Heatwave holiday - Part 2

Things were definitely heating up as our holiday week progressed: the weather forecast for Tuesday 5 September spoke of full-on sunshine and temperatures exceeding 30°C. 

At this time of year, at least, we were guaranteed slightly cooler nights, but sleeping was still a sweat fest in spite of the fact that we kept the French windows open all night.

Consulting our weather app in the morning, we learned that our best bet would be a trip to the seaside, where a mild sea breeze would halt the mercury in its tracks just under the dreaded 30°C mark. So, that was our destination for the day sorted!

The nearest seaside resort to our holiday cottage is De Panne. Lying at the western end of Belgium's straight 67 kilometres long coastline, it is almost literally a stone's throw from the border with France.

Much head scratching ensued when our Satnav made us drive on minor country lanes which were definitely not taking us into the direction of the main road to the coast. In fact, we were dumbfounded when we suddenly found ourselves in France! But our Satnav seemed to be knowing her way around and eventually we made it to De Panne, and the free car park we have been using for many years. Formerly free car park, I should add, as a Pay and Display machine had materialized in our absence. 

Having parked, paid and displayed, we walked around the corner and took the tram for a couple of stops until we were within easy access of the promenade. 

In spite of the perfect weather conditions, both promenade and beach weren't exactly jam-packed, which would have been quite a different story in the Summer holidays or during sunny weekends. In fact, you might be forgiven for thinking that we had the place completely to ourselves, the odd paddling gull notwithstanding!

The tide was out, leaving a wide expanse of beach we had to traverse until the shoreline with its gently lapping waves was reached.

Swiftly removing our shoes, we followed the gulls' example and dipped our toes into the salty water. Then, slowly but surely the tide started turning so that soon the water reached beyond our ankles. Jos was obliged to roll up his trouser legs, while I tucked my tiered skirt into my knickers!  

And so we walked on, with the waves following each other in swift succession and increasing force, until we were parallel with a break in the row of unappealing apartment buildings lining the promenade. The bane, unfortunately, of most of Belgium's coastal resorts.

We walked back to the promenade over the rippled wet sand, followed by a final stretch of sun-kissed golden sand untouched by the tide which dusted our feet as if sprinkled with flour. 

Sitting on a bench, we tried to brush off most of it, which proved a nearly impossible task: we could feel it squishing between our toes for the rest of the day.

De Panne's brightly striped deckchairs and windbreakers and old-fashioned bathing huts are reminiscent of a Victorian seaside postcard.  Although I have taken countless photographs of these over the years, I couldn't resist trudging up to them for some more, with the warm fine sand slopping over the tops of my Cloudsteppers. Jos was far more sensible and waited for my return on a shady bench.

It was well past midday by now and our stomachs were ready for some sustenance. However, it seems that we'd picked an awkward time for our visit as our favourite restaurant along with many others happened to be closed on a Tuesday.

We finally managed to grab a table on the terrace of Le Beaulieu, which turned out to be a cut above  some of the other eateries lining the Promenade. Our waiter - like most of the workforce here - was French, with just a limited grasp of Flemish, resulting in a minor mix-up in the order of the Dutch people sitting at the table next to ours.

After lunch, we strolled along the promenade. Then, while Jos once again rested his feet in the shade, I briefly ventured a bit further afield to admire some of the coastal architecture from yesteryear which is still hanging on for dear life among the concrete jungle.

However, it was far too hot to trawl the streets of the Dumont quarter, a gem of architectural heritage built between the late 19th and early 20th Century which has been protected since 1995. Next time, perhaps ...

There was no escaping the heat on Wednesday 6 September, as the mercury now refused to descend from its lofty +30°C height.

My floaty chambray midi skirt, which had already more than proved its worth in Shropshire, came out to play again. I paired it with a charity shopped floral top by King Louie, accessorized with a yellow cat brooch. The belt was an old retail buy.  I removed the necklace - another charity shop find - after the photo was taken, as I knew it would bother me while out walking.

We looked for the largest patch of dark green - indicating wooded areas - on our walking map and found it in De Palingbeek, at over 230 hectares the largest Provincial Domain in the West of Flanders.

We'd walked here twice before, starting from a different car park, which our Satnav had us drive around in circles to find back in 2020. Now, we opted to start from the car park near the domain's visitors centre and, although we started our journey with some trepidation, I'm happy to report Ms. Satnav was well behaved this time around.

Our intended walk took us past the ecological kitchen gardens which are part of the domain after which we followed a succession of woodland paths until we arrived at a clearing in the woods. Here a bittersweet surprise in the form of one of the area's many WWI cemeteries awaited us.

Hedge Row Trench Cemetery was begun in March 1915 and was used until August 1917. The layout of the cemetery is rather unusual. During the war, the site suffered so much from shell fire that the positions of the individual graves couldn’t be reconstructed. The headstones are now arranged  around the Cross of Sacrifice, with the circle serving as a symbol for the large amount of craters caused by mine explosions in the area. 98 Commonwealth soldiers are buried here. 

Hundreds of military cemeteries arose in Flanders Fields after the First World War, reminding us of the staggering human toll the conflict took. 27 of the area's WWI sites - alongside a further 112 in Wallonia and France -  have finally been added to UNESCO ‘s World Heritage List earlier this week, Hedge Row Trench Cemetery being one of them.

Next to the cemetery, a row of haversacks are displayed on pedestals. They contain the personal belongings of a fallen soldier buried here. The items are preserved behind plastic: a white handkerchief, a field shovel, a water bottle, a tin of corned beef and a torch to name but a few. 

The display definitely added to veil of unspeakable sadness which hung over the site.

Leaving the cemetery behind us, we rejoined the shady woodland path. 

The patches of bright blue sky and the persistent rays of sunshine which tried to reach us through the the leafy canopy of the trees belied the fact that we were on the cusp of Autumn and that these Indian Summer days might very well have been Summer's swan song. 

There were plenty of benches offering picnic opportunities, so we soon found a shady one for our picnic of ham and cheese sandwiches. Then, after negotiating a cattle grid, we spotted the art installation Coming World Remember Me (below, top right) in the distance. Created by artist Koen Vanmechelen, it originally consisted of 600.000 clay figures sculptured by people from across the globe, representing the 600.000 victims who lost their lives as a result of WWI in Belgium.

One would think that making use of a walking map based on numbered markers is very much like painting by numbers. However, it does require navigational skills, particularly as some of the markers have been placed in such a way that their instructions are somewhat ambiguous. So, it wasn't entirely our self-confessed topographical disorientation which was to blame for the fact that we didn't end up at number 16 as intended. This left us no other option other than to return to the previous number for a second attempt. As we didn't exactly relish the detour in the heat, we breathed sighs of relief when we finally made it to the elusive number 16 post.

We were now at the highest point of the Palingbeek domain. Known to the British as "The Bluff", this was one of the few places where the Allies held higher ground than their opponents. For this reason, at the end of 1915 and throughout 1916, the Germans attempted to capture the position, which was known to them as "Die Grosse Bastion". As a result, it was the scene of several underground explosions and heavy fighting. On 25 July 1916 a massive explosion blew away the top of the mound. In December 1916 the British replied with mines of their own, after which the area became an inaccessible quagmire of deep craters.

There's a pavillion here where you can watch a film about the build-up of the underground war on the battleground known as the southern Ypres Salient.

A couple of paces from the pavillion there's another sculpture by Koen Vanmechelen. This will eventually become the carrier of 600.000 personalized dog tacks (above, bottom left), each bearing the name of a WWI victim. The egg is symbolically protected by a nest of bronze chicken claws.

After having watched the film and rested our feet, the walk continued on a recently installed boardwalk path through the former No Man's Land and along various craters.

The sheep which have the privilege of calling this part of the domain their home were sheltering under the boardwalk and didn't seem to be all that bothered by our approach. 

The final stretch of the walk was mercifully downhill. Here woodland creatures were immortalized in wooden carvings. The hedgerows were full of juicy blackberries which we picked until the plastic tub formerly containing our picnic was filled to the brim.

Having made it back to the visitors centre, we purchased a bottle of ice-cold homemade apple juice to quench our thirst.

Needless to say it tasted quite heavenly after the day's exertions!

Seagulls and chickens

Whenever we're staying at our little getaway cottage in Belgium's beautiful west country, a day trip to the seaside is on our menu. However, as the end of our week's holiday doomed on the horizon, we still hadn't made it to the seaside as the weather gods had been conspiring against us.

Friday arrived and as we were keen to avoid the inevitable weekend crowds, this was actually our last chance.

We were in luck, as there was no mention of rain, even if the weather forecast said it would be a bit windy. Perfect for blowing away the last of the cobwebs, we thought.

But first things first, as before we can start the day's journey, I have to show you what I was wearing.

This vintage polyester frock is another one that has been residing in my wardrobe for ages. When I posted it on Instagram, someone remarked that the print reminded them of balloons flying up into the evening sky, which I thought was rather lovely. Alas, they're not balloons but flowers. I've included a close-up, so that you can see that they have leaves sprouting from their stalks.

Once again, the dress came with its own belt, which I replaced with a recently charity shopped white woven leather one, which is a current favourite. I opted for a light blue beaded necklace and wore my King Louie cardi in the same colour on top. 

The destination we'd decided on was the coastal town of Nieuwpoort, but first we drove down to De Panne, which is the resort nearest to where we were staying. There is a free car park here, less than a hundred meters from the nearest tram stop, so it is actually a no-brainer, as you can catch the tram to anywhere along the Belgian coast from there.

There was a gale force wind blowing, so any remaining cobwebs were soon dealt with the minute we alighted at Nieuwpoort Bad, the seaside part of the town.

After a spot of lunch, we walked along the beach, or at least we tried to, as the wind was either propelling us along at full speed or doing its best to keep us rooted at the spot while overdoing its Mr. Sandman routine if we tried to walk against it.  

Looking back at the promenade, you can see the seemingly endless line of high rise apartment buildings which are an unfortunate feature of the Belgian coast. The hotel De Barkentijn, as seen on the top left in the second collage, is a a lone survivor from a bygone age, while the Art Deco style yellow-tiled building on the top right does its best to bring some cheerfulness to the overall drabness.

We walked into the direction of the jetty, which is actually one of a pair built in 1865. This is the western one, with a length of 490 meters. The miniature lighthouse at its head (and that of its twin) houses a signal lantern and foghorn.

Having climbed a slippery breakwater, we were suddenly faced with a thick carpet of razor shells at the other side.

Back on the wet sand, the footprints left by my pink floral sneakers were joining those of the omnipresent squawking and wailing gulls.

We walked briefly along the jetty, but strong gusts of wind were soon forcing us back inland.

On the rocks below, all manner of seabirds were feasting on the hapless mussels and other shellfish which were left stranded by the tide.

The eastern jetty is slightly longer, jutting 543 into the sea. The two mighty jetties are ceremoniously guiding the River IJzer into the North Sea.

The River IJzer is unique in that it is the only Belgian river flowing directly into the sea and, at the confluence of the salty seawater and the fresh water of the river, is a nature reserve which has its own very distinctive fauna and flora. 

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Due to the tidal movement a unique area of saltings and mud flats was created, an ideal breeding ground for a rich variety of worms, snails, algae, shells and crustaceans. The continuous interaction between the salt and fresh water in the IJzer estuary also created a special biotope characterized by various salt loving plants.

The nature reserve itself, which is on the right bank of the river, can only be visited with a guide, but you can walk alongside it on a path with several lookout points, a walk we did a couple of years ago.

Now, we limited ourselves by walking along the 2 kilometer boardwalk promenade which follows the river from the North Sea to the marina near the inland part of the town, Nieuwpoort Stad.

Several works of art could be admired along the route. The most striking was this one, called Plastic Fish (bottom right).

Exhausted and with eyes and ears stinging from the wind, we arrived at Nieuwpoort Stad, where we admired a mosaic bas-relief plaque on the façade of the fish mine, and then took the tram back to De Panne and our car.

Arriving back at our cottage in Poperinge, we were delighted to see that hop picking had finally started in the hop fields across the road and we watched the vertiginous proceedings from the perch of our first floor window.

Getting up on Saturday, we were greeted by sunshine and blue skies. The blasted weather forecast, however, said it would most definitely rain later that morning and again in the afternoon.

As we'd planned a walk in the area, we were none too pleased and dithered over what to do instead.

In the end, we decided to go ahead regardless, taking our raincoats and umbrellas and stopping at the local supermarket for sandwiches for our planned picnic. 

We also nipped into the town's small charity shop, where our efforts were rewarded by a funky glass dish, two Art Deco vases which were in a bargain bin and priced at € 1,50 for the pair, and some jewellery. I spotted the squirrel brooch as we were about to pay at the till.

Armed with sandwiches and drinks, we made our way to a nearby nature reserve called the Galgebossen, which translates as Gallows woods. Apparently gallows stood at the edge of them until the early 18th century.

Upon arrival, we were happy to see a picnic table in a small enclosure next to the car park, so that we could comfortably eat outside instead of having a car picnic. Not quite that comfortable, it turned out, as we were immediately accosted by a gang of chickens. Not only did we have to clean their mess off the table and benches, we had to share our sandwiches with them. Believe me, there was no saying no to this formidable chap (bottom right) which seemed to be the leader of the gang.

With all out dithering, we'd forgotten to take outfit photos, so we took them during our walk instead.

My second pair of trousers came out of my suitcase. This floral delight was a sales bargain from New Look last Winter, while both the sailor style short-sleeved jumper and the shirt (to which I'd pinned my new squirrel brooch) were charity shopped. Both are from the now defunct Belgian label Wow To Go. 

As I was about to retrieve my raincoat from the boot of the car, I was surprised to find it missing. It turned out I'd left it behind at the cottage, another victim of that morning's dithering.

Our walk took us through a mixture of woodland and fields, at one point crossing a road where a lonely house stood complete with a tiny chapel fixed to its façade.

It might have been only the first week of September, but it definitely felt like Autumn, especially when we were walking along that leaf-strewn woodland path. 

Patches of cloud and sunny spells alternated throughout our walk, but much to our relief we made it back to our car without facing even one drop of rain.

On our way back to the cottage, we stopped in Poperinge for an afternoon treat of cappuccinos and waffles. At that point, the sun was out in full force.

The forecasted rain finally came when we were back at the cottage, which seemed like a fitting end to our week's holiday.