Saturday 17th August - 130km

Faffed around again this morning. Made sure I got my monies worth at the hostel breakfast. A continental breakfast no less. But not like those served at your swanky hotel but what the Belgians and other Northern Europeans (I've found) call breakfast. Mild squares of cheese and non distinct discs of meat. Served on bread. With jam. And a hot egg. So Square + disc + jam x 6. Sufficiently fuelled if a little sick.

Another delay to my day was that first I needed to find a bike shop. I had a few minor repairs to attend  and I also need to procure a bell. Ive always thought a bell was for middle aged women but it is essential to ding dawdling belgian cyclists out the way. So far ive tried whistling and shouting but ill do as the belgians do and buy a bell.

I was informed by the tourist officer that i would find one in the town centre. None was found. After a while of going back and forth I gave up. For a country where I've seen more cyclists than drivers, one with such a rich cycling history; eddy Merckx, the tour of Flanders, Ghent-wevelgen, etc. I've seen zero bike shops.

Part of the reason for this perhaps is what I was told (by Gilles the barman) was the grey economy in bikes. Nobody owns one for long enough before it gets nicked, so you nick somebody else's and so on. The system keeps revolving in perfect balance.  It's strange but it seems to work. 

After the flat straight paths of the Bruges - Ghent canal, I've now encountered the cobbled road...looks beautiful but is a nightmare to ride on. I've tried every which way to successfully navigate over but have found slow and steady is best. It feels like the pavee sections of the Paris - Roubaix race with 60kg on your back...that's why they call it The Hell of the North!

Thankfully though the terrain has offered some more variation for my idle mind. No longer stretching fields in both directions, I've been winding along country roads, through quaint towns, tow-paths, tracks, up and o'er dale! You see, Belgian cycle paths are a thing of simple beauty. Across the whole of Belgium there is a network of numbered checkpoints and all you need do is type your start and finish into a route finder and it gives you a long list of numbers. Simply follow these and you're there! Simple - yes. Open to error - most definitely! Not knowing actually where you are and relying on mere numbers makes it impossible to ask for directions...however once on track it's like a puzzle. Join the numbers and you win! Just don't get lost...

Washed my clothes last night in the shower. A rudimentary soap/scrubbing set up. Seemed to work, relative freshness! Took to drying them on the back of my bike. Now 4 jerseys strapped to my panniers - wearing one every 30 minutes to dry them. Very much a Rafa Benitez squad rotation system. I do now look like a

rolling haberdashery so getting even more strange looks. 

After 100km arrived in Grimbergen, home of the blonde bier similar to Leffe. Delicious. So in stopping to fill up my bottles in a bar I ordered one. Crisp, refreshing and went straight to my head. I was the talk of the bar suddenly. A strange sweaty man vacuum-packed in Lycra propping up the bar. Le Patron asked me where I was from, we began chatting. Folks around me piped up, next thing I know I'd drunk 6 beers, and not paid for one! They all spoke French so I was in my element again. And now drunk being propositioned a sofa for the night. She was nearly 60, fabienne her name, so despite my potential beer goggles, I respectfully declined and set off once more. Needed to get near Liege to break the back of Belgium. It was nice though to properly chat to some people again, this was the one factor which I was worried about. Thank The Lord for French then.

I cycled in the dark following more numbers that I've written across my top tube. Cycling drunk is a revelation and I felt like Wiggo in a time trial - hunched over my drops, grinding the gears for another 30km until I was exhausted.. Bed time. Found a spot of grass, tent up. In sleeping bag... Whoooooooosh!!!..ehh!???Turns out it was on a high speed train line and the Brussels express passed every 30 minutes. Ahhh great! So much for good sleep. I drifted off slowly with earphones firmly plugged in ears, the soothing voices of Test Match Special cradling me off to sleep.

Arise tomorrow, eat, fuel up and head to Liege. Gonna put a shift in and touch close to 100 miles. Hopefully.. Til tomorrow! Ciao!! Xxx