Tired of cities, we headed down to the Ardennes region of Belgium which was meant to be full of pretty villages, valleys, forests and rivers. There were also meant to be a lot of beautiful houses, castles and other architecture.
Our first stop was for a town with three nearby windmills, however said windmills failed to appear no matter how hard we looked! We eventually had to give up and comfort ourselves with the likelihood that we would see some in the Netherlands. On our wanderings we did come across this gorgeous Châeau de Carondelet - a 13th century tower house that looked still very much lived in. Unfortunately it was on private property so we couldn't get any closer.
Dinant was our next stop and this was simply for the beautiful viewpoint. The town itself was full of tourists and traffic so we stopped only for a quick (but worthwhile) photo.
We stopped for a night in the forgettable Rochefort which was simply a single street town on the road. It had a pretty church and that's about it.
We also experienced our first Lonely Planet failing with their average pizza recommendation.
In the morning we head for Lafôret which was a pretty tiny hamlet in itself, however it's draw for us was the wooden bridge that was built using traditional methods every summer. Originally for people accessing their tobacco fields across the river, it is still built every July and taken down at the end of August. For a while I simply examined it from the shore, watching other people cross it. I was distracted by the little wite fluffy dog that wasn't so white after it's adorable mud bath and energetic digging barring us entrance to the bridge. After it waddled off, we attempted to ford the bridge.
It was quite terrifying to walk across especially carrying eletronics as the bridge was held together by a very simple weave of branches at was already beginning to fall apart. I think some of my terror showed on my face for this photo no matter how happy I tried to look.
Continuing my beer trend!
Bouillon was a town I was very excited about, mainly because of the famous Bouillon castle. Although records first mention it in the 900s, a castle has probably stood on that spot for far longer. In 1082 Geoffrey of a Bouillon (who was offered the title of King of Jerusalem) inherited it from his Uncle. It was a true medieval castle, full of turrets and drippy dungeons and thick walls and underground tunnels. However Geoffrey eventually sold it to pay for his crusade.
There were some terrifyingly unrealistic figures dressed up dotted around the castle. My favourite moment was when we were watching the hunting birds and Necia glanced around to see a waxen figure leering at her from the darkness with the beginnings of leprosy spreading across his face. It was terrfiying.
There was a small museum which was quite interesting, full of old books, messages, letters and even graffiti on the castle walls from the very early 1800s.
I found this sign wildly amusing and could easily see an unsuspecting chiwawa going for an inpromptu ride.
I felt distinctly Gollum-like in the extensive underground tunnels in the castle bedrock, some of which required crouch if very low to the ground and sort of hobbling forwards. There were lots of prison cells surrounded by solid stone with only a heavily barred skylight high above as way of light. It seemed fairly inescapable and cold.
The bird show they had going in was somewhat long and overdramatised and boring, but the parts with the birds themselves was interesting. Trained traditionally as hunting birds, their trainers had heavy leather gloves on and had signals to make them come to their hands or land on the battlements. It was amusing at times when the birds obstinately ignored their calls.
Having not fulfilled our caste quota for the day, we ventured to another one about 12 km away. It was free and quite worth it! Rather ruined but walls, doors and some towers were still intact. We passed an old woman on our round who asked Yannick in french if she could walk around the way she was going because she was 87 and couldn't manage the path very well.
It was raining rather dismally at this point and we seriously entertained the idea of bringing our gas cooker into the ruins and cooking undercover for dinner in one of the towers. There was also a rather exciting well which was badly grated over - we all agreed a toddler could rather easily fall in. The well was long dry, and ferns covered its sides on the way down. At the bottom sticks and other miscellaneous items lay on the ground, including what could have been a human leg bone but Necia was certain was a cow. Slightly less exciting.
We then headed back to Bouillon to find a campsite for the night. Although it had no wifi and the toilets were very far away, our tents were by a lovely river and we didn't feel crowded so it was one of the best campsites so far.
Due or our lack of wifi at the campsite, we popped down the road back to Bouillon to see if we could get an after dinner drink and some wifi. After trying a multitude of places and realizing the town became dead after sundown, we finally found a place! It even had Dame Blanche which Yannick tried with gusto.
Throughout Belgium, I had been searching for Trappist beer to try (made by the monks from the Trappist order, many of whom have vows of silence and have been making beers since the 1600s). All are known for their excellent quality of beer, and it was here in Bouillon that I found it at last! At 9% it was the strongest beer I'd ever tried, but very nice.
Jehay was our last location on the edge of the Ardennes. There was little there apart from what was called a 'gingerbread' castle, and as soon as I saw it understood the title. The colour reminded me instantly of gingerbread and lent it a unique air. as it was Monday it was closed as usual, however we enjoyed it from the outside and noted with interest the multitude of rice on the ground by the chapel. With careful detective work we deduced there must have been a wedding held there earlier that day.
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