In the morning Greg reported having been woken in the night, thinking that one of the horses had got out of the paddock and had tried to get into his tent.
It turned out to be an insect of some kind, one obviously wearing horse shoes and able to breach the security of his "classic" tent!
Today we will concentrate on Tyne Cot Cemetery, then visit Ypres itself properly, have a meal in the town and be at the Menin Gate for the 8:00pm Last Post ceremony.
After finding out the hard way that this corner (at least) of Belgium, maintains strange opening hours, we will carry our own lunch makings with us.
We took the fairly familiar route to Ypres, through the town and then avoided the more busy N37 route by keeping to the Zonnebeke Road, turning left (north) and circling Tyne Cot to approach from Passchedale (Passendale) and the north east.
Again today it's sunny. There's a pleasant, cooling breeze blowing when we arrive at Tyne Cot and put the bikes onto their stands in the car park.
As you look at the outer (north) wall of the cemetery from the car park, the access to the new visitor centre is to the right. The path is wheelchair access friendly being a gradual slope down to the entrance.
Tyne Cot Cemetery is the resting place of nearly 12,000 soldiers of the Commonwealth Forces, the largest number of burials of any Commonwealth cemetery of either world war.
The dates of death of the soldiers buried at Tyne Cot cover four years, from October 1914 to September 1918 inclusive.
Owing to its size, Tyne Cot draws many visitors, sometimes by the coach load so it's likely that you will not be alone here.
When approaching the new information centre, try and find some space to be alone. Keep your ears open and you will begin to hear a list of the dead by name, age and date of death being read out.
It isn't your imagination. Although the voice truly does sound as though it is that of an angel, it is a continuous recording that is conveyed to the approach via hidden speakers.
The visitor/information centre is a modern building. Inside are some personal effects of those who are interred here. Some accounts and photographs, such as the last letters home, the telegrams notifying next-of-kin and in one case a family group photo of four Australian brothers, all of whom are either buried here or whose names are on the Menin Gate as missing, must touch even the most hardened heart.
"We can truly say that the whole circuit of the earth is girdled with our dead. In the course of my pilgrimage, I have many times asked myself whether there can be more potent advocates of peace upon earth in the years to come, than this massed multitude of silent witnesses to the desolation of war."
King George V, Tyne Cot Cemetery, 11th May 1922.
The whole time that you are in the building, the list of the dead continues to be read out. On one wall as the names are read out, a photograph of the named soldier appears.
I don't want to find out who owns the voice that you can hear, whoever she is, she is perfect. I defy anyone to listen to her and see the faces as they appear and still keep a dry eye.
It was quite mesmerising, standing there seeing the faces and hearing their names read aloud. I had to make an effort to drag myself away.
Outside, I sat for a minute or two alone and collected my thoughts. I was glad of the solitude.
I think that Greg and Ryan also felt the need to be alone. I had walked down the western wall of the cemetery. The wall is low enough to be able to take photo's of the graves laid out row upon row.
I walked the length of the wall to the south wall that has the main entrance, sat and waited for the others.
Ryan appeared first. He too had walked down the path alone. He had reached me before Greg appeared. It's definitely a place where being alone for a few minutes allows the visitor to try and grasp the numbers, to comprehend the scale of human losses.
Looking back towards Ypres, across what was once the battlefields of the Ypres Salient and Passchendale, I could make out the Kemmelberg where we were camped.
Tyne Cot is huge. Not only are there nearly 12,000 Commonwealth dead here, the site also contains some of the German block houses and bunkers that many of those who lay here lost their lives attacking. The walls at the northern end of the cemetery also record thousands of names, the missing whose remains often still lay out there in the quiet fields of Flanders. Some are still being found. Only in the past month, three Northumberland Fusiliers were found. One of them has been positively identified. One more name that can be removed from the Menin Gate.
At Tyne Cot, the Cross of Sacrifice stands on the remains of a German block house.
The irregular spaced graves near the Cross are the original burials before Tyne Cot was extended.
The panel beneath the cross records:
THIS WAS THE TYNE COT BLOCKHOUSE CAPTURED BY THE 3rd AUSTRALIAN DIVISION 4th OCTOBER 1917.
Here is one of the German block houses that are within the cemetery grounds.
Each panel between the flint-sets list the names of the missing.
In addition, there are circular recesses that continue the lists of names.
The names are listed by regiment and corps.
These are New Zealanders. People making the long pilgrimage have left individual RBL poppies attached by Blu-tac next to their relatives names.
I took the opportunity to place the last two RBL crosses on the graves of unknown soldiers here in Tyne Cot.
I know that I've said that the smaller, out of the way CWGC cemeteries are the best places to visit, that the large cemeteries often numb the senses by their sheer scale but Tyne Cot is worth the effort.
Pick the right day and you can still find relative solitude as you walk between the headstones. Reading names on the headstones is, for me, an act of acknowledgement to the dead. It is impossible here to read anything but a tiny percentage of their names. Given the numbers, I'm sure that those whose names are not read by a visitor would not begrudge the omission.
If you are in the area, make the effort but allow at least two hours to take in the information centre and the cemetery.
More coaches were arriving as we made our way back to the bikes. The people they were carrying were Belgian and French. Although this is a Commonwealth cemetery, a glance at the nationalities of the coaches and cars in the car park reveals that British registered vehicles are about 50% of the total. The remainder are Belgian, French and German too.
It's quite humbling that this place is visited by people other than those who have some immediate connection to the dead laying here. The same was true of the US cemetery at Omaha Beach in Normandy when I visited last year.
We left Tyne Cot and headed back towards Ypres via Zonnebeke, where we turned off towards a likely picnic spot on the edge of a wood.
While I got the makings out, Greg and Ryan went deeper into the wood to get a better view of a memorial that was peeking over the top of some bushes. They returned and reported that we were on the other side of the Polygon Wood cemetery that we'd visited the previous day. So we were in Polygon Wood.
Unfortunately, while in the wood, Greg discovered a bite or a sting on his right arm. Something had gone up the sleeve of his jacket while riding and tried to eat its way out. Soon it was further discovered that the insect had somehow got around to his back and done further eating! This was to give him a problem in the next 24 hours.
Lunch was served.
Hot dogs!
Greg had to be persuaded to have both mustard and ketchup on his but he was converted!
After lunch we attempted to resume our return to Ypres. Getting back into Zonnebeke wasn't a problem but we found that we were now in the midst of the "Tour de Belgium" cycle race or time trial.
There were hoards of lycra clad men with an absence of hair on their legs, head down and arse up, pedalling with suicidal intensity and a complete disregard for their and any other road users safety. Sorry but it's a pet hate of mine. Why cyclists the world over believe that they are both immune to injury and totally oblivious to other road users, especially once they don lycra and shave their legs, is something that I cannot comprehend.
We were forced into a temporary one-way system that meant we had to retrace our route through the cyclists until we were able to regain the main road back to Ypres. The temptation to stick out a large motorcycle boot, open the throttle and send the cyclists into the nearest ditch was difficult to overcome. Only the the thought of such action possibly delaying a cold beer in the main square of Ypres stopped me!
We re-entered Ypres through the Menin Gate.
This is the way in to Ypres from the Menin Road.
The restored Cloth Hall dominates the town.
In early 1915, the town was pretty much intact. The Cloth Hall was the centre-piece of the town, built and paid for by the local lace and cloth industry for which this part of Flanders was renowned.
The proximity of the Front meant that the town increasingly came under bombardment by German artillery. This wasn't an act of aggressive wanton destruction alone. Of course the town was a confluence of roads that permitted the Allies to bring up men and materiel. It was what would nowadays be called an act of interdiction to shell the town and the roads through it.
Within a few months, the shelling was bad enough to cause the local authorities to order the town evacuated. At first there were numbers of locals permitted to stay to safeguard properties and to fight the inevitable fires but the shelling became so intense that even these were ordered to leave. Effectively the town was abandoned to its fate. That fate left it almost completely ruined by the time of the Armistice in November 1918.
All that still stood of the Cloth Hall was the archway beneath the central tower. After the war, the decision was made to rebuild Ypres as it had been and avoid the temptation to build new.
Those of us who have come later to Ypres have to be grateful to those who made that decision and who saw through the difficult task of reconstruction. The town is very beautiful. Even the introduction of the motorcar hasn't spoilt it at all. There are some streets near the square that if you removed the few cars in evidence and photographed them in monochrome or sepia tones, you'd be hard pressed to tell them apart from pre-war photo's.
We parked the bikes just to the right of the Cloth Hall and sat enjoying a cold beer in the warm afternoon sunshine.
This seemed to be where the bikes parked as there were a few present when we arrived.
While we were enjoying a restorative cold beer, I heard the familiar sound of a Boxer engine.
A two-valve Boxer at that.
I looked across and saw this combination arrive. The 'chair' was huge!
The rider got off the machine and turned out to be quite a petite female.
Just as well the 'chair' was large because a veritable man-mountain emerged from within!
Honestly, he was at least six feet four and a build to match!
(Not too sure about the colour scheme but in case the passenger had chosen it, I wasn't about to voice my opinion!)
The restored Cloth Hall houses the 'In Flanders Field' museum. With our beers consumed (Belgium is known for good beer and we were not so far disappointed), we wandered around to the entrance.
The museum closes at 6:00pm and last entry is at 5:00pm. Entry is a few Euro and worth every cent!
It's not a large museum but it's a gem. The exhibits are good, the interactive elements are involving, the layout is logical and the exhibits are in four languages; English, French, Flemish and German.
Ryan and I were outside before Greg because we had waited to see a film exhibit with English commentary (it rotated between the languages). Greg had returned to watch it before leaving. We sat on the warm cobbles and waited for Greg to re-emerge.
Unfortunately, I picked the only bit of freshly discarded chewing-gum on the square!
This requires some surgery back at the bikes. Of course Ryan decided to capture the moment for posterity!
We were taken by this.....
Obviously it's a bronze model of the Cloth Hall. Look closer and the two bronze panels on each end of the plinth are Braille!
The model is designed to allow the unsighted to run their hands over it and gain an image of the building.
I have never seen this sort of aide to the unsighted before. I have to wonder why a similar model isn't prominently placed outside every great building?
I am moderately ashamed to say that until I saw this miniature, I had never considered the fact that unsighted people probably have no concept of the dome of St Paul's. It's not that they just cannot see it, they have no terms of reference regarding its context either.
We had some time to wander up to the Menin Gate and look closely at the panels before dinner and before the visitors gather for the Last Post.
The Gate from within Ypres itself.
The Menin Gate has just under 56,000 names of those 'missing' who had fought in the defence of Ypres between the outbreak of the war and August 1917. Not all the names would fit on the Gate so another 35,000 are on the panels at Tyne Cot.
The Last Post ceremony started in 1927. Apart from the years of German occupation in the Second World War, the Last Post has been played at 8:00pm every day since. The ceremony is performed by members of the local fire brigade, police close the road to traffic and salute during the playing. Local residents still open their doors and stand in their doorways as a mark of respect and thanks.
We wandered back to the main square, only about 800 metres from the Gate and found a table in the Vivaldi restaurant's al fresco dining area. Here we sampled some Belgian Dark Beer while we perused the menu. It's an experience!
The food at the Vivaldi went a long way to improve my views about Flemish gastronomy and the service, especially that provided by a very attractive and attentive waitress went a long way towards undoing the damage done in the Sanctuary Wood museum cafe.
While we sat and ate diner, a steadily growing flow of people headed towards the Menin Gate. There was also a contingent of British Army Boy Soldiers (from the newly re-instituted equivalent of Junior Service after a hiatus of some years).
These lads were obviously fairly 'new' because they were still having to call-out the time when they performed any drill movements.
This was obviously some kind of visit intended to instil a sense of history and continuity into them. I was a little bit disappointed that they were dressed in Disruptive Pattern Material (DPM). I considered it too informal for such an occasion but then I'm bit of a dinosaur!
I thought I was probably being overly critical, coming as I do from a time when discipline and standards of turnout were much higher but Greg, who has no such experience, commented unfavourably too.
He was particularly unimpressed by the attitude of the staff who did not set a good example in their own standards and behaviour.
The young men were to lay some wreaths. There was little or no solemnity displayed by the staff who seemed to treat the whole thing as some kind of "jolly."
I had to agree with Greg. I accept that these youngsters own turn-out and drill had to start somewhere but the staff should have been among them, quietly reminding them of why they were here and the links between themselves and their predecessors who lay in the many CWGC cemeteries all around here. Instead the staff were sometimes to be seen clowning around with the young men and each other.
Greg was surprised by the numbers that had turned-up to see the ceremony, he hadn't anticipated that a clear viewpoint wouldn't be available without being there early!
The only way to get a photograph from our restricted viewpoint was to raise the camera and hope for the best.
After the Last Post was sounded, the youngsters laid some wreaths.
On the left of the photo is a Piper. He played the lament "Flowers of the Forest" beautifully while this took place.
This was another very moving moment. There were a few damp-eyed among us by the time the ceremony ended.
We returned to the bikes. Some Royal British Legion members spotted the RBL badges on my panniers and nodded a hello as they past us.
We re-negotiated the Ypres cobbles and headed back to the campsite on the Kemmelberg. Incidentally. Kemmel and the 'mountain' escaped the ravages that struck Ypres and the surrounding area until Spring 1918, when the Kaiserschlact, the last gasp German offensive, intended to deliver a knockout blow before the US forces impact could be felt, swept the Allies back. There are some CWGC cemeteries around Kemmel. Sadly we didn't have an opportunity to visit any of them on this trip.
Well that's the short 'Great War Tour, 2007.' All that remains is to pack-up in the morning and head back to the Channel Tunnel and home.
I will post a short report on the return trip but this is the end of the trip effectively.
For me, I have the prospect of the ride home, then less than twenty-four hours to get sorted out and set off for a two week trip around Morocco but that's another report altogether.
Feel free to leave any comments, particularly point out any factual errors and typo's you may spot (Greg and Ryan need not bother. All reports regarding the two of you are 100% accurate!).
These were some nice pictures and a great story. It makes me miss being in Belgium.
Posted by: Open Road Biker | January 11, 2009 at 05:11 AM
Mike,
I have now retired to France and have thoroughly enjoyed reading through this blog. Are you still blogging?
Kind regards
Lyall
Posted by: Lyall Cory | May 03, 2008 at 08:16 AM
Hi Mike, a fascinating blog and one of which I am very envious. I will take delivery of my 2004 1200 GS shortly and will be contacting you regarding any future trips you will be making, with a hope that you will allow me as a novice to join you?
Geoff
Posted by: Geoff Harding | March 18, 2008 at 11:41 AM
A lovely commemoration of your pilgrimage.
Best wishes
Jan
Posted by: Jan | November 30, 2007 at 06:20 PM
Hi Mike
Really interesting read.
I went to France on my old Goldwing a few years ago with a friend.
We thoroughly enjoyed our trip around the Somme and shed many a tear during the week while walking around the cemeteries and museums.
Keep up the good work.
Phil
Posted by: phil browning | October 25, 2007 at 05:43 PM
Keep it coming Mike.
Posted by: Dave Wilson | October 02, 2007 at 12:05 PM