Day 21 – From Namur to Godinne: sweating, wandering, and a touch of firefly

 

The day started calmly – breakfast at the hostel in Namur with Tibor, a Dutch guy traveling to the south of France on his scooter (yes, really). We shared stories about our routes and adventures until it was time to head off.

 

It was going to be hot… and it definitely was. Right from the start, there was that heavy, summery stillness in the air. Fortunately, the first stretch followed the Meuse River – beautiful! But to be honest: it was a scorcher. So I took more breaks than usual.

 

I stopped by an Aldi on the way for some fruit and a yogurt drink (refreshing!) and grabbed the groceries I’d forgotten back at the hostel. It was literally a relief — both my backpack and my mood got lighter.

 

Lunch was simple: some carpaccio and a roll — not really hungry in the heat. Later I made a stop at a gas station for an ice cream (an emergency necessity, of course).

 

Later on the route I met some friendly Flemish folks. We walked together for a bit and had a drink at a terrace — always nice to have an unexpected click on the road.

 

As I continued, I crossed the river and headed into a forest. It suddenly got much steeper, so I grabbed my trekking poles. Only… they didn’t really cooperate. I’d cut the cord to size earlier (thought I was being clever) — spoiler: I wasn’t. After some fumbling, I used them for maybe a few hundred meters. At the campsite, I made one desperate attempt to fix them, but ended up giving them a one-way ticket to the trash. RIP poles.

 

Once at the campsite: first aid for the blisters. Not glamorous, but necessary. Then I treated myself to another ice cream from the shop — and wow, that scoop tasted like pure heaven after a hot day.

 

And then — surprise! A Dutch couple I had seen at another campsite recognized me. What a coincidence! They were touring Belgium by motorbike and bicycle. We chatted about our adventures, I washed some socks and underwear, did the dishes, and took a shower myself.

 

In the evening we shared a cherry beer. I also had a can of something way too strong that I somehow found earlier — ended up tossing it halfway through. Not a success. I slept without the outer tent — it was warm, clear, and dry. Bats flew just over my head, fireflies sparkled in the grass, birds sang a little evening concert… and I called a friend back in the Netherlands to swap stories.

 

Then I fell asleep. Content. Quiet. Outdoors.

 

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Day 22 – Blisters, lightning, and decisions (plus an angel with popsicles)

 

Up early today. Made sandwiches, repacked the bag (why does it fit perfectly one day and not at all the next?), threw out the trash, did a mini-dishwashing session, packed up the tent — you know the drill. By 7:30 I was already walking the world on bare blisters.

 

Those blisters, by the way… they just wouldn’t shut up, as if they wanted their own blog. And as if that wasn’t enough, I also took a wrong turn. A steep climb up, then right back down — and all without trekking poles. May they rest in peace.

 

Luckily, I found a clever shortcut over the railway tracks (yes, actually over them — sorry, mom). Saved me a good two kilometers. A bit later I crossed a road and bam, I was back on the right trail. Took a short break on a bench to cool off, then pushed on.

 

Halfway through I arrived at a tiny village with a supermarket. Just as the rain started falling, I was charmingly sitting in the street trying to prick and bandage my blisters. Not my most glamorous moment. But then… a true guardian angel appeared. A young woman with a pack of Compeed plasters and two popsicles. Our conversation was a lovely mix of French, English, and Dutch (Frenglishutch?), but we totally understood each other. ❤️

 

I continued on. Reached a campsite where I was greeted by a grumpy lady who barked “PASSPORT!” and made zero eye contact. She only spoke French and didn’t show an ounce of kindness. I didn’t feel welcome, so I made a decision: walk a bit further.

 

At the next campsite, I was really done. Set up my tent, settled in, ordered breakfast for the next day… and then smacked my foot into a tent peg. Ouch. That was the last straw. Everything hurt, everything bled, everything sighed.

 

In the evening I treated myself to a hot pasta via delivery, because walking? Not happening. While the rain poured and the thunder finally did what it had been threatening to do all day, I sat under my tent flap eating like I was on a Michelin terrace.

 

And then I looked at my feet.

 

Red, bruised, wrecked. And I knew: I’m done. I wasn’t recovering anymore. My back protested. My feet were on strike. And even though I was so close, I decided to stop. A tough decision, but absolutely the right one.

 

Tomorrow I’m taking the train to Breda. My mom will be there (with a hug and probably something tasty). And then… rest. Recovery. But also: looking ahead. Because this journey – those 251.3 kilometers of walking joy filled with blisters, ice creams, turns, choices, encounters, and nature – wasn’t the end.

 

It was the beginning.

 

I got to know myself better. Learned to make decisions. Enjoyed being on the road. Cursed, sweated, laughed, shared. And now I’m sure: this way of traveling suits me. Even with blood, sweat, and tears.

 

Thank you Belgium (and a bit of the Netherlands) for this beautiful adventure. This was the start of something I want to do more often.

 

See you soon, with fresh feet and new plans. ✌️👣