Well, today WAS another day. We had to strike camp this morning and move to Belgium but the Pair allowed me a lie in until 9.30 whilst they did most of the work. As apparently I can’t pack a car properly so they did it today and made just as much of a dogs breakfast as I did. So today was to get back to Bully and my target was Armetiers on the Belgian border, a tough task with a late start so I would be pedalling in the heat of the afternoon. It had to be a short day today because of the move but I still managed 46 km in soaring heat. 

On the way we spotted a Czech cemetary and a Polish memorial. Presumably, they fought on the German side as they were then occupied by Germany and Austria, but they still fought and died so a poppy each they recieved. The Enemy can be brave too, and they weren’t even fighting for the fatherland. Their countries got short lived freedom for a few years after Versailles. 

Back at Bully, and I had to find a way out of this ugly mining conurbation. It was a ‘mare as there were no signposts so once again I reverted to compass and found myself on the road I wanted, heading slightly east of north. As I was checking my map, safely on the pavement so no lunatic could reverse into me, I heared two young boys singing Le Marseillaise: they were marching in perfect step saluting me. I saluted back, wonderful. Many waves, horns, salutes today, until I got into Flanders. At one Cemetary the CWGC men were busy tidying up a pretty tatty site and insisted on photos with me. I think it must give them much satisfaction that their work is so appreciated. 

The crops have changed slightly now; cabbages and my first grape vines. Lots of cabbages of all hue; Savoy, Red, Primo.  Maize, but in France primarily for animal feed. Fewer piles of stinking poo at the side of the road. And the poppies returned; I’d missed them in the conurbation and they made my heart sing again. When you are in a car speeding along, you miss these little nuances. At my speed you have lots of time to think and you notice so much. Better that than on a racing road bike with your head down. 18kph is my normal pedalling rate and I see it all. I see lots of Lycra clad racers and they have their heads down, speed is all. Their loss. It was great to be back out in open country again. 

Today was about making Armentiers rather than wandering around as before. Yet I discovered some of the most charming resting places. There were a couple of musts; more later. The Pair went off to see our last Allendale lad in Arras that I missed in yesterday’s debacle and found him easily. Now every man on the St Cuthberts church gate on our route has a poppy hand delivered and hand made. 

I was content with serendipitous discoveries, and found gems. Woburn Abbey, Post Office rifles, Euston Post. Mostly small cemetaries from 1917 but as I approached Neuve Chappelle there were more from 1915 during that dreadful battle. That is where the Indians came in. At 1st Ypres one third of the troops stopping the German onslaught were Indian and they paid the price handsomely. The Indian monument there is lovely, in the Oriental style, with 4500 names on the wall.; no graves. I left a poppy on the alter. Later on I found a small cemetary in a farmyard, Rue Du Baqueroi No 1 ( snappy title). It was odd; two separate cemetaries in the same place, and one was divided into two by a wall. The larger cemetary contained Anglo saxons; the smaller Indian troops. The segregated section contained their British officers and NCOs. Different times when these graves were laid. The Past is a different country; they did things differently there.  An unknown brave Hindu soldier now has a scarlet poppy to liven up his rest. 

By the Indian memorial is the Portuguese one. They entered the war in 1917 and offered a division to the allies. They were put in a quiet sector of the line to acclimatise and recieved the full brunt of the German 1918 Kiesers Offensive and were slaughtered. One lone machine gunner held his post until he ran out of ammunition and was killed. It was a sad cemetary; the grass was well kept by the CWGC but no flowers, the stones were at all manner of jaunty angles, and most were unreadable through weathering and neglect. The Portuguese were wise enough to avoid major wars, happy with the conquests they acquired in the early days of exploration. They dipped their toe into this one found it too hot for them and declined the invitations to the replay. Miguel Marques was one of the few that could be made out from the dilapidation and neglect, and now is probably the only Portuguese on the front with a poppy. 

Just after the Indian and Portuguese sites I found a charming cemetary on a busy road called Euston Post. As I was about to leave a charming American couple pulled in; they were going in the opposite direction and saw me. They were on a pilgrimage too. We had good chats, they were remarkably well versed and it was a pleasure to meet them. He hated Haig with a passion. Pictures were taken and off I went. 

I had a destination and a timescale so I couldn’t mess about today, but I kept stumbling on sites and just had to stop and pay my respects. The entire route today was as flat as a billiard table. Let me explain about electric assisted bikes: they assist the pedlar when the going is difficult i.e. On hills. On the flat they do almost nothing. Paradoxically then, pedalling on the flat is harder because you get little help and the gears are optimised for motor assistance. Going up hills you do and downhill you can freewheel, stand up, and give your bum a brief respite. And it weighs twice as much as a normal bike. 

I was now in Flanders and much has changed from Picardy. The style of the houses is different, and the gardens. I came through a small town, last before Armentiers, and noticed a communal graveyard with a CWGC sign. On entering I found amongst the civil graves a line of British men from the retreat to Dunkirk, only a few of them. I chose one of the nine Yorkshiremen there and awarded him my poppy and moved on. Thirt minutes later I got a Facebook message saying my maternal great uncle was one of those few men. I will be going back tomorrow. In that message I was also told that another paternal great uncle was at a cemetery I had earlier visited on the Somme but its too late for that now. Another day, another year. 

I trundled into Armetiers in extremely high spirits and had my customery large Stella at an estaminet and the Pair met me. We offed to Ypres to the new campsite, our last for the trip. On the way we went to Bedford House to visit Captain George Fenwick Charlton, a Tynedale man who died in 1917. We visited his only brother yesterday in Wallencourt near Albert who died on the Somme. So a family lost both its sons. Its not the only pair of brothers we have seen. Nine months in the womb, years of love and nurture, snuffed out for King and country. I hope king and Country are grateful. That’s why I’m here. Because I’m grateful. 

The new campsite is lovely, and the toilets have seats! In france campers are expected to bring their own. On the site are a gang from the British Legion Bikers association so we had a chinwag and got promises of donations from several bystanders. We offed to Ypres for a hugely expensive dinner and as we were about to leave a bunch of slightly tiddly Yorkshiremen (we get everywhere!) wearing Pontefract RUFC blazers and ties gave me some donations and tried to get us to stay. 

We leave on sunday for Zeebrugge and Hull, Allendale around lunchtime. Tomorrw I go back to Armentiers and pedal about 35 km back to Ypres, a short day but the forecast is the hottest yet, Thursday I plan to reach the sea on the beaches north of dunkirk as my grandad did. That’s a long day of 55 km. Friday I will do a final loop of the Passendael battlefields, then the bike goes on the rack and stays there, and the uniform in the laundry bin. 

It is difficult to grasp that this thing is nearly done, and ahead of schedule. I have been incredibly lucky with the weather, if you think 28c in full military kit is lucky. I’m approaching 59 and trained for this enterprise by sitting in the Golden Lion and drinking beer. But I’ve done 280km already in full  kit in scorching heat and feel really great. I actually feel sad that by Thursday afternoon this will be effectively completed. There were many sceptics, and with good reason, including myself after the first day. But I can now almost see the sea. Are we there yet, dad?