like inHamburg.
Amsterdam was our first true rest day, the focus of the day was to expend as little energy as possible. For the first time Max and I spent time apart. He went shopping for clean clothes and souvenirs;I lounged in a cafe drinking hot chocolate and writing. The days real success was finding 'breakfast cake', or as we now it's called 'boterkoek pondje', this stodgy butter cake makes all the cycling worth it, almost.
We finished the day eating stir fry noodles at the base of Multatuli's statue on Amsterdam's widest bridge.
It was back to the saddle next morning as we were to cycle to Den Haag. Rest days always seem to lead to painful days, as though body felt you unfairly tricked it by giving it a glimpse of home. Despite this we still covered about 60 miles to a town called Monster (The Hague is lacking in campsites). This coastal town is about 20 miles north of the 'Hook of Holland' so the camp site was home to quite a few British tourists.
Our neighbors Stan and Gerry were to compete in the Scally rally (a marathon race in a car costing less than £100). The route would take them all the way back to where we started in Sandejford and further past Trondheim, in four days! Three weeks work for us a mere 32 hours drive. We wish them all manner of mechanical failure and air conditioning trouble.
It was two days cycle to Bruges and ones full of expectation. Before last year Bruges had never held any real significance; Max had never even heard of it. However in that time we saw 'In Bruges' the brilliantly dark comedy. In it the city is described thus "If I grew up on a farm, and was retarded, Bruges might impress me but I didn't, so it doesn't", for this reason we had to see it.
The medieval city is heaving with tourists at this time of year and mixed with the summer heat it didn't bode well. Yet if you turn down any side street or step into one of Bruges' many alcoves you find yourself alone. The camera wielding cattle wander about the tour lanes and high streets quite loyally, so any wandering is rewarded. There are churches, canals and sculptures scatttered about the city, some on the map others not.
From Bruges it is only 73 miles to Calais, a fact that both Max and I were painfully aware of. This meant we were both eager to set off in the morning. Our goal for the day was Dunkirk, about 20 miles from Calais, so that the day of our departure would be a short cycle ride to the ferry giving us time to do some wine shopping. However as we entered France a new plan formed, cycle the whole leg and get back tonight. This wish was exacerbated by the antipathy France seemed to have for us; no cycle paths or signs and no routes other than those on dual carriage ways. This led to quick tempers as the strong crosswinds caused some very near misses involving lorries driven by idiots.
We were forced to stop 15 kilometers short because of the time. Cycling into the wind was slow work and we weren't going to be able to buy ferry tickets if we carried on. It was a long night.
The rest is pretty straightforward, we cycled into town and bought tickets. Then got back about 6ish and parted ways. First port of call for both of us were very long baths and clean clothes, we hadn't had a clean set for the full 25 days and were feeling pretty ripe.
Thanks for reading.
