Introduction
In a world where cheap flights are abundant, it’s often difficult to quiet the voice advocating the nomadic lifestyle in the back of your head. Fortunately, however, I think those of us who have that burning desire to experience our world, are also some of the most committed to trying to protect it. The balance of doing what is right and necessary for sustainability against the equally important, but ultimately selfish, desire to travel and experience life is one that I am forever struggling with.
As a sustainability consultant by profession, I am trying to improve the act of practicing what I preach. This includes trying to seek out lower carbon travel and adventure. Lockdown helped many of us realise the value in staying local and finding beauty and adventure close to home. Within the UK we are blessed with such diverse and beautiful landscapes. However, there is no denying that the voice yearning to experience new cultures and new places has not gone away.
Luckily, there exists only a small stretch of water between the British Isles and the European continent. A journey that is easy to commute at far lower emissions than a the usual commercial plane. By comparison the carbon impact of travelling via ferry and bicycle is a fraction of the impact of a short haul flight (see above image).
The allure of Belgium had been increasing for a while. This country is the second closest to the UK, however it is one I had never visited. Known for its excellent cycle routes, the outlines of a low carbon bikepacking trip to a new country started to form in the back of my mind.
The rest of this article forms the first diary entry of a 4-part series of my account of the journey.
Day 1 – The Journey Begins.
Packed with our tents, sleeping bags and enough warm clothes to get us through the worst possible weather, we set our sights on Brussels and planned our route to the Belgian capital. We made our way, via train, ferry and bicycle, out of London, across the channel and through France. We left on the 10th November 2022 as the cool autumn weather faded away and made room for the cold snap of winter.
Our arrival on the continent was bleak with Dunkirk port and the surrounding region feeling industrial, grey and sombre.
As we left Dunkirk Port we passed drifting refugees walking along train tracks and roadsides directionlessly. The site of a makeshift campsite on the side of a train track made me feel sick with guilt as I contemplated the privileged position I am in to warrant the ability to choose to camp outside over the next few days. For many, it’s simply the only option.
Dunkirk town felt quiet and reserved as we cycled through the military graveyards on the eve of Armistice day.
The landscape began to feel brighter and more wild as we cross the border into Belgium. We followed the canal out towards Nieuwpoort. Despite, the picturesque canals and farmland, there were few viable options to wild camp. It seemed we hadn’t delved deep enough into the country to break away from the hustle and bustle of the port towns.
We had cycled a relatively easy 50km and felt eager to put a few more miles under our belt. However, the light was fading fast and we still had no idea where we would sleep.
As the sun began to set we hade no option but to turn back and camp in a not-very-wild park with some trees and a small lake.
Being so close to people and roads made me feel uneasy, especially with the €150 euro fine for wild camping looming in the back of my mind.
The dark and cold which descends upon us at 5 pm during these late autumn months makes wild/stealth camping a notably less joyous activity. Silently we set up our camp, trying to not to make too much noise or light to avoid detection.
The evening was sombre and unrelaxing as we reflected upon the day and cast worried looks around our final destination. I lay in my tent feeling uneasy and anxious. I started to question if I had embarked upon a trip which would be full of cold quiet evenings pierced with anxious looks over our shoulders as we slept in places which neighboured the real world so closely.
My sleep that night was broken, half listening out for potential bike theft or unwanted night-time visits from passers-by. It was a while before the exhaustion was able to overcome my racing mind and subdue my worries briefly enough for sleep to take hold.
Read about day 2 here!