This is a multi-post coverage of our England to Denmark Trip on bicycles. The posts include:
You will find these links again at the bottom of the page.
Sunday 03rd - Oostende
Woke up in a graveyard campsite. Rode an hour or so in the dark last night on massively uncared for country road to find a campsite outside of Calais. Our fault for going for a few beers in Calais. Had to see what all the hype was about.
Riding was fine, started beachfront and then cruising the promenades.
- Crossed France to Belgium — country #3
- Call that progress
- Beach swim
- Pulled into Oostende, Pietro wants to retire here. Not something to brag about.
- Fry up for dinner at a fritteria. Met Lucian. FFF Alumni and allround lovely fella.
- Got pretty flatfish drunk. Trying to drink away the sad vibes of Pietro's second and last night with us.
Northbound. Adjacent to the beach was sand dunes where we quickly found out that do-it-all adventure bikes can-not-do soft-sand.
Pietro!
The blog owner!
New sheriff in town.
Hittin' the promenade northbound. Keep the sea to your left.
Mandatory border-crossing photo. Third country out of six.
New lifeguard in town. Keepin' an eye on us while we had our first dip in the North Sea.
Jambalaya, pumpkin pie, me o' my o'.
Oostende dead ahead!
Dinner spot. We were lucky that our Oostende tour guide wasn't in it for the money and wanted to take us to the real gems. He's not a local, nor a native, but he does plan on retiring in Oostende. He told us that the concept of 'the fritteria' is the large centre-stone on the national culinary crown of Belgium. We ate some fried sandwiches, some fried cheese, some fried sausage and some fried sausage with cheese pumped into it. Pretty legendary, besides making me want to pass away afterwards. Lucian, a friend of our guide, came to join us before going and working his night shift at a chemical plant. Unlike our guide, he was both a native and a local, and lovely.
What do you do after Fritteria? Go get flatfish turbo drunk. Frank and Flugel courtesy of Pietro as a token of his departure. He would have to leave us in the morning, to head back to Edinburgh, to participate in a no-holds-barred throwdown with his work colleagues. We drank some and cried some and talked some, and cried some more. Pietro assured us that Frank and Flugel were with us for whenever we might need them in the coming days, for he wouldn't be.
This is a multi-post coverage of our England to Denmark Trip on bicycles. The posts include:
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