The wind is mightier than the sword.

We managed to storm across France after leaving Paris, James had gotten a new tyre so we weren't constantly stopping to repair punctures and thankfully the winter seemed to have decided to take a step back, finding us cycling in often cold but clear, crisp weather. The kind that leaves one feeling anticipatory of what comes next.

What did come next is wind. Intense wind. For those that have or do regularly cycle outdoors, they will relate to biking into a strong headwind and the sometimes eye-watering amount of energy it takes to push against a force that has been building up across oceans and then blasts across the earth with a ferocity that takes your breath away. Your legs ache from the constant strain, your eyes stream with tears produced by so much air hitting your face, your body hunches over the handlebars unnaturally in an effort to become smaller and more streamline, to somehow find a gap between the gale's path, to find a hole and zip through. It is in vain though.

And you do get desperate....

On one particularly tough day, we had been cycling for hours into winds almost topping 40km per hour and we stopped at the side of the road to give ourselves a break when an elderly man cycled past as though he had not a care in the world. I will admit he was the cyclist's equivalent of a meal ticket as he rode past with his steady pace and large billowing jacket....we saw a thing that had been absent from our travel all day....protection! And so we drafted this old man without shame, taking some shelter behind his slow grinding movements and followed him through town until he turned off the road into a retail estate. Alas our brief love affair with an elderly gentleman taking the brunt of the wind ended after just 12 minutes. We will never forget him: hero of the moment.

The wind really was relentless that day and finally we decided to take refuge in a copse of trees very much isolated from anything else. To give you some idea on this place: as we were pushing our bikes over the lumpy agricultural land that bordered it on all sides....three deer burst out of nowhere leaping and jumping across the mud until eventually they were swallowed by the dusk of the very cluster of trees we were headed for. The place was incredible, miles from anywhere with a rich sense of isolation that is difficult to stumble upon day to day. The trees were dizzyingly tall and swayed ominously against the gusts, creaking and moaning under the stress of the weather. But we found a little spot, pitched our tent and set about making a camp fire which turned out to be a magnificent one; warming us up and lifting our spirits with ease.

Pls to note that this is a textbook log cabin fire stack.

There is something really relaxing feeling like the world is far away. Where collecting firewood and drinking a well earned beer are the only things on the agenda save for guzzling down some hot soup and getting into bed. It is an incredibly peaceful experience to be self sufficient and alone, to be watching the sunset with it's magenta smudges and burnt orange fade. To know that there is no other place to be, there is no urgency, no responsibility, no need to step out of that moment, but rather an inner realisation of the beauty of such respite. It was a time when I was very aware of my own adventure, of my own experience and my own place within a journey that was only just beginning. It is thus far (understandably) our most favourite camping spot.

Our last day in France, in Lille. Which has the most beautiful cathedral.

But we could not stay there forever and so we pedalled on, until we found ourselves at a border! Something I struggled to get my head around, was how quickly Belgium came and went, because all of a sudden we were there, wandering around Ypres with its beautiful central square and more significantly it's intense history. It is the location of one of the very long and arduous battle between allied forces and Germany back in WW1 and this is a place that does not seek to forget that bloodshed. Entry to the main square is gained via a huge archway called the Menin Gate, which commemorates soldiers that fell in part of the first world war and do not have a known grave, essentially it is a homage to the missing, to those that went to fight and never returned.

Tyne Cot

Menin Gate

The structure itself is striking and the feeling you get when gazing upon the thousands of names inscribed inside it is one of shock. It is just so visible and undeniable. Those seemingly endless columns of names represent just a portion of the many people that died for their country. That is just so hard to comprehend.

Tyne Cot just up the road, is equally as sombre if not more; despite being aesthetically very pretty. There are over eleven thousand buried there. That is just so difficult to swallow. The white stone graves are arranged in rows of half moons, line after line of them reflecting the large semi circle wall that frames the ground and serves to teleport you from normal life into a stark dose of understanding. Those people died in ways that seem so alien now, it feels barbaric to send wave after wave of men towards a hail of gunfire. For some, survival was not expected let alone guaranteed. I cannot imagine the last moments for some of them, running towards death. How can you begin to relate to it, when your greatest hardship is the weight of water on your bike or eating noodles four times in a row?!

The very next to day we got to Bruges. Then we were out of Bruges and into the Netherlands. 3 days we had in Belgium and that wasn't even us trying to race through, it just turns out, the north is pretty narrow! But the bonus of the ever easterly direction is the improvement in cycle lanes! It is entirely different to bike through countries that not only give a damn about cyclists but also largely designed the lanes and how they harmonise with the roads and the pedestrian walkways in a sane way.
The biggest surprise however was the coast of the Netherlands, which whilst blustery is absolutely stunning. The sand dunes have been built with kilometres of bike lanes, trails, hills, climbs, falls, trees, shrubs and are basically just undeniably astounding and a pleasure to ride through.

One memory feels particularly vivid; imagine if you will, two weary cyclists stumbling with their freshly cooked noodle soup, up a mighty dune, far from their hidden camp spot below. The evening was dark, blacker than what it seemed it should be: the absence of stars meant everything appeared to be one big shadow, a world enveloped by a moonless night sky unless one was to look to the east where there was orange hue from the distant lights of Rotterdam. And we were fatigued but still looking for one last slither of adventure before we closed our eyes and rested our bones. So we took our dinner, trudged up one of the sandy mountains and sat atop it, between shrubs and tufts of long dry grass that would blow in the wind and make a shushing sound that cannot be described in any meaningful way. I suppose it is meant only for the ears of those that seek it out in the flesh.

We ate ravenously as always, looking out past the shore and into deeper waters, where a queue of large ships awaited their entry to Rotterdam and I was of course immediately daydreaming about the crews and their travels, of vengeful captains and white whales. There is a part of me that will always think fiction is more fun that reality, where you can live a thousand lives in one, simply by continuing to turn the page.

It was the following day just north of The Hague that I finished my longest ride in one sitting, to date: 103km! And the last few pedal strokes were completed as I rolled through all of the beautiful surroundings I have described to you. It felt more exotic than I would have ever imagined upon entering Holland, it seems as though there are always new places to shock and delight. I can't say I am sad to be surprised in such a wonderful way by Europe.

Us on our 103km day, almost at the very end of the ride and so close to our 5 donut finish!

This stretch has been tough on my legs, tiring for my body and demanding of my will power, but most certainly felt exactly like we are living the adventure we had set out to undertake.

I'm tyred but happy. :)