We had a surprise when we fetched our trikes from the hotel’s basement in Ghent: Patti’s front right tire was flat. Ah well. Twenty minutes of patching and pumping and it was good to go. That was our first puncture since Ireland over two years ago when we had three flats in one rainy day, so we can’t complain.
The 55 kilometre ride to Antwerp was flat and mostly beside the rail line. (Trains!!!) John only used his electric assist battery for about a minute: to get out of the hotel parking garage! We pumped up our tires at the Ghent train station bike kiosk – super convenient – and marvelled at the hundreds of bikes that were locked into the station’s doubledecker rack. The staff attendant there told us to prepare to be amazed at the bike infrastructure in the Netherlands: unimaginable capacity for bike storage, and bike paths that are completely removed from car traffic everywhere. (Spoiler alert: when we got to the Netherlands we were blown away. Toronto’s meagre efforts are dark ages, compared to…)
Today – finally – the warmth and sunshine returned. The RideWithGPS route showed us crossing what we thought was a bridge over the Scheldt River into Antwerp, but – surprise!!! – the crossing was actually a 35m deep tunnel with spacious elevators and long escalators at both ends. Most cyclists propped their bikes safely onto the long escalators for the rides up and down, but our trikes needed the elevators. The 0.5 km long tunnel was easy, but damp and cold! (And free.) (Thank-you, Belgium!)
Upon checking in to our gorgeous hotel we were recommended to visit the newly reopened Royal Museum of Arts. After cleaning up we set out, but unfortunately Patti expertly guided us in the wrong direction to the Royal Academy of Arts. Oh well!!! On the way to the Academy (oops) we admired the Grote Markt, with its City Hall, fountain and Guildhalls.
After, we walked to Antwerp’s famous train station (wait ’til you see the photos!!!) then through the Diamond area (Antwerp is famous for its diamond trade, more about that, below), then wound our way back to the hotel. Later that night we had an exquisite meal at “RAS”, a restaurant that was just steps from where we had ascended after traversing the tunnel. Sweetbreads. Succulent asparagus. Incredible views of Antwerp’s fantastic shore. It was an exquisite (and expensive, chortle chortle chortle) meal.
We remembered a wonderful movie we had seen earlier this Spring, “The Forgotten Battle“, about the securing of the Scheldt River north of Antwerp. In September and October 1944 over 135,000 Allied soldiers, most of them Canadian, faced 90,000 battle-hardened Germans. The Allies had liberated Antwerp and its huge Scheldt River seaport, but the Germans controlled the mouth of the Scheldt. The Allies pushed the Germans back, but at a cost of 13,000 casualties, over half of them Canadians. We urge you to watch the movie.
When we were in Lisbon in the Spring and Fall of 2024 we had learned a lot about their famous 15th century explorer, Vasco da Gama. Little did we know that old Vasco was responsible for starting Antwerp’s huge diamond business. Antwerp was then one of the largest and busiest seaports (it still ranks number 5 in Europe), and Da Gama started bringing diamonds from India to Antwerp. The locals became world experts in cutting, polishing and marketing. Today, an astonishing 84% of the world’s rough diamonds pass through Antwerp, and $16 billion worth of polished diamonds are sold here. The Diamond Quarter is just north of the train station, with 380 workshops, 1500 companies and 3500 brokers, merchants and diamond cutters. (But we weren’t in the mood for shopping so…)
After Antwerp we needed two places to stay on the way to Amersfoort, with roughly 60 km rides between each. That put us into Breda and Asperen. We don’t have much to say about these towns. We were very pleasantly surprised by the large pedestrian-free shopping area in Breda. We wish that Toronto could somehow recreate these vibrant streetscapes that are so common now in Europe. Patti made a point of buying a bar of Belgian chocolate before we left Belgium (which she put to good use a couple of days later), and with no fuss we found ourselves in Holland on a quiet canal-side bike path. (There was a marker on the side of the path, and we had to change our cellular data provider, according to our phones.)
We continued to have good luck with “green doors”, a.k.a. discreet places to have a wee on the side of a bike path or country road, and even, occasionally, a random Johnny-on-the-Spot. I – Patti – mention this because weeing is an integral part of travel, especially if you’re biking or hiking. It’s easier for guys than for women, and I am grateful to my mum for having taught me some critical – essential – skills and attitudes around all of this.
John also continued to have good luck with his new-found “icecream at 4:30” habit in Breda which, as mentioned, was basically just a waypoint for us in our last push to get to Amersfoort where we were going to be storing the bikes.
(This is when I started kicking John in the shins every time he mentioned how little time we had left on the bikes.)
Our hotel in Breda was ridiculously expensive for what was offered so here’s a travellers’ tip: do not stay at Hotel Botanique in Breda. Lots of pretty, and zero substance. (Good breakfast, though…)
If you’re interested, you can read about the heinous crimes committed during WWII by the “Breda Four”. Disgusting. Horrifying.
Our ride to Asperen from Breda was just as flat. I (Patti) sprinkled more of my mum’s ashes in the warm Dutch sunshine on the top of a dike beside a canal. (These dikes and canals are brilliant, b.t.w.).
And our ride the next day – Asperen to Amersfoort – was going to be a doozy, so… early to bed.
I love it. What absolute fun.
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