The weather’s been mostly kind this month so it’s been
great to join the longer Nordic walks and get out of town to see new places.
The first was to Caillou-qui-Bique, about forty minutes’ drive away in Belgium,
to see the wild daffodils. The name means “Stone sticking up” so I was hoping
to see the stone and marvel. I started marvelling with a minute of setting off: there
were daffodils everywhere under the trees. We were out walking for nearly two
hours and could always see a carpet of flowers.
It was beautiful but I was a
bit bothered that people seemed to be quite unconcerned about picking them
until someone told me that it’s allowed, but limited to one bunch per person. I
suspect that as there are so many, the impact is balanced by the pleasure a
small child will get from seeing the flowers growing, picking them, looking at
them at home and remembering the experience. We did get to see the Caillou. It’s
a huge piece of rock, different from surrounding ones, which the Devil dropped
there when he got fed up of carrying it somewhere. A Belgian poet, Emile
Verhaeren, lived nearby and parts of the woodland are used as his memorial,
with lines from his works carved into stones.
We’ve had a few undulating walks in Sebourg, a village
not-quite-in-Belgium. The first walk gave us wood anemones and a stunning gate; the second gave us ducks, a peacock and trees loaded with blossom.
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| A gate fit for a prince |
The furthest walk of the month was a running event (32k,
19k, or 10k) with walkers taking part in the two shorter distances. It was 45
minutes away, at Val-Joly and near a snigger-worthy place called Willies. If I’d
seen a sign there would be a photograph. The 10k course wound backwards, forwards,
up and down along the shores of a lake. I don’t like courses that twist around
so much – they take a lot of time to get nowhere - but at least we saw the
other runners and walkers. I’d been warned that it went up and down a bit and
at least two of the uphills made me curse gently. One made me curse rather less
gently but all were fairly short. I was pleased finally to get into the swing
of it all after about 7k (better late than never!) and overtake a few people on
the way up. No medal, thank goodness, but the ham and cheese roll didn’t last
long!
The following day, 27th, was another trip to
Sebourg and because the ground was dry and I was there, we went to an English
war cemetery a mile just outside the village. There were only 61 graves here,
close to where the soldiers fell. The simple fact that there are so many
cemeteries in such a large area gives an idea of the scale of the First World
War. Every village seems to have some war graves, sometimes in a separate
cemetery, or a few tucked in with the locals. About a mile beyond is Belgium.
That’ll be a pleasant stroll in the summer and thanks to Google maps I know
there are three places to eat or drink en route.
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| Flat lands do mean that you get plenty of sky. |
On a less physical note, we continued our research into items
of local interest. Carpeaux was a sculptor born locally, Le Rieur is a statue
in the square near our favourite bakery, the pave du Nord (cobbles) are famous among cyclists and the gland was bought purely for the childish
comedy value They were, in order, too sweet, apple-y, chocolate and filled with
a sort of squishy cream.
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| Carpeaux and Rieur |
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| Pave du nord |
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| Gland |
Bon appétit!
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