Cycling 2750km from Belgium to Spain (Ep. 23)

All Music by “Under the Skin”: https://open.spotify.com/artist/0AvLxd0MOteC026aTgu8KX
Intro music by NRA lab, Audio File ID: 119647
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Our day begins with a splash of science — or at least that’s what our host Monica calls it. Armed with a machine that filters water, shifts its pH, and maybe realigns your chakras, she sends us off with bottles full of “enhanced hydration.” Wim takes a sip, I tease him — “Would you like an extra pH with that, darling?” “Make it a 9.5,” he grins.

Moments later, we’re flying downhill, swallowed by morning light and the sound of tires on smooth tarmac — the kind of descent that feels like a reward you didn’t know you’d earned. The road winds through quiet valleys, over an old bridge carved with the year 1786, and onto a dirt path lined with thistles sharp enough to demand respect. Still no punctures. Miracles do happen.

We stop on a bench surrounded by dog droppings to share a small pastry, only to find prettier, cleaner benches two hundred meters later. Typical. A few mountain bikers race past — briefly convincing us we’re athletes too — until the next climb puts things back in perspective.

Somewhere between breathlessness and laughter, I accidentally film myself “harvesting olives” — let’s just say it’s not the agricultural moment it appears to be. And then, as if we’ve turned a page in our Great Book of Landscapes, we arrive in olive country for real: endless silver-green waves rolling toward the horizon.

That night, after soup, bread, and silence, the forest around us erupts in gunfire. Hunters, far too close for comfort. Even a pigeon drops from a tree beside us, as if confirming our cue to crawl into the tent and call it a day.

Hey everyone, we are Lean and Whim, a couple from Belgium. We have set out on an epic cycling journey from Belgium all the way down to the southern tip of Spain, over 2,750 km in 32 days. Join us in our video diary as we ride through stunning landscapes, tackle challenges, and experience all the surprises along the way. Subscribe and hop on for the ride of a lifetime. [Music] [Music] Heat. Heat. [Music] We are barely back on the bike and I am still thinking about Monica, our host from last night. She proudly showed us her kitchen setup, a machine that filters water and adjust the pH level. Very good for inflammation, she said. Top athletes use it. So yes, today we are powered by high pH super water. Apparently great for big efforts, though I’m still waiting for the effect to kick in. Monica also gives gong sessions to reduce stress, which suddenly explained all the feathers, incense sticks, crystals, and dream catchers scattered around her house. And that wooden tripod I thought was for changing a diaper. Turns out it’s part of the gong setup. Don’t get me wrong, I am all for a bit of spirituality, but honestly, with all that clutter in our living room, I’d first need to tidy up for 3 hours before finding any inner peace out here though. Fresh air, sunshine, open road. That’s my kind of gong session. [Music] You have an olive water. [Laughter] [Music] After crossing an old stone bridge dated 1786, according to an engraving, we continue onto a dirt path that’s surprisingly beautiful. Towering thistles line the trail, their dried bloom still guarding razor sharp thorns. Hard to believe we haven’t had a single puncture yet. [Music] [Music] Heat. Heat. Heat. Heat. [Music] Heat. [Music] Heat. [Music] [Music] From Karabana, we finally rejoin an official cycling path. The first in quite some time. Usually that means smooth, well-kept tracks. This one delivers. We are actually riding on one of the many bike routes that eventually end in Santiago de Compostella. The bright yellow arrows and scallop shells on blue signs pull my mind back to my 2011 pilgrimage on foot. I still remember crossing into Spain with my father after 2,000 km of walking, unable to find the trail. Back home, I had followed red and white GR markings, not realizing that in Spain, it’s all about big yellow arrows. You really can’t miss them, unless you’re me. Along the way, small signs warn cyclists not to exceed 20 km per hour. We are hardly speed demons with our loaded bikes, but I am fairly sure we have been caught speeding a few times already. [Music] [Music] [Music] [Music] We stop at a bench strategically surrounded by dog droppings to share a small apple pastry. 200 m later, we passed several spotless benches with better views. Typical. [Music] We pass a few mountain bikers, giving us the fleeting illusion of being well trained. That illusion fades quickly when we hit the next climb. Loose gravel, sharp incline. One descending rider cheers us on with a quick banga, Spanish for come on. Moments later, I understand why he looked so surprised to see us heading up. The trail turns technical fast and our tires scramble for grip. [Music] At the top, we are rewarded with a new landscape. Endless olive growth stretching to the horizon. A fresh chapter in our great book of landscapes. Yay. Top. I accidentally left my camera running on the handlebars. So, um, my olive picking skills were caught in glorious detail. Exhaustion clearly improves technique. And just like that, there is no mistaking it. We have officially entered olive tree country. Endless rows of them as far as the eye can see. The perfect backdrop even for um olive picking. [Music] Morning drifts through twisted boughs. Silver leaves glint like whisper vows. The dry earth stretches quiet and wide. Every turn invites me to lose my stride. I feel my heart lean into the light. Falling softly for the bar side. I’m falling for the crooked trees, the winding sand. Oh, open hills that stretch beyond my hand. Oh, let the path go on forever. Let it never end. Lost in the grove where sky and earth blend. [Music] No trunks twist in patient grace. Shadows curl across this sacred space. Dust rises golden in the afternoon. Quiet song comes a slow steady tomb. The rising rose and I ask for more. Through twisted trees and fields I’ve not seen before. I’m falling for the crooked trees. The winding set. Oh, open hills that stretch beyond my head. Oh, let the path go on forever. Let it never end. Lost in the road. [Music] Where sky and earth blend. Sun spills over valleys far and wide. Each hidden corner a place to hide. I follow the curves, the light, the unseen, and wish the road remains ever green. I’m falling for the crooked trees, the winding sand. Open hills that stretch beyond my hand. Let the path go on forever. Let it never end. Lost in the ground. We’re sky and sky. [Music] [Music] [Music] Eventually, the trail delivers us into the charming town of Chin Chong. After last night’s failed Spanish date, Bim redeems himself with lunch on the Plaza Mayor. Despite the name, it’s not your average town square. It’s actually an open air bull ring from the 15th century ringed with cozy restaurants. [Music] Whim orders a tortilla. I go for calamare and we end up sharing both. [Music] By now, our high pH super water powers have clearly worn off. We opt for an easy road ride. Or so we think. Disillusioned then distracted, we take the wrong turn and end up back on a trail. Luckily, it’s stunning. Rolling fields stretching endlessly. Sunlight spilling across the hills. The descent into the valley is so beautiful. I have to stop and just breathe it in. [Music] Heat. Heat. [Music] [Music] Heat. Heat. Nothing. [Applause] [Music] [Music] Yeah. I grab some groceries in a small village shop and about 15 km later, we start looking for a campsite. A nearby lake looks promising until we notice it’s basically the local dump. Further on, we find a dirt clearing among the trees, complete with picnic bins, but no tables. As night falls, we are startled several times by gunshots. Hunters far too close for comfort. A pigeon even drops dead from a nearby tree. I pick it up, searching for a wound. Nothing. We hear another shot. Time to take cover in the tent. [Music]