Navigating Sleepless Nights and Borders in Bastogne

Colorfully Shaded Streets of Bastogne

Day #4 – Mont – Houffalize – Bastogne – Wiltz, Luxembourg – Bastogne, Belgium
Number of Miles Cycled Today – 17.9
Number of Total Miles Cycled – 49.5
Number of Miles Traveled – 4,794

Even the best laid plans change. Ours did.

The previous day, our first of six cycling days and on paper, the most strenuous with a bountiful number of miles of elevation gain, or at least the trailer made me believe so. By the time we tasted La Chouffe at the source and reached our place of rest at La Vielle Forge in Mont, we were exhausted. Honestly, not tired enough to revel in our first journey day with a few unpleasant cans of Vidette beer, the same beer that somehow adorned our room in posters, mirrors, and furniture.

The Vidette Room of Snoring

The sleeping arrangement placed the Pepper twins, Jason, not a twin but equally as short, and I in a double room separated by an equally stunted wall. Once you have the pleasure of meeting the Pepper twins, one of the characteristics that protrudes about both of them is their larger than life personalities as well as their gargantuan noses. This first evening in Mont caused me real concern . . . for their wives. Over the next eight restful or restless hours, depending on your point of view, Pepper and Jeremy competed to see who could snore the loudest. Those walls proved no match to the sound arising out of their nasal cavities. Jason and I can happily verify that both won and we lost. Neither one of us earned much sleep. So welcome to day #2 on our epic trip and good morning Belgium.

That morning our group prepped for the day. Breakfast included an unhealthy amount of Nutella and toast and conversation along side a German family driving back that day to the motherland. Suva and I tried to fix our ailing bikes in advance of our shortest cycling day. Jason decided to skip cycling as a result of sleep deprivation. Scuba Steve researched a rental car to serve as a chase car. Pepper and Jeremy were in the most jovial of moods.

A Panoramic Houffalize Morning

Contradictory to the previous mountainous day, our route this day was perfectly flat on the protected path on the Ravel Route. Our attempts at fixing a bent rear bicycle rim and successfully securing a bent rear axle proved futile. Suva’s bike still groaned with each revolution and mine lamented another day pulling a big ass trailer.

Our troop of cyclists neared the town of Bastogne, one of the strategic and turning points for the Allied Forces during World War II, we took time to recognize the efforts of American soldiers at Jack’s Wood, miles from the edge of Bastogne close to the town of Foy. It was here that the E Company of the U.S. helped halt the German advance to cut off the U.S. supply route in freezing temperatures. The 101 First Airborne division of the U.S. Army dug foxholes in Jack’s Woods (Bois Jacques) as part of the defense of the town of Bastogne without much support. The German offensive started on December 24th. Their fight was partly immortalized a century later in the show Band of Brothers.

E Company Shrine at Jack’s Woods

Interestingly enough, a certain Mr. and Mrs. Tom Hanks from California sponsored a small shrine leading up to Jack’s Woods. That name sounded strangely familiar.

We solemnly mounted our bikes, finished the brief ride into Bastogne and our hotel. Just as soon as we stashed our orange joy rides in the dingy underbelly hotel storage that contained every item the Giorgi hotel had ever displayed and would never see the light of day again, we saddled up at Il Canto, a nearby Italian restaurant for nourishment and even more important, a sampling of more Belgium beer. Lunch consisted of Rochefort 8, La Corne, a previously unknown beer served in a horn-shaped chalice, a bit more Rochefort 8, and a few slices of pizza. Enough sustenance to get us to the next meal.

Mardasson Memorial

We sauntered under the cover of multicolored umbrellas magically hovering over Rue du Sablon and abandoned tanks through downtown Bastogne on our way to the Bastogne War Museum. Housed inside was an insightful portrayal of the events that led to World War II and breakdown of the Allied forces efforts to ultimately push the pendulum in favor of the Allied forces in Europe.

And if I’m being completely honest, my understanding of major historical conflicts across the globe is inadequate, as my American and World History AP scores in high school support, but the visit to the Bastogne War Museum was illuminating and made me want to better understand this world-changing war.

Panoramic View from Mardasson Memorial

As a self-proclaimed country visiting floozy, once our tour of the Bastogne War Museum concluded, the last direct bus across the border over to Luxembourg was scheduled to leave in 15 short minutes, the Pepper twins and I tore off running back through town under the same umbrellas to the bus station located on the opposite side of downtown. Our short trip across the border would soon bring to light the grandeur Belgium has over its neighbor.

Physically crossing a border from one country into another tends to highlight the New Mexican qualities of a place, as to say, the worst possible attributes. However, the creation of the European Union has created borderless countries. Borders have become imaginary lines on a Google map that don’t actually equate to the traditional border crossing. There aren’t guards, guns, suspicious characters, sly glances, and passport stamps nor the excitement of being bombarded by money changers and offers to take part in illegal transactions.

Our bus from Bastogne to Wiltz, Luxembourg was a seamless 20 minute bus ride through well manicured shopping centers and countryside. Previously when I studied in Besançon, France in 2009, even then I wanted to travel as a pilgrim north with hopes of obtaining Belgium’s mythical Westveltern, yet I only made it as far as Luxembourg. In country, I traveled to Vianden and their vaulted castles, but on my way back to the station to catch a bus back my hostel in Luxembourg City, one of the best ever I might add, a unique opportunity presented itself. Over to the left stood the town of Roth an der Our, just sitting there with no one to visit it. I paused long enough to physically walk across the bridge into Germany where it welcomed me with typical German pomp and indifference. No one was around. The dogs weren’t even interested in a solo backpacker. I took some photos as evidence and returned back silently back to Luxembourg.

There back in familiar confines of Luxembourg, a small convenience store satiated my need for community and bought a Dr. Pepper. This little convenience store in rural Luxembourg sold Dr. Pepper. Up to this point in my world travels, I had only found Dr. Pepper in Cambodia and the Cayman Islands. You have to understand that Dr. Pepper plays a major role in Texan culture, similar to the awe a Whataburger produces to a long-lost Texan, so to find it abroad is like having a small slice of heaven with you abroad. I digress.

The Jumping Town of Wiltz on a Monday Afternoon

The nondenominational bus leisurely rolled up to a vacant Luxembourg bus stop devoid of people this Monday afternoon. With no real goals and interesting sites to back up our jaunt to Wiltz, we strolled to the only logical place that may contain a spattering of Luxembourgers, a grocery store with two cars parked out front. We entered the desolate supermarket with two friendly employees concluding their daily duties with the store closing in five minutes. Not all was grim, bottles of Rochefort sold for two euros a bottle, a fraction of the cost for the same bottle in the United States. It’s the small victories in life.

Affordable Rochefort

In our search for the true Wiltz, Luxembourg, we ambled outside in the fading afternoon sun in search of some type of culture, excitement, proof that life did indeed exist here. We walked to a locked church, passed over roads and buildings devoid of humanity, really an entire ghost town or residents hid in some secret nook from the Ausländer, we finally found a bar the size of a hotel room. Inside, the 1960’s decor of a tan, faded yellow, and brown colored ceramic floor led up to the worn out bar.

I offered the owner merrily, “pouvons-nous prendre un pot?”

“Wir sprechen nur Deutsch hier in Luxemburg!” served as his tort response.

Not exactly true as French is one of their three official languages, but who was I to argue in a language I knew 6 words, or at least not very well. With that ringing linguaphobic endorsement, these three Americans felt right at home. With that, I hoped he didn’t think we were there to pay our mortgage bill. I mimed that we wanted roughly three Luxembourg beers. Comparable to the chips we snacked on, the beer was flat, tasteless, and out of date much like the clothing of my two bar mates. Undoubtedly, this would be the worst beer and atmosphere we experienced the entire trip.

This elder bartender probably sat at home every weekday reminiscing of the times when he only served white, purely German-speaking patrons devoid of personality and questions, (maybe a bit generous to our own personalities) he seemed just a bit put off having to actually serve clientele in his shitter of a bar on a Monday. I’m positive he would be the first in town to propose and sign a bill that would put up an individual wall around his bar to keep out all foreigners. You just never know, maybe he had a bad weekend, because he certainly did NOT sell all his beer. Maybe he had focused more time on ways to spruce up the place.

Highly unimpressed with the lack of excitement that embraced us in Wiltz (we are quite needy travelers honestly), we back pedaled with the same enthusiasm that we had run to the bus stop, crossed that invisible political boundary back to what seemed the overflowing flavor and character of Belgium. Physically only miles apart, but thousands of miles apart in charisma and temperament, Bastogne was obviously the fun girl you wanted to hang out with on a Monday night, not that boring twit of a sister Wiltz.

Back in Bastogne, one of the longest days of riding (warm up ride for a Tour de France cyclist) awaited us to Rochefort, home to some one of the tastiest and identifiable beers in Belgium.

Previous Stop: Day #3 – Bomal – Soy – Achouffe – Mont, Belgium

Next Stop: Day #5 – Bastogne – Mochamps – Rochefort

Mardasson Memorial

E Company Shrine at Jack's Woods

A Panoramic Houffalize Morning

Panoramic View from Mardasson Memorial

The Jumping Town of Wiltz on a Monday Afternoon

Downhill into Houffalize

The Vidette Room of Snoring

Affordable Rochefort

Colorfully Shaded Streets of Bastogne

Messi Jr. Learning about WWII in the Bastogne War Museum