NAMUR-AACHEN 2nd-5th September

After a guargantuan free breakfast, where there was so much food that I covertly made a few extra sandwiches for lunch (a habit that I had formed while staying at Letitia's in Ieper), I enquired about bike hire. Yes no problem - it was 13 euro for the day. Then it turned out they didn't have one, and had rung for one from somewhere else. After about an hour, and a couple of mollifying free coffees that they gave me at the bar, this real bedstead of a bike had been left outside for me. I noticed that the back tyre could have done with some air, but was past caring by now, and took off to cycle along the River Meuse to Dinant. Most of the way you ride on rough cobblestones, but when I hit the very rare smooth bitumen patches, it was apparent that the back wheel was also buckled, not laterally, as is usual, but inwards, towards the spokes. It is a very pleasant river to cycle beside, with thickly wooded slopes cascading down to both banks, and although rain threatened all day, there wasn't enough to pull out the parka. At Dinant I locked the bike up, and walked around the town for a couple of hours. Like Namur, the dominant feature of Dinant is a Citadel built on a high rocky outcrop in the middle of town. I had a very pleasant lunch under some trees at the riverside, munching my sandwiches and a couple of litres of fluid from the local supermarket. The supermarket had a sign at the entrance to beware of pickpockets in the supermarket. Lonely Planet says that Belgian oldies love nothing better than lunch on a ferry ride along the Meuse at Dinant, and there were certainly plenty of ferries going by. Many working barges also ply the river.

I first became interested in this area after reading the book 'To Lose a Battle' a couple of years ago, and on the way back investigated the weir and also the railway bridge at Houx, and the road bridge at Yvoir, which featured in the book. The weir was interesting, as a passenger boat was just in the process of going through the lock. I found a very narrow walkway tacked alongside the railway bridge and cycled across on it, high above the river, but I'd think twice about doing it again.

I arrived back at the hostel just on dark. I had run out of clean clothes, and had enquired this morning at the hostel re: a wassoir, and they had said they would do it for 8 euros, which I foolishly agreed to, as it normally takes me an hour and a half to do, and costs 5 euros. But now they've had trouble with 'the machine' and my clothes are still downstairs getting dried. I have a shower anyway, and sit in the bar undies-less and eating ice cream until my (still slightly damp) clothes appear. A lot more young persons at the hostel tonight, but Madagascar and I are the only occupants of our room. I manage to impress upon him that we should have the window open, as the previous night I'd had difficulty breathing. He agrees, but I can see that he's not very happy about it.

On Wednesday 3rd September I decide to travel to Gedron, the nearest rail station to the Furfooz 'Parc Naturelle', in the hope of experiencing the forests of the Ardenne. Travel in the train along the river back to Dinant, and am in luck, as the connection to Gedron, which is a 2 hourly service, leaves in 5 minutes. At Gedron, just a few houses , there is no-one about, so I foolishly decide to believe a signpost pointing in the direction of 'Furfooz', and walk uphill about 3 kms, before meeting a girl coming the other way who explains that I should have gone in completely the other direction at Gedron. Having thus lost the advantage of 'only 5 minutes wait' for the rail connection, I arrive back at Gedron at 1.45, and get to the park at 3.30. It was interesting, and a pleasant 5 kilometre walk, but more of an historical interest, with about a dozen sites : 'excavated Roman Baths' ; medieval ruins ; caves apparently used as hideaways by sundry famous persons in past centuries.

At Gedron there were hundreds of kayaks on the riverbank, and you can kayak down the river to Dinant, and then the kayak people take the boats back to Gedron by the truckload. By the squeals you could hear coming from the river below I would say that it appeals to kids of all ages, and while the current is fast, I doubt there would be any white water. I had brought enough food, but had long run out of water, and was starting to look around for a suitably-sized stone to masticate on when I reached the river bank, which had on it a very convival riverside cafe selling Sprite, tea and more tea, all of which I quickly sampled. I had noted the train times at Gedron, and realised that I wouldn't make the 6 o'clock, and so dawdled back, as the next train was 8pm.

Got back to the hostel about 9.30, as it is a 45 minute walk from the station. Very lively tonight, with many young people. Seems to be schoolies week in the next room, with what sounds like about six girls singing every pop song they know at the the top of their voices, all the ABBA songs; we got 'Barbie Girl' about 6 times. Our room is full tonight,with 2 more cyclists, young Belgian boys from Limburg on the German border, who are on a trip of 1000km in 9 days.
They have done what I would really have liked to have done today, that is, a descent of the Ardennes from Luxemburg to the Meuse. Fortunately schoolies week seems to be accompanied by teachers, and all is quiet by about 11pm. Have a fitful sleep, as pains in my legs, and have to sit up a couple of times and apply balsam.

Thursday 4th September. To station early, as going to Aachen (Aix la Chappele) today, but still have time to buy a couple of really good T-shirts for 6 euros each at a C & A department store near the station. I had bought the ticket for the Liege to Aachen leg of the trip yesterday, as it was essential to pre-book, but needed to buy a 4 euro seniors ticket from Namur to Liege today. I tell the man in the ticket booth that I want a ticket to Liege, and he gives me a ticket to Cinay (completely in another direction). By the time I get someone who speaks a bit of English to issue me the correct ticket, it's nearly time for the train to leave.

By now I'm flying blind, as I don't have any Lonely Planet notes for Germany. At Aachen railway station, I enquire for a tourist centre, and get pointed in the direction of a sandwich board affair
which contains tourist info, including a list of hotels and their prices. I ring a couple of relative cheapies within half a kilometre of the station, but they are full, and I settle for a 35 euro place two and a half kilometres out. There is a Macca's inside the railway station, and I fortify myself before setting out. A feature of Macca's in Germany is that you can get a fairly decent green salad with your fritjes (chips) for an extra euro. The hotel is no bargain, one shower and toilet for a number of rooms, and my room faces out onto a busy road, just at a set of traffic lights. But my body is complaining so much from the exertions of the previous couple of days that sleep is the least of my troubles - I just want somewhere comfortable to lay my aching bones, it doesn't matter if I can't sleep.

As this is just a pit stop, and I expect I'll be late back tomorrow night, I decide to do some washing tonight. The people at the hotel are no help, and after asking about six different people in the street, I end up two-thirds of the way back to town quite late. Being a bit zonked, after I put my clothes in no.7 machine, I manage to put my money in the thingo on the wall into no.8. A young Chinese fellow-washer helps me, and we take the clothes (which have finished washing) from no. 8, and replace them with mine, and all works out well in the end, but I don't get back to the hotel till eleven. Strangely enough, the arterial road out the front is quiet all night.

The next day I want to have a stroll in the Huertgen Forest, which will involve getting a train to Duren, and from there a bus. I had elicited this information the previous day from a lady at the railway station. At the station there are about three people serving at the ticket counter, plus a couple of uniformed women just inside the foyer, who are there to assist people to buy tickets from several separate ticket machines, etc. You have to queue to consult these ladies, and I always seem to score the same one, who is the spitten image of Marlene Dietrich (when she was about 50, say) but pint-sized, and continually in a bad temper. I first ran foul of her when I wanted to find out about trains from Aachen to Muenster, which I imagined was going to be very complicated, with several changes of train, but actually only involves one, at Munchen Gladbach. In Germany (I now know) they have at major train stations a rack full of flyers, listing all the trains throughout the day from the home station, to Berlin, Munich, or where-ever. So I ask this lady, (whom I very quickly - and secretly - come to think of as Marlene Schickelgruber), about Muenster, and she dismissively waves at all these racks full of flyers, and turns to serve someone else. I look at these flyers, and find one that mentions Muenster, but can't make head or tail of it. So I queue up again, and despite using some delaying tactics, end up with old Marlene again.
I show her the flyer, and shrug my shoulders in my best 'poor me' gesture, which makes her colour up about enough to throw an apopleptic fit, and she marches me over to a bench at the side. With a manicured finger stabbing the flyer with every second word 'Look - this Aachen (stab) - train leave 11 o'clock (stab) - arrive Munchen Gladbach 11.53 (stab)- another train leave 12.05 (stab) arrive Muenster 1.10 - YA?' Which is how I learned all about getting from A to B on the Deutsche Bahn.

So, not wanting to inflame Marlene again, I now queue at the ticket counter, and ask the lady there for a ticket to Duren. She was very pleasant, and said she'd have to ask someone else, and then came back and said apologetically that I'd have to buy a ticket at one of the machines. I score Marlene again, of course, and giving me a 'not you again' look she turns to one of the 'touch' machines, presses it in a few places, and turns to help someone else. It was saying something like €3-60, so I put a €10 note in the slot and got my ticket and the change. Marlene marches back just as I'm leaving, and raises her eyebrows at the fact that this alien had managed that all on his own.

Unfortunately, my transport arrangements for the day still needed a little fine tuning. Not knowing for sure what time I would return to the Duren station, I wanted to get my ticket for the return trip (you can't buy return tickets with these machines). I asked the woman at the ticket counter, and she gestured at the ticket machines outside, which it turned out were all in German. So I returned to her again, but she made it patently clear that I'd have to work it out myself. So I started touching the screen in likely-looking places, and finally a union jack popped up, and it was plain sailing from there, and that's how I learnt to get a train ticket from a machine in Germany.

My street map of Aachen had on its verso a map of the district which showed a settlement at Huertgen, and I asked again at the ticket office (a man now). He knew enough English to say 'never heard of it - ask at the bookshop'. (The Huertgen Forest covers about 50 square miles, and is about half an hour out of town.) The bookshop lady said to ask at the bus station, where there were several driverless buses parked. I looked at all the signage, but no mention anywhere of Huertgen, and nobody I asked seemed to have heard of it. Then I spot a bus with a driver, and he gestures right to the back of the bus station, and I get him to write the bus number down for me (no.285). I just get over there and a 285 pulls in, which was lucky, as it turns out to be an hourly service. The bus driver is about as co-operative as old Marlene, but understands 'Huertgen' and I am able to work out from the map where to get off.

I first came across a reference to this area when I was doing some research on J.D. Salinger (the best-known unknown man in America) a few years ago. It took an American infantry division the best part of 3 months to get past the forest, with great loss of life, 1944-45. One never seems to stop hearing about the Battle of the Bulge, but this was a separate show, in the same general area, and nobody's ever heard of it - even in Duren. It seems certain that as a result of his experiences here, the young J.D. later had a nervous breakdown, after the armistice, which he alludes to in the short story 'For Esme...'

As I was en route from the Ardennes to Muenster, I'd thought it would be a good idea to stop by and have a bit of a hike in the forest. As usual, there is nobody at all in the streets, but I find a board with a choice of 5 different hikes that you can do in the forest from Huertgen, and I choose walk number 1, which is about ten kilometres. As is common anywhere in the world where there are 'marked' walks, there is a number '1' at the first three or four junctions, and then nothing. However, I have memorised the general shape of the walk, which is just as well, as
any signage relates to forestry operations, and is no help at all. The country is typical German pine forest, occurring naturally, rather than planted, which I find very pleasant walking and I don't see a soul all day, until I catch the bus back at 6pm. Every train that I've caught so far in Germany has been running late, and tonight is no exception. Back at Aachen I can't wait to try out my new-found expertise and buy a ticket to Muenster for the next day. I do all the right things, only problem is I have a €50 note and the machine only takes 5's and 10's, so I buy it at the ticket office anyway. This is just as well, because I only have to pay €25, instead of the €31 that the machine wanted. I have a couple of milk shakes in Macca's, and hike back to the Paseo Hotel in Vaalserstrasse.

I don't have any info on youth hostels in Germany, and when I'm leaving in the morning ask the young English-speaking guy who runs the hotel in the mornings if he has any clues. He goes into the internet, and gives me a print out for 3 places in Muenster. No problems with the train trip, changing trains only involves walking a few steps to the adjoining platform. Conscious of the fact that it's not a good idea to land somewhere Saturday lunch-time without pre-booked accommodation, I ring the 3 hostels, and they're all full.