Eye of the needle

At first blush the uninitiated would opine that getting to Dinant, Belgium couldn’t be easier. You just follow the Meuse River and stop when you get there, easy-peasy, but that ignores this:

When your home is a gracefully aging six meter long motorhome, facing squeezing through the eye of the needle can be a little intimidating. We passed the test but I did fold the mirrors in. 

Settled into a shady city lot allowed a leisurely afternoon stroll through this charming city. 

We soon found that Dinant has a passionate obsession with giant brightly painted saxophones.

Turns out that Adolph Sax drew his first breath not far from where we were standing and eventually, in his little shop downstairs, set about fashioning brass tubes into twisty shapes, creating a new instrument. It didn’t take long to hunt down the birth place of the saxophone.

The following sunny morning we were keen to explore the Collegiate Church of Notre Dame with its onion shaped dome under the Dinant cliffs. Maybe a little too under the rocks, because in 1227 a major chunk fell off and comprehensively smashed the small Romanesque church. All but one portal was flattened.

Of course you can’t go anywhere in Dinant without first paying homage to Adolph Sax and his giant saxophones. Eventually the church hove into view, just beyond the Meuse River and, of course, the saxophones.

It’s a pretty thing with an awkward onion shaped bell tower. The North portal apparently is the only thing that survived the…let’s agree to call it “the stoning.”

We had a meeting of the minds last night, deciding that we would find a more civilized method to get up the cliff face to the citadel because of this:

And this was it:

Not for everyone but it works for Yours Truly.

We came for the view but got an unexpected lesson in history. It seems that on this cliff top in 1051, Prince Bishopric of Liège fancied fortifying this lookout rock, which controls the strategic Meuse river far below. Certainly no one would be able to sneak up on you.

By 1815 this “impenetrable” citadel was ready for action, but in 1914 the Kaiser’s boys had just the thing: World War I. 

After being annoyed by the trenches the French built the Germans decided neutral Belgium wasn’t behaving neutral enough and blasted the town into rubble. Then they marched 674 innocent Belgium civilians out and summarily executed them. It was a horrendous war crime.

When next we see that merry band of Germans it is called World War II, and it was Erwin Rommel‘s turn to take the town. Isn’t it funny how penetrable impenetrable citadels can be? Situating a town at a strategic location seems to be an invitation for a lot of grief.

Great view, but we have to go. On the way back to Escape Velocity we happened upon these evocative sculptures that weren’t saxophones.

We’re not looking forward to another squeeze through the eye of the needle.

And here’s one last musical drain grate.