The beauty of having a van is that it truly does expand the horizon. Prior to the acquisition (or adoption) of “Rick” our adventures tended towards a solitary base camp, but now we can shift like the tides.
In 2025 we had a three base trip over two weeks in Northern France, but with our eldest turning sixteen on Star-wars Day in 2027, and likely drifting away from us with his own expanding world, we wanted 2026 to be one to remember.
So the “Euro Dash: Belgium” plan was born. A new country to tick off for us all and the size of it compared to the likes of France enticed us to get it done in one big blast! Five distinct regions, so five stops and a pre-researched list of what, where and how.
The Awkward Land
We discovered that Belgium is not a place that conforms to convenience. It is a country that closes its doors precisely when you need them open, swaps corner shops for twenty-foot vending machines, and shifts languages just as you think you have found your tongue. But travel is not meant to be frictionless; the grit is where the memories stick.
Chapter One: Semois Valley
Our journey started vertical in the Semois Valley. Five days of heavy climbs, hairy forest tracks, and legs burning beneath the canopy. Our base here was beside the river, running shallow from the heatwave but working beautifully as a tactical asset beneath a scorching sun.
Bikes allowed my eldest son and I to bag Le Col De Fays, before the road flattened out and traded winding rivers for man-made lakes near the Dutch border.
Chapter Two: Hoge Kempen
Travelling from Semois Valley to Hoge Kempen was via the Caves of Han. This subterranean contrast to the furnace of the forest reset our dials. Thousands upon thousands of years of slow change preparing us for the next stage in a matter of moments.
After this stunning experience we sought out the Citadel of Dunant, nestled in the cliff tops above a once Nazi ravaged town. 408 steps back beneath the scorching sun, with a sheer drop to the side and a forge hot metal handrail as the only option for safety!
This was a trial we all needed. Legs throbbing and glutes screaming, reminding us that we still had the mettle to make waves in our days.
The scenery shifted from here, trading dense timberland dressed mountains for pancake plains and a sprawling holiday parks crowded with sun-leathered locals.
It was chaotic and loud, but the antidote sat like gold on the fringes within the National Park. We braved tandem bikes, testing trust and hamstrings alike. “Cycle through Water” was a sunken path allowing us to glide past the lakes with eyes at water level, sharing the view of the dragonflies and busy swifts.
Then on foot we found the still, quarry waters of old coal country in Terhills. A sharp ascent to loom down at the snaking bridge and a cool descent to take a closer look.
There could have been no better counter to the friction of our basecamp in Kikmolen.
Chapter Three: urban Gardens
We chased the canals into Gent. The skies opened on our first foray, soaking us to the skin, but the second attempt delivered the goods—winding spiral stairs through the stone bulk of the Gravensteen castle and a rosemary-buttered smash burger that deserved its own monument.
This site, Urban Gardens, had a lake nearby and we whittled away time on it, in it and beside it. Whereas Kikmolen Lake with concreted sides, zero natural flow and “people soup” shallows repelled, this nature filled beauty attracted.
Chapter Four: Gentele touch
Our next stop - Gentele Camping - was picked for proximity to Bruges. A basic, but impeccably kept piece of land, with wandering wildlife and even a late night invasion from a hedgehog.
The rhythm was set: clean showers, no frills, and sourcing evening rations through back-door local enterprise when the supermarkets shut down.
Bruges was conquered on foot—twenty-four miles across two days in rouge shorts, fueled by high-octane Belgian beer, slow-cooked ribs, and chocolate that hit like a jolt of electricity.
We had a one night base hotel in the city to allow us to linger, to outlast the daytimes and to claim the city at night. Out hearts no doubt linger there still. History colliding with tourism can either fill you with distaste or laughter, but card games in the dark on outside tables, sipping fine beer smoothed all potential friction away.
Chapter Five: Ride to Happiness
We ran the trip out to its natural edge on the coast at De Panne. We sweated through the dunes under a blazing sun, watched lightning rip across the sky from inside the van while golf-ball rain hammered the roof, and spent our final hours of our trip in the belly of Plopsland, being flung around coaster tracks, soaring on flying swings or plunging into rapids on a log.
It was a surreal and yet strangely fitting conclusion to a demanding and varied adventure. We had found a mechanical representing in of the previous weeks and Belgium itself. Even this tourism hub had closed outlets, highs and lows, sun and thunder, sweetness of waffles and the sour of Bruges Zot.
Our time had run out, but we had lived it in pure motion. Rivers, caves, lakes, cliffside citadels, paddleboards, kayaks, bikes, tandems, a Belfry, bruised feet, and one unyielding campervan named Rick.
Belgium was never predictable, occasionally baffling, but with a little planning and a fearless execution, we created memories rich and claimed another country, thoroughly conquered.
Because some trips away are relaxing, whilst some like this, drain you to the core, but from physical drain opens the fabulous void as stress falls away and true recharge rushes back in.
It wasn’t ever considered easy: ease breeds amnesia. But I doubt any of us would deny it was fun!
Bones
1 comment
And how was the beer?