Sol Entry 3

Camping Druivenland. 08/15/2021 
Leaving Brussels was…complicated, to say the least. After another all-nighter spent packing, it took us over eight hours to get rolling, most of which were spent on the street since the checkout time was 11 AM. Vagabonds, we occupied a nice stretch of sidewalk, and finished packing up. But the hardest thing of all was loading all of our stuff onto the bikes. The 500+ kilos we are lugging with us were unevenly distributed across the four bikes, making it more impossible for some than for others. Since I pull my cello, I can only use side panniers; since I can’t use the space on top of my rack for luggage, that weight has to be carried by someone else. The person pulling the guitar (my mother) is in the same predicament. So in the end, my dad’s black cart was so heavy, it looked like the metal rod connecting the wheels was bending downwards.
All I can remember right now are the giant hills we climbed in the city, the dirt and gravel road we took farther out, and our stop for lunch at the park around the corner of our house with two giant lumps that looked like brick dunes and were perfect for laying out the cookies and the sandwiches. Everyone who walked past us couldn't help but stare. 
Those meager 20 kms to our first camp felt like the longest and most dragged out of my life so far. But we made it, in the scorching sun, set up camp, and cooked our first dehydrated noodle soup beneath the stars.