Day 2 brought with it an interesting combination of killer hills and unplanned adventures. We had a bit of a late start in the morning because I’d needed some time for sewing – my panniers had started to rip at the seams and were in need of reinforcement. We eventually packed up camp, headed back down the dirt road and joined our original route once again. We’d been cycling for maybe five minutes when we spotted another cyclist walking alongside her bike and stopped to see if she needed help. She had a puncture in her front tyre, was out without a spare or pump, and six kilometres from home (still amazed at our combined French abilities for understanding that much), so we lent a hand and tried to patch the tyre up. Good deed for the day done – never too early to start building up karma for further down the road.
Just an hour later, we ran into some bike trouble of our own. While cycling down one steep hill with me in the lead, I went over a particularly nasty bump and suddenly heard a not-too-good sound coming from the back of my bike and Jack shouting from somewhere behind me to brake and pull over. As soon as I stopped and looked back I could understand why – one side of my panniers was hanging off the rack entirely sideways, and dangling into the rear wheel’s spokes. Whoops. The good news was that my sewing wasn’t the culprit. The stitches I’d sewn had all held up well, yet the panniers had totally ripped at a different seam. Further good news – my rear wheel appeared totally fine, even after having suffered the blow it did. I was still left with one detached pannier though, and a long way to go.
We luckily managed to improvise a solution quite easily. I had some spare straps and bungee cords in my bag, and after a bit of re-packing to minimise the weight on the now-detached side and a few knots here and there, everything was attached again and looked good to go. I got on the bike again and was about to head off, but as I mounted the saddle I had that dreaded feeling of the rear wheel sag under my weight. Aw crap, you’ve got to be kidding. A rear puncture. And just after we’d re-attached everything to the rack over the rear wheel, no less. I could’ve sworn I’d checked the tyre pressure just after stopping the first time and again a few minutes later on to see if it’d deflated at all, and had seemed fine. The mystery remains, but what we did know was that we needed to once again detach the panniers, remove the rear wheel, and swap the tube for another one. Why are punctures never in the front wheel, damnit?
We eventually got everything sorted and hit the road again. Around 13:00 we’d come across a LIDL just outside Spa, and decided to stop for a lunch break. We stocked up on groceries (a bag of mixed salad and hummus for Jack, minced pork, tomato sauce and rice for Chris) and headed up a foresty hill behind LIDL to dine. It was quite the spot.
Jack indulged in his proud invention, salad in a bag (“It’s so perfect, you just throw everything in, mix it round, and eat away! No mess no stress”), while I prepared my rice and sauce. Quite the meal it was. We were momentarily joined on the hill by a few Belgian scouts on a hike (so many scouts everywhere in this country, love it!).
We eventually made our way to Spa where we found an open Wi-Fi spot, and spent a few hours catching up with the outside world. We set off again late afternoon towards Stavelot, and were faced with a few more nasty hills. A steady 8% incline for 5 kilometres, fun stuff!
On the other end of it that did mean some great downhills, and we’d actually made it to Stavelot in no time. It had been a long day of hill climbing and unplanned adventures and we were down to our last hour of sunshine, so once in Stavelot we sat down at a café for a dinner of fries and sandwiches and then headed off up (yet another) hill behind the town where we hoped to find a good spot for the night. And find a good spot we did – forest camping at its best, perfect in pretty much every way imaginable.
By the next day, we were starting to get into somewhat of a routine and managed to cover a good distance quite uneventfully, with the exception of having our path blocked by a fallen tree and spotting more scouts, this time an entire campsiteful.
We climbed a few more hills getting up to 650m, and by noon had made it over our second border into Luxembourg. Again, nothing too dramatic and this time we didn’t even see a sign telling us that we’d crossed. It was the return to smooth roads that confirmed we had indeed made it over.
To be continued – more on Luxembourg in the next post!
