Despite its size, coming in at an immense 10,920-acres, the fact that it is one of Europe’s largest and oldest beech forests, with trees over 200 years old, or that parts of it are an UNESCO World Heritage Site, words really do fail to give a true impression of the glories of the Sonian Forest. Walking or cycling in the forest is a delight. A sublime retreat from life in Brussels, even if the forest that remains today is a shadow of its former self.
As late as the end of the 18th century, the Sonian Forest covered an area more than ten times its current size. It was home to brown bears, grey wolves, wild boar, red deer and a host of other wildlife, now long gone thanks to human encroachment. For centuries, the forest had been cleared for agriculture, and used for building, cooking and heating, but Dutch King, William I, is to blame for one of the great acts of destruction in the forest.
By 1820, the forest covered an estimated 29,000 acres, which is about the same size as 19,500 football (or soccer, if you prefer) pitches in size. In the decade to 1830, when Belgium became independent of the Netherlands, the forest was reduced to 11,200 acres. It is remarkable that so much has survived in the intervening 200 years. It is just a shame that the modern era has left it intersected by roads and rail lines.
On a sunny but chilly winter morning, I cycled south through Brussels to the former royal estate of Tervuren. This is home to the controversial Africa Museum. Built for the 1897 International Exposition by King Leopold II (the Butcher of the Congo), the museum was to be evidence of his ‘civilising mission’ in Africa. In reality, it served as propaganda to cover-up genocidal exploitation in his private colony.
The museum was later enlarged and has grounds more reminiscent of a palace than a museum. It’s a nice place to cycle. The museum was renovated recently and is an improvement on the museum I first visited 20 years ago. Then, it seemed determined to downplay and explain away Belgium’s colonial crimes. It’s more balanced now, but still barely touches on the horror inflicted upon Congo.
Leaving Tervuren, the route took me through pleasant undulating landscapes. As usual, it wasn’t long before I was cycling up a brutal cobbled hill seemingly last maintained in the 16th century – Belgian cyclists pride themselves on vicious cobbles and hills. I soon found myself in Overijse, where some of Belgium’s cycling greats were painted on a wall.
This area often features in cycle races and is the stomping ground of such luminaries as Eddy Merckx. One upside of this is that villages and hamlets across the region always have a cafe where lycra-clad ‘athletes’ of all abilities can expect a warm welcome and a local beer. In Overijse, welcoming looking cafes sat next to imposing Sint-Martinuskerk, but it was still a bit early so I pressed on towards Hoeilaart.
This area is known as the Druivenstreek, the grape region. For anyone familiar with Belgian weather, the idea that there is a grape region may raise an eyebrow. While there’s a long history of viticulture in Belgium dating to the Romans, the grapes of this region were cultivated in greenhouses not for wine, but as table grapes. The first grape greenhouse was built in 1865 by Hoeilaart’s Felix Sohie. Today, it is a thriving industry.
Hoeilaart is now known as the ‘glass village’, but it wasn’t greenhouses that caught my eye when I arrived. The red and white striped Sint-Clemenskerk sits on a small hill overlooking the town. A 19th century replacement for a 13th century church that once stood in the same spot, it dominates the townscape. From the church I could see the town hall, a former private residence sitting in parkland on a lake.
A few kilometres further, I plunged back into the Sonian Forest and spent an hour cycling on tracks that weave between the trees. In places there was barely any noise except the wind in the leaves and the sound of birds. No wonder UNESCO refer to it as an Ancient and Primeval Beech Forest, it feels old and full of myth and legend.
