This blog post is the third in a four-part series covering a journey bikepacking through Belgium. If you haven’t read the first and second posts check them out here:
Day 3 – Ghent
Despite a fun evening, the night was bitterly cold. Foolishly I did not dry down the inner pod of my tent, which meant that as the temperatures dropped to near freezing my temporary sanctuary felt more like the inside of a freezer. My second rookie mistake was leaving my next-day clothes in the porch. Whilst they remained dry, they climatised to the evening chill which meant they were stiff with cold. In the middle of the night, I went to add on these extra layers but could not bring myself to squeeze into the rigid cold material.
In the morning I lay curled up in my sleeping bag trying to close out the cold from my mind. It took a lot of energy to unsheathe from my warm cocoon and into the cold air. Eventually, I mustered the energy and began to put on all of my clothes and packway my sleeping equipment from inside the tent.
For a mid-November camp, I was surprised to find that the dew which had formed on the outer shell of our tents had frozen into thin shards of ice. With cold stinging fingers, we painfully packed away the tents. Nevertheless, the morning light was gorgeous and reflected beautifully off the icy skin of the tent.
We set off and out of the forest with as many layers as we could fit into. Predictably, we quickly had to strip down to fewer layers as the sun started to creep above the horizon and our hearts began to pump harder and harder with each pedal.
This section of the ride was one of the best so far, with the route and weather being on our side.
In the sun we followed the canal towards Ghent and were greeted by the silhouette of two cathedrals which stood out like beacons guiding us towards the city.
I’ve always wondered if, in the Instagram and YouTube era, we have lost the magic of seeing a new place for the first time through our own eyes and not through a screen in advance. Is there a forgotten magic that was experienced by the great adventurers of the eras past who had only seen paintings and heard stories? Ghent was a natural stopping point between Bruges and Brussels, so I, perhaps naively, hadn’t given it much thought. Having never researched or taken note of the city, I wasn’t expectingly anything significant. This presented me with the gift of genuine shock and elation as we rolled into the city.
Noticing the irony in the above paragraph combined with sharing photos of an adventure I feel it’s best to put a warning message in here – if you want to go in blind when visiting Ghent for the first time perhaps skip this post!
As we rolled into the centre the expanse of a huge castle jumped out to me. The juxtaposition of the castle walls and bustling modern city was striking. The feeling of surprise and excitement in seeing this castle without knowing about in advance was amazing and made me really value not over planning these sorts of trips.
In the sun we strolled around the streets of Ghent, soaking in the continuation of grand Belgium architecture.
We refuelled at a cheap burger restaurant and sneakily refilled our bottles and camelback pouches with water from the drinks station – hoping the staff either wouldn’t notice or wouldn’t mind.
It wasn’t until leaving the restaurant did we realise we had filled up our water supplies with sparkling water. We must be some of the more decadent bikepackers I thought to myself.
Leaving Ghent we continued south, weaving through the outer suburbs and villages. Taking a narrow road, we followed a thin trail through backstreets which led us into the middle of a village fayre.
As much as we tried to continue on our cycle there was no use. It seemed as if all the neighbouring villages had attended and the scene was that of a surreal festival. Horses stood stoically in pens whilst Belgians drank beer and sang songs. Hoping off our bikes to push them through the crowds, we soaked in the sudden change in atmosphere and the secret life of an unknown community.
Soon we were back in the countryside and the flat terrain had given way to rolling hills that took us above the low-lying fog and through farmland.
As I cycle I listened to The Adventure Podcast episode in which Tom Turcich recounts his 7-year journey as he walked around the world. The podcast brings up that familiar feeling of excitement which makes my heart pump and my brain rush with ideas when I hear about such amazing journeys.
I find that the combination of the physical challenge of cycling the long Belgian roads combined with the mental stimulation and excitement from an inspiring adventure podcast allows me to revel in the experience and reach a near flow-state type feeling. I write in my diary the feeling of ecstasy this state brings me “my mind is focused, elsewhere, while my legs work unquestionably “.
Despite this joyous feeling, I wonder if absorbing too much content whilst in mid-adventure is something to be careful of. Perhaps it is a reflection of this information-packed era which requires the need for constant information. Certainly, it is evidence confirming my ever-increasing awareness of my own difficulty to be more present and not allow my mind to wander so much. I romantically think of adventures from a different time such as Laurie Lee’s “As I Walked Out One Midsummer Morning” aware that during his journey the luxury of “podcasts” were not around to distract his mind from being present as he hiked through Spain.
Eventually, as the setting sun began to cast a pink glow upon the sky we reached our Bivak camp spot. The Bivak spot is found inside a small forest in the hills. As we are arriving we spot a hiker who seems to be camping in the same spot.
Huddled around a campfire we shared tea and tales with our new friend. I slept well that night feeling full of excitement from stories told of adventurous travels and new possibilities. The evening was an excellent reminder that adventure grows the mind both from the journey you take and the people you meet.