding, ding, the level crossing tells the world another train is on it’s way, again a two carriage train rumbles past.

Out in the car for tea, exploring, he’s got wind that there’s an American diner not too far from here, it sounds like a safe bet. A quirky building displaying everything and anything that you’d associate with America. Ribs and Frites ordered, not the cheapest but then nothing food wise has been cheap on this trip. We sit and wait. By gum it was humongous! Too big to eat in one sitting, we get it boxed and take it back to the van with us.

We are here for The Boss to meet up with a few members of a cycling club he has joined. A Belgian member of the club, Andy, who has arranged the trip drives over to meet us, “What does he look like” I ask, “No idea” he responds. A Belgian guy dressed like a ‘Teenage Skater Boy” soon turns up and says hello … Just as he sits down the bells start to ring and within seconds a train trundles by. You can see where this is going…

It’s 12.45am and it would seem the last train of the day has just gone past. No more bells! The train is manageable, in fact you are hardly aware of it, it’s the bells. The bells every fifteen minutes going through at least three nearby level crossings, that’s three lots of bells. We fall asleep into the deepest sleep, until just gone 4am and ding, ding, ding, here we go again. In the cold light of day I’m ready for leaving, I’ve had enough. For as nice as the site is, I need my shut eye, I’m absolutely cream crackered.

We head into Oodenarde where there’s a cycling museum for the Tour of Flanders, I nod off in the car, but only for a short while, it’s not that far away. I could have nodded off in the museum too but I mustered up enough interest to listen to the majority of the self ‘audio’ tour, when we compared the information later it seemed I’d listened to more than him. He had fixed his focus on the stories of pain and suffering on the cobbled roads and hills he had agreed to ride on the coming weekend. After a walk around the town we return to the caravan and eat the remaining ‘left overs’ from last night’s Ribs and Frites, with my new found favourite sauce, curry ketchup. Tonight, we’ve raided our old spares box and found a couple of packets of ear plugs. They are years old and we’ve no idea where they came from but the packets are sealed and they are still squishy. Anything is worth a shot.

On Friday, after having a decent night’s sleep, the ear plugs worked, we jumped on the Tandem for an easy eight mile countryside ride. We are enjoying the e-Tandem as we can quickly plan an easy ride dressed in our ‘civvies’ and turn up at a cafe or bar still looking acceptable (ie. not sweaty and sporting lycra).

Friday evening was spent at Andy’s house. This was the first physical meeting of the ‘MuckersWorldwide’ cycling club, six members of a bigger club of ‘indoor cyclists’ who race and ride each other on indoor trainers on a virtual platform. There was no guarantee that ‘online banter’ would translate into the real world, but Ard (Netherlands), Daniel (Germany), Kyle and Neil (UK), along with Andy’s (Belgium) family and Me and The Boss just clicked like we had known each other for years. We ate Belgium takeaway (similar, but different) and drank Belgium beer (similar, but Stronger).

Saturday brought the first Mucker’s ride, they were off pedalling early doors. I settled myself in the shade of the canopy, table loaded with my book, my wool, my iPad and a glass of juice. These are the kind of days I dreamed of whilst working for the club, sitting outside my van on a warm day, heaven. Before I had time to appreciate my perfect morning, six sweaty MAMIL’s (Middle Aged Men In Lycra) magically appeared before me. All moaning that the 60 miles they had under their non existent belts had been brutal. Off they went, time to clean up ready for tea out at a local bistro before they hit the famous cobbled routes tomorrow. One thing I must say before I end this paragraph, since giving up the booze 3 years ago, I’m now the designated driver on a night out. I have never driven abroad before, I was brave and offered. What could go wrong? I’m proud to say, nothing went wrong, I’m proper chuffed with myself but I did it! I drove on the wrong side of the road without any problems. To read more about the Muckers rides and challenges. Click here

Ear plugs were the saving grace of this site, without them I’m not sure I could have stayed. I haven’t done as much cycling this week, so a 40 mile round trip to Ghent is a must do. Setting off mid morning we are there for lunch. One last portion of Frites before it’s time to go home tomorrow. GHent is in the middle of a festival, decorated to the nines, with stages for life music on every square and street food stalls everywhere. It’s buzzing, whilst colourfully decorated its still possible to enjoy and admire the old architecture of the buildings. I’m just going to spam you with loads of Ghent photos rather than bore you with all the details, if ever you are anywhere near Ghent though, it really should be on your ‘to visit’ list.

The ride, OK, my bum was a bit saddle sore but I rode it out. 40 miles turned into 44 miles due to one or two wrong turns and cycle paths being closed and having to follow diversions. Completely jiggered we set about taking the canopy down and packing up everything we won’t need tonight. Our fortnight of cycling in The Netherlands and Belgium has come to an end. I cycled just over 150 miles in the two weeks, Steve rode 400 miles. If cycling was like this at home I’d ride more. One last night with our earplugs stuffed in our ears before the four hour drive and channel tunnel ride tomorrow. Fortnights like this are what I’ve missed whilst working for the club. Retirement is good, I can highly recommend it.