Part 2:
The next morning we got up to go to a cafe. There were loads of hardcore roadies with blinging carbon bikes drinking coca cola, so we got some coke in too. It was another roasting day. After we finished our cokes we noticed that many of the racing snakes (and there were millions of them by now) had moved on to beer. It was 9am!
One guy in particular who looked well toned, fit and probably a hardcore racer was on the Leffe!
So, who were we not to join in?!!!
This is when we noticed a young chick running around serving the tables (we got the cokes inside) She was well foxy. Wearing the tiniest of denim mini skirts with "Sexy Girls" embroidered on the back. (They just love to drop in English words don't they?!)
Anyway, she became known as simply "Sexy Girls". We debated whether she was as hot or not as "French chick". I thought she was, but Erron wasn't convinced. Anyway, she came up to us and Erron, in his best Flemish ordered "Twey beer" She came back with two beers and Erron continued with "Alstublieft" and she responded with the same and then he finished it off with "Bedankt" At that point, she said in a very sexy voice "Very good!"
They just love it if you make an effort to speak Flemish. Most Brits probably don't bother....
We asked her about a few things and she was very chatty. She overtook "French chick" at that point!
I think it was at this point that we first experienced a Flemish guy asking if he could move my bike. It wasn't in the way, but I had just laid it on its side. He simply picked it up and leaned it against a wall. We thought nothing of it.
After who knows how many morning beers, we decided to head off.
We got a bit lost and after riding for several hours we found ourselves back in Torhout!! So we went back to the same place and drank some more Leffe.
We made another attempt and exactly the same thing happened! We got chatting to people and asked if there was anywhere to stay nearby. One guy said he thought there might be a couple of B&Bs but wasn't sure if they'd be open (this is not a tourist town) he then walked me all round the village (typical Flemish kindness) but he was right, they were closed.
So we are, in all likelihood going to end up in the church yard again!
On the way there (about 200 metres) I crashed! Anyway, I picked myself up and got to the church and passed out. Erron was nowhere to be seen, but I guessed he'd show up.
In the night it p!ssed it down and we got soaked, but luckily it was sunny again in the morning so stuff dried out a bit.
I awoke to hear Erron chatting to some random guy named Stephen. He was a bit freaky but very friendly. He also insisted on picking my bike up and leaning it against the wall!
Erron asked him if there was a bike shop in town. He replied with a yes and asked what he wanted from the shop. Erron told him he needed some new cycling mitts as his were wearing out. Stephen then said "Wait there, I'll just nip home" He returned 5 minutes later with a brand new pair of mitts which he gave to Erron!!
As we packed up to leave, I noticed no sign of my right front pannier! Couldn't find it anywhere!
Stephen took us to the bike shop, we looked around and then went for coffee with him.
Note: Stephen was a bit mad and offered to get Tom Boonen or Robbie McEwan on the phone so we could race them!! Yeah right - Boonen lives in Monaco for a start and is from East Flanders not West!
When Stephen and his insanity finally left us, we retraced our steps to look for the missing pannier and still no sign.
When I crashed, I was pissed - but not so much that I wouldn't notice a pannier missing! Anyway, we concluded later that Stephen nicked it and was using it as a wank bag.
Fortunately there was nothing of real value in there. Just a few spare tubes and a multitool. Oh and one sandal! I spent the rest of the tour in my cycling shoes which are fine for walking around in anyway. I never did get rid of the pointless left sandal until we got to Hoek Van Holland!!
We then headed off determined not to get lost again. We didn't. The handling characteristics of my bike were somewhat odd with only one front pannier, but I soon got used to it! We got to Brugge, but just wanged it straight through as there were way to many tourists - although we did go through the square where Dom Jolly did his "Windoshe" thing. There are indeed many windows!!
Note: Flemo-Dutch people do not actually pronounce an "s" as "sh"!!
We decided we wanted a bit of comfort after two nights of wild crashing, so looked for a hostel.
We got something to eat at a bar place on the outskirts of Brugge where we were served by "Tattoo chick". Erron loved her, but I was a little unsure. I put "French Chick" and "Sexy Girls" ahead of her. We asked where the nearest hostel was and she directed us down the road.
When we arrived, they apologised profusely that they were full, but were kind enough to phone another place out of town (great, no more bloody sight seeing Brits!) and they had room. They gave us an address and we set off.
There was a slight problem. By that time I'd also lost my map! Probably still in some bar somewhere! So.... We stopped at a bar and drank Leffe!
There were some local dudes in there and we asked one guy if he knew where it was. He drew an insane map on several beer mats, but that was never going to work. But, he said he was driving so would be going home after he'd finished his beer. He said we should head straight down the road and wait at the bottom for him. So we did. And sure enough, he turned up. He then directed us around some streets and told us to wait at the end. Sure enough he turned up in his what-ever-mobile. This went on for a while until he was in a position to direct us perfectly to the hostel. Which he did. We shook hands and bade our farewells. Amazing! Can you imagine anyone bothering to do that in the UK?
We found the hostel and happily took a couple of beds in the dorm. It wasn't really much more expensive than a campsite - plus we would be dry and have a bed each!
The hostel guy was very friendly and we drank Leffe into the evening before retiring to bed.
We awoke to fairly rubbish weather and fairly hefty hangovers (Or should that be "Leffety"?. Still, the vending machine was working, so we got a couple more Leffe down
I asked the guy if we could stay another night and he was chilled with that. He also offered to drive us into Brugge to look around! I declined. He did say that there was a festival in the nearest village about 1k away though.
That sounded cool to me, so we walked into Dudzele.
What followed was complete Flemish insanity!!!
As we walked into the village there were loads of stalls - just people selling random tat. All very amusing though.
There was a big stage set up in the centre of the village and loads of temporary bars selling local beers.
We looked around for a bit and went for some mosselen. Just as we were finishing our lunch, the action on stage started.
A tall woman was prancing around on stage to some Eurotrash beats. After about 10 seconds Erron noticed "That's a bloke!" This was from about 50 metres away!
We paid the bill (to the much forgotten "Bit-old-but-I-definitely-would- chick" and went outside.
We were treated to a totally insane show of transvestites miming to crap songs which was hilarious.
They did a brilliantly ridiculous rendition of "Making your mind up" with two other guys (not dressed as women). We laughed so hard!
Erron thought that they couldn't top that for ridiculousness, but I had a hunch they could!
Sure enough, a little later one of the trannies came on stage dressed as a fucking hot dog! By this time we were crying with laughter!
By now we'd befriended the chicks serving beer at one of the stands. I asked one if all Flemish people were mad, to which she simply smiled and said "Yes!"
We were getting low on cash and needed to get to a bank. The two banks in the town either let us in with a swipe but wouldn't let us draw out cash, or wouldn't let us in at all. That is my only complaint of Flanders - trying to get cash out was a nightmare. In fact, trying to pay for anything had to be cash as it would seem Visa, Mastercard, Amex and fuck knows what else was in our wallets only randomly worked.
Anyway, chick at the bar (who I am going to marry) walked me what seemed like miles just to the edge of town and swipped me in to her bank. It wouldn't give me any money! So we walked back again and I thanked her which was nice. In typical mental Flemish style, it's not two or four kisses on the cheek - it's three!
As it happened, some pissed up dude and his girlfriend were at the bar and the guy swipped me into the nearest bank and I managed to get some cash. Lots of it 'cos I didn't want that hassle again!! (Although being walked to a bank by foxy Flemish chicks is always a Good Thing
)
We got chatting to these folk and this was our first experience of "I FUCKING HATE THE WALLONIE!!!!"
Obviously everyone knows the history, but this guy was well going into one. I seem to remember some arguement about the French which was settled by asking a couple of police officers!! Seriously, being a police officer in Flanders must be the cushiest job in the world! There was outcry about 5 years ago because 2 people got murdered in one year.
After a break from festivities, the crowd was building up. The main act was due on any minute!
What followed had us in stitches. The girls were standing on chairs and screaming. People were clapping with excitement. Then he came on.
A fat, middle aged man came on stage and started belting out the shittiest pop music you can imagine! The crowd loved it. We were in hysterics. He was so shit he was actually good!
Anyway, we had a fantastic time and went for a few beers with the locals once the festival ended. I want to live in Dudzele.
The next morning we headed off to go up the coast. We stopped for mosselen near Zeebrugge and then carried on to Knoke-Heist.
We found a campsite but it was full. No probs - there was one next door! So we pitched up there. It was full of FUCKING WALLONIE!! They come up to get a bit of beach action and are pretty loud and obnoxious compared to the Flemish. They also wind the Flemish up by flying the Belgian flag outside their tents. They are also fucking rude and rejected our advances of friendlyness.
We went for a few beers in a local bar (the first one we'd seen that actually sold Stella) before retiring for the night.
We awoke, as usual with massive hangovers! So we thought we'd go into town and sit on the beach for a bit. The weather was great but very windy, so we just watched all the kite surfers doing their thing. And drank Jupiler
At the campsite they said we could stay as long as we liked - after all, they took my passport so were confident we weren't going to do a runner (not that we would anyway). So we stayed another day.
The next day we looked around a bit, drank beer and saw "The fittest girl in the world" on the beach. We concluded that it would not be possible for any woman to be more beautiful. Obviously she was Flemish - all the Wallonie were fat and ugly.
In the evening we had something to eat and settled down in the square in Heist as it looked like a band would be coming on the stage.
At this point we noticed "Dreads girl" she was hot. Possibly the hottest of the lot! We did conclude that she was probably only about 15, but would happily sign the sex offenders register anyway! (Fuck, that is so wrong, eh?)
The band came on and they were amazing! They're called "Follia!" and were seriously good musicians.
The sound is mainly Flemish folk (they played some bizarre instruments!) but they mixed it in with a bit of celtic, gipsy, latin, rock and even a bit of rap and ska!!
They are brilliant. They play in the UK quite a bit, so go and see them!! We bought a couple of CDs once they'd finished and settled into a bar.
A young couple came up and started chatting to us. They were a good laugh, but the guy, who was pretty drunk seriously got stuck into "THOSE FUCKING WALLONIE BITCHES!!" It was hilarious at first, but got a bit boring after a while - he really did go on a bit! Fortunately his girlfriend wasn't as drunk and made good conversation. They invited us back to their apartment, but we declined and went back to the campsite.
The next day we had to push on as we had a ferry to catch from Hoek Van Holland in a few days. We got going on a scorching hot day and soon passed the border into Nederland.
We were really sad to leave Flanders, which is probably why we had such negative views of Holland. We started to notice impatient drivers and rude people. Of course, the Dutch are generally much nicer than your average Brit - but in Flanders *everybody* is nice.
We pushed on and got to some stretch of water we needed to get a ferry across. We missed it by minutes. If this ultra rude Dutch bint hadn't pushed in at the ticket machine we may have had a chance. We had an hour to kill before the next ferry.
We went to a bar and watched the end of the local town festival. It was shit. In Flanders they're so shit they're funny. In Holland they're just shit.
We got the next ferry and got over the other side. We needed to find somewhere to stay. All campsites full. Every B&B and hostel? Full. The only place we found that had room wanted 450 Euro or something ridiculous!
But all was not lost, it was a very warm night so we could rough it in the dunes.
We found a bar by the dunes and drank Grolsch. When they closed up we got a few take outs and headed into the dunes. It was a glorious night. We lay in our sleeping bags drinking beer and watching the shooting stars in the amazingly clear sky over the North Sea, before getting our heads down for some kip.
That kip didn't last long! A couple of hours max.
We were woken by torrential rain and massive lightning strikes! We got our fly sheets out and covered up. We got no more sleep. The ground was shaking on every strike and my main concern was that we were on a slight ridge in an otherwise pan flat area!
That has to be the worse night ever!
It continued to piss it down after first light and we just decided to get the fuck out of there.
We were drenched. Even in my ultra waterproof panniers everything was damp. There was sand everywhere. We stank!
We pushed on up the Noordzee fietspad in howling winds, sand storms and pissing rain.
It was hard going, but we kinda thought we might just make it to the ferry.
We had a fair pace going - overtaking German tourists all the way. At least they gave us a wave. Unlike the miserable Dutch.
We stopped mid morning for a drink. We had a couple of beers left over, so we just sat at the side of the road, piss wet through drinking beer and smoking fags.
Wave after wave of said Germo tourists came past. Obviously surprised that the two guys that had sped past them had stopped for beer and snout at 10 am
All sorted, we got back on it. We soon caught up with the other tourists and blasted past in the drops at close to 30. They were even more surprised!
It soon became apparent that we just weren't going to make the ferry in time. We found a nice town with a nice hotel and paid at great expense for a room.
We showered and drank gallons of sugary coffee. Bliss.
We then went out to get some dinner. Everywhere was shut. What the fuck is wrong with this country?!!!!!
We ended up in some club cum whorehouse drinking beer and sambucca before heading back to the hotel.
There were audible sighs as we reclined in our beds. Beats a piss wet sand dune anytime!!!
We set the alarm for early O'Clock as we didn't want to miss the next ferry. We were in full exhaustion mode by now.
We rode up the very well signposted, but very indirect cycle routes to the Rotterdam waterweg. We got a ferry across and then rode the hardest 15k of my life. A howling headwind straight off the North Sea! Fuck, that's hard work when you're riding a loaded bike about as aero as a house!
I lagged behind, but got there in the end. Erron had sorted us out. There was good news and bad. The good was that we could get on a ferry no probs. The bad was that the next one was full. Bollocks! We had to get the night ferry and had about 7 hours to kill in Hoek van Holland which is best described as a very dull town!
Once I got the paperwork out and finalised everything, we went for a pootle around town to find somewhere interesting. There wasn't anywhere.
We crashed out in a park for a bit, but soon got bored.
Tiredness has a funny way of making you incapable of sleep!
We found a cafe and had something to eat before waiting at the terminal for hours supping Jupiler.
It was nice when boarding started. We just got straight on that bad boy ferry, got the stuff we needed off the bikes and went to our cabin.
It was much better than my previous experiences of ferry cabins! Nice comfy bunk bed and an en suite bathroom! Result.
We showered, shaved and generally got rid of all the sand about our persons before going to get something to eat.
After that we explored the ferry a bit - bloody massive it was! Had a beer and then just went to bed at about 10.30.
Sleep came easily for me to start with, but once I'd woken up to the usual crashing and banging of a big boat meant that sleep was impossible. Plus the fact that I knew some irritatingly cheery fucker would be waking me up at 5.30 informing me of which breakfast places would be open. And then it would be repeated in Dutch. I wanted to smash the speaker in when that happened.
We got our stuff together and trundled out and into the shithole that is Harwich.
We really wanted to go to the "Up the 'uts" weekend, but to be honest - we were fucked.
We just got on a train, argued with some twat about where we could or could not put our bikes and went home.
Amazingly, I was wide awake when I got home and went on a mammoth washing operation. I cleaned my tent (which stank) and did all my washing. I even washed my sleeping bag in the bath - which to be honest, it needed. I've only had it 8 years
I went into town and bought replacements for all the shit I'd lost before drinking tea and settling down to most amazing sleep I've ever had.
Back at work now, which sucks. But I haven't actually done anything yet
All in all, I loved Flanders. The chicks were hot, the beer was good and you can talk about cycling to man, woman and child until your heart is content.
Just don't lay your bike down, suggest Tom Boonen is Wallonie or call Eddie Merckx gay
11/10
I know that was long - but that was the short version!
