Having had our fill of picture-perfect Brugge and its innumerable cathedrals, cloisters, and impeccably manicured (and goose-dropping-covered) lawns, we knew it was time to head for the French border. After a quick overpriced tea just off one of the main squares near the periphery of town, we wound our way around the ring for a while before finally finding a picturesque path up the canal to Oostende. We passed a number of private boats (including one rather unimaginatively named "Le Boat") which were cruising up the canal, eliciting the occasional wave or smile from their beer-swilling passengers. Following yesterday's untimely accident (and resulting spill into the ditch), we stopped to readjust Valkyrie's rear pannier rack; it turns out that the crash pried the axle attachment out of place, causing the whole thing to bend. Fortunately, this was easily remedied, as we had preserved the parts that fell off in the process :)
20 km later, the canal path opened up into Oostende and its streets clogged with pedestrians; we obstinately fought our way through the crowds, inching towards...the beach! After biking inland for some time, it was a pleasurable sight indeed. Ear-to-ear grins on our faces and a tailwind at our backs, we made impressive time along the beachfront promenades into Middelkerke, where we stopped for lunch and a glass of sangria each; we then continued on to De Panne. Of course, the promenades did not last the entire way - beachfront property is incredibly desirable, and we were not long out of Middlekerke before we were forced off the beach in behind rows of townhouses and condos that blocked our previously unfettered beach access. Oh well.
As a precursor of things to come, the road from De Panne across the French border quickly degraded in quality - not terribly so, but enough that our bikes rattled visibly with the rough pavement. Then the bike lanes ended, leaving us to join the motorists streaming past us at highway speeds. Despite this, we continued on to Dunkerque in record time, where we thought it might be a good idea to check into a campsite - but alas! in France, campsites do not follow the good wisdom of their counterparts in Danmark or Holland; rather, they shutter their offices promptly at 1800, and are impenetrably closed from 1200 to 1400 for their lengthy lunch break. Dejected, we continued on our way out of town and right into the middle of an enormous industrial park full of smoke-spewing refineries and chemical plants. Gasping and wheezing our way through the heavily abused air, we emerged some time later in Loon-Plage - which was in any event too small to host a campground, so we continued on to the next available one at Gravelines. Naturally, their office was closed as well; this time, however, we had shed most of our misgivings about simply setting up and settling everything in the morning, so we barged on through the pedestrian walkway around the side of the vehicle gates. In our search for a suitable place, we came upon a path leading out onto the beach; since the beaches are, after all, public property, we saw no good reason not to lug our stuff out there and settle in amongst the accessible parts of the sand dunes.
Maybe we had some setbacks - especially in the later hours, after we hit France - but the sunset made up for it!