PBP 2007 Fini

The De Panne station is southwest of the city, so we did not see De Panne proper, but there we catch the scent of a festive spirit on the air. Clean, yellow and green trams met the arriving train and a stiff sea breeze carried faint sounds of carnival rides and children laughing. We found the road west along the canal and biked across the border into France (the France-Belgium border marked only by an abandoned guard's kiosk and a merchant across the road with a Belgian flag on the east side of his store and French flag on the west) before we realized we were on the wrong side of the canal, biking on the shoulderless N1 road. We crossed the canal into Bray-Dunes at the first opportunity, stopping for re-nourishment at a grocery—big chunk of Gouda, some "Yop" yogurt energy drinks and a few peaches. Byron enjoys fresh peaches and declared these the best he'd had in his life. The road on the north side is much more pleasant for biking—calmer traffic through villages like Zuydcoote and Leffrinckoucke.

Dodging black clouds, and fighting head-winds all the way to Dunkirk, we decided to forgo scouting the train station, turned north at the canal and rode to the sea. After admiring the shore and the drama of the storms on the North Sea we circled the area several times somehow overlooking the hostel until Gilbert pointed out the signs for "Auberge" (I thought that meant "eggplant"?). The waiter at dinner tolerated our attempts at French and offered, "In France we have a saying — Bon appétit." Four bunks and a sink to a room, showers and toilets down the hall, and a whole empty garage underneath to park our bikes. After breakfast with bowls of coffee we headed south for the train station and bought tickets to Paris. Surprisingly they routed us through Lille which we had avoided from Brussels on the understanding that those trains did not accept bicycles. Trains in France, all electric on smooth rails, are incredibly quiet and the passengers do not make a sound — it feels like being in a library.