In Flanders Fields: border-hopping between Bruges and Antwerp on the GR5A

The GR5A, the Hiking Route of Flanders, loops along the provincial borders of East and West Flanders. For a magazine story, I walked 165 kilometres from Bruges to Antwerp. In the shadowless polders, I discovered that a Flemish Indian summer is no longer what it once was.

The problem with the polders north of Bruges, I realise around Hoeke, is their complete and utter lack of trees. It takes endlessly to find a handkerchief-sized patch of shadow for a break. This is especially troublesome because I’m hiking in the hottest late summer in living memory. The temperatures creep above 30 degrees and sweat gushes from my body. Isn’t it ironic that I picked September with hopes of mild hiking weather? Damn climate change!

Finally, 45 minutes later, I scramble through a dry stream to rest in the shade of a cornfield. My hiking guidebook recommends this spot as a viewpoint. Its maker must’ve been desperate by now. Don’t get me wrong: I really appreciate the efforts of West Flemish farmers to feed us. But isn’t it a bit of an exaggeration that they didn’t even leave a tree under which to chew away their sandwiches at lunchtime? It seems like there’s a ban on meeting for trees.

Fields, fields, fields

It started so beautifully that morning. At Bruges’ train station, I face a choice: do I start by the book, along the water, or do I take the longer version that cuts through the city along “lesser-known spots”? The hubris of the fresh legs makes me opt for the latter. Climbing the 366 steps of the Belfort might not be an option with 15 kilos on my back, but any detour through Bruges proves why this Hiking Route of Flanders starts from die Scone, or ‘the beautiful’, Bruges’ nickname.

I rejoin the official trail at the Verloren Hoek, the ‘lost corner’, where cyclists drink Trappist beers and ladies in Lycra do a workout in the park. For a moment, I’m tempted to join them – the former, not the latter – but the way forward is calling. I still have a long way to go. Along Zuidervaartje, I walk through beautiful rural landscapes until the Church of Our Lady looms up, the mastodon of stone that gives Damme its skyline.

***

There’s a book fair on the market square. Nice, but extra pounds don’t feature on my wish list. Crowds are thick, terraces packed. Little do I know that this will be the last hustle and bustle I’ll experience on the GR5A. The further I walk away from Bruges, the more I am alone in the polders. I trudge past pollard willows and along fields and meadows where a stork keeps a bunch of fat cows company. Fields, fields, fields.

Sporadically, a landmark breaks the monotony of the landscape. Like the stumpy church of Oostkerke, on which villagers sometimes lit a fire to guide ships. Those were the days when the estuary Het Zwin connected Bruges to the North Sea. A first reminder that this landscape used to look completely different. Now, an annoying toy dog attacks my legs. No wonder: according to legend, the devil once tormented Damme in the guise of a possessed dog.

Intimate with cows

At the end of day one, I pass boundary marker number 354, where two startled partridges swoop up from the bushes. The Hiking Route of Flanders regularly makes a detour through the most Flemish region of the Netherlands: Zeelandic Flanders. Where chips are just ‘frieten’, not ‘patat’, and where the locals are more no-nonsense than cocksure. Like the elderly man on his bicycle – I hear him before I see him – who loudly whistles Dutch children songs and who raises his hand exuberantly when he notices that he has been caught.

Kindness is a recurring phenomenon during my hike, on both sides of the border. People take the time to chat. In Rode Sluis, I help a 93-year-old lively little man cross a bridge blocked by road works. And in De Klinge, a Flemish couple spontaneously wants to open their garden as a campsite when they see my backpack. “We’re campers ourselves, so you are more than welcome.” People are the salt and pepper on the GR5A.

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Between Aardenburg in the Netherlands and Sint-Laureins in Flanders, the GR5A follows the Eekloosche Watergang, a narrow canal on which peat used to be transported. Now it is a gummy boots path where you walk between the cows. The kind of low-threshold adventure that every disconnected city dweller can use every once in a while. A sign tells me to keep a distance of 25 metres from the animals. Easier said than done. A pack of fat ladies lies down right in front of the stairs over the barbed wire. It becomes even trickier when I enter a pasture with young bulls. I can see myself as one of those bull runners in Pamplona, ending up on a set of sharp horns, but fortunately, the animals do not pay me any attention.

Chips, not borders

At daybreak, I walk through Canisvliet, a creek area near Westdorpe. Fog veils the meadows, cobwebs shine with dew and fishermen mumble on the lake. I keep going strong, as I know what’s about to come. I recognise the feeling from the tropics, such a cool early morning when you think: O, it’s not that bad today. After which the equatorial sun brings out its sledgehammer. Later, I read that Westdorpe is known because “the highest temperature in the Netherlands is often recorded here”. As if it isn’t bad enough already.

I cross the border about eight times that day, including on a beautiful forest path next to a creek, and I consider myself lucky that it can be done so easily. Things used to be different. The history of these regions is laced with stories of smuggling. Like the account – perhaps apocryphal – of the trader who dressed up a cow as a lady and took her to the other side of the border by car. Nowadays, the boundary markers are silent witnesses to that past. In Overslag, a village right on the border, a customs office now houses a chip shop. Make chips, not borders.

I walk through regions forgotten by god and everyone else. On endless avenues, between trees warped by the wind, and through knee-high grass on deserted dykes. Every now and then a tractor hums in the distance. There are few cars, few people. And if there are people, they usually sit on a bicycle. That does not mean that it is quiet. It is always windy in Zeelandic Flanders and the poplars rustle in the wind. No wonder the Romans thought they recognised the chatting of the people in that sound, the Populus.

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The rural character is also expressed in place names. Cow Guard (Koewacht), Reed Court (Riethof), The Fox Corner (De Voshoek), Heath Side (Heikant), Fly Shed (Vliegenstal), The Bird (De Vogel), Stallion Dyke (Hengstdijk). The kind of juicy names that entice instant explorations. Admit it, who does not want to know what Quack (Kwakkel) looks like, or what you can do in The Calf (Het Kalf)?

Water has had a major impact on the landscape. This is a region of polders and creeks, of dykes and silted harbours, of marshes and peat channels. And from old estuaries such as the Braakman. Just outside Boekhoute, I look out over a sprawling creek, a remnant of age-old brutal floods that breached the dykes, and I try to imagine the impact of a rise in sea levels here. Large portions of West and East Flanders are prone to flooding. That the climate is changing is not only apparent from the abnormal temperatures in which I walk. My hiking guide, published in January 2018, repeatedly mentions streams that have seemingly turned into dry trenches.

Better with a bike

The monotony of the cultural landscape makes me appreciate the few fragments of real nature even more. Put me without context in that random strip of forest next to a flood channel and I’d hardly look up. But those who trudge a dozen kilometres through a desert content themselves with the smallest palm tree. Hunger is the best sauce. Only after 120 kilometres do I end up in a forest worthy of the name. The wild jungle of ferns, marshes and especially the tenacity of the trees of the Stropersbos give me fresh courage.

On a trail, I end up in a traffic jam of sheep for a while, but eventually, I pitch my tent in a bivouac zone. This is what they’re designed for: to provide people in transit, moving with the strength of their own muscles, a place to sleep without great luxury. I share the camp with a bunch of elementary school children. Once silence descends in the children’s tents, I fraternise with the teachers. That’s the true charm of a bivouac zone. All together around a campfire, with a Duvel and a bottle of jenever, the best conservations happen.

On day seven, the towers of Antwerp come into view. ‘BEETS’, says a traffic sign along a farm road. The last few days, I’ve walked mainly on endless concrete roads through the Waasland – with little traffic, but asphalted. The landscapes are charming, but the monotony of the northern GR5A route, especially when combined with a lack of respite from the heat, is merciless for my hiking spirits. On foot, the region is too tedious, too long-winded, the distances too great. Next time, I’ll take my bicycle. And I’ll come in winter.

This article first appeared in February 2021 in Pasar Magazine, as well as online.

GR5A: practical information

What’s the GR5A?

The GR5A, or the Hiking Route of Flanders, makes a long loop (570 kilometres) around the old county of Flanders, which comprises the provinces East and West Flanders. In addition to the segment I walked, from Bruges to Antwerp, the GR5A passes along the meanderings of the river Scheldt, through the Flemish Ardennes, Maritime Flanders and the coastal region. The tour focuses not only on the scattered patches of nature but also on the cultural heritage of the region. The characteristic red and white markings lead the hiker through Dendermonde, Aalst, Geraardsbergen, Ronse, Bruges, Damme, Aardenburg and Hulst. The section between Bruges and Antwerp, about 165 kilometres, explores the polders of West and Zeelandic Flanders, Meetjesland and Waasland.

As the name suggests, this is a side step of the famous GR5 that stretches its toes into the Mediterranean Sea. In the 1970s, Flemish long-distance hikers wanted to extend the GR5, which then left for Nice in Bergen-op-Zoom, to Ostend. In the end, Hoek van Holland was chosen, but that didn’t stop them from developing the GR5A as a connection to the English hiking network. Because the GR5A runs through densely populated Flanders, the route can easily be divided into day stages that are perfectly reachable by public transport. In this way, Anete and I have already hiked the southern arm of this trail.

How to get there

Although GR5A makes a loop you can start and end anywhere, Bruges’ train station marks its official starting point. In other words, it’s very easily reachable by train. From Linkeroever, my terminus, I reached Antwerp station in no time by tram. The hiking guide provides a handy overview with options for public transport, so that the long, long trail can easily be divided into daily stages.

Eating and drinking

GR5A succeeds in showing the most beautiful side of Flanders (rural postcards, nature, small village centres and historic cities) without the ugly in-betweens (new developments, ribbon development). However, you’re never completely into the wild in such a densely populated region. You can find something to eat or drink every day. I caught my breath in the following places:

>>Estaminet Soetkin. With a local beer and a croque monsieur, you can watch cormorants land on the canal. Kerkstraat 1, Damme (BE).

>>Brasserie Duingras. The leafy garden terrace came as a godsend at the end of a long country road. Bisdomstraat 3, Bentille (Sint-Laureins, BE).

>>Café Markt °4. An advertising agency that buys a church and houses start-ups, a true sign of the times. Fortunately, there is beer. Markt 4, Sas van Gent (NL).

>>Sassies Tea en Loungeroom. A waitress in a Snow White dress brought our veggie hotdog with a big smile. Lange Nieuwstraat 2, Hulst (NL).

Sleeping on the GR5A

I hiked the stretch from Bruges to Antwerp in seven days, adjusting my stages to available sleeping opportunities. That meant I walked 29 kilometres on some days, only 14 on others. I choose September, just off-peak season. When possible, I camped. Mind you: wild camping is not allowed in Belgium or the Netherlands. In the absence of camping spots, I opted for accommodation in small scale B&B’s. This turned out to be a great combination.

>>Farm camping Oud-Heille. Simple but charming mini camping where the loud mewing of cows awakes you in the morning. The owner is an amiable farmer. €12,5/tent. Heilleweg 15, Sluis (NL).

>>Casabelle. Very well-maintained, spacious room, excellent breakfast and friendly owner. I didn’t expect to dive in the pool in September. €100/night (2p). Boekhoutedorp 17, Boekhoute (Assenede, BE).

>>Hof van Autriche. Small-scale camping in the yard of a Flemish Zeelandic sheep farm. Watch out for the cat of the house, whose claws targeted my tent. €15/tent. Graafjansdijk A83, Westdorpe (NL).

>>B&B Pastory. Delightful B&B, tastefully decorated. Welcome beer and chat in the garden, ridiculously delicious breakfast. Price-quality a bomb. €102/night (2p). Dorpsplein 17, Zuiddorpe (NL).

>>Bivouac zone Stropersbos. Free back-to-basics camping spot, where you can pitch your tent for two nights. Limited facilities include a firepit, compost toilet and water pump with not-potable water. Stropersbos, Stekene – Sint-Gillis-Waas (BE).

>>B&B Euverbraeke. Quiet and homely B&B in a renovated farm in Melseledijk, practically on the route. €95/night (2p). Brielstraat 83, Beveren (BE).

What to do on the GR5A

>>Zwin Nature Park. The description ‘international airport for birds’ is not a lie. With 100 breeding birds, this is a hotspot for every bird watcher. Open from 10 am to 5 pm, closed Mondays and Tuesdays. Entrance: €10/12/5 (online/on the spot/-18). Graaf Leon Lippensdreef 8, Knokke-Heist (BE).

>>Book market Damme. Once a month, dozens of book stores display their merchandise in ‘book town’ Damme. Every second Sunday of the month, on the market square (summer) or in the halls of the town hall (winter).

>>Aardenburg. The Archaeological Museum of the region is located in the oldest town of Flemish Zeeland. Open from April 1 until November 15, 10 am to 5 pm (Tues to Fri), 1 to 5 pm (Sat and Sun), closed on Mondays. Entrance: €3,5. Marktstraat 18, Aardenburg (NL).

>>Hulst. In the “most Flemish city in the Netherlands”, where the Flemish lion flag waves on the town hall, you can walk on the fortresses or have a beer on a terrace. Hulst claims to be the city of origin of Reynaert the Fox.

More info

>>All information about the GR5A Hiking Route of Flanders can be found on the website of Grote Routepaden. You can also order a hiking guide there (€18 for members, €20 for non-members).

>>You can find other tips on the websites of the respective tourist services. Those of Bruges and Damme contain information about the part of West Flanders I crossed. The sites or Zeeland, Meetjesland (only in Dutch) and Waasland (only in Dutch) are also useful.

This article first appeared in February 2021 in Pasar Magazine, as well as online.