How it began...

So, I hear you ask, why walk 2000kms to Santiago de Compostela all the way from the Netherlands? Good question! ... Perhaps the answer is not as easy as might first appear, and is folded into a confluence of events and circumstance, that led me to a moment of decision. In part to celebrate the very act of walking, after undergoing extensive surgery and learning how to walk again after a bad motorcycling accident left me incapacitated for several years. In part due to an increased need on behalf of those in less fortuitous circumstance to both have their plight recognized, and melliorated; and perhaps, in part, because after long struggle in London, producing artwork, books and poetry, it seemed right to move my body to action once again before these bones became too old to enjoy such a marvellous adventure. With these, and other more presessing concerns, rising as a tide in the nascent spring, I stored my goods at a friends house in the Netherlands, and with her endless patience and help, quickly formulated a plan to forge a path towards north western Spain.

I was rendered homeless in an instant, and cast myself upon the fates, as those who are wanderers of this world are want to do. I had packed 40kg of gear into a front and back pack, and just as quickly discarded 15kg, to bring it down to a managable load of some 25kgs. This is remarkably close to the load that many women in the developing world are forced to carry each and every day, gathering the familial water supply from source to home, as they traverse often great distances for such a basic human need. This has the effect of being both a physical and temporal load, as often it is a journey of many hours before reaching polluted water sources, only for them to then carry the same burden, often with children in tow, the same distance again. It seemed apt then that each day I would carry this load, some 20 odd kilometers, and to begin with at least in a heat wave of some 30 degrees Celcius.

The charity I had decided to champion, Charity:Water have over the past 11 years put some 28,000 bores, cisterns, and other access points to fresh potable water in developing nations and areas, freeing women to attend to other concerns, such as extra incomes, education, animal husbandry, and agriculture, as well as freeing communities from illness, and children from the burden and toil so they might attend schools, freefrom the concerns of gathering potable water, and keeping them out of the damning statistics of illness that plague the developing nations where 50% of hospitals and medical facilities are filled with under 12 year old children with dysentary, because they are forced to drink from the same polluted water sources their communities are using as sanitation.

Armed with these truths, I began my journey on Friday the 13th of April 2018, In the quiet little hamlet of the Philipines, in the south of the Netherlands. Joni Mitchell singing to me as I began my first tentative steps.



The road was easy to begin with, and thankfully flat, whilst I found my pace and walking legs. I cheerfully waved at all who passed me by, who all seemed equally keen to wave back, perhaps more in wonder and surprise. The lush green fields of the flatlands sang with the possibility of new growth, ripening with hope in the noonday sun. I made good time, through the townships of Boekhoerte and Bassvelde as I crossed into Belgium in the mid afternoon, and my stride lengthened as I began to bear the weight of the packs with greater confidence. Ridiculously overdoing both pace and ardour, somewhat foolishly over zealous on my part; but the journey was young, and I was innocent of the damage that can be done with too strident a beginning on such a long journey.

View of the forest of Lembeke 

I stopped that night in Lembeke, and found a spot in the forest to make a hasty camp as the light disappeared between the trees. The bird song echoing the last sweet notes on a cool early spring evening. Wrapped in my sleeping bag, on a yoga mat, that was to become one of the best and most essential items of kit which had been so generously donated for the voyage. I awoke early to a dawn chorus, and nothing from that moment to this has ever been the same since.

Stories from the first few weeks of the journey will appear sporadically through out the blog. I cannot thank those folk who helped me through those first arduous weeks enough. The kindness and generosity of spirit, and indeed material generosity, have made all subsequent weeks possible, and my faith in mankind as a whole, has been buoyed by the overwhelming goodness in the hearts of those fine people of Belgium, from Flanders to the hills of Wallonia.

Galerie Ephemere

Deep in the Belgian countryside, nestled in the province of Wallonia, is a jewel of a farm stay, aptly named, galerie ephemere.

This artistic haven is the inspirational brain child of Claude Thoirain. Muse, artistic director, and owner of one of Belgium's finest naturalistic art galleries. Together with her husband, the sculptor and artist, Daniel Fauville, they have gracefully constructed both an artistic haven and gallery in the midst of the Belgian countryside.

I was fortunate enough to have simply wandered unbeknownst down the right road, allowing my gps and my instinctive nose to lead me to this Antecedence. In fact, rather a remarkable sequence of events led me on the path towards this charming and magical artistic abode.

Having spent some time in the Chapel of Lobbes Cathedral, another spot that is highly recommended, I fought through blustery weather, and the hills that lead out of Lobbes and onward towards Thuin. Not much took my eye in Thuin township and so it was I found myself, mid-afternoon, wandering through the Wallonian countryside preparing for rain in thunderous skies.

It was then, wearing the scallop shell pendant of St Jacques around my neck, that I happened upon a rather rustic sign, declaring the existence of a Galerie Ephemere just ahead, on the rather rustic country road. I thought it quaint and a little peculiar given my location in the midst of the countryside, and thought perhaps it was a small barn with a few nicknacks in a shed.

Imagine my surprise when, somewhat disheveled and windblown, I wandered down a short rough driveway towards the entrance of a bright and ebullient art gallery.

Daniel greeted me at the door and noted, with an artists eye, I was wearing the distinctive scallop shell that denotes those who are on the pilgrims trail to Santiago de Compostella.

He immediately called for Claude to come see this wayfairing stray at their door. Only that morning they had decided to purchase Cockle Saint Jacques from the local market for dinner, something they rarely allowed themselves, given the out of season expence, but they had been on sale and so had decided to splash out on a luxury meal of scallops for the evening.

For an artist of course, meaning is everything, and the synchronistic meaningful connectives, that Jung so ardently championed, were too pronounced to ignore.

I was welcomed in with fits of laughter and merriment, and made to feel at home even before I had taken off my back pack. The conversation flowed freely and there was an immediate rapport between the three of us. Claude acting as a go-between, given my linguistic limitations in French, and Daniels equally, albeit rather braver attempts at English.

It was over the course of the next few days, I would come to hear tales of artisanship, gallery openings, world premieres and various national and international exhibitions, that Claude had run, and in which Daniel had been invited to exhibit.

A remarkable couple, having been married for some 40 years, they have given birth to an egnormous body of work, collaborated with some of the great European artists, and exhibited many new and exciting young talents. Truly they have lived the artistic life, and their children are the works they have born and the artists they have exhibited and inspired.

Quite apart from the remarkable rapport and immense hospitality shown me, Claude, who had inherited the land from her farming parents, had fervently designed and manufactured a retreat for the artistically inclined. It had been her vision to mold the land into a haven of art and nature, allowing fellow artists to seek refuge and comfort, if not great inspiration, in a setting that quiescently settled in the heart, mind and soul, of all those that sought such a place. Was it then mere happenstance that I came upon this tranquil haven, or was there something else guiding our hands, and my feet, on that early spring day in April?

Along with the gallery, which is greatly sought after as an exhibition venue by many of Belgiums finest artists, and to which Claude has had the luxury of being both well booked and discerning, there is an ultra-modern appartment built as an annex onto the art complex for any artist, couple, or indeed small family, or group, that might wish to take solace in such an environment. Surrounded as it is by milking farms, and stands of arboreal splendour. It is a magical environment, and I cannot recommend the visit or farm-stay highly enough.

The local Wallonian townships are easily accessable by foot, bicycle, or car, if you so choose, and the ultra-modern accomodations boast enough room for a small group of up to 3 or 4 persons easily, hot water, excellent shower and ablutions, and modern, brand new conveniances, such as flat screen tv, stereo if so required, and a kitchen facility with electric hob and oven and built in fridge/freezer, make for a fully self contained sanctuary. The quaint  spiral stair case is well lit, as is the entire complex, tastefully so, and offers easy and conveniant access, separate from the rest of the facility should solitude and silence be desired.

There are regular gatherings in the gallery, and although the gallery sports a permanent exhibition, being in demand as an exhibition space, it is private enough for any couple or individual should they wish to take their own space.

Perhaps my greatest takeaway from my all too brief stay with Claude and Daniel, has been the immence kindness, generosity, and sincerity of spirit that flows so naturally from them both as individuals and collaboratively as a couple. They are warm and loving people with expansive artistic souls, and for this wayward traveller they offered comfort and rest after some arduous days in the throes of the southern Wallonian hills.

If you get the chance, take a chance and come and see them, or better yet, stay a little while and feel your spirit swing back into balance once more, free from the hubbub of the bright city din.

And as ever, recognize your coincidences...

;)

Claude Thoirain and Daniel Fauville

ANTECEDENCE/ GALERIE EPHEMERE
Ferme du Pont de Bois
5 Rue Diale Colas
6530 - THUIN
Belgium

email: galerie.ephemere@skynet.be
ph: 00 32 (0) 71510060

(Gallery exhibition: Thierry Pertuisot )

Beneath The Sweet Magnolia

-Beneath The Sweet Magnolia -

I lay beneath the sweet magnolia 

A blossom-strewn carpet 

In a sun drenched evensong. 

How far the road will take you 

If your courage remains, 

and your will is strong. 

Sweet lullaby, 

After aching miles have borne you to the bone, 

Yet laughter and mutual revelry 

Help to bear the load, 

You are not alone. 

- RMP 2018

A Short Walk

Flanders at dawn.

Thank you for joining me on a short walk.

Follow me on a journey from the Netherlands to Santiago de Compostela in Spain, with photo's, poetry, stories, and adventures along the way.

Donations to Charity:Water a superb charity, in which 100% of each donation goes directly into water distribution projects around the world, can be made from the donation link on the left of this page.

Other great links to some of the places I have visited along the way can be found to the right of this page.

'If the walk of a thousand miles begins with the first step, does the walk of two thousand miles begin with a two step?' :)

https://www.charitywater.org