clairedavieswriter

Are you there yet? Not quite. But very nearly. Since crossing the southern border of France at Hendaye on 11 May, it has taken me 16 and a half days to pedal here, and I’m on track to reach Bray Dunes, the country’s most northerly point, tomorrow morning.

Despite yesterday’s exertions, when I hit the road this morning I felt quite restored. Perhaps it was down to the wholesome conversation over breakfast with a mother and daughter from Arizona who were on pilgrimage from Canterbury to Aosta. Or the two large cups of sweet black coffee I drank to make up for the drought yesterday. Or perhaps it was just the effect of a proper rest after a few disturbed nights. Could the secret to a good sleep be riotously mismatched bedding? And while we’re on the subject, what is it with French pillows? You can either have a pencil thin bolster than runs the width of the double bed (how does that work when there’s two of you in it?) or else a big square thing. Last night I had both, but I was so tired I was past caring.

Dunkirk is due north of Auchy, so I’ll give you one guess which direction Mr Blowhard was coming from today, at more or less the same strength as yesterday. Thankfully, due to cooler air and the general absence of hills, it was altogether a much better day on the bike.

We very briefly joined EuroVélo 5, aka Via Francigena – the cycling equivalent of what my Arizonan friends were doing on foot:

And then began zigzagging our way north through a complex web of numbered nodes – a system that I’m likely to become very familiar with as I understand it’s used all over Belgium and the Netherlands:

The twisting and turning both made for a more interesting ride and ensured I didn’t always have the wind in my face. At one point we joined the North Sea Cycle route, which was signposted in (I assume) Flemish: LF is the Dutch acronym for a cycle route:

What with the routing system, the language and the names, I had to keep reminding myself I was still in France – it felt so different from the country I’ve travelled through so far

And it wasn’t just the geography I was noticing, but the history. As usual, I had my earphones in (don’t worry, I can still hear the traffic), and with eerie timing, John Lennon had just sung “Imagine all the people, living life in peace” when I came upon this sign:

Backing onto open farmland, it was, as often with these places, immaculately tended and incredibly poignant.

All these place names are familiar to me from a diary written by my great uncle in the trenches in 1916 and 1917:

And the local people clearly don’t want future generations to forget: this mural in Ochtezeele was opposite the primary school (situated in the same building as the Mairie, as I’ve often seen in small towns):

It’s not just the conflicts of the last century that are remembered. This memorial outside the town of Noordpeene commemorates a significant battle in the Franco-Dutch war of 1677, in which Louis XIV wrested control of (French) Flanders from William of Orange.

Even with all the History and Geography, there was still no escaping PE. Blowhard did his worst across the flat farmland of Flanders:

And saved a particularly chilling headwind for the last charge into Dunkirk along the Bergues canal:

Tomorrow, the lesson may well be Foreign Languages. Until then, good night – or, as I believe they say in Flemish, slapwel.