Antwerp

Although the weather was still very changeable I somehow convinced P2 that we should cycle to Antwerp from Wouwse Plantage. We could have taken the train from Essen but somehow it felt like cheating when the weather wasn't that bad, the train cost money and after all we were here to cycle. We were planning to take a train to Brugge later as Belgium is quite industrial and probably not much fun to cycle in that part anyway.

So, another late start whilst we make this decision, buy more food, get some minor problems fixed at the local bike store by another strapping young lad (this place is full of them, I swear), and we almost forgot, to send postcards with the Dutch stamps we'd bought. They'll be no use in Belgium.

We set forth once again but this time the signage isn't so clear and we're soon off the path and almost back where we started. Horribly disappointed we stop in at a tourist office for more directions. We make it to a train station and landmark for rejoining the path where I make possibly my silliest decision so far.

Unhappy with my slow progress on the bike I'm convinced that if I further inflate my tyres I will roll faster. They were looking a bit saggy under the weight of luggage plus me. We stop at a petrol station and try to work the antique air hose. After a few attempts the darn thing actually deflated my tyre! After much swearing from me P2 gets out the portable pump and I resign myself to reinflating manually. Somehow this refuses to work either. The pump we have requires an adaptor for the type of valve on our tubes. Pump plus adaptor don't seem to be working past a certain pressure so P2 decides it's time to buy a pump which is designed for the correct valve type. I concur although my bike is still unridable so P2 sets off on the mission alone and much to my horror returns with a gargantuan pump. It was the lightest one in the store and it did the job in a jiffy so rather than be ungrateful I inflate all our tyres to the optimum before setting off again with the enormous pump, an unwanted extra passenger awkwardly strapped to the outside of P2's pack.

Still refusing to take the train we cycle on, no usable maps, fewer signs and a somewhat dodgy compass. The sun sets as we enter Antwerp, still no map but we know the campsite is behind the Crown Plaza hotel so after starting off in the wrong direction we track down some more of those friendly locals for directions and find our landmark. We follow a sign to a Youth Hostel as even if that's not the place, they'll know how to get there.

The lady at reception looks puzzled. "Camping Vogelzang? I think it's closed. You spoke to them and they told you it's behind the Crown Plaza?" They had. We looked together over a few maps but she was convinced it was a dud and that the only campsite still open was across the river. This late at night I was not in the mood to hunt for an unknown place in an unfamiliar town. I got my bearings from the maps and decided to track down the place we'd contacted. On the way another local backed up the other lady's opinions but we pressed on as it wasn't far. We eventually found the place but yes it was closed although whether for the night or forever wasn't clear. The office was there and the place was empty. It looked majorly dodgy, like a park in an inner city suburb where the streetwise don't hang out at night. In fact that's probably exactly what it was.

In my despair, P2 reminded me that the solution was simple. We either stay at the Crown Plaza or the youth hostel. Genius. Although the Crown Plaza was undoubtedly more comfortable we opted for the hostel. The lady at reception shook her head a little as she saw us for the second time with a look of motherly concern for two stray teenage girls. I sent P2 in to negotiate, not wanting the emotional burden of her tut-tutting.