Just going with the flow

If in the introduction to my previous blog post I might have given you the impression that blogging has become a bit of a chore, with deadlines and the like, then nothing could be further from the truth. I love my blog with a passion and I absolutely relish the interaction with my fellow bloggers and readers. In fact, in times of stress, blogging has always been my lifeline as it allows me to put things into perspective.

The latter rings particularly true in case of our September holiday, which in all honesty didn't exactly go according to plan.

At least the weather gods seemed to be putting their best foot forward on Wednesday the 4th of September. The morning sun was bathing the landscape in that hazy golden glow which is so typical for the time of year and the forecasted highs of around 22°C sounded very promising.

I dug out my trusty travelling companion - the denim maxi skirt I found in Think Twice in May 2023 - and combined it with a charity shopped t-shirt top, a close-up of whose funky print you can find here.

The fabulous haori I layered on top was a gift from my friend Inneke. Well, it was actually intended for my other friend, Inez, but as I wouldn't be seeing her until after my holiday, I thought I might as well try it out myself :-)

The day's forecast for - mostly - dry weather with lots of sunny spells would have been perfect for either that trip across the border I've been going on about or a day at the seaside. In the end, however, we decided to stay local and just go with the flow.

On the day before we left, Jos had developed a nasty-looking boil called a furuncle on the back of his leg, which hadn't got any better so far and thus had us a bit worried. Therefore, we drove into Poperinge to seek advice and supplies from a chemist. Having obtained instructions, ointment, dressing pads and plasters, we walked around the corner to the town's green lung, the Burggraaf Frimoutpark. 

Opened almost exactly 22 years to the day, the park was named after one of Poperinge's most famous sons, Dirk Frimout, who in 1992 was the first Belgian in space. 

The sculpture Jos is standing next to isn't a victim of vandalism or gale force winds; this is actually the way it is meant to be. The six meter long hollow bronze sculpture is called "Shot at Dawn" and originally was the focal point of the eponymous 2016 exhibition held in the town. Apparently its creator, the Dutch artist Anno Dijkstra, was inspired by Poperinge's War Memorial in the Market Place. You can catch a glimpse of it here.

The park is usually our first port of call on the Sunday of our arrival, when we have to share it with  families enjoying a Sunday stroll and groups of loitering youths. This being a weekday, however, we had the park practically to ourselves. In fact, I think we only met a single dog walker and a young couple sitting on a bench.

As long as the weather gods are on their best behaviour, I absolutely love this time of year, the sights and scents of Summer reluctantly passing the torch to Autumn making my heart sing and putting a spring in my step. 

As the sun had by now been eclipsed by the grey sky she would be playing hide-and-seek with all day, I'd replaced the haori by one of my favourite light-weight blazers.

 

We meandered along the reed-edged boardwalk leading through a marshy area and along a duck-filled pond, although this time around the ducks were rather conspicuous by their absence.

Then we returned by way of the main path which is lined with a series of garden rooms proudly displaying the flowers of the current season - much appreciated magnets for the local bees - and the gracefully dying seed heads of the last.

After leaving the park, we strolled through the town, reacquainting ourselves with Poperinge's by now well-known landmarks. The ancient hop-picking equipment (above, top left) is standing in the courtyard of the town's Hop Museum, while "De Spellewerkege" (above, top right) by local artist Rik Ryon commemorates Poperinge's former lacemaking industry.

Then we had huge cups of cappuccino on the terrace of La Poupée, one of the cafés lining the Market Place. The one with the whipped cream is the Belgian version of cappuccino ordered by yours truly.

In front of La Poupée is a gold sculpture of a girl balancing a serving tray. This is a tribute to Eliane Cossey, an attractive red-haired girl who worked at her father's café during the First World War. She was given the nickname of Ginger by the officers who came from far and wide to see her.

On our way back to where we'd parked our car, we paid a brief visit to the town's principal church which owes its name to Saint Bertin, who was abbot in the French town of Saint Omer in the 7th Century. 

Once again, Jos took a breather on one of the church chairs, while I explored its rich interior. The flower decorated sign is kindly asking people to pay € 0,20 chair money, which I'm afraid we neglected to do. I'm sure Saint Bertin must have told his friends the weather gods about our miserly ways.

Back at the cottage, we had lunch while discussing plans for the afternoon. We'd already earmarked a short local walk about 10 minutes from the cottage, when one look outside our window made us reconsider our options. The sky had taken on a moody granite grey hue from which, surely, rain would be pelting down any minute. Our weather app being ambiguous about the matter, we thought we'd better be safe than sorry and return to Poperinge to visit Talbot House instead.

During the First World War, Poperinge was part of unoccupied Belgium. Away from the turmoil of battle in the Ypres Salient, the town became the nerve centre of the British sector, with thousands of soldiers passing through the town each day when going to and returning from the front.

Thus, Talbot House was opened in 1915 by army chaplains Neville Talbot and Philip "Tubby" Clayton, as a club house for all soldiers regardless of rank. For many, this place became their home away from home, an oasis of serenity in a world gone mad. It was a place where people could forget about the war for just a moment, hence the sign next to the front door saying: "To pessimists, way out!"

Although we didn't know this at the time, Arthur's Dugout is part of an interactive family trail, during which Private Arthur Pettifer takes you on a tour through the house from basement to  attic. Obviously, we just had to have a look at what was down there, hadn't we?

Talbot House has been a museum since 1931 and is still run by British wardens. You can even spend the night in one of the guest rooms (above, bottom left). 

In fact, in the week before our holiday Talbot House was a contestant in the Flemish version of "Four in a Bed". Sadly, but rather unsurprisingly, they didn't win, as obviously the house was lacking the latest mod-cons and the en-suite bathrooms of the other contestants. 

By Thursday the weather gods had abandoned all pretence of trying to please us and treated us to an utterly grey and blustery day. Thankfully, no rain seemed to be at the horizon and, at 20°C, the temperature was still reasonable enough for us to go ahead with our planned visit to the seaside. After all, the forecast for Friday was looking pretty dire and there was no way we would be heading to the coast on a Saturday, so that this was our only chance to do so.

The gale-force wind dictated that I wear the only pair of trousers I'd brought and don my famous green raincoat to keep the shivers at bay.

As we'd stopped at my brother's - who moved to the area in the Spring of 2023 - on our way to the coast, it was well past midday before we'd parked our car in De Panne and found ourselves a place to eat. 

Then we braved the wind, trudging over the wet sand into the direction of France, accompanied by the soundtrack of the waves which kept chasing each other endlessly, their tips edged with frothing white foam.

But wait a minute, France, you say? Well yes, De Panne is Belgium's most westerly seaside resort. Next stop the French seaside town of Bray-Dunes! 

You can either walk along the beach or - when the tide is high - along a concrete walking embankment which runs all the way from De Panne to its French neighbour, a bracing 5 kilometer walk.

About halfway in you can find De Panne's latest attraction, the Westerpunt vantage point, which was opened in the Spring. If you squint and know what to look for, it can already be spotted from De Panne's main beach (above, top left), even if the view was rather marred by foggy weather conditions on the day of our visit.

I stumbled across this architectural masterpiece while doing some holiday prep in the weeks before our trip and instantly put it on my list of must-sees. So, propelled along by the fiercely whipping wind and with the waves crashing against the sea wall, we walked and walked until we were face to face with the mighty structure.

The Westerpunt is a geometric, low-rise staircase that takes you from the walking embankment up into the air, until you are virtually floating over the beach - or the sea if the tide is in - before taking you down again.  

The structure is six metres high and stands autonomously from the concrete walking embankment. Although it might sound incongruous, the concrete actually fits in nicely with the beach and the dunes in terms of colour and texture and - hopefully - will be able to withstand the harsh maritime climate.

Months of rising and falling tides had deposited a veritable sandpit halfway up the first flight of stairs, so that it was actually already becoming part of the beach. 

Jos refrained from joining me but was able to take a handful of pictures with his phone. 

They actually make it look more spectacular than it felt, as even yours truly, having absolutely no head for heights, had no problems whatsoever going up there. 

So, that was one thing which could be checked off our list. Please do visit again if you want to find out what we did next!

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!

Sand dunes and salty air

It was on the Friday of our holiday week back in September (can't believe it's already one month ago!) that we were finally greeted by the sun.

Drawing back the curtains, we were met by a sun-drenched landscape as far as the eye could see, even if the hills we were supposed to see in the distance were still obscured by a haze.

Neither a dress nor a pair of trousers were my outfit of choice that day: I'd brought a jumpsuit I'd bought from New Look, and I thought it was about time we went out together!

I used the scarf clip on the bottom right, with its exquisite Millefiori design, for modesty purposes, even though I was wearing a tee shirt underneath. With so many colours to choose from, I picked out blue for my accessories which, apart from the scarf clip, consisted of a belt, beaded necklace and ring.

If you look sharply, you can see I'm being photo-bombed! The tiny figure on top of the ridge where the dark green of the shrubs and the bright green of the field meet is actually the resident goat! Can you spot it?

Not having had our full fix of sea air yet, we decided to make the most of the sunny weather and return to the coast.

So, again we drove down to our nearest seaside resort, De Panne, which also happens to be Belgium's most westerly coastal town, just a stone's throw from the border with France.

Walking towards the seafront, we were welcomed by the statue of Leopold I, the first King of the Belgians. Brushing up my knowledge of Belgium's national history, and educating my non Belgian readers in the process, when Belgium became independent in 1830, its constitution declared that we should have a King. After considering several candidates, the honour fell to Leopold von Saksen-Coburg, who was born in German, but who lived in England at the time.

The new King arrived in Calais by boat on July 17, 1831, from where he was taken to De Panne by coach. The statue was erected in the spot where he first put foot on Belgian soil.

It was quite a blustery day, and as soon as we arrived at the seafront and ventured away from the shelter of the promenade, Jos had to make a run for his hat, which had decided to go its separate way.

Walking along the promenade and then down to the beach, we were leaning into the gale, with the roaring of the waves obliterating every other sound.

Where sky and sea meet, the horizon seemed to be hemmed in a choppy silver line.

No intentional silly pose: I actually had a problem staying upright, and it truly felt as if I was being tossed about by the wind.

The legs of my jumpsuit were flapping about, the thin fabric no match for the tempestuous wind, and putting on my scarf wasn't an easy task, as it kept trying to escape, following the example of Jos's hat.

Walking on the beach, eagerly breathing in the sea's briny aroma, we were mesmerized by the mermaid's call of the waves, overlapping each other in rapid succession, their tips edged by bubbling white foam.

Several years ago, we walked for miles in a nature reserve in the dunes, walking the final stretch along the coastline towards De Panne on the beach.

It had been a glorious Summer's day and we recalled eating our picnic at a viewpoint in the dunes which, in our imagination, wasn't all that far from where we were now.

What if we walked to the viewpoint from here? However, as the tide was high, we had to abandon the beach and walk along the sea wall.

As soon as we'd reached the path leading off the coast, and into shelter of the dunes, the cacophony created by the wind and the waves died away and it was as if we'd entered another world.

Shortly after entering the nature reserve, we started climbing until the aquamarine sea could be glimpsed in the distance. The whitewashed and red-roofed cottages are all that's left of the fisherman's village, where the town's origins lie and where fishing still flourished 100 years ago.

No fisherman could afford to live there now, as the cottages have been turned into exclusive residences.

The 340-hectare Westhoek nature reserve is the only dune area on the Flemish coast where nearly all dune vegetation is represented in one unbroken dune landscape. This is due to two artificial breaks in the dunes (called "slufters") where sea water penetrates into the nature reserve at high tide, making the vegetation and wildlife here of particular interest.

This is a region of rolling sand dunes interspersed with dense thickets of thorny shrubs, where it is possible to wander for hours, feeling miles away from the rest of the world.

The meandering sandy path took us deeper and deeper into the dunes, but we kept going, expecting the viewpoint to appear around the next bend.

We were just about to give up when suddenly there it was. It was hard slog climbing up to the platform erected on top of a dune through the soft and shifting sand, but the panorama which awaited us was definitely worth the effort.

We returned the way we'd come, passing a lonesome and bedraggled cormorant along the way. 

It was getting late and back at the promenade the newly renovated Kursaal beckoned us for lunch.

Sufficiently restored, we explored De Panne's one kilometre-wide sandy beach, which is the widest on the Belgian coastline. 

There's a huge variety of boldly coloured and striped old-fashioned beach huts, which are quite irresistible and a magnet for my camera lens.

Many of these have wheels, looking as if they have just arrived by time machine from a bygone age, when bathing machines, which allowed people to change into swimwear at the water's edge before wading into the sea, were an essential part of sea-side etiquette.

They huddle together in clusters, their colours and names identifying the different rental agencies.

Apart from the quintessential striped ones, I especially loved the blue and white huts named Alice (my late Mum's name), which were decorated with a yellow scallop shell.

We walked all the way along the beach, past a graveyard of empty razor shells and a lonely yellow buoy left landlocked in the rippled sand, to neighbouring resort St. Idesbald.

The wind had lost some of its enthusiasm by then, so that the going was somewhat easier. 

We almost had the beach to ourselves. On this wind-blown day, it was almost devoid of holidaymakers and day-trippers, with only a handful of people like ourselves blowing the cobwebs away. 

Our feet tired after all this walking, we took a breather and then returned to De Panne by tram.

Just one more day, and our holiday would be over ...

Linking my jumpsuit to Nancy's Fancy Friday!

Under a stormy sky

In my previous travel post, I left you while sitting on the balcony of our cottage with my poppy umbrella, wondering if I wasn't tempting fate.

Sure enough, when we woke up on Tuesday morning, the sky was a solid grey.

We'd only made vague plans for our holiday, taking every day as it came, except for a visit to the seaside to do a particular walk.

With the forecast for the rest of the week being even vaguer than our plans, we decided to take the plunge and go ahead regardless of the weather.

With that in mind, I wore my red trousers again. Sick and tired of my dark denim ones, I'd bought two pairs of trousers, in red and green, at the outlet shop of Belgian brand Who's That Girl in Antwerp.

This time I paired the red trousers with a long-sleeved shirt, originally from the high street (from a label called Zoë Loveborn), but found at a flea market. On top, a charity shopped cardigan, in orange red with white dots. So, nothing vintage, apart from the brooch and necklace. As a nod to our seaside visit, I chose a blue sailing boat brooch!

Right, I'm dressed, let's go!

On the long straight road leading up to De Panne, the nearest seaside town where we wanted to make use of the free car park, the sky was getting darker and darker, and by the time we arrived it had started to rain quite heavily.

So, out came the boring Goretex, which I'd hoped I wouldn't need, and waited for the tram to take us to Nieuwpoort.

The tram along Belgium's coastline is the easiest way to get around and a bonus is that I can use my regular public transport pass.

By the time we hopped off at the quayside in Nieuwpoort-Stad (town), it was dry, so we walked to the town's main square, being treated to a brief shower along the way. Yes, it was going to be one of those days!

We's visited the town a couple of years ago but the many ongoing restoration works rather spoiled that visit. Now, we could admire the buildings surrounding the market place in their newly revealed glory.

Like Ypres, most of the historic town was in rubble by the end of the war, but here too a great job was done in painstakingly reconstructing the town's heritage.

There was a temporary art trail throughout the town, and works of art were dotted in every available space.

Nieuwpoort is located on the estuary of the River IJzer, and it actually has two centres, the old medieval centre, Nieuwpoort-Stad, which we'd just visited, and the coastal resort of Nieuwpoort-Bad.

They are connected by a delightful 2 kilometers long traffic free promenade along the harbour channel, which we'd walked on a sunny day back in 2015.

After lunch, a short tram ride took us to Nieuwpoort-Bad, where we made our way to the end of the promenade and the free ferry service which shuttles you to the east bank of the harbour channel.

There is a nature reserve, De IJzermonding, along the estuary of the River IJzer, which is the only river in Belgium flowing directly into the North Sea.

We first walked down to the deserted sandy beach, which is part of the nature reserve, and which looked particularly striking against the brooding sky.

The white railings of the eastern jetty, a 500 m long boardwalk into the North Sea, added to the eeriness of the seascape, the almost black sky contrasting starkly against the transluscent colour of the sea.

White sails seemed to be gliding like swans through the harbour entrance between the eastern and western jetties towards the wide expanse of the sea.

The crashing of the waves was competing with the strangely echoing sound of the amplified announcements coming over from the western side, where a cycling race was about to take place.

Exhilarated by the salty North Sea air, and accompanied by yet another shower, we retraced our steps and walked along the designated paths through the reserve, back towards Nieuwpoort-Stad, a menacingly barbed wired military domain on our left.

Every so often there was a gap with a tantalizing view of the red and white striped lighthouse to our left, while on the right, sandy paths led to viewpoints offering panoramas over the nature reserve, beyond which Nieuwpoort's ugly modern apartment buildings were cluttering up the skyline on the western bank.

A bird hide invites you to do a spot of bird spotting. It was populated by enthusiasts wielding heavy binoculars and glaring at us when we dared to make a quiet entrance.

The walk led us around one of Belgium's largest marinas, where all manner of pleasure crafts were anchored, jostling for space, the riot of masts producing a clanging soundtrack conducted by the wind.

In the midst of it all, a lonely fisherman provided a focal point for my photograph.

Nearing Nieuwpoort-Stad, we spotted the Albert I Memorial, commemorating the heroic acts of the city during the First World War. It was in fact here at Nieuwpoort that the German advance was halted in October 1914, when a sharp-thinking lock-master opened the sluice gates on the river, flooding the area up-river from the estuary, and so preventing the Germans from pushing on to the Channel ports.

Inside the monument is a museum telling the story of the flooding, and the rampart on top can be visited for a panoramic view over the landscape.

The monument is fittingly placed on the edge of the complex of locks, called the "Ganzepoot" (goose leg), which is regulating the water level of five different rivers and canals.

It is also the haunt of a flight of cormorants, drying their wings and realigning their feathers after a spot of fishing.

By then, we'd arrived back at Nieuwpoort-Stad where we waited for the tram to take us back to De Panne.

Linking up to Tina's Pink Friday!

Also linking to Patti's Visible Monday at Not Dead Yet Style!