Barging through Belgium, Part 4: Diksmuide to Ghent

Ieper had been an experience in more ways than one and when we left I felt I'd been enriched by being there. We'd arrived in sunshine and left on another lovely day, albeit with a brisk wind blowing us north. A German couple in a hire boat preceded us and we went through the two locks together, helped again by our kindly lock keeper. For a brief moment, we thought about stopping again at the Steenstraete pontoon, but the day was young so we kept going until we reached the turning onto the Ijzer leading to Diksmuide. 

After only a brief wait for a low bridge to be opened for us, we moored up at a handy pontoon on the other side so Koos could have a rest while I took Zoe for a walk. It wasn't a very relaxed stroll, though. Usually, Zoe likes to snuffle along the grass verges of these rural roads, but for some reason this one was incredibly busy. Firstly, a procession of around thirty monster motor bikes came roaring past. We had to take to the hedges until they'd gone. Then, no sooner had the last one disappeared around the bend than a pack of senior cyclists swooped down on us and we had to dive for cover all over again. 

I started to wonder why it was quite so busy and then I remembered: quinze août, as they call it in France. In any Catholic country, the 15th August is a public holiday when practically everything is closed. I'd given no attention to the date when we left Ieper, but now I realised why we were beset with all these hordes of people thronging what would normally have been a quiet country lane.

As we continued on the Ijzer for the remaining seven kilometres to Diksmuide, we noticed further signs of holiday activity. Rowing boats, canoes and kayaks zoomed around us, occupied by a range of folk from very small to quite large. Everyone seemed to be having fun and enjoying the sunny, if blustery weather. 

The approach to Diksmuide is past a busy shipyard, after which the marina follows the quayside on for some distance. We found what seemed an ideal place to stop and moored up, but a phone call to the harbour master led to us having to move to another berth further on. The wind was blowing hard as Koos tried to reverse into the mooring and we nearly had another close encounter of the steely kind when the bow blew sideways towards a neighbouring cruiser. I squeaked and grabbed my boat hook, while flinging my fender over the bow. Luckily, the harbour master was there to lend a hand and with his muscle and my fending, a nasty crunch was averted.

We'd only just settled in when we heard a cheerful 'hello' and a tap on the roof. Zoe did her part to defend the realm but she stopped as soon as she saw the friendly face peering in. It was a dear friend from Australia. We'd met Jo and her husband Peter in Thuin back in 2018 and saw them again two years ago on the Schelde at Kerkhoven. It was such a coincidence and a thrill to see them here in Diksmuide. Arrangements were instantly made to have dinner at theirs (Jo is a superb cook), so with Zoe as auxiliary guest, we spent a wonderful evening of yarns and laughter catching up. At our age, of course, health always enters the discussion, so if you get to read this, Jo and Peter, I very much hope yours will remain good in the coming year. It was fantastic to see you again.

Peter and Jo's wonderful cruiser. It's like a
Mary Poppins bag: it looks small but is huge
inside, with every home comfort you could
wish for

On a side note, social media is great for keeping contacts going, but it's only when we get together with people that we find out what their life has really been like, the good and the not so great. There's no digital platform that can replace sitting around a table together, is there?

The following morning brought grey skies and drizzle, the first we'd had on the whole trip. Unfair as it was to complain, given we'd had nearly two weeks of wall-to-wall sunshine, I was sorry I couldn't take photos of Diksmuide in brighter weather. Nevertheless, it's a lovely place and I enjoyed my walk into the centre for some necessary shopping.

The main shopping street leading to the city square

This and the photos below are all different views of
the square, which is normally busy with both
locals and visitors on a summer's day

The HH and the Frog that almost croaked when
we arrived...

From Diksmuide, we travelled north through drizzle and squally wind until we reached Nieuwpoort where this time we couldn't miss the lock. What we did miss, however, was the guide posts leading us into it, a bit silly really considering they were huge, as you can see if you click on the photo. They're those big square wooden things. Somehow, we ended up on the wrong side of them and had to creep our way between them to approach the St Joris lock. Unlike our adventure on the way to Veurne, when we were doing shark impressions among several minnows on the other side (trying to find out if we were in the right place), there were no other boats going through with us. Ours was the only boat in the massive chamber.

As we motored in, I looked at the board on the wall, which announced that St Jorissluis was 124m x 12.5m

If you enlarge the photo you'll see the sign

"Why is this lock so big?" I asked Koos. "The tidal ones are much smaller. They were only forty-eight metres long."

"I don't really know," he admitted. "Perhaps it was designed for possible future commercial traffic going to Diksmuide and Ieper."

"But the locks to Ieper aren't that big either."

"You're right. They're spits size. The usual thirty nine by five-ish, I think."

"So? It still begs the question."

Koos shrugged. There was no answer to that one.

In any event, our passage was smooth and it wasn't long before we were chugging our way to the Rattevalle bridge, the first that would have to be opened for us on the Plassendale canal. However, we decided to call it a day, knowing that if we started the blokvaart (see my first post about our travels), we'd pretty much have to keep on going. As we'd stopped for a rest here on the way to Nieuwpoort, we knew it was a nice place with some good walks for Zoe and anyway, the skies were clearing in preparation for a lovely evening.

The Hennie H just before the Rattervalle Bridge

Sunset over Flanders

Zoe needs no introduction

We spent the next few days, retracing our route, but this time slowly. Not that we were hurrying before but Veurne was the only place we'd spent more than two nights.  It was still very warm and we were glad to take it easy, as was Zoe.

It was much easier to keep her cool once she
decided to go into her little dog house

After visiting a longtime friend whose museum barge, Tordino, was moored just beyond the junction of the Bruges-Ostend Canal with the Plassendale canal, we spent two nights at our favourite nowhere mooring a few kilometres further on. The first night was at the pontoon on the south side of the canal, close to a level crossing. Koos spent some happy time filming trains, which are his other passion in life. I, in turn, had a wonderful walk in pastoral countryside with Zoe. For the second night, we crossed the canal to the pontoon where we'd stayed on route to Veurne. Because we could only spend 12 hours on each pontoon in any one day, this was a good solution, particularly as it meant discovering a farm which did particularly delicious ice-cream and cakes. Irresistible, as I'm sure you'll agree when you see the photo.

Sunrise on the canal to Bruges

A farm on my walk

The farm from a different angle

I don't know if you can see them but I was
captivated by the swallows swooping above me
on the road.

A luscious ice-cream treat for Koos and apple cake for me. Coffee comes
with small cup cakes included in the price. Yum!

Our next stop was a brief one at a small place called Stalhillebrug. From the visitors' pontoon, I walked to the town of Jabbeke with my shopping trolley to find the Aldi. The photos below are of my route there.

The station at Stalhillebrug. Sadly disused although
the trains still seem to stop there

On the road to Jabbeke

The town's rather grand church with an unusual
sculpture in front of it. I didn't have time to stop
so I don't know what it signifies. Possibly a war memorial*

After loading our shopping on board, we carried on into Bruges, but having had more excitement than we liked trying to get out of the semi-circular lock which seemed to want to hold us against the wall, we then had a short altercation with a cruiser while waiting for a bridge. The Hennie H has no bow thruster, so manoeuvring in the wind is, as I've mentioned, difficult. Koos was continually trying to correct our little barge, which was being nudged this way and that by the forces of nature. Unfortunately, the helmsman of the cruiser ahead of us wasn't paying attention. His boat, with all its modern assistance gadgets, was at a standstill and it was only when we got dangerously close to his stern that he answered our calls for him to move.

Clearly rattled, he yelled at Koos, questioning his qualifications to drive a boat. 

"Where did you get your boat license?" he shouted, angrily.

Koos, stung to a snappy reply, pointed at his cap and called back, "At the Lidl. And you?" 

I grinned, although I don't think our adversary was amused.

He continued shouting, but since the ambient noise level had increased, we couldn't hear what he said. Koos just shrugged it off, physically and figuratively. Nevertheless, it added to the feeling that we wanted to find a quiet spot for the night and not stay in the city. We'd had enough excitement for one day.

But this was easier said than done. After having to wait thirty minutes for the final bridge, we started searching for a place to moor. A quay with bollards I'd seen when we were coming the other way now appeared to be fully occupied with work boats; we had to keep plodding on. 

Eventually, we pulled into a quay just before what is called the Keersluis Beernem, which would be the Beernem stop lock in English. Its purpose here is to control the level of the water on the canal and possibly to prevent flooding, but not to raise or lower boats. Anyway, the quay wall, although high, was empty of boats and we had a nice choice of ladders and bollards from which to choose. Koos had to help me get Zoe off as I haven't mastered the art of climbing ladders while carrying a dog, but apart from this challenge and a few bumps from passing barges, it was just what we needed. Peaceful, rural and perfect.

Our final stretch to Ghent was marred by rain. The morning had been fine and I'd had a pleasant time steering while Koos and Zoe snoozed on the deck behind me. We stopped again at the Schipdonk lock for a proper rest but it began raining as soon as we set off again, so it was with relief we dived into the old Brugsevaart leading into the city and found what transpired to be one of my top-rated moorings of the trip.

Always a lovely walk at Schipdonk

The photos below are of our spot in the Brugsevaart in the neighbourhood of Brugse Poort in Ghent. It was lovely to discover a new area, firstly in the evening when I walked to find a supermarket and met a very friendly chap who chatted to me at length about South Africa (he'd noticed my Africa pendant). We then had a calm night and enjoyed walking through the environs in the morning, meeting an array of charming people and delighting in the particular city atmosphere that makes Ghent so special.

We'd already decided we wanted to spend a few days on the Moervaart (the subject of my next post), but we couldn't leave Ghent without one last night at our all-time favourite place in Gentbrugge. Even better, this involved making a tour through the city, which we always love doing. With the weather back to being picture perfect, our progress along the Leie through the Ketelsvest and into the Schelde was simply a delight. 

I'll let the photos speak for themselves, and finish this post here. Enjoy the rest of your week allemaal and I'll introduce you to the Moervaart and Lokeren next time.

But first, a map that shows you how we sent through Ghent. The red line
is the route we followed. The first part is the Leie, then the
straight line at the top is the Ketelsvest.  Then we turned sharp right into
the Muinkschelde and finally left into the Schelde/Scheldt

The Leie river as it winds its way into the city

Past elegant old buildings

And the footings of former buildings

into the city centre

And then right into the Ketelsvest

Eventually meeting and entering the Schelde/Scheldt

And finally, after passing through the Brusselsepoort lock:
our place

*I have now found an article about the sculpture in front of the church at Jabbeke. For anyone interested in its artist and subject, here is a link.

here is a link. If you open it in Chrome, you’ll easily get a translation of the article.

Ieper and in between Part 3

My apologies for the delay again. I can barely believe it's over a month ago now that we were on the boat in Belgium. In my last post, we'd reached Roesbrugge on the upper IJzer, a small town, but one of some significance as it lies close to the border with France and has a long history dating back to the 13th century. What brings the town to the news more often, however, is the flooding that occurs now and then and for which the upper IJzer as a whole is known.

The beautiful IJzer

For us, it will remain imprinted in our memories for two reasons: the first being the heat – it was the day the temperatures soared to 35C – and the second was the smell. 

Having taken shelter next to the pontoon under the bridge, we sat out the sweltering afternoon to the accompaniment of a somewhat unpleasant pong. At first we thought we'd caused it by stirring up the mud in our efforts to turn around a little way upstream (see previous post) but that wasn't the case. 

Looking upstream to France from whence
said pong came

We hadn't been settled for very long when a young man from the environment authority came to assess the situation.

"There's been a lot of rain," he said, "and the sewers over the border in France have overflowed into the river. That's why it smells so bad." 

Koos and I looked at each other and grimaced. We decided very quickly we weren't going to use the river water for anything, not even cleaning the decks, and I definitely didn't want Zoe drinking it. Even so, during the afternoon, some teenage girls came with paddle boards and dressed in only the skimpiest bikinis, started floating around in the water. Koos, of course, didn't mind seeing this kind of eye candy, but I shuddered to think what they were dangling their legs in.

Anyway a short time later, we also had a visit from the fire brigade in an inflatable boat. They were coming to take samples of the water. Cheerful and friendly, they confirmed the problem with the overflowing sewers in France and mentioned it happened in Roesbrugge too in times of heavy rainfall. In any event, it seemed the solution was to oxygenate the water and an hour or so later, they installed a pump and hosepipe on the bank about a hundred metres from our mooring to aerate the water. It was still busy the following day when we headed back the way we'd come although I can't say the smell had diminished all that much.

Some interesting 'art' alongside the river at
Roesbrugge

We spent a pleasant evening nonetheless and enjoyed walking along the footpath next to the river. Another pair of youngsters came to the pontoon to inflate their canoe and set off for an evening on the water. They told us they were heading for Diksmuide but when I looked surprised that they'd be going so far, they sheepishly admitted they probably wouldn't get anywhere close before turning back. Diksmuide is a good 25 km from Roesbrugge by water. When they were fully pumped – so to speak – we wished them good speed and waved them off, hoping they'd get as far as they wanted before the beers they'd taken slowed them down. After they'd gone, the evening cooled to a balmy softness and we ate on deck while the interior of the Hennie H was cooling down. Despite the heat of the day, the night air was delicious and we slept exceptionally well that night.

When we set off in the morning, we did so just after a large group of school children in kayaks who'd arrived en masse and started loading their craft into the (still sniffy) water. While we were preparing to leave, we saw them disappearing around the bend so we lingered a little fearing to catch up with them too quickly and disrupt their canoeing. We needn't have worried. We'd travelled several kilometres before we reached them, but they were thankfully all well trained and tucked themselves into the bank to let us pass. It struck me then what a great activity it was for the kids. Being out on the river in kayaks, enjoying nature, the (even sniffy) water and the scenery seemed so healthy. 

With cooler weather and no stops, we were back at Fintele within two hours. The French couple who'd helped us so kindly the day before were still on the moorings and we waved to them in passing. Beyond the turning into the lock, the river became suddenly more disciplined and continued so all the way to the turning to Ieper. The rural wilderness gave way to more organised banks and farms that lacked the sense of adventure we'd found on the upper IJzer. 

Roughly 7 km from Fintele, we turned right and south into the canal to Ieper (Ypres). By this time, we were both ready for a break but it was a good 5 km (more than half an hour) before we found somewhere to stop. In the event, it was an ideal pontoon with easy access to land where we found a large green space, a car park and a restaurant. Not much, you might think, to attract us, but then Koos has a hungry camera and he found a feast of subjects in that rather plain space to feed his lens. 

Our perfect pontoon on the way to Ieper. We shared it
with locals enjoying the hot evening.

What struck me most was a sign that told us that Steenstraete, which was the name of the nearby hamlet, was where the first gas attack was made during WWI, a sobering reminder of how much the area had suffered. The sign also mentioned there'd formerly been a monument on the site but that the Germans had blown it up in 1941. What we didn't see was the monumental cross erected to replace it. That aside, it once again made me keenly aware we were in the middle of some of the most tragic history of the last century.

Koos will always find some subject for a photo

It seems improbable but I can't help thinking Zoe was affected by the vibe there too. She refused to go for walks along the towpath and I was limited to taking her up to the patch of grass at the top of the steps. Maybe she sensed something lingering in the soil. Who knows? Anyway, that evening, we did manage to persuade her across the road to go for coffee and ice cream at the Steenstraete Eetcafé and very good it was too.

In the morning, we spent some time cleaning our Shoe to prepare her for our visit to Ieper, one of the most important points on our trip. We only had about ten kilometres to go but this included two locks which had to be arranged as they were operated individually. 

On arrival, we called the lock-keeper who took a while to reply. Apparently, he was busy at the other lock and would be with us shortly. He turned out to be a very helpful and friendly gent who took our ropes to loop them over the bollards and even asked if we were ready before filling the lock. At the next lock, he repeated the process and told us just to call him when we were returning the next day. 

"He gets my vote for lock keeper of the year," I said to Koos.

He grinned. "Well, there haven't exactly been many of them, have there? And what about the ones at Fintele?"

I laughed. "Hmm, yes, they were great too, weren't they? Okay, let's say they all deserve a mention." 

The last stretch into Ieper was fairly unremarkable, which made our arrival and discovery of the town even more special. The harbour master beckoned us to a perfect spot alongside the pontoon. Okay, it was in full sun, but I'd covered all our windows with pieces of white tarpaulin I'd cut to size and they really helped against the heat. The price for the night was nearly as high as it was in Veurne, but we had electricity and water available, which counted for a lot. 

Once we'd settled, I left Zoe in Koos's care and trudged off to the Aldi with my shopping trolley. At only a kilometre from the boat, I counted that a blessing and, even better, the walk along the old, unfinished canal from Ieper to Komen was a treat. Apparently begun in 1864, it was never completed because they needed to dig a tunnel through a ridge whose (probably sandy) composition meant it kept collapsing. They even attempted to raise the canal by means of locks, but they were unsuccessful for the same reason and attempts were abandoned in 1913 before WWI broke out. It seems such a shame because it would be a terrific short cut for boats from Ieper, Diksmuide and Nieuwpoort through to Wallonia and France. The current way around is roughly 150 km from Ieper. Had the canal been completed, it would have been a quick 15 km to reach the same point on the Leie river.

During the evening, we walked to the Menin Gate to witness the Last Post celebration. I find it humbling to know it is done every evening at 8 p.m. throughout the year and, I'm sure, never ceases to be deeply moving. The haunting sound of the bugle brought tears to my eyes. For me, having recently written my book about faring to the Somme, being there felt like another way of paying my respects to all those who lost their lives, their homes and their land during that terrible war.

We walked back to the boat through the city centre and I was amazed at how grand and how beautiful Ieper was. I honestly thought I'd been to Ieper before but realised I'd only ever walked around the marina and its environs. There was so much I hadn't seen, so I took myself and Zoe for a good walk around the centre in the morning before we left so I could absorb some of its ageing beauty and Flemish elegance. Much of the centre was badly damaged during the war but has been rebuilt faithfully and it would be hard to tell now what is original and what is post war. Here are some of the photos I took of the centre.

I think I'd better stop again here and finish our trip in my next post. Luckily, I have all the photos and my journal to remind me as the detailed memories are already fading along with the long summer evenings. 

Autumn is coming to us here in Europe, so I wish all my fellow northerners a happy fall and to those in the south, enjoy the coming spring! Have a good week, allemaal.