Cycling 2750km from Belgium to Spain (Ep. 11)

All Music by “Under the Skin”: https://open.spotify.com/artist/0AvLxd0MOteC026aTgu8KX
Intro music by NRA lab, Audio File ID: 119647

The day began with a warning—our route was supposedly closed for construction. Yet as we pedaled onto the old railway track, not a single worker in sight. Guess they hit snooze while we rolled right through. The path, a soft grassy trail, rolled beneath our tires. No asphalt, but that’s no problem—honestly, we’d rather keep it that way. A little bumpiness never hurt anyone (except maybe our breakfast, which definitely got a good shake.).

Then came Civaux, home to a Merovingian necropolis where over 350 sarcophagi rest beneath our wheels. But the dead here don’t just rest—they stand guard over their own city, with sarcophagus lids forming the walls. Jewelry, weapons, even tiny houses were found in the graves, proving that back then, even the afterlife required good interior design.

Hunger struck, and we spotted a store—only to realize we had entered siesta territory. The door? Locked. Our stomachs? Mildly betrayed. But trees don’t take siestas, so we settled under an apple tree, collecting snacks straight from the source. 🍏

In Charroux, Wim’s energy levels dipped faster than the sun. A freshly picked apple (too sour for me, perfect for him) gave him just enough fuel to keep pedaling. Meanwhile, storm clouds threatened on the horizon, pushing us toward shelter.

Enter our Dutch B&B hosts, who welcomed us not just with a key, but with an ice-cold beer for Wim and a glass of rosé for me—because priorities. 🍷🐕 Their dogs greeted us with barks that quickly turned into cuddles, and before we knew it, we were deep in conversation over another drink (or three, in Wim’s case).

And so, the road calls again tomorrow. Our legs are tired, our spirits high, and we secretly hope that railway path stays just the way it is—bumpy, green, and perfect.