Sunny days in the West(hoek)

It's the final installment of my September travelogue. And about time too, as it's now more than six weeks ago that we woke up to sunshine streaming in through our window on Friday the 5th of September. 

The weather forecast for the day ahead looked very promising, with highs of 22°C, which felt positively balmy now that the wind had finally taken a backseat. We had thrown open the cottage's French window while having breakfast and were enjoying the antics of the resident sheep (a.k.a. the lawnmowers), when a telltale sound coming from across the road made us leap up from our seats and walk over to the cottage's front door. Yes, it was that time of year again: hop picking had finally commenced!

We decided to make the most of the fact that the weather gods were on their best behaviour by going for a walk and enjoy the bounty nature has to offer. Not wanting to stray too far that day, we'd selected Helleketelbos (bos is the Flemish word for wood), which, in theory, would involve a drive of less than 15 minutes.

However, as there were roadworks along the route which would normally take us there, we decided to catch two birds with one stone and take the road we could see in the far distance when looking towards the Franco-Flemish hills from our balcony. 

A couple of houses on said road had been catching our attention for years, so we were wondering if we would be able spot our cottage if we'd seek these out. And we could! As it was in the shade, however, it wasn't exactly straightforward to pick it out among the surrounding trees, so I've added a helpful pink arrow for you!

From there, finding Helleketelbos should have been a doddle. After all, the road we were now on was called Helleketelweg (weg being the Flemish word for road), so we presumed that this was where it led to. So, we refrained from entering our destination in our Satnav, deciding to rely on our - admittedly shaky - sense of direction and a rudimentary map. 

Well, what can I say? Those winding country lanes did get the better of us so that, after literally driving around in circles, we finally admitted defeat and tasked Truus, our Satnav with the Dutch accent, with pointing us into the right direction.

By the time we finally made it there, our shattered nerves were sorely in need of a spot of Shinrin-yoku, or forest bathing. It was then that we remembered that, in spite of the existence of numbered markers which correspond with the handy map we were carrying, we always seem to end up getting lost here.

So, why not throw caution to the wind and start our walk the other way around, taking the path we usually - and eventually - arrive back on?

This seemed to have done the trick, as we finished our walk without any hiccups whatsoever. Or perhaps we have finally learned from our past mistakes?

Helleketelbos covers an area of around 56 hectares. The name Helleketel, which literally translates as Hell's Cauldron, is not as ominous as it sounds. In old Flemish the word helle means hillside and ketel refers to a depression at the bottom of a slope. 

Helleketelbos is a remnant of an early medieval forest. The current wood consists of plots of deciduous, coniferous and mixed woodland and is surrounded by agricultural land. 

At the edge of the wood is a small half-timbered farm labourer's cottage, which used to be part of a large farmstead. It is locally known as the Witches Cottage. The cottage, which is in an enclosure with a picnic area, has been restored in recent years. Sadly, however, signs of vandalism are already apparent, with one of the windows giving access to the basement having been smashed to smithereens.

We rested here for a while, but as we hadn't brought a picnic and it was getting late, our faintly rumbling stomachs demanded that we drive back to our cottage for lunch. This was followed by a siësta, after which we drove down to Poperinge.

Here, we started with a visit to the local charity shop, which turned out to be a bit of a disappointment. Although I've found many a treasure here over the years, the stock wasn't up to scratch at all this time around and prices were considerably higher than where we live. I mean, € 11,50 for a dress, that's almost double what we're generally paying here.

We then continued to St. Jan's Kerk (St. John's Church), which has its origins in the 13th Century. The church is a well-known place of pilgrimage, connected with the nearby Mirakelhuisje (Miracle House) where it is said a stillborn child was brought back to life by Our Lady of St. John in 1479.

About 400 meters from the Market Place it is a little bit out of our way, so that it was only our second visit to the church in the 14 years we've been coming here.

But it was the Market Place we'd come for, and more specifically, the terrace of well-known establishment La Poupée, for an afternoon treat of waffles and cups of cappuccino.

Although we were already salivating at the mere thought, we stopped to photograph the magnificent neo-Gothic town hall for the umpteenth time. 

Our last day, Saturday the 6th of September, dawned sunny with some light clouds, which the sun would soon make short shrift of. With highs of 25°C forecasted for the day, there was no need for a jacket, so I made do with my faithful haori style cover-up to protect my arms from the sun.

This time, we stayed even closer to the cottage for our morning walk. 

A short stroll along a bumpy unsurfaced path, the whitewashed chapel of Ons Heerens Boompje (literally translated as Our Lord's little Tree) would have been visible from our balcony if only some trees hadn't been in the way. 

The top of our cottage was visible from the path we were walking on, basking in sunshine across a field of cabbages (above, top right).

Harvest was in full swing as we walked along the maize fields, until we came to a sign nailed to a fence post and pointing us towards the chapel, which, as you have probably gathered, is kapel in Flemish.

Quite why there were two signs, if even one would have been superfluous as at that point the chapel in its copse of trees was clearly visible, we'll never know. 

It is a so-called "fever chapel", where people come to pray for the relief of fever and pain as well as miracles in general.

The bushes and trees surrounding the chapel are hung with ribbons, handkerchiefs and other pieces of fabric - indeed in some cases whole garments - since legend has it that this would make fever or pain go away.

We usually burn a small candle here, for whatever it's worth. Last time we were here, though, in September 2020, we only had a € 5 note on us. In order get our money's worth, we lighted both a small candle and votive candle, and took a spare votive candle back with us as a souvenir.

If we were hoping of invoking the odd little miracle, we could never have guessed that it would actually work. As it was, exactly nine months later Jos's youngest grandson was born, although his parents had long ago given up hope.

Again, we had lunch at the cottage followed by a little siësta, after which I went to post a letter at the post office. 

Only joking! The post office I am about to enter in the above photo is part of an open air museum called Bachten de Kupe, about 20 kilometers from Poperinge.

The museum introduces you to the fascinating traditions of yesteryear.

It is a reconstructed farming village from the Westhoek region and consists of 46 authentic buildings, the oldest of which dates back to 1650, as well as thousands of objects that bring the past back to life. 

Old cobbled streets lead you through a village with shops, an inn, a farmhouse, and much more. Too much really, as every available nook and cranny is crammed full of stuff, which makes the interiors of the shops and other buildings a bit confusing and unrealistic.

Whether this is down to a lack of funds to properly display all the objects the museum is being donated, I have no idea, but somehow I can't help feeling that it's a bit of a missed opportunity.

It didn't really help that our visit coincided with that of a coachload of slightly inebriated folk, who were talking and laughing too loud and were making fun of some of the exhibits. A couple even attempted to ride the bicycles which were on display! Trying to keep one step ahead of them was our main object, but in the end they were literally everywhere.

Still, my camera kept working overtime, so here are some snapshots of the things which caught my eye.

After our rounds of the village, we finished our visit with a drink on the terrace of the inn on the village square. Service here was quite confusing as well, but we managed to get our order of non-alcoholic beers in the end!

So, that was it, our September holiday 2025. 

We spent our last night wistfully staring out of our window, and noting the progress made by the hop pickers in just one day, leaving a huge chunk of the hop poles bare.

It will be business as usual in my next post, starting with a massive round-up of September outfits.

See you soon!