Somehow, we arrived in Belgium without even realising.

A 10-kilometre dedicated cycleway carried us out of Dunkirk. A right turn across a field then onto a canal path and things started to look just a little different.

It wasn’t until we spotted a shop called Asterix selling frites we realised we’d crossed the border. No passport control. No queues. Just another country.

Once you actually pay attention you quickly notice the differences. The houses, the signs, the language! All the things that tell you you’re somewhere new.

The ride into Bruges was a joy. Canal paths almost all the way, with cyclists everywhere. Young and old. Racing bikes, e-bikes, cargo bikes and everything in between. Here, the bike isn’t a hobby. It’s simply how people get around.

The infrastructure is superb.

For the final 10 kilometres we were treated to something we’d been waiting for all day, a tailwind. Suddenly everything felt easy again, and before long we were riding through the medieval streets of Bruges and arriving at our Airbnb.

Bikes unpacked and time to wander the city, find a drink and get our bearings.

We’re here for three nights so we have two whole days to slow down a little, enjoy Bruges, and recharge before we point the bikes north once again.