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May 11 Thurs AM 6º C PM 12º C overcast Bicycle touring Belgium Cows grazed peacefully on the hillside plateau above us, silently going about their eating duty with the persistence of a military operation denuding the landscape. I could hear the grass rip as they chomped it out by the mouthfuls. Besides the munching of the cows though, it was a silent operation as they had no bells and apparently they were not in a lowing mood. Our bike meters read exactly half a kilometre when we reach the bottom of the rarely-used rocky track. The chain was still across the road as we had found it last night. We deftly skirted the barricade by quickly weaving around the outside post without even slowing our heavily loaded touring bicycles. We had had a quiet night, above the main Belgian road and back far enough from the traffic noise ... and no visitors trying out their 4x4s while looking for firewood. The only sound we heard of a mechanical nature was a farmer's tractor above us. And the town church bells, of course. I didn't hear the bells during the night, so I'm convinced they must shut them off at 9 PM and then turn them back on at 6 AM. Why not? At least that's my story, and I'm sticking to it. It couldn't be that I was dog-tired from bicycle touring in Belgium. And, on my side, on our bicycle tour in Spain we did see the town fountains being shut off at noon during siesta. I guess the splashing keeps them awake. As we were cycling along the main Belgian roadway, Sharon spied a paved path alongside some railroad tracks below and to our left next to the river. We kept an eye out and soon saw an entrance leading down to the paved cycle path. Deciding that the bike path was going in the direction we wanted to be cycling, we skidded our fully loaded touring bicycles down a steep bank and joined the bike path. It was great to be cycling away from traffic. Only a few morning dog walkers were out, and an old guy on a mountain bike. We cycled to a bridge that we crossed under. A small crowd was gathered along the road on the bike path side. Were they there to welcome us on our Belgium bicycle tour? No, it turned out that on the other side of the bank a semi tractor with a fuel trailer was laying partially submerged in the river. That can't be good for the little fishies. The tanker was at a oblique angle, resting on the bank like some careless child's abandoned Tonka toy. A large panel of the bridge had been taken out where the truck had made its untimely exit. A crane dangled giant cables through the gap like a fisherman angling off the bridge deck. A diver's tanks lay on the riverbank. A TV news camera crew was just arriving as we made our departure on our bikes. We followed the bike path to a park in Leige and then pushed our fully loaded touring bicycles to a bench in what would be in the sun if it ever came out. Bicycle touring is so much better in the sun. There was a pond in the middle of the park. The bench we sat on faced a bevy of geese, ducks, rabbits, pigeons, and some bird that wore a red mask, making it look like it had gotten up this morning and said, "Okay, today I'm going to be a turkey." A few school kids trundled past with sheets of paper for what appeared to be some sort of Science project counting birds or species or some such idea. Other than that, not many people were around to enjoy the setting. However, considering the inclimate weather, it feels like snow, so maybe they're not missing much other than the cold. But it's not as cold as Sienna Italy had been the day we were there to enjoy a spring blizzard. I can't blame anyone for seeking warmer conditions. After a lunch of apples and chocolate bars we rode into centrum or the town centre to look at the wonderful squares and pedestrian area (supposedly one of the largest in Europe our guide book promised). What we found instead was one square completely under construction -- fenced and barricaded off. Pedestrian traffic was routed through a tiny opening that didn't allow even two-way walkers let alone us pushing our unwieldy loaded touring bikes through. We cycled across the highway and locked out touring bikes to a chain-link construction fence in front of the Justice building after asking some workers if it would be all right. "Sure," they indicated, "but make sure you lock them." I took my handlebar bag with me, since it has my camera and lenses as we set off to explore the sights on foot. Most of the city is boring grey-faced buildings. They look cold and uninspiring. Statues of numerous human figures are bronze that have started to oxidize with a green tinge. One statue was of a dude with someone's head held clenched in his fist by the latter's hair. Definitely latter. We walked around a pedestrian area, but I wasn't impressed. Italy is far better for interesting pedestrian areas. The street shops in Belgium look modern and don't have that antique mystique about them as Italy had had. We visited a large modern Romanesque-style church. It was huge. An art student sat at the rear of one impressive hallway of arches and meticulously sketched numerous triptychs. A beautiful red stained-glass window of vibrant colourful scenes accentuated the hall's end. Across were stained-glass windows of deep blue. The saturation of the glass colour was striking. A huge pulpit was carved entirely in dark wood. The ceiling had a designed tapestry. We tried to find a tourist office, but never did find it. After buying a few food supplies we wandered back to where we had left our bikes. As we unlocked our cycles, the workmen asked, "Everything okay?" I gave the universal thumbs up and we were on our way. The road we are bicycle touring as we leave town was busy with commuters anxious to leave the grey office buildings for another day. (One good thing we discovered in Leige were delicious Belgian waffles. They come in a variety of coatings or fillings or if you prefer, plain old plain. We sampled a chocolate-filled one and quickly pronounced it "more.") The road we cycled into the countryside was more relaxed. The faint smell of cow manure tainted the air (even in cities). I am constantly checking the soles of my shoes, and the bottom of my bicycle touring fenders, to see where that smell is coming from. All to no avail. Its permanent aroma fills the air wherever we cycle in Belgium and the wind makes sure it is spread far and wide. Sharon calls it eau de cow. I call it Pee-yoo de cow. A bus stop appears next to a growth of trees. Looks like a great spot to call it a day. We push our fully loaded touring bikes up a small embankment and back into a forest of pines. Crunchy rotten sticks crack underfoot from the weight of our bike tires. We spot a clearing near a fence line. Peering through the woods, we spot a small cabin and an outhouse. Leaving me with our touring bicycles, Sharon makes a closer reconnoiter. But she comes back inconclusively about whether the cabin is inhabited or not. There are no lights on. She didn't check the outhouse. We set up our Kelty bicycle touring tent. For supper we are having more delicious pancakes -- buttermilk, of course. |
