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Thursday, June 27th – Hans-sur-Less
I wake to the sound of rain hitting the window. Last night's storm is still going strong. I check in with myself. I don't have a hangover, or not much of one. I am feeling sluggish and a bit groggy. I look out the window from the second floor and groan at the sheets of rain blowing by. Squeals and giggles from the school children greet my ears. They are irrepressibly happy because they are on their way to see the caves a few hundred metres away - their hot pink, purple, yellow and lime green raincoats reflecting in the sea of puddles on the road, like a spilled basket of animated Easter eggs. I imagine their chaperones trying to stop them from 'sword fighting' with stalactites they have just broken off.
My plan for today was to see the caves early, and then make a 70 km ride south to Boutillon near the French border. The town has been recommended to me several times. It has a large castle perched on a ridge above the town, many medieval buildings and a remarkable youth hostel in one of them. Going there would mean a longer, harder ride to get to Luxembourg but it sounds like it might be worth it. But one look at this heavy rain tells me it wouldn't be. I decide to sit tight in Hans-sur-Lesse today.
I don't see either Angus or Maggie at breakfast. I try to imagine them rolling around in their wedding bed with their own mild hangovers, or perhaps they too are down in the caves or off on some other sight-seeing trip in the rain. There is no reason to hang around longer in the hotel after I have paid for another night. I head off to the caves, hoping that the school kids have finished their tour. I purchase my expensive admission ticket for 
245 Belgian francs and I'm directed to the cave entrance to wait for the next tour. It is more crowded that I have expected, and there are way too many unruly, squealing children in the horde. I return to the hotel to do my laundry and repair the brakes on my bike. I come back for the next tour an hour later. It is not as crowded and there are fewer children. A train takes the group half a kilometre into the caves and from there we break into smaller groups. My group is made up of Poles, Germans and
English-speaking visitors, but our tour guide is French. His guidance is formal and systematic. He is giving us the standard spiel about the discovery of the caves and how caves, stalactites and stalagmites are formed. Most of the group has no idea what he is saying. He has no repore with the group, doesn't ask us questions or even wait until we are all gathered in the next place before continuing his descriptions. I can decipher half of what he is saying but can't be bothered with his disinterested prattle. I hover 
several meters behind the group to enjoy the beauty of the caves without the crowd. The Poles are a group of high school students. The boys show their affection for each other by hanging off their friends' shoulders, putting their arms around each other and giving neck massages. Their closeness is beautiful in contrast to the aloofness of the tour guide. When we emerge there are a dozen busloads of excited school children in brightly coloured clothing waiting, some queued up and others running, screaming, laughing and generally making quite a racket. A teacher tells me that this is the last week of school and school trips are popular since the children won't focus on school work anyway. The buses are filled with seniors who regard the children cautiously. I am the only solitary visitor.
It is still pouring and there are no other worthy attractions in the village. I spend the rest of the afternoon writing, reading and studying my maps. I make plans for tomorrow to head north-east with the prevailing wind, through Roches-en-Ardennes and Houffalize to reach the north end of Luxembourg. There is a youth hostel in the town of Wiltz and from there, if I arrive early enough, I will be able to do a brief unloaded tour in the surrounding areas once I drop off my bags.
It's a quiet evening due to the rain. I have dinner at the hotel with Angus and Maggie, and Emile, a Belgian sculptor working on a statue here in town. None of us are in the mood to get drunk again tonight but we have and great chat and lots of laughs. I get to bed at a decent hour.
PHOTO 1: the chateau, Hans-sur-Lesse
PHOTO 2: church in Hans-sur-Lesse
PHOTO 3: the village of Hans-sur-Lesse
PHOTO 4: the caves
PHOTO 5: more caves
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