i just spent the most amazing weekend in the ardennes, belgium's natural park. after spending a month only seeing cities, it was time for me to escape, to see the stars, to see a river that hadn't been cut into a canal, with straight concrete edges. i was ready to walk on the grass instead of the cobbled streets. i miss the space that new zealand has to offer. i miss my beaches that i had taken for granted. and camping in the ardennes seemed like the perfect idea, and turned into the most perfect weekend. to be able to escape to the forests, to the rivers, to the open air, and to the caves...

i guess caves and i go back to when i was 14, when i had my first opportunity to walk into waitomo, equipped with my orange overalls and hard hat, with lightbulb attached. from then on, i think i have a very special connection to the underground world of caves. there is something so powerful and old, something in the serenity and the grandeur, that causes me to feel compelled to return again and again to that world below where i live. it was at this time that i commented (or as mum would say, 'made a sweeping statement') 'i could live in a cave'. yet it was how i felt. and how i still feel. i always leave a cave feeling refreshed and alive. and so it was high up on my list of things to do, to go and visit the famous caves at han-sur-lesse and once again delve into another world.

the town itself was a huge tourist trap, where you had to pay to use the bathroom, where small (though on reflection, actually quite big) signs with little cartoon characters pointed people in different directions. where safari jeeps carted people up the road to the safari park, and trams transported even more people up to the caves. yet, despite having my picture taken with a parrot on my shoulder, and despite having to wait in a queue that reminded me of waiting to get on a rollercoaster in a theme park, the 10 euros was well worth its weight in gold. we had the option of taking the french tour or the dutch tour. my option? forget trying to translate the history of the caves and fall behind the tour group...

the caverns themselves were huge. perhaps the biggest caverns i have ever been in. towering above my head with a sense of being in control instead of allowing people to take control. the stalactites hung down from the ceiling, precarious in places, yet having hung there for thousands of years, growing slowly yet steadily. the stalagmites crept up from the ground. seaweed-like rock formations folded down from above, and gave me a sense that i had entered a sacred theatre and the curtains were beginning to close on the final act. solitude was all i wanted and i was able to block out the french voice ahead and feel at such peace as i took in the underworld city that surrounded me like no other. at one point very tasteful (thankfully) music came one, reminding me of the mines of moiria, out of lord of the rings. it was all so surreal. giving me the feeling i always get when i return to the outdoors, that there is so much power within the earth.

our first night was spent high on top of a ridge, that involved general hiking and then some scrambling to reach it. there was no way we were going to stay in a campsite that had a wooden arch over the driveway, or where little swings were placed in the centre of a patch of well cut grass. and we were rewarded with the most beautiful sunset, of oranges and pinks and reds filling the sky with such richness and colour that it was impossible not to be overawed at creation and our creator. despite the stars not being nearly as plentiful as those in the southern hemisphere, they were gorgeous all the same, though it was slightly odd for me not to see the familiar southern cross up there. we had a bonfire and cooked beans and ate bread and wathed the crocodile shapes form in the embers.

the second night was spent after a day of walking through the forests, amidst brich trees, all full to the brim with yellow leaves, just waiting for the call of autumn to drop. a bubbling river, literally bubbling up from an underground spring, flowed alongside. finally a river without straight edges!! and a steep cliff face flanked the edge, tilting into the ground, another indicator of how powerful the earth on which we live, is. that night was cold and a heavy frost surrounded the tent the next morning, allowing for the leaves to fall, in waves, raining down upon us. i promise pictures will arrive very soon...

i dunked my head in the water, refreshing though freezing, and used my macgyver knowledge to make a fishing line to try and catch a fish. however he did not seem to interested in the cheese that i was offering. a pity, then again, he was only 15cm long.

overall i think we would have walked around 20-25km, from town to town, through forests and fields, alongside sealed roads and dirt roads, along old abandoned railway tracks, but most importantly, soaking up the natural environment that belgium has to offer.

i feel at a loss to describe more accurately the beauty of a place that deserves better adjectives than those i have to offer. some things cannot be described in words or even with pictures. to be truely understood, one must experience them first hand and discover life outside of what we have grown to accept.