WW1 battlefields and 100km van Ieper 2026

Tue 12 -Sat 16 May ‘26. DH, RW, PCL, AC, DL, JS

Day 1 - ‘As it happened’ by DL

At 9:15 am Tuesday 12th May 2026 our group of six slightly- retired bunch of friends from the now famous Saturday walking group set off in quiet excitement from Wincanton, the two cars first meeting at the Hunter's Lodge Inn before heading towards the Euro Tunnel.

The journey there was quick and largely uneventful due to good traffic conditions, though there was plenty of chat within the cars - on occasions concerning personal "bucket lists". We made a welcome comfort stop at Fleet Services, which included cake courtesy of Richard.

We arrived at Folkstone in ample time which, fortunately, meant that we could catch an earlier train to France. It's a while since I've travelled "le Shuttle" and I was amazed at how efficient it all was, with Boarder Control being much quicker than anticipated (only marred by a small delay caused by car breaking down as it was leaving the train).

France and Calais were soon left behind as we travelled southeast towards our destination - the tiny village of Sus St Leger. At this point "Walkie-Talkies" came into action and after a few trials and error check- in issues they proved to be very useful, especially once we left the main roads. The roads felt remarkably empty and villages and towns we passed seemed strangely deserted - but very French!

Sus-Saint—Leger is a small very rural village (with a population of under 400) in the Pas-de- Calais department in the Hauts-de-France not too far from Arras and about 20km from the Somme Battlefields. It was in this rural retreat that the "Ye Olde Game" of Shrovetide football was played along the main street of La Grande Rue by Soldiers from Ashbourne,Derbyhire.They were part of the 9th Platoon of C Company, 6th Battalion of the Sherwood Foresters who I believe were on R&R after an arduous period the year before. (The booklets we shared before our trip provides far more detail and I hope an insight to a long-forgotten occurrence played out on the streets on the 7th and 8th February 1916 in Sus-saint -Leger). Before our trip Dave had asked if anyone had a personal connection to events in the Great War to which our respects could be paid. The group knew of my annual pilgrimage to my former hometown of Ashbourne to participate in the traditional game of Royal Shrovetide Football and so I mentioned that the game had been played in Sus -Saint -Leger in 1916 on Shrove Tuesday and Ash Wednesday. Next, we were in the actual village and seeing where it really happened! On arrival we parked near the Church; not a soul was to be seen. I had asked a friend of mine to send an email, in French, to the Mayor of the village in preparation for our visit so that I might present him with a letter from the Ashbourne Royal Shrovetide Football Committee about the event that took place 1916, but alas there had been no reply before our arrival. We walked to the War Memorial in La Grande Rue and wondered if we should place the presentation letter there. By now the second car had arrived and, after a chat, it was decided to knock on the door of the nearest house, to make enquiries about what to do. Dave and Richard took the lead here and once the knock was answered Richard spoke to the couple who answered in French and explained the situation. Although the occupants didn't speak English and our French was somewhat in need of some practise, we managed to come to an understanding and the Mayor was duly phoned. On arrival just a few minutes later (in a pick-up truck) the mayor was a little uncertain of our purpose, but quickly understood our purpose for being there and, duly honoured I presented the letter from Ashbourne Royal Shrovetide Committee which was then placed on the village memorial with two RBL wooden crosses in remembrance of those lads of Ashbourne who played their beloved game in 1916, all those years ago.

In those quiet moments, standing there at the Memorial in what was this very rural, very French village it was hard to comprehend about the events of those two days... who were they? What happened them? Did many come home? Perhaps some long distant relative I know nothing about! At that moment it really struck me what our visit was all about. Returning to the cars, we drove small country roads towards our night's accommodation, avoiding several tractors and fast-moving locals. After a drive of around 40 minutes, we arrived at Sommes Chambres d'Hotes in the village of Hamel.

Having settled in, we enjoyed a very welcome meal before making a sunset visit to the Thiepval Memorial, situated on top of a hill in a vast, open, rolling, agricultural countryside and visible for miles around. Again, it was hard to comprehend the events that took place here 110 years ago, especially with the sun setting and the night clouds rolling in over such beautiful countryside. It was very moving and thought provoking. Each of the group wandered around the memorial deep in thought, stopping occasionally to point out a name or to read the local register of remembered names, paying personal, silent respects. It was very poignant and humbling to be standing there in respect of those unknowns who had lost their lives in the events of all those years ago. A very moving experience. Following a very quiet walk back to the cars we made a visit to a small, very well-maintained cemetery where we could read the head stones and learn about those buried there — including a number from the Staffordshire Regiment and those Known Only to God.

Very close to the cemetery at Beaumont-Hamel was a very narrow, sunken, ordinary-looking farm track ( known as Hawthorne Ridge Redoubt ) which had run parallel to the German Lines and next to "No Man's Land" and where, on Sunday 1st July 1916, many of those soldiers were assembled, sitting, preparing to 'go over the top' and many of whom never saw the sun set on that day.

On returning to our accommodation, all feeling exhausted we and were very soon asleep.

Day 2

After a good breakfast we reloaded the bags in the cars and headed off to the Serres road and dump a newly built vehicular track to reach the Sheffield Memorial Park. Last time Rich and myself visited we had to park by the roadside and walk the 15 minutes to the area on top of a ridgeline. The sky was bright but with a very cold easterly wind we were very happy not to have walked up this year. We entered the wood which all forms part of the memeorial site. Back in 1916 there were four woods or plantations along the ridge, nicknamed as Matthew, Mark, Luke and John. Just inside the tree line is a modern memorial to the men of Accrington, a unit formed predominantly of young men from the same Lancashire town, who became known as the Accrington Pals. Other memorials in the area also recognise PALS battalions from across Yorkshire and Lancashire, including my home town of Sheffield. Despite the cold we went down to the Cemetry at the bottom of the reverse slope, where trenches and sheltering holes would have housed hundreds of men before the whistles blew that fateful morning.

A short drive (via the accommodation to collect Dereyks forgotten coat) and up to Newfoundland Park, a memorial area where the commonwealth forces trenches were less than one hundred metres from the German ones. The grounds are immaculately maintained by the Canadians, and groups of young adults spend four months at a time at this and other Canadian memorials across the Western Front, acting as hosts and tour guides to the many visitors. We all went to the central memorial which consists of a path up to a large bronze Caribou, which looks out across the former battlefield. The trench lines are clearly visible and I pointed out the route to walk around the park whilst I went and rested in the visitor area. Unfortunately half way around the park and at the furthest point from shelter, the heavens opened and absolutely soaked anyone out there.

With some wet trousers we then got back in the cars for an hours drive north to another Canadian memorial on Vimy Ridge. Again the route took us through the French countryside and tested our skills at negotiating a diversion which was not particularly well signed. We went straight up to the hill top and made our way out to the massive memorial which can be seen or miles. Then hoping to be able to get a coffee we headed back to the visitor centre for a look at more information about the surrounding area and the loss of thousands of Canadian lives.

With no coffee we continued our journey northwards and on the Lens ring road managed to come across a road side bakery where we enjoyed trying out our French once again, in a area where English is clearly not spoken by most. After a selection of pies and pizzas and some warming coffees, the next stop was Ploegsteert, where we were all a bit disappointed with the Plugstreet 14-18 Experience (The tommies anglicised a lot of the strange sounding town names and areas) although we ere moved by the circular Memorial to the missing, which contains the names of at least two Victorian Cross recipients.

We also stopped briefly at a memorial to the Christmas Day Truce football game site, a further more dramatic representation of the moment before kick of and then at our last stop before Ieper we paused for a few moments of reflection at the Pool of Peace, a TocH owned flooded mine crater on the Messine ridge line.

Ieper/Ypres/Wipers

Our first view of the town was driving over the moat and under the Lille Gate before making our way over the cobbled streets to the Cloth Hall and then around to the rear of it to find accommodation for the next three nights. We found the SaBBajon quickly and Jo quickly made us most welcomed a nd confirmed the breakfast time for the morning. and after unloading our bags we moved the cars to the free parking zone. The rooms were all a good size and once the single beds had been separated we headed out into town for the evening service at the Menin Gate. As it was my birthday I had placed an email bid to say the Exhortation at the 8pm daily event but unfortunately did get the gig as a Lt Col with personal connections to WW1 was chosen to say it. After the service went to one of the restaurants in the square for a tasty evening meal.

Day 3 or Day 1 of the 100 km walk

Jo provided a wonderful continental breakfast with croissants, rolls, cheese, meats and home preserves as well as yoghurts and cereals and pots of tea and coffee. Suitable fed we headed off to the Fenix sports centre to pay and collect our cards for the three day international walking event. This is the 54th year of the event, started in the 1970s bay aBr itish Army Officer. We had opted for the 10km loop which took us away from the stadium, past the ‘magic tap’ and out into the countryside. Despite some initial rain by the time we reached the large Apple orchards the weather had improved and the cold wind from the Somme had died back significantly. We reached the village of Zillebeke and somehow missed the first refreshment stop, so continued out to the east and climbed gentle towards the area of hill 60. We managed a brief stop for cake and water (and a portable loo) and set off again just as a short hail storm came through. Thankfully we were soon into a wooded area so missed the worst of it. It had been a steady climb but when we reached a road it was all downhill back into Zillebeke where we stopped outside for coffees. The walk bank into town was then around the southern edge of the Zillebeke lake, and into the nature reserve after another brief stop for ice creams. We crossed the main ring road near the Lille gate and followed the moat back to the Fenix, where drinks and a barbecued sausage roll provided todays lunch.

After our 10km walk which turned out to be more like 12 Kms we briefly stopped at the grave of Wincantons Captain Liebert where John planted a cross, before heading back to the accommodation to get changed ready for our afternoon itinery.

Passchendaele Museum at Zonnebeke - a great couple of hours touring this wonderful museum and the replica trenches.

Tyne Cot - the biggest Cemetry on the Western Front with over 12,000 graves and over 30,000 names of the fallen on the walls. A very emotional visit.

Harry Patch memorial at Pilcombe Ridge & German cemetery at Langemark

Mayors Reception in the Cloth Hall following the parade and service, lead by the Ieper town band which included the playing of the National Anthems of both the United Kingdom and Belgium.

A quick beer (for some) before we headed to a Chinese for our evening meal.

A personal reflection by Phil:

When I asked my dad if I could have a party to celebrate my eighteenth birthday he replied: ‘I had call up papers for mine’. My father was deeply affected by the Second World War. His brother (my Uncle Ronald) was killed on HMS Royal Oak in Scapa Flow on 14th October 1939. He had just turned 20 earlier that month. My dad’s own experiences during the war led to him being invalided out after suffering from a breakdown.

Although he very rarely mentioned his brother or his own experiences dad did talk often about war, its horrors and futility. He had little time for remembrance services, partly I believe because they brought back too many bad memories but also because he felt that nothing had really changed and wars continued to be fought throughout the world. In his later years he joined the Religious Society of Friends (Quakers) who are of course well known for their pacifist stance.

It is from this background that I joined the visit to Ieper. It was the scale of the loss of life that struck me first. The Thiepval memorial having some 72,000 names of men with no grave who fell in the Somme. It was not until I got home and spoke to my brother that I found out that my Great Uncle’s name is on that memorial.

Next, I was struck by how little ground on the battlefield was gained for such a huge loss of life, how little value those in charge gave to the lives of those under their command.

The visit to Poperinge was particularly moving. Here we read the following poem by Edwin Mortier in front of the post to which 17 soldiers were tied before being shot for desertion:

Light, bleak dawn.

The worn-out night bursting open in my chest and fading.

My hands holding the glass - my last one

The priest bringing his god, the doctor and his opiates.

Mother of God.

Out there she’s warning her feet against the coal.

Out there she’s turning in her sleep.

Do not aim at me lads.

Aim at the white cloth on my chest.

Light, bleak light etching words, bare words in walls.

Despite the historical horrors of war around Ieper, I was heartened at the mayor’s reception to hear that the town considers itself to be a town of peace. There are many references to the words of veterans as a father of three sons who would all have been of an age to be in the front line, let’s hope that the world soon takes heed of their words.

“Maintain peace. Nothing can be gained by warfare. Settle disagreements rather than go to war over them because one war brings another...”

Harry Boyce Canadian veteran of the Great War - Advice to future generations speaking in 1996 at the age of 103

Day 4 and Day 2 of 100km

Todays walk started with some confusion over parking and Adrian’s boots in so much that by the time we set of over the moat and around the ramparts, Phil felt he had done a kilometre further than everyone else already. Day 2 is the traditional walk into the hills of the French border with available distances up to 50kms. Sensibly we opted for the 12km which took us out through the railway station and out to the western side of town. It was a very level walk and followed paths and cycle ways out to the village of Dikkebus, where we had our first stop at the lakeside cafe.

Photos of Dikkebus, map day 2 etc

Popperinge, Talbot House and Shot at Dawn - RWs reflections

After witnessing such overwhelming memorials as Thiepval , Vimy Ridge , Tyne Cot and the Menin Gate and a number of smaller cemeteries marking the graves of thousands of individuals , we asked ourselves how the soldiers could sustain such terrible conditions and relentless exposure to death and destruction. What relief did they have from the squalor of the trenches and the pitiless bombardments and attacks which randomly killed or wounded their comrades.

We drove into Poperinge , now a peaceful attractive small town in rural Flanders which had the fortune never to have been overrun in the course of the Ypres campaigns. In the period 1914 to 1918 it was a hub for billeting soldiers behind the front lines, field hospitals were based there and it became a centre for recreation for troops in between deployment in the trenches. Recreation took many forms and there were no doubt flourishing bars, dance halls and brothels.

Talbot House or Toc H as the soldiers called it was founded by the parents of Gilbert Talbot who was killed in action in 1915. It had a very different aspiration from “entertainment” and was an Everyman House , welcoming all irrespective of rank and providing a calm place for relaxation , reading , reflection and companionship. The presiding host was Revd Tubby Clayton who was an army chaplain. The house remains today as a museum and guest house.

We visited Toc H having been profoundly shocked by the memorial to those shot at dawn by the British Army in the same town. Over 350 individuals were executed in the conflict and we visited two cells where many spent their last hours and read some of the accounts of their convictions and the refusal of senior officers to accept their pleas for clemency. The execution post remains as a bleak reminder of this terrible sideshow accompanying the greatest drama of carnage and sacrifice devastating Flanders in those years.

We entered Toc H via a small museum of memorabilia such as books , type writers , periodicals , pictures and photos with poignant letters home and reminders of Poperinge in more peaceful times. There was a reminder that Harry Patch and other veterans had made pilgrimages to the House in their later years. We then went through to the main house where we were immediately offered a cup of tea and the sort of welcome established by Tubby Clayton and still maintained today. Refreshed , we toured the building which still welcomes overnight guests and absorbed the atmosphere of serenity and healing among the books, pictures, photos and comfortable furniture from the past.

We climbed up a very steep ladder into the attic which remains a very quiet, special place. It was the Chapel and was visited by many thousands in search of encouragement and spiritual support in the time before they returned to the trenches. We were lucky enough to join a small group receiving a very good talk on the use of the Chapel and many interesting artifacts were explained. Most striking of all for me was the wooden cross which marked the final resting place of Gilbert Talbot before it was replaced by the ubiquitous Portland stone headstone. The cross is knocked about and eaten into with age but it defiantly reminds us of courage , self-sacrifice and loss…..

Afterwards, we were able to decompress in the beautiful gardens which lie behind the main house. There are benches to relax on , glorious trees and shrubs to take the eye and birdsong to lift the spirits… we can hope that these provided some comfort to those men in 1915.

    Here is a quiet room.

    Pause for a little space.

And in the deep’ning gloom

With hands before thy face,

    Pray for God’s grace.

from  “The Witness of a Wayfarer to Talbot House” by Rifleman Donald Cox (1917)

 As we left Popperinge we paused at the small village of Brandhoek to visit two of its three cemeteries. In The New Military Cemetry we paused at the grave of Captain Noel Chevasse, a medical officer who risked his own life in rescuing the wooded and was awarded the Victoria Cross on two seperate occasions. Back down the road d at the original cemetery , Richard laid a cross at the grave of Guardsman Spratling, a relative of the Spratling family who still farm in Pitcombe today.

That evening there was just enough time for a bit of gift shopping before our last visit to the Menin Gate service. There was another band who did a moving rendition of the Irish classic Londonderry Air, a tune an English man later added words to and is more commonly known (this side of the water) as Danny Boy. Afterwards another restaurant in the main square where there were some great fish dishes served.

Day 5 - time to head home

After another great breakfast we packed our bags and said a very long farewell to Jo, before driving around to the stadium where we parked almost together on the grass this time.

Todays walk was just 10km and took us to the northern side of town and the vial

He of Poziers. We had seen on our visit to Tyne Cot the way markers already set out for the longer route which would take them over the very ground fought over during the third battle of Ypres in the summer of 1917. All routes headed out past the Menin Gate and along the northern ramparts but when the routes split our shorted leg took us through more modern residential areas and alongside some quiet canals, bristling with life and baby ducks.

Medals

My thoughts on the trip - JS

On the 12^th, setting off for Folkestone, I wasn’t sure what to expect.  Since joining this walking group  roughly eighteen months ago every walk has been different. Quite uncanny, but amazing.

The trip through the Channel Tunnel was only about 30 mins, but very smooth. We were the last vehicle on the train, but unfortunately our disembarkation was delayed because the car at the front had broken down.

Once clear of the train we had a lovely trip to Sus St Leger. This was the site of a war time recreation by soldiers from Ashbourne. In this small village they relaxed from the pressures of war by playing their unique game of Shrovetide football. Deryck had researched this and was eager to present a framed certificate to the local mayor. An e-mail to the mayor didn’t draw any reaction. However, whilst resigned to leaving the framed document at the local war memorial, Red Leaderknocked on a door and with no French, used AI to ask how to contact the Mayor. This lovely family were amazing and rang the Mayor, who promptly turned up to accept the certificate from Deryck. Great result all round and a wonderful start to what I can only call an amazing week, like none other I have spent in my life time.

Like everyone I have visited my share of graveyards, but this was markedly different. The graveyards visited in the Somme  and in the Ypres area had a wholly different affect. There was a sombre air. Thousands of grave stones representing thousands and thousands of people who all served their King and Country, sacrificing their lives in the process. I will never forget this experience

Dave planned the week perfectly with a great balance between remembrance, long walks,  great evening food and much fun.

I was especially taken by our visit to Talbot House. A special  memory. I was particularly taken by the loft converted to a chapel to serve the soldiers resting from battle. I can’t forget the amazing baptism font. It was miniature, but an amazing statement in the midst of battle.

A brilliant time . Where next?