We worked our way toward Liege today on a mixture of back roads and busy highways. Belgium doesn’t have the same mixture of roads as France and its difficult to find quiet roads that are also reasonably direct.
Belgium also lacks in comparison to France in another respect – the courtesy of it’s drivers. The Belgians are far more impatient and pushy than the French and give less room for cyclists. One wanker in a BMW blasted us with his horn as he approached, swerved close to us, then squirted his window washers as he passed to spray us with washer fluid. Ballsack. George thinks that it might be a deep inner frustration that the Belgians have for being the idiot cousins of the French.
It’s also proving to be more difficult to find water. We didn’t come across a single cemetery all day to restock our water and had to visit a motorcycle repair shop.
And one more whinge – it’s harder to find camping spots. It took several failed attempts to find one last night but eventually we investigated a side road that led to a golf course. As luck would have it we stumbled on an abandoned road behind a small ridge that is completely secluded.