Heatwave holiday - Part 1

After closing the office door behind me on the last day of August, it was a bit of a letdown to hear torrential rain beating against our bedroom window overnight and to wake up to a grey and damp morning on the first day of our September holiday. We certainly did not envy the schoolchildren and their parents their first school run after the Summer holidays, and luxuriated in the fact that we didn't have to join them that morning. What's more, we breathed huge sighs of relief realizing that there wouldn't be any need for us to get up early for the daily race against the clock for no less than 12 days! 

Luckily, that morning's rain would be the last we'd see. The temperature which managed to climb to 22°C on Friday afternoon would be on the up in the days to come and, in fact, a veritable heatwave had been forecasted for our holiday week. 

Still, it was a bit of a struggle to decide what to pack. Known for their eternal capriciousness, I didn't fully trust what the weather gods had cooked up for the week ahead so, in addition to an armful of heatwave proof tops and a selection of floaty skirts, I threw in a long-sleeved Breton top, some short-sleeved knits, a couple of cardigans and a pair of trousers. Not to mention my orange leather jacket, green raincoat and beloved denim jacket.

But for once the weather gods decided to leave well enough alone, so that I wouldn't need any of these last-minute additions.

The sun was shining in full force when we said goodbye to Bess just after midday on Sunday. By the time we arrived at our cottage in Poperinge, which is only a leisurely hour and a half drive from home, the temperature had effortlessly reached the mid-twenties.

We have been spending September holidays at this same cottage for 12 years running, and as I have been sharing our adventures here with you since 2016, it will by now be familiar to long-time readers of my blog. 

Still, as apparently I haven't shared the cottage's interior since 2021, here are some photos as a reminder.

The cottage, Marjolein Guesthouse, is actually a compact first floor studio above the owner's carport, in a rustic thatched wooden building. It's got everything you can possible think of: a dressing, sitting area, kitchenette, breakfast nook and bedroom, all-in-one, with a small bathroom leading off the main room.

The view from the balcony, which is reached through the breakfast nook's French windows, has had us mesmerized ever since we first laid eyes on it back in 2012. Looking out over the extensive domain's lake, which is teeming with wildlife, and the patchwork of fields and the French-Flemish hills beyond, is one of the highlights of our holidays here.

The front door window looks out over one of Poperinge's many hop fields. Hop picking usually starts in the week we are staying at the cottage, and this time was no exception. Still looking green and lush in the photo on the top left, the hop stakes would be completely bare by the time we went home one week later.

We arrived shortly after 2 pm and after reacquainting ourselves with the cottage and befriending one of the domain's new lawnmowers - a fearsome looking but quite docile black horned sheep - we drove down to sleepy Poperinge's town centre.

We both had a craving for waffles, so we plonked ourselves down on the terrace of one of the busy cafés lining the market and ordered some of the icing sugar sprinkled delicacies accompanied by cups of cappuccino. 

Then, as is customary on our first day, we walked down to the local park for a stroll. 

Late Summer flowers were attracting the custom of a kaleidoscope of butterflies. Can you spot the Comma perching on the Ice Plant (Sedum spectabile) on the bottom left?

My outfit of the day consisted of a charity shopped funky green, turquoise and off-white top from the Belgian Vila Joy label, paired with an orange and off-white tiered skirt picked up in the C&A sales last year. My sandals were a sales bargain too, while my accessories were a mix of high street and charity shop finds. The chunky green ring, which unfortunately isn't very visible here, was a gift from Claire.

After purchasing a baguette to eat with the salad we'd brought with us, we picked up our car and drove back to our little home away from home.

Watching the sun go down over the lake was the perfect end to the day!

On Monday, the weather thermostat was cranked up another couple of degrees to 27°C. 

In the weeks preceding our holiday we'd made a list of possible outings which unfortunately all had to be scrapped due to the unseasonably warm weather. Town trails, uphill walking and rambling in the relatively treeless River IJzer wetlands or along any of the area's picturesque canals: all off the menu and saved for a rainy day another year.

And so it was that we escaped to the woods that day. 

Only a 10-minute or so drive from Marjolein, the Sixtusbossen (Sixtus woods) are a 300 hectares complex of woods cared for by Natuurpunt, the largest Belgian nature conservation organization. The woods belong to the famous Abbey of St. Sixtus, where monks have been brewing the much sought-after Westvleteren Trappist beer since 1839.

Armed with a recent walking map of the area, we set off into the direction of the leafy park of  De Lovie which with its 60 hectares is also part of the St. Sixtus cluster of woods. 

Both the Neoclassical castle - which you can catch the merest of glimpses of between the trees on the bottom left - and its English landscape inspired park date from the mid-19th Century, commissioned by Marie-Joséphine van Renynghe and her son Jules Van Merris, who had settled in the area in the aftermath of the French Revolution.

One of the eyecatchers of the park was the garden pavillion (above, bottom right) constructed in cast iron and glass. Now in a sorry state of disrepair, it has been protected as a monument since 2000, and is awaiting its much-needed restoration.

Over time, the castle has served as a Summer residence for the aristocracy, a military headquarters during WWI and a sanatorium for TB patients. Today, the site is being managed by a charitable organisation which supports children, young people and adults with mental disabilities.

Shortly after entering the grounds, an uphill path took us past a Neoclassical gazebo built on top of an artificially constructed mound called the Drogenbroodberg. Translated as Dry Bread Hill, it allegedly got its name as the workmen who built it were given dry bread in lieu of payment. The gazebo too has been a protected monument since 2000 and has been restored to its original 19th century condition in 2006.

My outfit of the day consisted of one of my all-time favourite skirts, which has accompanied me on all our Summer holidays since I found it in a charity shop back in 2020. The orange top with its scattering of blue leaves was a charity shop find as well, as were the haori cover-up and my necklace. For our walk, I exchanged Sunday's sandals for my Clarks Cloudsteppers, which have now definitely seen better days. Particularly after walking on a dew-laden, freshly mowed grass path.

We meandered through the park, relishing its lushness and coolness, with only the merest hint of approaching Autumn lingering in the air. 

After about one and a half kilometres we reached one of the park's exits and emerged on a quiet country lane where tiny shrines lined the road and we were gaped at by a herd of inquisitive young cows. 

As midday approached, we were starting to feel peckish and were on the lookout for a suitable bench to have our picnic. Our walking map told us we were approaching a picnic site, for which we briefly had to re-enter the park through the so-called Chinese gate (above, top centre). 

Until the 1920s the gate was standing at the entrance to the sanatorium St. Idesbald in Houtem near Veurne, but it was rebuilt here when the convalescent home for tuberculosis patients moved here in 1930.

Once through the gate, a tarmacked path lead us to the heart of the park, passing a chapel dedicated to St. Theresa half-hidden by topiary (above, top left and right and bottom centre).

The picnic site offered a view towards the rather forbidding looking Neoclassical castle and was furnished with a musical installation which I'm sure Kezzie would have been able to put to proper use. 

There is another little chapel here, erected in Neoclassical style in memory of Mrs. Maria Joséphine van Renynghe, with next to it a much larger round chapel built in the 1930s by the aforementioned sanatorium St. Idesbald.

When I was editing the photos and zooming in on the one of the castle, I was quite spooked to see a ghostly apparition in one of the upper floor windows ...

Hunger pangs satisfied and weary feet rested, we returned to the Chinese gate and the country lane we were walking on.

Before doing so, however, we were waylaid by a sign welcoming us into the charming garden belonging to a farmstead called The Six Senses. This offered a plethora of surprises, including a tiny toy mouse hiding in a naively painted wooden house.

Back on track, we suddenly found ourselves in Canada!

The final stretch of our walk took us into the woods again, where a surprise of a different kind awaited us: the remnants of a secret WW2 V1 launching base (above, bottom left).

It was one of eighteen V1 bases the German army had erected in West Flanders by Russian forced labourers. 

From here, the German army wanted to target London, a distance of about 200 kilometres as the crow flies. But although the work was finished in August 1944, no V1 bomb would ever be launched from West Flanders: the Allies were advancing too fast from nearby France!

Having miraculously finished our walk without getting lost, it was time to go back to the cottage for some well-needed rest and finishing my current read, Paula McLain's The Paris Wife.

I was so absorbed in its final pages that I almost missed that day's magnificently fiery sunset!

Then it was time for bed and to recharge our batteries for next day's adventure.