Well unlike the quote from Ray (* The most politically incorrect character of all time) in the film ‘In Bruges’,  I didn’t grow up on a farm either, but Bruges did impress me. A very beautiful, tranquil place with several fantastic restaurants and bars. The ride from Kent to Bruges was 79.94 miles long and had me arriving just before dark into the centre of Bruges. A very tough ride due to a strong headwind and my lack of fitness!

I cycled along bike paths next to canals, and also near to the coast for large sections of the ride but these were surprisingly quite dull to cycle along. The flat, featureless and windswept roads have reinforced my love of biking in the mountains. In the mountains, all the effort you put in is rewarded with at least two priceless things: Potential energy and fantastic views! There are no free miles on the flat, and the wind will take and take, and give nothing back in return.

However, I can’t really blame the Belgians for their geography (or lack of it) – and the few locals that I spoke to in the hostel and at the restaurant later on, were absolutely lovely. Any nation that produces the variety and quality of beers as the Belgians do, have to have something good deep-seated within. Also have to hand it to the Belgians for their exemplary attitude to cyclists. The cars all have to give way to the bikes at junctions and roundabouts! Imagine that in the UK! It’s clear that in Belgium (and in a few other countries) that cycling is seen as a means of mass transport. In the UK, it’s seen purely as a leisure activity and is therefore not granted the money or attention it deserves.

Blissfully, after the days exhaustion I found a superb meal in the evening (which ended up costing more than my accommodation for the night!). I also found the ‘Mort Subite’ beer which was heavenly. Surprisingly, for such a short trip, I also managed to find the keen sense of appreciation that I’ve often experienced before, but on longer trips. There is a sense of  ‘immediacy’ when cycling on the open road. The only things that matter are those immediate tasks at hand: finding shelter, finding food, navigating and grinding away at the miles while observing the changing landscape. It’s all very simple, and the appreciation comes readily as you achieve goals on a daily basis and are rewarded for your efforts through lifes’ simple pleasures.

The ride back the next day was horrendous. Mainly because I had underestimated the time it would take to get back to the port from Bruges. I’d figured on 4 hours – thinking it was roughly 45 miles away. However, a strong headwind (unbelievable, after a strong headwind in the opposite direction the day before!) and the actual distance of 60 miles meant that it would take more like 5.5 hours. However, I had to be at the port by 1.00 p.m, and was unable to check out of the hostel (and retrieve my bike from the locked office) before 8.15 a.m.

Anyway, it meant that I had to absolutely bust a gut to make the distance in time. I was only off the bike for 10 minutes out of a total of a 4 hours 40 minute long ride. Much pain indeed. I very nearly threw up when finally arriving at the check-in booth, but I had made it with 7 minutes to spare and could save the nausea washing over me for the choppy ferry trip back home.

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