Wallonia GR5 Belgium: Some Comments

The most obvious thing to say is after the flatness of Flanders, Wallonia has hills. You are broken in gently the first limestone hills south of Maastricht are not too steep, the gradients increase as you enter the area of the Ardennes. Nevertheless it is not all climbing there are lengthy paths and tracks over the plateau. Much of the walk is in woodland, deciduous trees, often beech, and with stands of commercial conifers. There is a small area of preserved "bog" or what I would call wet moorland, but wet muddy sections of track are spread over a wider area of forest. This was in a hot, dry period in wetter months I imagine the trail is much more wet and muddy. Farmland is also crossed, typically cow pasture with some fields of hay and maize.

Historic sites range from the castle ruin at Burg-Reuland to the Second World War Fort Eben-Emael. This was the area in which the Battle of the Bulge was fought and there are various memorials. 

Towns such as Spa and Stavelot were a pleasure to visit with many facilities, but there were stretches where accommodation and cafes were hard to find. Note that you may need to provide your own toilet paper at some campsites.

Waymarking of white above red stripes is excellent although as always a GPS with the track loaded, suitable maps or a guidebook is recommended 

Link to start of walk in Belgium is here

Link to start of walk in Wallonia is here

Link to start of blog is here

Commanster to Ouren: Day 124

A glorious walk in the early morning, a castle, a morning coffee and tart, a campsite where I could wash my clothes with a brasserie where I can buy diner. About as good as I could expect without my wife.

The day did not start so well. Overnight my left knee was complaining if it was not in exactly in the right position and my back had stiffened up. Getting out of the tent was a clumsy and painful experience. It made me wonder how many more years I could expect to be camping, the answer I told myself was "until I stopped trying".

Once on my way at 7:00 am all thoughts of discomfort disappeared, displaced by a magnificent morning in which sheets of mist intertwined themselves with the trees. An orange sun appeared behind the massed trees and then rose to whiten the tops of the strata of mist. Black silhouettes of trees broke through the white, ethereal blankets ahead of me, which looked so solid in the distance but dissolved into nothing when I reached them. Tiny droplets clung to spiders' webs, revealing an astonishing number spun in delicate patterns.

Layers of mist in the morning light, far more beautiful than the photo suggests.

Rising sun behind oak tree.

Most of this morning was on quiet roads among farmland. As the mist cleared the brilliant sun coloured the lush grass a rich, bright green. Cows with calves eyed me as I walked by.

By late morning I arrived at the town of Burg-Reuland. Its ruined castle was blessed with clean toilets (a real bonus after a wild camp). Within its walls medieval themed games had been set up for children. I climbed up the one remaining tower to the sound of a brass band playing in the valley.  They seemed part of an event held this weekend called "Tage des Offenen Denkmals" or "Open monument days". The bakery was open so I bought a coffee and a tart loaded with glazed fruit, thinking there was enough fruit on it for one of my five a day, so I could feel less guilty about the flaky pastry and custard beneath. Everyone I encountered in the village was speaking German, indeed prior the Treaty of Versailles this area was part of Germany. Prior to this trip I had not realised that there were three languages spoken in Belgium, German as well as French and Dutch (not to mention regional dialects).

Burg-Reuland castle.

As always on leaving a town hereabouts, there was a long climb afterwards to regain the plateau. Climbing the narrow path I noticed I was not moving as fast as earlier in the trip, however I had an excuse for a stopping a few times as bikes were racing down the path, and evasive action was essential. 

Walking among the trees I admired their veined greenness when the sun shone through them. I saw a squirrel and almost stepped on a brown snake which was sunning itself on the path, I knew it was alive from its flickering tongue. In time I began to loose height entering a narrow valley with extensive rock outcrops. Maybe a sign of what I will encounter in the next few days as I walk through Luxembourg. 

Sunlight through leaves.

My campsite tonight is beside a river between forested valley sides. I have made use of their washing machine as my clothes have become sticky with sweat and splattered by mud. The lady in reception charged my "power pack", which I in turn use to charge my phone. Now looking forward to diner at the campsite brasserie. 

Stavelot to Commanster: Day 123

Another hot, sunny day walking over the wooded hills of the Ardennes.

Last night I ate a lovely meal of lamb (which my wife would have found too red and rare), cous cous, roasted tomatoes and chicory. Unfortunately on leaving my chair I experienced a sharp pain in my back, around my right buttock. Although not the first time I had experienced such an injury, it did mean I walked down the street a bit wonky and lopsided. After several hundred metres the pain and stiffness eases.

I failed to find a Bed & Breakfast for tonight, they all appeared to be booked for the weekend, perhaps as people enjoyed the good weather. As there was no campsite near my day's destination I am wild camping. Not wanting to set up my tent too early (to minimise the risk of being spotted) I progressed at a leisurely pace. First I enjoyed breakfast in Stavelot before pausing at the ruins of the abbey. The town was the scene of fierce fighting in the Second World War, when the Germans mounted an offensive in the later part of the conflict called the Battle of the Bulge. An American half track vehicle was on permanent display beside a bridge as one of the memorials to the fierce fighting that took place here.

American half track at Stavelot.

As Ardennes' towns tend to be in the valleys, my walk today began with a long climb up to the plateau of deciduous woodland, conifer forests and cow pasture. After a long stretch at the top it was down into a valley again to arrive at the small town of Vielsam. This was an opportunity to top up my water supplies with some expensive mineral water which I purchased from a Friterie stall along with a cheese burger. 

View over pasture to wooded hills beyond.

Path through tall conifers.

Being Saturday I lot of people were out for the day; walking, cycling or mushroom picking in the woods. A group on electric bikes passed me twice, effortlessly gliding uphill while I laboured up rather more slowly. I refused to be envious, achieving something by the sweat of your brow (literally in this case) is a greater accomplishment than relying on a battery.

On reaching the village of Commanster I searched for the café marked on Google, to buy some refreshment. The café was in a "chateau", a group of aged, stone buildings around a courtyard, one, an old barn, with a large crack. A customer at one of the two tables, pointed to a door with an "Open" sign. I walked into the hall and on my right was a small room, maybe once a kitchen with a large fireplace, now with a small bar. The only drink I could see on offer was beer, which, if I understood correctly, the owner brewed himself. I ordered a small glass. Dark brown, strong and flavoursome I enjoyed it outside at the empty table, thinking the whole group of buildings were in need of renovation, but that it would also destroy some of the character. A lady and her husband who had been sitting by the bar came out complaining it was cold inside. They tried extremely hard to converse with me in French and extracted from me my age and that I was from England. The husband thought I was walking to Santiago de Compostela, the second person today to make that mistake. They managed to get out of me that I had caught a train to Maastricht and had three dogs, they had a little one and the lady disliked cats. This information was passed with a great deal of effort due to my lack of French and it was only because they persisted in rephrasing the questions a few times and spoke slowly that I managed to understand what they were saying. As I left a highly polished, classic, white Peugeot swept into the courtyard, the model that copied the Austin Cambridge with wings at the back. It added an aura of class to a place from a bygone age.

Vieux Chateau de Commanster with a glass of the landlord's beer.

Leaving the village I walked into the next area of woodland. Finding a grassy spot out of sight of the road I have pitched up. My only concern is that there are a few raised hides of the type used by hunters. Not sure if it is currently deer hunting season but the hunters have been known to accidentally confuse people with deer...

Spa to Stavelot: Day 122

Today I crossed the Fagne de Malchamps bog as well as climbing up and down to the wooded plateau.

As the distance was not great today I returned to the centre of Spa to enjoy breakfast at a café (bread, cheese, croissant, coffee and orange juice) and find a new comb. Having lost my previous comb, probably leaving it in a campsite toilet, my hair badly needed some attention. First I looked up the word for comb ("peigne"), then I had to decide which shops might sell one. My fourth attempt at a discount store was successful although they were only sold in packs of two. So now I have two combs.

In the main square there seemed to be a race on, highly polished sports cars, some with an excessive number of headlights, were sent off at intervals. Maybe a time trial. Part of the road out of town had been dug up. I looked down into the trench to see the network of pipes, conduits and cables that are normally buried underneath our feet supplying us with water, gas and electricity, while removing our sewerage. Some pipes were severely corroded, hopefully they were no longer in use, maybe the workmen were replacing them. Certainly optic cable was being laid to service the ever growing need for the internet. 

After leaving the houses of the Spa suburbs I walked up the "Promenade des Artistes". A wooded glen with a stream crossed by a number of wooden bridges, each with the name of an artist I did not recognise. In the dappled sunlight beneath the beech trees I caught up with an old lady stooped over her walking poles, shuffling along slowly. In response to my "bonjour" she exclaimed "Mon Dieu" as I had startled her. Despite her difficulties walking she was exercising with her chocolate, standard poodle who she said liked the water.

Promenade des Artistes.

Forests of conifers, birch and more beech followed but among them an area of bog was preserved. The wet ground was covered in reeds, heather and various bushes, as well as scattered oak and pine trees. Although such ecosystems are not unusual in many places, here it was scarce and this remaining patch was preserved. Gravel paths and boardwalks crossed the bog, although some of the boardwalk was in serious disrepair. Parties of schoolchildren were touring the site, laughing and chatting amongst themselves, teachers front and back. There was a wooden observation tower I climbed up which gave a tremendous view not only of the Fagne de Malchamps but to the north over the lands I had recently walked. A large party of schoolchildren arrived and started up the stairs. I began to wonder how many people the tower was designed to support. The boarding on the floor did not look too strong. I descended to ground level as soon as there was a break in the stream of children climbing up.

The bog of Fagne de Malchamps.

Many of the paths today were either muddy or rocky. Despite the recent hot weather there was plenty of water on the tracks through the forest, maybe as it was once bog. Bicycles had churned up the wet ground into rutted, muddy hollows. Elsewhere rocks and stones made the going uneven. I took care in my foot placement to avoid damaging my knee. 

View of final ridge to cross before Stavelot. 

The GR5 is very well waymarked (although a GPS or paper map is still required), among the woods I came across one of the volunteers who was painting the distinctive red below white stripes on selected trees. These need refreshing periodically as they break up and become progressively fainter as the tree grows in girth.

Volunteer renewing the red and white waymarks complete with GR5 tee shirt.

My entry into Stavelot was guided by the GR5 waymarks into a short tunnel, which was novel, dark and slippery. The town itself has squares old and new and a few buildings with rather tall slate roofs. My campsite is beside a tree lined river, its ripples sparkling in the sunlight. A little outside of the town, but not far enough to preclude a walk in for diner this evening (along the GR14 as it transpired).

Wégimont to Spa: Day 121

A long day, but an early start allowed me to walk in the cool for a few hours marvelling at how the low morning light made everything look beautiful. 

I had a choice today, a short walk today and tomorrow, or one long day. Deciding on the latter I started early, rising with the sun and on the road by 7:10 am. It was the best part of the day, cool before temperatures rose to the mid twenties. Cows, houses, even barbed wire fences looked attractive as the low sun gilded their outlines.

Photos did not do justice to the morning scenes.

I found myself following a lady walking ahead of me, not wanting it to appear I was stalking her I quickened my pace to overtake with a quick "bonjour". Not easy as her pace was similar to mine. She caught up with me at place where the path was blocked by construction works and we exchanged a few words. I discovered she was Dutch, walking the GR5 for just a few days, and that she started this morning even earlier than me.

Vauxhall-sous-Olne seemed to mark the start of the Ardennes, marked by steeper valley sides below wooded plateaux. It was a strenuous climb out of the village soon followed by a steep, winding descent into the small town of Nessonvaux. After a further steep climb I was on the largely wooded plateau and with time the GR5 delivered me to edge of the village of Banneux. In addition to the more challenging landscape I also noticed the houses tended to be made of stone rather than the brick of Flanders, more sympathetic to the surrounding scenery. 

In 1933 in Banneux a local girl saw visions of the Virgin Mary. A series of chapels and churches have been built on the location of these visitations and many people were visiting them. There have been healing miracles. Masses were advertised in a number of European languages although I spotted none in English. There were massed rows of lighted candles in dark chapels. Nearby a square was lined with shops selling religious items and, far more interesting to me, there were a few cafes where I could indulge in a coffee and cake. Before leaving I said a pray for my wife and journey, joining others kneeling nearby. 

By now the heat was increasing, not quite as hot as the last few days but still sweaty weather. Fearful of dehydration having noticed some signs (no visits to the toilets overnight and yellow pee) I was making concerted efforts to drink more today. My reward was having to find discrete places to relieve myself, and urine the colour of champagne (apparently every hikers dream). Some paths today reminded me of walking along deep drainage ditches, without the water, buried in the landscape they were verging on overgrown.

The GR5 makes concerted efforts to avoid visiting the centre of villages where cafes and shops may lie. As my guidebook assured me there was a place of refreshment in La Reid I diverted off trail. My reward was a coke and bag of crisps in the quiet bar, otherwise occupied by two men with generous beer bellys.

On route looking at the wooded hills of the Ardennes. 

Walking on beechmast admiring the patches of sunlight. 

Although a direct route would enter the town of Spa from the north, the GR5 manages to approach from the south adding significant mileage. However the final section was a pleasant woodland walk, my feet crunching beech mast, patches of sunlight decorating the ground. Spa, once I eventually reached its centre, was a bustling place with pavement cafes, shops and a Aston Martin sports car on display in the square. Somewhere there is a spring delivering water which allegedly cures things. Spa gave its name to all the other Spas around the world having attracted attention since Roman times (when it was called "Aqua Spadanae").

Spa.

After I long hard, hot day I was sad to find my campsite at the end of a long hill. To tired to go back into town for dinner I settled for a takeaway Pizza from somewhere nearer.

Visé to Domaine de Wégimont: Day 120

Another hot, sunny day among trees and fields of maize on which I met another GR5 walker from Britain.

I decided to have breakfast in a traditional café on Visé's main street. In the street school children chatted as they walked to school. Workman were already busy digging up most of the main square, directing me to the other side of the road. In the café, the waitress ran (literally) in and out of the kitchen, serving breakfast to me and a lady with a laptop on her table, drawing beers and some clear spirit for the other men at the bar.

Leaving town I spotted a street market, stalls lined a side road selling clothes, quiches, cheese, garden plants and rotisserie chicken. Sadly I decided that a quiche would crumble in my tightly packed rucksack and the cheese would sweat unpleasantly in the weather so I settled for apples.

Street market in Visé.

As I climbed over a hill, the sun highlighting the green landscape. I felt guilty enjoying the beauty of the scene. While I was enjoying Belgium my wife was busy at home tending to our ageing dogs and rooting up ivy. Others would be prevented from such a trip by poorly knees or some other impediment. Still they would not be sweating in the heat with a 14 kilogram rucksack.

Dalhem was the first village on my route today where the GR5 deliberately climbed a hill into the old and picturesque settlement in order to go through a passage marked 'Wichet de la Rose'. Must be a story behind it. After I had climbed down a flight of steps to road level I noticed a patisserie opposite where I bought a bottle of orange juice and a "tarte á fraize" to consume on a piece of concrete nearby. The tarte was for sentimental reasons, my wife and I bought a couple between punctures on a cycling trip in France long ago.

A little later I caught up with another British GR5 hiker called Ray ( exrayraylejog.home.blog ). We walked for a little way, chatting together before parting in the village of St Remy (after missing the café mentioned in the guidebook).

St Remy church, typical of many in the area, although as the GR5 tended to slip between settlements sometimes I only saw the spires.

My day continued on quiet roads, paths, cycle paths, farm and forest tracks. For a few kilometres I followed a wooded valley. The sunlight, filtered through the leaves of the trees, produced a lemony light which my camera failed to reproduce. Horses and bicycles passed me, day and dog walkers came the other way, bonjours all round. 

The trees were a welcome reprieve from the heat I experienced, exposed to direct sunlight on tracks through fields of maize. Drinking lots of water was essential, my lack of normal urination warned me I was becoming dehydrated. In addition to my water bottle I filled my platypus (basically a heavy duty plastic bag). Unfortunately when I filled it in the bathroom light this morning it glowed a faint, fluorescent green. I added a water purification tablet to kill anything that might be growing in it. Having not yet become sick after drinking most of it I am hoping that treated any problems.

Welcome shade under trees.

Exposed to sunlight on a cycle track through fields of Maize.

I am now camped at a site in the Domain Provincal de Wégimont, beside an area of parkland with a lake, smokey barbeques and a chateau (not open to the public). There is a formal garden with low brown hedges, possibly boxwood that has been afflicted by a disease that it is killing it off. I am contemplating plans for an ambitious day tomorrow. 

Return to Maastricht and on to Visé: Day 118 & 119

A complicated train journey back to Maastricht followed by a long, hot day in the sun among hills with three interesting sights.

My return to Maastricht involved four different trains. I made sure I had plenty of time between them, including enough time to walk across central London for some exercise on an otherwise sedentary day, but still, the 22 platforms of Brussels Midi created some concern, especially as there was a late platform change for my train to Liège. As it approached eleven o'clock at night there was another challenge. Due to some problem the last part of my journey to Maastricht was by bus, I need not have worried, station staff made sure the four of us on the train found the bus.

Liège railway station at night where I had to figure out why my train was displayed as going only to Visé and not Maastricht.

Next day the blue skies and morning sun dressed the handsome city in a flattering light, as cyclists made their way to work. Unfortunately, as is common on the first day of a long trip my bowels were protesting the change of country. Nevertheless I was soon on the GR5 beside a small, tree lined river, in a green meadow in the suburbs. The small print on the red and white waymarks reminded me that Nice was still a long way away.

After admiring lines of vines on the valley sides and fields of healthy looking maize, I started my first climb. Today, and for many days to come, there will be hills, low hills, wooded hills, gentle hills but hills nevertheless, a contrast to the flat, Flanders plain I crossed on my last trip.

From the top of the hill I looked down on my first sight. A quarry, a disused one. Many people do not like quarries and with good reason, they are dusty and noisy, but once worked out they provide an opportunity for many things. Here it is a nature reserve, the cliffs and pools providing diverse habitats. Various viewing points and platforms with "pay for" telescopes and information boards (in Flemish) dotted the path. On climbing down long flights of stainless steel stairs into the bowl of the large workings I realized that the tall openings I could see were where they had mined the limestone rock "room and pillar" style. Accessible entrances were boarded up but I imagined a large network of high, interlocking corridors in which one could easily become lost. There was still a complete cement factory beside the workings, maybe they were also digging out rock elsewhere, although today it did not appear in operation. Beside the industrial buildings a café was doing a steady trade and I stopped for a cappuccino. 

ENCI-groeve quarry as seen from an observation point.

Continuing my crossing of hills a conical steel column discreetly advertised my re-entry into Belgium. Following a round about route typical of the GR5 I again reached the Albert canal, an old friend from my last trip, crossing it on a white bridge. My next sight was Fort Eben-Emael, an underground network of tunnels and bunkers with armoured artillery positions, anti tank and machine guns. Designed to be impregnable against a land attack, German paratroopers put it out of action within hours by an audacious landing of gliders on the ground above as part of a combined air and ground assault. Such tactics were new as were the shaped charges, used for the first time to cut through the armour protecting gun positions and observation posts.

Fort Eben-Emael tunnel.

My third sight was a tower with sculptures of fantastical winged animals on its roof. The building was open but as I had far to go today I did not look into its flint museum. 

Tour d'Eben Ezer.

My route, a mixture of quiet roads, farm tracks and paths crossed open hills, where the sun, reflected off the bleached road or track surface, heated my face and ears despite my wide brimmed hat protecting me from direct sunlight. My face and hands were slippery with sweat and sun tan lotion. Fortunately much of the path had partial shade from roadside trees and buildings, and I particularly enjoyed the cool of a tree lined path beside the small River Geer, with its green underwater weeds stretched out by the flow.

Although the GR5 skirted a number of villages today it avoided passing through the centre of most, and I was unable to buy any lunch or refreshments, relying on back up supplies and my water bottle. Consequently the latter was almost empty as I approached the Albert Canal for a second time today, depleted by my need for water with the temperatures in the low 30's. So when I saw a supermarket I bought two cans of soft drink and rapidly emptied them. Then after a final section by the water side I reached Visé and my hotel for the night.

My knee is suffering from the 34 kilometre day made necessary by limited accommodation options. Increasingly B&B's are only accepting two night stays, not suitable for long distance walkers. I assume this is to save having to change and wash sheets every night. Provided the cost is clear up front I prefer the approach I have seen on Airbnb where a cleaning fee is charged once per stay. More expensive for one night stays but it compensates owners for the cleaning costs. My knee is now in a tubeygrip which I hope will prevent any swelling. 

PS lovely meal of chicken with a tarragon sauce for diner at the hotel.

Route of my planned trip from Maastricht to Belfort.

GR5 / E2 through Flanders: Some comments

The GR5 through Flanders, the Dutch speaking part of Belgium, can be summed up as mixed woodland, abbeys, lakes and the Albert Canal. As noted by John Hillaby in "A Walk through Europe" the route is a very circuitous one, taking many more miles than strictly necessary to reach its destination. However walking among the pine and oak trees on good paths and tracks makes for pleasant rambles, and the many villages and towns visited provide many opportunities for coffee, cake and accommodation. Abbeys and churches add religious and historic interest (as well as brewing beer), and there are plenty of areas in which nature is encouraged. 

While the route is well waymarked with red and white stripes, a map or GPS loaded with the track is advised as occasionally a waymark is missing, hidden or you pass it thinking of something else. I used the Cicerone guide, partly to help with navigation, but mainly to give me an idea of what lay ahead and which sights I should visit (the Bokrijk Openair Museum is particularly recommended). There was accommodation available throughout but booking ahead is wise as I found all reasonable priced places were taken for the Ascension Day holiday weekend for example. I found one campsite on route and stayed in two Youth Hostels.

Start of my walk through Belgium is here.

Start of my walk on the E2 is here.

Zutendaal to Maastricht and home: E2 Days 116 & 117

Another circuitous route through woods and along waterways to Maastricht followed by a long bus journey home.

The GR5 excelled itself today by making my walk to Maastricht particularly long by numerous turns, many taking me away from my destination, 12 kilometres in a straight line was turned into 30 kilometres along the waymarked trail. Maybe the authors of the route were trying to show me the best parts of Belgium, or maybe they just wanted to make me walk further. However, today was warm and sunny, and my bus home was not due to leave until late in the evening so I was content to just walk. For the first 15 kilometres I was walking through woods, occasionally heading in the right direction. I skirted fields and some houses, although the path kept away from urban areas. There were also a few lakes, so very similar to previous days.

A walk through the woods.

By Lanaken the scenery changed. I approached the town by a sports area. Lots of kids in sports gear and their parents were out, many of the children were already in coaching sessions dribbling a ball around traffic cones and the like. My thoughts were elsewhere, and fulfilled on reaching the town's centre where I stopped for my first coffee (and cake) of the day. After that the GR5 took me on a long deviation to the north on a section of the now familiar Albert Canal, although no barges on it today. 

Maastricht's 18th century fortifications.

When I finally reached the outskirts of Maastricht I began an interesting tour of the city's 18th century defences. Between extensive ramparts which zig-zagged back and fore there were deep brick lined, mostly dry, channels. Unfortunately a section of the GR5 following one of these dry moats was closed, and I had a little trouble finding a way to the path on top of the outer rampart. The GR5 does not take you to the centre of the city, so after the rampart section I left the long distance trail, planning to return in September. I had plenty of time for sightseeing so I started with the Basilica of Saint Servatius, a large medieval church. In a reliquary it had pieces of the saint's skull. Veneration of bits of dead saints is something I never felt any sympathy with, I would be happier if they were buried. Of more interest to me was a collection of faded silks up to a thousand years old, naturally looking somewhat ragged. There were other old churches and another basilica in Maastricht, the golden alter pieces of their chapels lit by hundreds of flickering candles left by the faithful. One large, attractive church had been turned into a large bookshop. At the tourist information they told me there was a food festival in a park on the south side of the city. Called Festival Trek, it seemed an appropriate place for a long distance walker to visit. I stopped there for a while, enjoying a burger and watching a couple of bands play on a small stage. A French band sounded distinctly Irish. Outside there seemed to be rival Caribbean food stalls, I wished I had saved more appetite for them! 

12th century reliquary with remains of Saint Servatius.

Bikes and people sunning themselves by the city walls.

Band at Festival Trek.

Lots of people were around in town and being the Netherlands (I crossed from Belgium as I entered Maastricht) there were rows and rows of parked bikes. In the afternoon, many groups of people and couples were sitting or lying down on the grass by the city walls near the river. Later the cafes and restaurants filled to capacity on this sunny, holiday Saturday. I have now retired to some steps on the bank of the River Maas (or Meuse) to write this. It seems a popular place for younger people to sit and play music or smooch. Ahead of me lies a 10 hour coach journey through the night to London, and onward travel from there. I am hoping the seats are comfortable.

Later: On this trip I spent 54 days walking from Darlington to Maastricht, 1186 kilometres, 741 miles (excluding missed turnings and deviations to hotels). My troublesome left knee at the end of it was in far better condition than I expected with no obvious fluid build up. I put this down to the good trails, flat underfoot, with little to bend my knee sideways or twist it. My ankles were a little sore but other than that I was feeling good. At the start of my walk up in Darlington it felt hard going, Probably as I was not in the best of condition, but after a week or so I was managing better.

Bokrijk to Zutendaal: E2 Day 115

Another sunny day for a woodland walk.

Yesterday I left the GR5 at one of the entrances to the Open Air Museum, and then followed roads to the Youth Hostel. This morning I was more adventurous and took paths and cycle tracks through the woods to return to the museum gates, mainly on another marked route, the GR564. On my way I passed the entrance to the Bokrijk Arboretum. Impressed by the display of rhododendrons by the entrance I took a short walk through part of it among ponds, trees, yellow poppies and bushes. Nearby I also saw the castle, although it was not an ancient one.

Back on the GR5, the trail weaved around doing its circuitous best to keep me in woodland, by lakes and sandy heather clad heath, but away from roads full of housing. My route included yet another visit to the Albert Canal. Although the Ascension day public holiday was yesterday, a Thursday, schools and most people seemed to have also taken today, Friday, off as a holiday to make a long weekend. As the day warmed up lots of people came out to enjoy the sunshine.

People out for a cycle ride (without helmets).

Walking through woodland.

I did briefly touch on an urban section, where seeing bicycles stacked outside, I popped into a café for a coffee. No cake was available and I really did not need any having eaten a good breakfast and a big dinner last night. However, a nearby patisserie had a magnetic attraction, and I came out with a frangipane tartlet. I am pleased to say I resisted a later café near a sports complex. The complex included what looked like a ski jump. The red and white waymarks led me around its rear, where I could see flights of stairs to the top. A few people had climbed up and were looking at the scenery from a landing so I followed their example and started up the stairs. Climbing up I admit to feeling a little vertiginous. The stairs and landings were made of grating that you could see through, and I looked down at people on the ground getting increasingly smaller as I ascended each flight. However, as I pointed out to myself, they were proper stairs with enclosed sides and handrails so there was no possibility of falling off. At the very top there were some lads, sitting down and whiling away a day's holiday. They said water was pumped down what I took to be a ski jump and then people went down on boards or tyres. I looked around from my airy viewpoint over what appeared to be a wooded plain, only a few tall buildings in the middle distance hinted at the large urban areas hidden from my view. On the horizon there were a few hills that looked out of place. The boys said they were spoil heaps left by mining that had now wooded over, and that you could climb them and get a good view. They also said you could go down the old mine. I could see what looked like a pithead in the far distance.

A large public sculpture in the woods called Sirtakki, It is meant to represent three people dancing with happiness. 

I reached Zutendaal about 4:00 pm. Maybe as a result of the Ascension Day weekend I had been unable to find any accommodation so I planned to wild camp. Wild camping is illegal in Belgium, although the various prohibition signs were principally concerned with keeping your dog on a lead, so I doubt if wild camping was a big issue. In their book "A Walk to the Water: Six Million Steps to the Mediterranean Sea" two brothers wild camped their way through Belgium so it should not be too difficult. Nevertheless I needed to be discreet to avoid offence or legal action. Not wishing to camp too early when lots of people were still about who might disapprove, I stopped at a café for a snack. However even after leaving Zutendaal after 5:00 pm there were still many families in the woods that followed. Fortunately they were visiting a woodland park with a café, insect museum and shop, after that the trail was quiet. Seeing an area of pines with some undergrowth to hide me, but not so much that there was no clear spot large enough to pitch my tent, I deviated well off the track and am now pitched under the trees. It am near an industrial area which is good as if it had been housing there would have been dog walkers about. My only problem is that there are quite a few mosquitos are about so I am hiding in my tent.

Stokrooie to Bokrijk: E2 Day 114

Another short walk today, which gave me the time to visit the Bokrijk Open Air museum. 

Returning to the Albert Canal I watched large barges motor under the bridge I was standing on. All the bridges are similar, a white arch below which the road deck is suspended. Bright red poppies grew on the embankments each side of the bridge, their brilliance overshadowed the more subtle blue of the cornflowers among them. After a few fields I reached Herkenrode Abbey. Dating from 1179 but closed by the Revolutionary French in 1796, its church no longer exists. Now it seems to be a tourist attraction. There was a large art installation in a black metal building on the site, inside it was dark. You looked through a large window at a desolate scene of water filled ditches, rocks and dead trees all in a monochromatic, grayscale. Other than an exercise in the use of mirrors to make a scene look very extensive, I was not sure what the artist was trying to portray. Given an item in today's news on global warming, perhaps a view of the future. 

Albert Canal by Stokrooie.

Wayside poppies and cornflowers.

As on previous days, for much of today I was walking through woodland on a route which again changed direction erratically, possibly to avoid roads and take me to the best locations. One of these was the Kiewit Domain, a "Nature Park" where I stopped for a coffee and cake at a café by the entrance. There were many lakes, one in particular had a large number of fishermen around it, I took care to avoid their long rods.

Today is Ascension Day, a public holiday in Belgium. At first it was very quiet with little traffic on the roads. As the day progressed increasing numbers of people were about, out on their bikes, in family groups and with dogs. From midday it was busy. I noticed that the cyclists on racing bicycles wore helmets, as did young children, but older people and parents on bikes you sat up on were usually bare headed. Maybe they thought as they cycled more slowly they were less at risk. Fortunately, as the cycle paths were generally well separated from roads for cars there was less risk of a deadly collision than in Britain. Small dogs were often carried in baskets at the back of the cycle or in a contrivance in front. If the owner was walking, small dogs might be brought along in a pram.

Around 2 pm I reached the Bokrijk Open Air museum. There is a similar museum near where I lived in Cardiff, we used to call it a Folk Museum as it illuminated the lives of how ordinary people lived in the past. Just like the place near Cardiff, at Bokrijk old buildings had been moved to the site from other locations in Flanders and furnished appropriate to their age. Most dated from the 18th and 19th centuries and included farm buildings, day labourers cottages, windmills, a churches and an inn. Buildings were either half timbered with white painted wattle and daub infilling the panels, or else made of brick. Roofs were either tiled or thatched. In addition to preserving the buildings they were also keeping groups of old breeds of domestic animals from the area, preventing them from dying out, including cows, chickens, sheep and pigs. One building, removed from Antwerp when threatened with demolition, housed an exhibition of living in the 1960's, a decade in which I grew up although too young to participate in protest movements and the pop culture of the time.  Still I felt nostalgic looking at a Grundig reel to reel tape recorder, adverts with people in 1960's clothing, and reproductions of kitchens and living rooms from that time. Strange to think that common items from my youth are now museum pieces.

Buildings in Bokrijk Openair Museum.

Museum items from the 1960's.

Leaving the museum I walked to the Youth Hostel a few kilometres away, where I was fed a huge dinner. The hostel itself was a bit of a time warp. No plugs handy to charge my phone but they did have emus and board games to entertain the kids and the woodland setting was lovely.

Lummen to Stokrooie: E2 Day 113

Another short day wandering through woodland to the sounds of a race track and robins.

Blue skies greeted me this morning as I left Lummen. There were long queues of cars on the roads, which I had also seen on the yesterday evening, they were out of proportion with the small size of the town. However I was soon on a fenced path through fields of cows. Pink ragged robin flowered by a ditch and tall poplar trees lined my route reminding me of rural French roads. I pitied those still sitting in traffic trying to drive to work.

Walking down an avenue of poplars.

The GR5 continued to take a very convoluted route, spending a significant part of the day heading away from my destination. Such a path enabled it to maximize the time spent in woodland, reducing amount of walking through housing or along roads. However, the surveyors of the GR5 could not avoid the sound of high powered cars intruding into the quiet of the forest. The Zonder race track was nearby, and from what little I could see of it from the one point I came close to the doubly fenced track, street legal cars were being driven around the track at speed, their tyres squealing at a corner. Nevertheless at times, it was quiet enough to here a robin's song from a nearby tree and another robin replying some distance away. 

The main area of forest I visited had the familiar mixture of tall pines, oak and other deciduous trees in the understorey, growing in sandy soils. There were several lakes, fringed by reeds, with a few ducks, and a viewpoint on a low hill. A Pilgrim's Cross had stones piled around it. I was unable to read the sign in Dutch but maybe it was part of some pilgrimage that involved carrying a pebble from one place to another? The cross was by a building inspired by "The hermitage of Our Lady of Loreto" in Italy.

Lake in the woods.

Panorama from a rare viewpoint, which looks rural despite the large urban areas nearby.

On returning to a road I had crossed earlier that day, parents were lining up to take their children home, maybe for lunch as it was about midday. I stopped for a croque monsieur at a restaurant nearby. After that it was a walk in an area of parkland in which the GR5 crossed a lake on a raised wooden boardwalk. Finally I arrived at the large Albert Canal for the second time today, and admired the very long barges. I wondered how they managed to turn around as they were far to large to do so in the canal, presumably there are wider parts designed for such manoeuvres. (The propeller symbols I noticed on the bows of many barges indicated they had bow thrusters which would assist turning in a tight space).

The bridge I crossed the first time my route visited the Albert Canal today. Bridges further east looked very similar.

Raised walkway across a lake.

My bed and breakfast tonight is called the House of Java. I had thought maybe it was a coffee shop but no, it had the name as there was an Indonesian connection. A little different to the hotels I had been staying at in the Low Countries, for example instead of a shower, there was a bath. On hearing I was walking, the owner brought me a bottle of green liquid to use in the bath to relax my limbs, so now I am smelling of fresh pine!

Before dinner I returned to the Albert Canal and watched from a bridge a wide barge with a square front (probably two barges attached to each other) being pushed by a vessel at the back. Not at all streamlined there was a wide "bow" wave in front of it. A lengthy barge with blocks of stone in its hold was coming the other way at a faster pace. Some skill must be needed to avoid collisions in the confined waterway with these ungainly vessels. The canal runs from Antwerp to Liege and seems to carry a lot of traffic.

I walked up the road to find a café for my evening meal and stopped at the first one open. To simplify matters I asked for the same dish as another customer was eating, which on closer examination was a vol-au-vent with chicken and mushrooms in a creamy sauce similar to one I had on my first night in Belgium. Inevitably, it came with chips and mayonnaise. The other customer and I exchanged a few words: where was I from and what was I doing? When I said I had not seen or heard much French, he said that part of the country started 40 kilometres further south. He felt that those in the Flemish north of the country worked much harder. 

Diest to Lummen: E2 Day 112

Navigational issues today, caused by a change in the route of the GR5.

Before starting on today's journey, I visited the Begijnhof in Diest. Founded in 1253, this was a beguinage, a place where a community of women came together in the same neighbourhood. They were pious but worked for a living, most lived in their own houses and they did not take vows like nuns, although nuns also lived in the Begijnhof. The last two beguines left in 1928 but the old houses and cobbled streets remain. It was only last night, having downloaded a map that I worked out which part of the city it was in.

One of the streets in the Begijnhof.

Having admired the streets of the Begijnhof, which had mercifully few cars as access was restricted, I continued over the town's outer defences. A moat, or rather a series of channels, and ramparts protected the town from attack in centuries past. I paused to look at the wide moat on seeing some creatures splashing in the water. A man stopped and told me they were large carp. On the bank a younger man was fishing, any fish caught have to be returned to the water.

Tunnel through one of the ramparts of Diest.

After a series of bridges, ramparts and two tunnels I left Diest on a path by a railway line. After continuing on the route described by my guidebook and its associated GPS track for a few kilometres, mainly through housing I began to wonder why I had not seen any red and white GR5 waymarks. Fearing that the route had been changed I turned around. As part of my planning I had downloaded another GPS track from the internet, although I have forgotten exactly where from. This suggested I should have taken a different route from Diest's ramparts. I wondered if this was the correct route. However as I walked back I noticed a waymark facing me, I reasoned that if they had changed the route, they might have forgotten to remove one waymark. A few hundred metres further on I spotted another waymark. Confused I again turned around and returned to the route in my guidebook passing the same two men in a garden for a third time. Leaving housing on a road onto woodland, my GPS indicated I should turn right into the trees by a "Private" sign. Despite the sign the path through the trees was well used so I followed it.

After the path and some road walking by fields and houses I returned to woodland. I was keen to look at the waymarks at the point where my two GPS tracks rejoined. At that junction there were clear red and white waymarks on the trees that looked newly painted. They indicated that I had picked the wrong route, my guidebook (and a Dutch one I found abandoned on a picnic table) were out of date. Later they parted again and this time I ignored my guidebook and its GPS track, and carefully followed the new waymarks.

Although mostly woodland and urban areas today, there were some meadows, this one with cows, in others hay had been cut and was being turned over.

The route to Lummen proved to be very crooked. Straight sections followed by sharp turns, and some switch backs where the trail went in the wrong direction. The revised route seemed even more erratic than the original. Certainly the GR5 picked a long way of getting from Diest to Lummen. There were a few points of interest, a thousand year old oak guarded by fencing and a memorial where a Lancaster bomber crashed in the Second World War. Only one member of the Australian Air Force crew survived.

Arriving in Lummen a little before the earliest check in time for my hotel I stopped for a coffee. Copying the cluster of ladies on a nearby table I ordered a pancake with jam as well. After checking into my hotel, showering and washing my "smalls" I visited a nearby Taverne and ordered a healthy chicken salad...which came with chips.

Scherpenheuval to Diest: E2 Day 111

A short walk today by farmland and meadows to the historic city of Diest.

After a leisurely breakfast I returned to the basilica. Stalls outside were selling candles and other religious articles. As the building was now open I went inside and sat in a seat at the back. Several other people were sitting in quiet contemplation. I looked around the dark, baroque interior. Above the altar, lost among the silver and gold surround, was "Our Lady of Scherpenheuval". Smaller than I imagined, maybe 50 cm high, and surrounded by a cone of cloth, with just her small head showing. The statue was originally found hanging from an oak tree where the basilica now stands, sometime earlier that the mid 16th century. Numerous miracles were ascribed to "Our Lady" and Scherpenheuval became a place of pilgrimage.

Leaving the town behind I continued by fields of hay and barley. Farmers were out spraying or spreading manure in their huge tractors. Colourful summer flowers were blooming on the verges, a lady past me carrying a bunch of them. The land which had been flat for so long was now swelling up to create very low hills.

Morning on the GR5.

A flower called fiddleneck according to my PlantNet App

On reaching the outskirts of Diest the GR5 took a turn to the south into meadows of long grass on a rough path, eventually swinging back up into its southern suburbs. Diest is an ancient town with many old and historic buildings. The main square or Grote Markt was lined with bars with chairs and tables outside. At its head was the grand town hall with several flags flying, Sint-Sulpitiuskerk, a large church was to its right. The outside of the church was a white limestone and a contrasting orange-brown sandstone. Sadly it was closed on Mondays so I could not peer inside. There were many historic buildings nearby. I thought a brick  building called Het Spijker looked particularly attractive surrounded by a canal. Once a building connected with the monastery at Tongerlo it is now a hotel.

Het Spijker.

Leaving the centre I stopped to have a look at the citadel. I had trouble working out where to go. What I assume were the outer earthen ramparts were well disguised by trees and inside the brick lined centre there seemed to be modern office buildings. I later found a website with an aerial photo of the citadel which gave a better idea of what it looked like. In general I thought Diest looked a bit dusty, with weeds growing in the pavements, not like the clean and tidy places I had encountered earlier in my trip across the Low Countries. The local tourist website was not too helpful either being a bit short on specifics.