Adventure Diaries: Bikepacking Through Belgium, Day 2

This blog post is the second in a four part series covering a journey bikepacking through Belgium. If you haven’t read the first post read it here:

Adventure Diaries – Bikepacking Through Belgium, Day 1:

Bruges

After a uneasy sleep, we woke up at 6am and quickly pack away signs of our inhabitation. My friend was keen to make some breakfast before we set off, but feeling anxious, I advised that it would be creating unwanted and unnecessary attention.

As if voicing my fears was a call for arms, a white van pulled up in the darkness and two men approached us. Convinced we were moments from facing a wild camping fine, or perhaps something more sinister, I braced myself. We stood silent and still, hoping the men will walk past leaving us undisturbed. To our horror, the two silhouettes veered away from the footpath and headed for the patch of wooded darkness where we were standing. We watched transfixed as two bobbing torch lights swept the floor – possibly checking for tents in order to catch us red handed – and make their way over to us.

The men reach our spot and asked in thick Flemish accents “Fishing?”.

“No, cycling” we anxiously replied.

They shrugged and returned to their van, seemingly uninterested in two potential bikepackers. It seemed that once these authorities had been unable to pin us for camping they were secondly most concerned about illegal fishing in the conservation area.

Feeling convinced that had we packed away our tents minutes later we would be facing a far more complicated conversation, we finished packing away and prepared to leave. As we turn to leave the men return from their van and approach us again. My stomach sinks as I prepare for the men to have had a change of heart and issue us a fine.

However, the two men walked straight passed us and towards the waters edge where they set up their rods and tackles. It turns out my fear was entirely misplaced. I had misread the situation completely. Our potential prosecutors had actually been a couple of law-breaking anglers, come to illegally fish in the dark early hours of the morning, away from the eyes of the authorities and curious passer-by’s. They had not approached us to pin us for a crime, but to see who had beat them to their clandestine fishing spot.

With a sigh of relief we laughed at our misplaced apprehension and worry. Feeling the weight of the evenings anxiety fall away we joined the canal path and cycle south towards Bruges.

In the darkness, the trail is illuminated only by our head torches and bike lights. The smooth track quickly turns into a muddy patch of grass clinging to the canal edge. My thin road tyres slip in the mud and the weight of the panniers unbalances me. Before long I’m on the floor in the mud and the dark, only feet from falling into the cold river below.

Eventually, we make it back onto the cycle route and weave our way through farmlands as the sun rises. The frosty wind seeps in through the pores of our shoes cutting into out feet. The repetitive pedal motion distracts the blood from our extremities until the cold induces a dull aching numbness. After loosing our way several times, moral is low and its a relief when we see reach a sign which tells us we have reached the outskirts of Bruges.

The city is strikingly beautiful with its corridors of canals which navigate their way through the gothic architecture. This combined with its grand squares reminds me of a cross between Krakow and Amsterdam. We awkwardly maneuverer our way through the regal city, soaking in its grandeur.

Feeling refreshed and refuelled we head out of the city and aim for a “Bivak Zone” 20km outside the city. These establishments are incredible and deserve a dedicated blog post to detail and praise them in full. In short, they are spots of land, often in woods and forests, which landowners have allowed campers to stay for one night at a time. Whilst purists may say this is not quite true wild camping, the ability to set up our tent in the wilderness without fear of being moved on was undeniably worth it.

As we cycled down smooth country roads the sun began to set behind the treeline setting the sky ablaze. With the pink glow came the sudden plummet in temperature. In the absence of 8-hours of daily screen-time our circadian rhythms had began to thrive. The end of the sunlight signalled the end of the days cycling and my body had quickly become accustomated to that routine. Suddenly feeling exhausted we pushed through the final few kilometres and the remainder of my energy.

Our map directed us deep into the woods and we arrived at our destination just before dusk. The camp is an incredible spot and I feel relieved to be deeper into the outdoors and away from civilisation. This comfort is reflected in the mood of my friend and my own and the evening is spent discussing philosophical topics with excitement and delight. We ate, drank and laughed as we recounted our journey and the contrast of the evening before. I crawl into my tent with a feeling of fulfilment and serenity and drift off to sleep.