All's well that ends well...

Day 3. We stayed in Belgium last night, in a really great campsite. The boys went for their first ride together, and after playing our own version of supermarket sweep (to get together something edible – and drinkable – in about 7 mins before the shop closed).

We headed back towards Paris so that I could meet up with Erin today. Our trusty GPS led us to the nearest highway on ramp.....and it was closed for roadworks. Shit. Recalculating route.....recalculating route..... for an hour. We finally thought we'd found it and then realised we're headed down towards an overpass with a clearance of 2.9m. We're 2.85m high. Too close to risk. Shit. So we reversed back up the road, with Graham herding traffic around us. Well over an hour after we left we finally find the highway in the direction we need.

We were headed toward Ypres – a Belgian town integral to the Allied efforts in WW1. Home to the Menen Gate and not far from the Australian and New Zealand monuments. There are 54,896 names inscribed on the Menin Gate. The number of Commonwealth soldiers with no known grave. It was inconceivable to us.

Graham got done by a gypsy – Graham 0 – the gypsies 10 euros. Shit.

We went up to the Australian monument and Polygon Wood cemetery – an actual WW1 cemetery, with the tombstones haphazardly placed where the men could be buried. German and Allied soldiers buried within metres of each other. Who shot who first? Some of these boys are 19 and 20 – others are our age. How lucky are we to be able to live a life as we please?

We jumped back in the van and that's when it started. Next to the Polygon Wood cemetery there was a small farm. There were 2 goats and a donkey in the nearest paddock, and no sooner was our door closed that they began chasing each other around the paddock. They were really going for it too, their back legs sliding out on the corners. We watched, as the donkey stood still for a second too long, and the goat jumped on his back. A couple more laps and the donkey got tired. He was done for the day. The goats kept fighting for a while, and just as another group of people arrived, they returned to eating the grass in the paddock like regular farm animals. I'm not sure the other group would have believed us if we'd told them.

We got back on the road and crossed the French border with a sign smaller than that marking the ACT/NSW border. It was getting late so we stopped for some supplies – everything we needed for a couple of days. Everyone jumped back in the van and George hit the key – nothing. Shit. He tried again - nothing. Shit. We checked the fuses – they all looked ok at first glance. We checked everything else we could think of. No one discussed it, but we work out later that we were all making mental plans to sleep in the carpark. I couldn't sit there doing nothing, so I got out of the van and started approaching strangers in the carpark for help. Year 11 french didn't cover this.

We found a man who gave George a new idea. He jiggled something under the bonnet and then, as they say – Voila! We clapped and cheered the man – who just stood there looking confused. We were all so relieved.

Such a mixed day – but as someone once said – all's well that ends well.