S babi na pláži (La plage de Zuydcoote)

Gravelines

Less than an hour-and-a-half drive just across the border lies the French Gravelines, a small town at the mouth of the river Aa. Completely surrounded by mighty gates, ramparts and canals, Gravelines still keeps rich memories of past.



We parked in the heart of the old town and walked along the river to the formerly fishing village of Petit-Fort-Philippe.






Because of the low tide the boats rested in soft and very smelly mud.

Strolling along the promenade I was most occupied by keeping Maarten away from the omnipresent dog poop.
Yuck!


The cold weather didn’t add much to the beach fun.
And as we continued along the dunes the Gravelines NPP with its grayish reactor domes slowly destroyed the peaceful view.
How depressing!



When we left the beach a rock monument and eroding concrete bunkers hidden in the dunes reminded us of the war past.





While rambling through the lush polder heading back to the fortresses the sky started to clear up and suddenly all seemed to become a completely different world.

More cheerful indeed!