Into the Woods

Brussels is a proper European city-city, with roundabouts and trams and buses, gravel path parks with fountains, lots of cobblestones and narrow streets. It has plenty of human-created opulence like gothic gold-plated spires all over the Grand Place, which has only been destroyed a few times since the 11th century, and the unlikeable Schuman Plaza, which will never last so long. But only a few kilometers from the city center, and only a few blocks from our house, is the massive, unknowable Sonian Forest / Zoniënwoud.

It almost doesn't matter how many hectares I tell you it is because I do not really know what a hectare is for size, but for the record it is 4,400 hectares. Most of it is beech forest, what they call a "cathedral forest", and that is a very good description of what it feels like inside. The trees are enormous, 50 meters high (I also can't picture a meter, exactly, but it is better than a hectare), and mostly around 200 years old because of a reforesting effort in the 18th century after local lords deforested the original growth. Humans! Always deforesting.

But it is much much older than 200 years. It's a primeval forest relict. Humans have known about it since the Neolithic Age but it has been a forest since land was here. The Sonian is all that remains of the legendary Silva Carbonaria, which was as much like Fangorn Forest as ever existed on this earth.

The forest has some parts that are more domesticated than others. There's a place that is an easy walk from a tram stop where you can get frites and beer and sit in the sunshine next to a pond with swans. It's officially named Rouge-Cloître, but Miles and I refer to it as Redwall Abbey because it was a Augustinian priory from the 14th century that originally had walls painted red. It's also full of gardens and vineyards, just like Redwall, and probably has warlike mice living inside too.

But mostly the forest is deep, dark, and mysterious. Because the beech trees are so tall and uniform they create an optical illusion where paths all look the same. Hikers often wander in circles or go up and down valleys without realizing an elevation change. There is also a rumor that GPS devices do not work in the center of the forest, and that magnetic fields interfere with compasses, adding to the spooky reputation.

We get there by walking down the block, past the playground (funny because the local nickname for the playground is "Ceci n'est pas une glace" on account of the confusion of "dames blanches" the dessert with Avenue des Dames Blanches, the street on which the playground resides; also funny because of the history of Magritte in Brussels).

Then through a little path, past the flower farm and sheep field. Then into the forest.

The forest is just a little introductory here; pretty soon the path stops at a fast-moving bike path and to allow for what must be the most beautiful tram ride in all of Brussels.

But then it resumes and there are cobblestones that form a short trail, off of which spring hundreds of footpaths; you can wander into hours of hiking or for the rest of your life. Rouge-Cloître is not far, if you want frites, but if you want to get lost, you really can do that instead. You can get an idea of the scale from this map; the part I've explored would fit within a square inch. Some paths are maintained and have markers and behavior guidelines on them and some are more good luck and maybe see you later.

There's birdsong but you don't see the birds. You don't see any animals, although there are deer, foxes, bats, weasels, and even wild boar living deep inside. They are too wild and too smart to hang out near people. All I ever see are slugs.

It is no joke, the disorienting nature of this forest! I took a little detour and when I retraced my steps I ended up walking past where I had meant to return. My faithful hound was not at all useful in sniffing out our path. I had a brief panic.

It sounded like it was raining but it was only the beechnut shells falling into the leaves over my head. The forest floor is a carpet of beechnuts this time of year.

There are lots of stick structures that you come upon, mostly somewhat near the paths, but sometimes you spy one off deep in the distance. They are a little witchy and eerie when you're walking alone with only a tiny useless pretty dog, but in reality they are probably just Scout projects. I still like them.

To the beeches of Neldoreth I came in the Autumn.
Ah! the gold and the red and the sighing of leaves in the Autumn in Taur-na-neldor!
It was more than my desire.