The proportions of the lift at Strépy-Thieu are such that only way really to appreciate it’s enormity is to enter the thing, to be swallowed like a tiny minnow in the belly of a whale, to be transported up the twenty-five storeys give or take, before being spat out on that upper level without ado.
We thought it might be nice to allow the other two to discover that for themselves, and perhaps while we were at it we also thought, a repeat of our excursion on Sunday last, drifting down the historic canal with its ancient lifts could be a pleasant way of at least taking the edge off the heat for part of the day.
Sharing that experience with good friends added to that pleasure, and sadly the six hours that the adventure consumed seemed to pass in a flash. It left us strangely drained though, or perhaps it was the dry roasting breeze that had sprung up. Whatever the cause, we spent the balance of afternoon lounging in the deepest shade we could find, awaiting the promised change.
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