The ‘Brooding Soldier’ in Belgium commemorates the Canadian First Division’s participation in the Second Battle of Ypres in the First World War.Christopher Furlong/Getty Images
What strikes me most as I pedal into the village and take a seat overlooking the surrounding landscape is the silence. It’s a late Sunday afternoon in mid-September and aside from a couple of people chatting and the faint sound of a dog barking, you can practically hear a pin drop in peaceful Passchendaele.
Of course, it wasn’t always so quiet here on the Western Front.
I’ve cycled 14 kilometres from my hotel in Ypres, Belgium, to visit one of the many First World War sites in the area. A stretch of the road I follow is called Canadalaan – it leads to the Passchendaele Canadian Memorial, a piece of land marking where the Canadian Corps captured high ground after ferocious fighting in horrific conditions during the Second Battle of Passchendaele, the final assault of the Third Battle of Ypres, from Oct. 26 to Nov. 10, 1917.
More than 4,000 Canadians died in that battle. Another 12,000 were wounded.
It’s a thought-provoking setting. If you look northeast up Canadalaan, you see the rebuilt church at the centre of Passchendaele. If you gaze down a long avenue of trees to the southwest, in the distance you can see the rebuilt spires of Ypres. Pastoral farmland stretches in all directions. It’s hard to imagine that this was once a battlefield of mud, craters and barbed wire that claimed as many as 400,000 lives.
I sit at the memorial, trying to imagine the fear and anguish the soldiers must have felt. Mostly, I try to imagine what my grandfather – Gratton Lemon Lyons – would have seen, endured and carried home with him.
The Passchendaele Museum, on the grounds of Zonnebeke chateau.VISITFLANDERS/Supplied
I never met my grandfather. He survived the war, but died long before I was born – he was just 63, and my father was only 14. My dad rarely spoke of his father’s wartime service, mostly because his father never really did. What he remembered was a man who sat quietly in his living room chair in Vancouver’s east side, sipping Guinness and staring off into the distance – what we now call the thousand-yard stare.
Still, he’s always loomed large in my imagination. My father spoke of his integrity, duty and compassion. I know from records that he fought at Passchendaele in 1917 and earned a Military Medal for bravery at Cambrai, France, in 1918. A photo of him in uniform hangs in my office – a quiet reminder of his presence.
I’ve sometimes placed him on a pedestal, torn between two feelings: that I could never live up to such honour and that I should aspire to be more like him.
I came here to better understand who he was, what he went through and how it shaped not only him, but also my father – and perhaps even me.
Once in a while you land in a place that just feels right. Your shoulders drop, the pace slows and it feels like you were meant to be there at that very moment.
I keenly felt that sense of belonging the first time I visited Ireland – in particular, the city of Armagh, where my grandfather was born. I felt it again when sipping a latte on the patio of a café while gazing at the Grote Markt in Ypres.
What was once a medieval metropolis built on linen trade and production became infamous during the First World War, when it sat directly in the path of Germany’s advance into France. The Ypres Salient was one of the bloodiest stretches of the Western Front – four years of trench warfare compressed into a three-mile radius.
Canadians are warmly remembered here. People lit up at the sound of my accent or when I ended a sentence with our familiar “eh.” “Ah, Canadian,” they’d say, with a smile that felt both welcoming and grateful.
The Tyne Cot cemetery in Zonnebeke, Belgium.FRANCOIS LENOIR/Reuters
One afternoon, I met Steve Douglas, a fellow Canadian who runs the British Grenadier Bookshop. He also gives battlefield tours and founded the Maple Leaf Legacy Project, which aims to photograph every Canadian war grave worldwide. “We want people to be able to see where their relatives are buried – even if they can’t visit in person,” he told me. His conviction reminded me why this history still matters – and why we must keep remembering.
I scheduled three days in Ypres. I stayed eight. I visited many sites that hold a place in Canadian hearts: the Brooding Soldier memorial at St. Julien; Tyne Cot Cemetery; In Flanders Fields Museum, named after the poem by John McCrae; and of course the Menin Gate, where I stood for the Last Post ceremony on four separate nights.
The Menin Gate Memorial in Ypres.FRANCOIS LENOIR/Reuters
During my stay, I also sought out lesser-known sites by bike, or driven by Douglas on a tour. Near Comines-Warneton, a small memorial marks the 1914 Christmas Truce, when opposing soldiers briefly laid down arms to sing carols and play football. At Mesen, the Irish Peace Tower honours Catholic and Protestant divisions who fought side by side – a moving stop for someone with Northern Irish roots. And at Zonnebeke, the striking Brothers in Arms Memorial commemorates siblings who served together.
The Brothers in Arms Memorial in Zonnebeke, Belgium.Nick Mol/Supplied
My ride from Ypres to Passchendaele is a small stretch of the 14-18 Western Front Route, a 100-kilometre cycling trail that follows the old front line through Flanders fields. One of many well-marked routes in the region, it leads from site to site of remembrance – and cycling gives you a much deeper sense of the landscape.
The most memorable stop for me was the Passchendaele Museum, located on the grounds of Zonnebeke chateau. Canada’s role in the First World War is given a lot of attention, with interactive exhibits and a tunnel experience showing how soldiers lived like moles in the mud. Seven remembrance gardens, shaped like poppies, honour the nations involved. The Canadian garden includes plants native to the country, such as lupines and purple coneflowers.
The Passchendaele Museum in Zonnebeke, Belgium.visitflanders/Supplied
The museum’s Names in the Landscape geoportal, launched in 2023, helps identify where 1,400 missing Canadian soldiers fell or were first buried. Visitors can contribute stories, photos and insights.
Years ago, while watching Paul Gross’s 2008 film Passchendaele, I was suddenly overtaken by tears – overwhelmed with gratitude that my grandfather had survived, and that I was even born because of it. Visiting the museum brought all of that emotion back. I felt a mix of pride, heartbreak and disbelief that something so horrific not only happened – but left its mark on so many lives, including my own.
Lately, there’s been talk about what it means to be Canadian. Who are we? What do we stand for? Few lessons in my life felt more meaningful than my visit to Flanders. I left not only more appreciative of the sacrifice made by so many, but more mindful of how I choose to honour that sacrifice – and not just on Nov. 11.
A display inside the Passchendaele Museum.VISITFLANDERS/Supplied
If you go
Ypres is in West Flanders, Belgium. The nearest major airport is Brussels and from there, it’s about 1.5 to two hours by car or train. During your visit, take a walk along the Ypres ramparts. The city’s medieval fortifications offer a peaceful, scenic loop with views over the moat and surrounding countryside.
Rent your wheels at Biking Box. Owner Kurt Titeca knows the region inside out and offers a wide range of bikes, including e-bikes. He also runs guided tours and provides great local insight; three-day rentals range from $90 for a regular bike to $160 for an e-bike.
Hotel Ariane in Ypres is cyclist-friendly with secure e-bike charging, excellent rooms and an impressive private collection of First World War artifacts on display. Rooms start at $250 a night.
Since you’re in the neighbourhood, consider booking a day tour to Vimy Ridge in France. It’s about 75 kilometres from Ypres and makes for a powerful side trip. The memorial is absolutely stunning.
The writer was hosted by Visit Flanders. It did not review or approve the story before publication.