Day 7: Sometimes you gotta roll the hard six!
Trip Start
Nov 11, 2009
1
20
273
Trip End
Ongoing
Arlon, The Ardennes, Belgium
Saturday, December 12, 2009
In spite of what I said today started as yesterday had finished - pushing the bike up a hill. After about 20 minutes it got flat enough for me to mount, for about 500 yards. I stayed in the saddle though and was soon rewarded with a significant downhill. Not that this was particularly good news, I pondered as I reached Aywaille. This marked my meeting with the N30 which I hoped would be my saviour. It was a direct route out of the maze I had got trapped in the day before and it would take me to Bastogne (65km) which was a stones throw from the Luxembourg border, but as I was to learn it would exact a heavy toll.
Getting away from Aywaille turned out to be the first and largest installment; 15 minutes of agonising climb before my strength gave out. I may have got further on more breakfast but this would have only been a waste of energy as it turned out because at that point (in a village called Harze) I wasn't even halfway up that particular hill which I judge to have been about 4 miles long.
Chateau Harze and the Church were a pleasant distraction but it was only shortly after this that I realised the true size of this monster. At the top there was a truly pitifil downhill before yet more climb (as my legs warmed up I was able to tackle some climbs in the saddle, this was preferable as the slowest cycling speed that is feasible is about 6mph whereas walking with the bike is more like 3.5.
It continued like this for a couple more hours: pedal, push, glide. Then, about 9am it began to snow, and I started to get just a little worried. Up until now I had been okay with the continual climbs (as I said yesterday, the downhills are hardly a compensation anyway) but this was starting to get interesting, just how high was I going to go? Okay so I probably was equipped to weather a storm if it got that bad (and, ironically, one thing I was not short of this morning was potential campsites) but losing the day's travel would be a real pain, however too much snow on the road would be trecherous.
I needn't have worried on the second score: the road had obviously been gritted and although it was wet the snow did not stick. The trees on the other hand were soon sporting a fresh white dusting and some of you may understand when I say that although today had quite possibly more climbs and worse conditions in theory, however it was fun; an experience; riding or walking Belgium is much nicer in snow than the pissing rain. I think one thing that was in my favour is that it stayed relatively calm - as wind is the real bitch in those conditions.
I got to Manhay (about a third of the way from Aywaille to Bastogne) and stopped at the Death Spar for energy and water (they have a great sports gel here made from condensed milk and sugar, it's packaged like hand cream but tastes like white chocolate XD) and although I was feeling better than yesterday I was still only looking at getting to Bastogne at dusk if things didn't change soon.
There was another hill out of Manhay but then everything did change: i was soon powering along a shallow downhill (the best kind: great turn off speed with minimal loss of altitude) and shortly afterwards I came to a bus shelter where I had a hearty lunch (cheese and ham rolls, muesli bars, couple of waffles, the usual raisins and seeds). It was now just before midday.
After lunch the good times continued to roll. The sun broke thru the cloud and this coincided nicely with the track "Finally Woken" by Jem from the album of the same name. That song - like the Dido track from the other day and a couple of others - will be on the soundtrack when the film is made. Anyway, I digress.
Before long I raced down into the village of Hoffalize (two thirds of the way to Bastogne). Stopping to take a photo I realised that the town's picturesque quality was enhanced by the way it nestled in a dip in the wooded hillsides, and this might be a problem...
Sure enough the gradient rose sharply but my legs, freshly fuelled, were able to keep on the pressure and get to the top. After this the N30 became what I hoped it would be all along: rolling, undulating countryside. Sure there were still more ups than downs but they were all much gentler and with the roads drying it actually became possible to take advantage of the downs more. Despite this and a buoyant mood, the last 6-7km took longer than they ought.
Nevertheless I got to Bastogne about 2pm and made a successful Street Navigation check to negotiate some confusing signs. The centre of Bastogne was a mass of people: they were commemorating the loss of lives in WWII (Belgium does have a lot of war graves apparently, particularly American ones). There were a lot of Americans there (tourists as well as soldiers) as well as Scots, Welsh I think, and of course Belgian. I stopped to top up my reserves with chips and coke and joined the crowds for a while. Ordering the chips was also my first full interaction in French, beyond Oui, Merci, Merci Beaucoup, Au Revoir. (POP TRIVIA: The first interaction I had in a foreign language was in German: On Day 5 when I was riding through the, predominantly German speaking, north of Belgium an old man let me cross a cycle path in front of him and I responded "Danke". So, there you go; tri-lingual dontcha-know!)
After this I got hungry for more miles, Arlon was only 39 kilometeres. If it didn't go right back to this mornings terrain then it should be easily doable and I would deserve a hostel at the other end. If not - I had the wherewithall to camp another night if necessary.
The N4 was even faster than the N30 except for the mid point Martelegne, which was like Hoffalize. This time i did get off and push although the first part of the hill was dominated by (and I shit you not) 9 petrol forecourts in a row, there were two Q8's and two Shells; all seemed to be doing business infact BP was getting in on the act with another one being built!
Once again the last few km were hard and Arlon was very quiet on the way in. The tourist office was closed (at 530) but they had a board outside with hotels on. I had noticed a sign for "Les Druids" as I came in and it was easily the cheapest one there. I went down and was able to haltingly book myself and my bike in (when I asked for the room the guy went and took the LAST KEY of the rack, "sans douche."
I shrugged, "Oui." I would have preferred a shower but hey that would have been an extra 5 euros; as it was the room (to myself) cost the same as the Youth Hostel in Maastricht. I went up and washed and got into the last of my clean clothes (well, most of them were) and went out in search of food.
All the cheap restaurents were foreign and in the end I went for Greek. This was still an extravagance (I could have got cheaper if I'd gone for pizza or chinese but I have the, all teh time in the UK) but a greek salad, Moussaka, and a couple of Belgian beers really hit the spot. After that it was back to the Hotel for a satisfying nights sleep. The push to Arlon had been worthwhile, but hopefully tomorrow I could pull an easy one.
THAT'S ALL FOR TONIGHT FOLKS, I'LL TRY AND UPDATE AGAIN SOON SO STAY TUNED,
THE ADYSSEY WILL RETURN IN...
DAY 8: A Winter's Tale or "How I ended up in the south of France"
Comments
cool! you stayed with 'the druids'....
Ow - my legs are burning just reading that. I wanted to cry on Crawley Bank on the C2C but it can't have been more than 3/4 of a mile, but so, so steep we had to walk at one point. I'm amazed you dunnit. I was thinking you should reset your cyclometer - it must be wrong. At our slowest we were 3.3mph cycling and 2.7mph walking. But then I remembered walking up town with you last time - or rather trotting behind you lol. Go you. I'm catching up, but only virtually x