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Packed like sardines at the Wassenaar campsite and how my tent became my home again

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The beehive of Duinhorst

After the grueling trek through the loose sand, I pitch my tent at Camping Duinhorst in Wassenaar. Everything is right here: neat fields, spotless sanitary buildings, friendly people at the reception. Really, that’s not the problem. But this… this just isn’t my way of being.

I notice it immediately. My body doesn’t relax. It’s looking for space, silence, the rustle of leaves, the chirping of birds. Wild camping is in my system now. And when that’s not possible, I look for nature campsites, places that come close to that feeling. Here, that’s impossible.

Caravans and campers are packed like sardines, there’s hardly any privacy. It feels like a beehive, even now in the spring. I hate to think what this is like in the summer, a carnival of crowds and noise. And then the road next to it, the N14, constantly present in the background.

As if that weren’t enough, I also pitch my tent right next to a lamppost. At nature campsites, such a thing doesn’t even exist, so I simply hadn’t thought about it. Luckily, I find my sleep mask in my sleeping bag.

A one-pot dinner and a protesting back

After a simple one-pot dinner and a warm shower, I crawl into my tent early. My legs are heavy and my back is protesting after a winter in which I’ve hardly walked. I fall asleep quickly.

The moment the tent became my home again

And then, somewhere between night and morning, it happens. It’s back. That feeling. My tent is no longer a tent, but my home. I sleep until half past eight, something that’s unthinkable at home.

When I lift my sleep mask, I see to my surprise that the sun is shining.

Lying in my sleeping bag, I make coffee. No rush, no plan. Just that moment. The silence in my head. The sun on my face. The birds singing. The wind is blowing in such a way that the road can’t be heard. Suddenly it feels right again. Here, like this, in my own way, this is why I walk. I stay lying there for hours. Because I can.

Force 5 winds to the Pier

Later, I walk through the dunes and the beach towards Scheveningen. Force 5 headwind, but it feels good: the wind in my hair, the sand under my feet, the wide beach ahead of me. In the distance, I can already see the pier, with the Ferris wheel getting closer, and at The Fat Mermaid, I wait for my boyfriend, a meeting I’m really looking forward to.

Diesel on the highway: coffee stains and the crossing into Bulgaria

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Day 18: The Sultans Trail from Belgrade to Sofia

#flashback: September 22, 2025

Startup problems and an unwanted shower

After two nights of fantastic sleep in my green room in Dimitrovgrad, I set off again in good spirits. At least… that’s what I think. My body just doesn’t want to cooperate and the hills feel like Mont Blanc. It’s amazing how the body works sometimes. Fortunately, it passes after a few hours and I’m walking great again; the more miles I cover, the better it feels. I’m a real diesel—I always need time to get going—but in the end, I still cover over 31 km.

Jogging across the highway

Pretty soon I reach the Serbian/Bulgarian border. There is no special border crossing for pedestrians, so you have to walk along the highway past the booths where the cars stop. Before crossing the border into Bulgaria, I grab a quick coffee, which I promptly spill all over myself. Besides the heat, I’m annoyed because I had just washed everything and I plan to camp for the next few days. As best as I can, I rinse the coffee out of my pants at the restrooms.

Hikers versus cyclists: the battle against the slope

After the border, the road goes up and up and yes, even steeper up, and for the first time in 18 days, I run into someone! Two cyclists on their way to Sofia. We chat for a bit and they continue with their bikes in hand while I push my cart. The path is too steep to cycle. I pass them with rapid strides. That’s when you see who the experienced hiker is. It takes hours before they overtake me again.

Bulgarian order and brown autumn fields

The landscape is green and varied, and I’m enjoying the views. It’s another hot day, but the breeze is somewhat cool and there’s regular shade, so it’s manageable. When I arrive in the village of Dragoman, I’m slightly surprised. It looks tidy here, with straight sidewalks and far fewer dilapidated houses and trash on the streets.

After this, the landscape changes from green to brown. I walk through rolling fields where sunflowers, wheat, and corn stood not long ago and where the grass was still green. Still, it’s beautiful; it perfectly signals the end of summer and the preparation for autumn and winter.

Hammering pegs into the hard ground

It’s not easy, but eventually, I find a flat spot to camp. The pegs are hard to get into the ground, but with a stone, I manage bit by bit; my tent is solid as a rock.

Five sheets of paper and loose sand: my new life begins

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Detoxing from office life

Two weeks have passed since my farewell at work. Strange weeks. First, the overwhelming fatigue, as if my body finally dared to let go. Then the detox from office life, and to be honest, that process is still in full swing. At the same time, the realization is slowly starting to sink in: this is no longer just an idea, no longer a plan for “someday.” Soon, I will truly step into my new life. As a hiker. As a writer. As a nomad.

Sharing highs and lows in a tacky outfit

Remarkably, just two days after my farewell, I was back at my old workplace. Not behind my desk, but in the middle of a party, dressed tackily according to the dress code, for a colleague’s retirement. I had helped with the organization, so letting go completely wasn’t quite possible yet. And that was actually quite nice. It softened the goodbye. I won’t miss the work, but the people… that’s a different story. For more than ten years, we shared our highs and lows. Births, losses, illness, happiness. Life, in all its facets, compressed into one team. You don’t just leave that behind.

Five sheets of ‘to-dos’

At home, my to-do list hangs prominently on the wall. Five full sheets of paper. No app, no neat little checkboxes, just paper, right in my face. From managing subscriptions to finishing my website in three languages, from sorting out gear to clearing out my apartment. Sometimes it feels like I’m dismantling my old life piece by piece to make room for something new.

Like a pack mule through the dunes

Last weekend, I needed some air. I went to Scheveningen to catch up with my oldest friend—nearly 45 years of friendship. Incredible, really. We’re getting older, but some bonds never wear out. I turned it into a little adventure: via Katwijk towards camping Duinhorst in Wassenaar, along the Dutch Coastal Path.

And there I went. Through loose sand. Like a pack mule. Dragging my Wheelie behind me. Every step a small struggle. And somewhere halfway through, doubt kicked in. Am I really going to do this full-time soon?

Of course, that’s nonsense. Fitness will return, but my wintry, comfortable life was making itself felt. Doubt or not: this is what I’ve chosen.

And this is only the beginning.

A little gift in Dimitrovgrad: rest in a cool cocoon

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Day 17: the Sultans Trail from Belgrade to Sofia

#throwback September 21, 2026

Sleeping in the last century

I arrived at the guesthouse in the pitch dark yesterday. For a moment, I thought I’d found the male version of landlady Sanja, but luckily that wasn’t the case; we could communicate in German and he even managed a smile.

It feels like I’ve ended up in the last century; everything is very old and dated, but it has its charm. I’ll take the fact that the shower only gives a few trickles and the temperature is hard to control, because the bed is truly excellent. The room has no AC, but it’s lovely and cool. The walls are almost a meter thick and my sleeping quarters only have two small windows, intended just to let light in—you can’t see outside, so it feels like a cozy cocoon.

Pure luxury: in bed until eleven-thirty

After three days of hiking an average of 30 km in the blistering heat, and lured by the perfect mattress, I decide to roll over and stay put when I wake up. I’m giving myself a rest day as a gift. I stay in bed until eleven-thirty. I make coffee, text, read a bit, and doze off every now and then. What luxury!

When I go outside, I hit a wall of heat—what a difference from the cool room. It’s a cloudless day and by twelve-thirty it’s already sweltering. I’d better head out very early tomorrow to beat this. Finding a restaurant is quite a task. I walk around for a while but can’t find one. There are plenty of shops and fast-food joints, but today I really want a good meal and a nice place to sit down.

Google Translate and a Michelin experience for a pittance

On the map, I see there’s only one restaurant in Dimitrovgrad, but one is enough. They only have a menu in Serbian and I can’t make head or tail of it. Google Translate makes things a bit clearer, but the translation is abysmal. No matter, I eat excellently: a large salad, a meat platter, and coffee and cake for dessert. Converted to euros, all this costs €11.20. I can certainly afford that!

With a full stomach, I take a short walk and pick up some groceries at the supermarket for tomorrow. I take a short siesta, wash some clothes, and happily potter around in my cool green room. This was quite the gift!

The joy of a forgotten Snickers and the curse of the shortcut

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Day 16: the Sultans Trail from Belgrade to Sofia

#throwback September 20, 2025

silence by the river and a second breakfast

At 8 AM I leave Sanja’s place, and she doesn’t even come out to wave goodbye. Her curtains are still tightly shut, but the town of Pirot is already wide awake. It’s a real hustle and bustle, and the little shops are doing great business on a Saturday morning.

The route starts along the Nisava River and it gets quieter and quieter. At first I still run into joggers, but after a while there’s no one left to see, except for a shepherd. After over an hour, I spot a table under a tree on the bank, where I have my second breakfast. I’m hungry again—I often get that way when I’ve walked a lot the day before—and it’s important to give in to that hunger. The fresh bread with typical Balkan spreads (a kind of pâté) tastes delicious. Meanwhile, I write my little piece.

Today involves a lot of climbing. Repeatedly, dripping with sweat, I have to stop for a moment, cursing what I’m doing in this heat and wondering why I’m putting myself through this. I promised myself a break when I reach the highest point. The view isn’t as beautiful as hoped, but there is a tree. The only one in the wide area. I sit down in the shade, happy and for far too long.

Boiled grapes and an echo of happiness

In my bag I find a forgotten Snickers; I bought it a few days ago but completely forgot about it. I let out a euphoric shout that echoes through the mountains—this is pure bliss!

To stay well-hydrated, I snack on my by now boiled grapes every chance I get; even though they’re warm, they still provide sugar and moisture. Besides that, I use powder from Decathlon to turn my water into an isotonic sports drink, which is really ideal in this heat. At least I never feel weak or shaky.

To Dimitrovgrad in the pitch dark

Then I make a huge mistake. I see a slightly shorter route on my map and decide to take it. The climb is incredibly steep and I almost collapse. Once I reach the top, half-dead, I run into an impassable, overgrown path. I have to go all the way back… I could just cry!

Meanwhile, it’s getting dark and my booked room can no longer be canceled. I decide to keep walking instead of camping. I just never expected it to get so dark; I really can’t see a thing, but with my headlamp I arrive safe and sound in Dimitrovgrad, located near the Bulgarian border.

“Bravo!” on the trail and a “one-night stand” at Sanja’s

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Day 15: The Sultans Trail from Belgrade to Sofia

#throwback September 19, 2025

Breakfast at 10 degrees

After an incredibly wonderful night’s sleep in my tent—I was already asleep before 9:00 PM—I head out at 6:15 AM. It’s going to be another hot day, and this way I can cover quite a distance before the blazing sun starts burning me alive.

At 9:00 AM, I arrive in Bela Palanka, where I eat my breakfast at a picnic table; I hadn’t been hungry before then. I don’t last long, because it’s still freezing cold, not even 10°C, even though the mercury will later rise to 32°C.

At first, the town startles me a bit; it looks dilapidated and bleak, but the further I walk, the nicer it gets, and I actually really like the atmosphere. The market is friendly and people are chatting animatedly with each other on the street.

To warm up a bit, I drink coffee in one of the many ‘kafeterije,’ and even that early in the morning, it’s already bustling and cozy. There is a lot of smoke, though, because you can still smoke indoors here.

32-degree heat, 37 kilometers of asphalt, and unexpected encouragement

Today I want to try to reach Pirot; it’s still quite far, but I’ve seen that I have to cover a lot of asphalt, which goes fast. The sun is burning intensely and there’s hardly any shade, but it seems like I’m starting to get used to it. Drink plenty of water and just keep going.

The route is beautiful and, what’s different from usual, when I walk through a hamlet, people shout “bravo” to me as many as three times, even though I’ve become used to no one ever greeting me or saying anything.

I made it! With 37.6 km on the clock, I go looking for Pension Sanja in Pirot. It’s tucked away somewhere and hard to find, and I’m so glad when I finally arrive at my destination with the help of some kind neighbors.

Sanja: The landlady you fear

But then… Sanja is the kind of landlady you fear. She only speaks Serbian and treats me like I’m mentally disturbed. I have to show my ID card. I give her my passport, but she says that doesn’t count. She calls someone and eventually agrees.

“Your bike isn’t allowed upstairs,” she snaps. She doesn’t care that it’s a hiking trailer. Okay, I’ll leave Wheelie downstairs at the bottom of the stairs and take out the things I need for the night. I don’t want to pick a fight with Sanja. Google Translate then translates her question: “One-night stand?”

“Yes,” I say, “One-night stand, please!”

Razor-sharp thorns and the Orient Express: battling the Serbian jungle

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Day 14: The Sultans Trail from Belgrade to Sofia

#flashback September 18, 2025

Sliding through the night

As it turned out, my camping spot wasn’t flat after all and I slept terribly. Might as well get up early then, there’s no point staying in bed. I quickly start enjoying the route because it’s truly gorgeous, but at the same time, I’m seriously worried. Some sections are overgrown with branches and almost impassable. Occasionally the path even disappears from sight, but thanks to the GPS files downloaded on my Komoot app, I luckily stay on the right track. I’m crossing my fingers that I won’t have to turn back because of a dead end. That actually happened to me on the first day of the Sultans Trail, and there’s no alternative route here.

First aid lesson among the thorns

As I plow through another piece of Serbian jungle, I cut myself open on a bush with enormous, long, razor-sharp thorns. Blood is gushing from my arm and… note to self: keep your first aid kit in an easily accessible place! Usually I do, but of course not right when I need it. I could kick myself.

An Orthodox church and a vanished film set

Progress is slow due to the difficult paths, but I still have plenty of supplies and water, so it won’t become truly problematic. While walking through a small hamlet and making some sandwiches on a bench, a French woman who speaks fairly good English strikes up a conversation. She asks if I need water and points out a small church 100 m off the route that’s well worth a visit. You can hear the pride in her voice. Indeed, the Orthodox church is beautiful, and you’d never expect it in such a remote place. Apparently, another 300 m further there was supposed to be a beautiful viewpoint where scenes for the Orient Express were once filmed, but I never found it.

A Michelin-worthy dinner without the rolling

Since there’s no way I’ll make it to a hostel today, I have no choice but to camp. Of course, I love camping and it’s no problem, but finding a flat spot is a major exception here too. This is going to be interesting. Luckily, I’ve now reached an agricultural area with grasslands and fields, which means better surfaces, but even there almost nothing is level. It’s enough to make you feel hopeless.

Almost dark, but just in time, I finally find a spot. I make a quick soup and a salad with cucumber, tomato, and tuna. Hunger is the best sauce, but a route like today’s turns anything into a Michelin-worthy dinner. What’s more, I sleep wonderfully afterwards, without rolling around!

Between grief and a rugged gorge: emotions and a 5-star dinner in the wild

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Day 13: The Sultans Trail from Belgrade to Sofia

#throwback September 17, 2026

A lump in my throat at the cemetery

After a good night in bed number 1, I get up on time and head out feeling fresh. At the cemetery just outside the village, I witness a heartbreaking scene. A couple is working at a fresh grave, hanging a football jersey, framed behind glass, on the headstone. On the tomb is a photo of their teenage son. The woman has to be supported by her husband. I get a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes, thinking of my two incredibly dear friends who both passed away unexpectedly in less than five months. RIP M. (59) and RIP P. (60)

The Sićevo Gorge: beautiful but untamed

Today’s route, through and along the Sićevo Gorge, is truly beautiful. It’s a tough route, but the enjoyment wins by a landslide. The Sultans Trail is being heavily promoted in the Netherlands, but it’s still an unknown and new route, and unfortunately, you can tell. Some sections are difficult to navigate, and I wonder how often anyone even walks here. I heard from a local resident that Serbians aren’t much into hiking. I’m a little worried; I hope I don’t get stuck again and have to walk all the way back.

Sometimes I pass through tiny hamlets, and in the craziest places, you’ll suddenly find something that passes for a little shop. I’m as happy as a child when I score a decent banana; the other two were brown. Fruit always does me good.

My own 5-star restaurant

My plan was to eat in the village of Sićevo at the only restaurant on the map, but it has since closed. So, I buy eggs, tomatoes, cucumber, and more at the supermarket and prepare my meal at a picnic table overlooking the gorge. I’m just turning it into my own 5-star restaurant!

A test lie-down at twilight

I want to camp today—a good goal, but difficult to pull off, unfortunately. I really underestimated that. There truly isn’t a flat spot to be found anywhere, even though I started looking well ahead of time. It’s getting later and later, and twilight is already setting in. Eventually, I think I’ve found a nice spot. Before I pitch my tent, I do a quick test lie-down, and it seems okay. Time for some well-deserved rest!

With a pounding heart and 952 skulls: the many faces of Niš

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Day 12: The Sultans Trail from Belgrade to Sofia

#throwback September 16, 2026

Forty-five minutes with eyes wide open and a pounding heart

“Are you never scared?” a follower asks me. A question I get often. Yes, I am scared sometimes, but not often, and it’s just part of the deal. When I’m alone in nature, I’m actually rarely afraid; it’s among people that I occasionally am. People are simply more dangerous than animals.

At 2:00 AM, I wake up with a start. Not far from my tent, I hear talking. It must be at least four or five people. I’m on the edge of the city at a picnic spot where you’re allowed to stay overnight, and yes, anyone can come here, but what are they doing here at this time on a weekday?

My heart is pounding in my throat as I try to assess if I’m in danger. But what can I do? They’ve sat down at one of the tables and are talking and laughing. It sounds friendly. I hear them opening cans, but they don’t seem drunk. For forty-five minutes (that’s a long time!), I lie there with a pounding heart and eyes wide open, crossing my fingers that they don’t mean any harm, constantly wondering: Why didn’t I walk to the official campsite? Why was I too lazy to walk that extra hour? Eventually, the group gets up and leaves; they’re good folk…

Searching for a bus station in ruins

After this broken night, I head for the bus station—at least, that’s the plan. However, it turns out to be half in ruins. I try to find out where I actually need to be. It’s a struggle; nobody speaks English and they don’t really know the answer themselves. Until I see a few people with suitcases standing at a roundabout near a huge, gaudy statue (monument of Knez Lazar). It turns out to be the improvised bus stop. There isn’t a sign anywhere; you just have to know.

I take the bus to Niš, Serbia’s second city with a rich history. The journey takes over an hour, and I’m glad to be sitting in the cool air, as it has already become quite hot. Along the way, the bus stops twice, and suddenly there’s a massive scramble to get outside. I don’t get it, because the bus only stops for barely 5 minutes, but the smokers’ need for nicotine seems so great that a few puffs apparently provide relief. In this country, smoking is still very much a thing.

Mediterranean vibes and orgasmic cake

Arriving in Niš is a surprise. The city has a totally different atmosphere. The large bus station, which is in perfect condition, is right next to the indoor market, and it’s so nice to walk through it past the vegetables, spices, and eggs. I head out again quickly, though; it’s hard to maneuver my cart with so many people around.

The city of Niš has a rich history and is located on the Nišava river. An old fortress, fountains, and stately statues are, of course, all there. On a terrace, I treat myself to cake from an award-winning pastry chef and indeed, it’s for good reason—it’s orgasmic.

The Niš Cathedral is impressive. Everywhere you look, there are paintings; on the walls, on the ceiling, in the window frames, everywhere. The colors are vivid, and they are narrative scenes. Once again, I’m the only tourist here. The church is mainly visited by local believers, and there are many of them, judging by the burning candles.

Despite the heat, I decide to keep walking on the Sultans Trail to the next town; it’s ‘only’ 13 km and there are no elevation changes. The start of the route is beautiful, miles along the river. I’d love to take a dip, but the current is strong, which is too dangerous. I do wet my hat every now and then to keep my head cool. Still, I start to regret it a bit; it’s terribly hot, and after the path leads away from the river, the stage becomes ugly, passing through busy and dirty suburbs of Niš. It takes me much longer than expected, and it’s a real struggle in this heat of well over 30 degrees. There’s hardly any shade.

A tower of 952 skulls

On my route is the peculiar Skull Tower, a tower designed entirely from human skulls, erected during the First Serbian Uprising in 1809 as a warning to anyone who would rebel against the Ottomans. Today, 59 of the original 952 skulls remain, which were built into 14 rows on all four sides—a bizarre structure.

My booked studio (at €19/night) turns out to have four beds, which gives me some choice stress—which bed should I take? I don’t have to choose the shower; there’s only one, and it’s excellent and more than welcome after such a hot day of highs and lows. It’s all part of the experience. Such memorable moments again on this Sultans Trail.

Sultans Trail Smederevo Saint John Church

Coffee, church, and cocooning: the art of idling in Smederevo

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Day 7: The Sultans Trail from Belgrade to Sofia

#flashback September 11, 2025

Rest

A rest day today!

I booked a room for two days in the town of Smederevo, famous for its massive medieval fortress and the beautiful Serbian Orthodox church. My room, at 20 euros per night, comes with many conveniences, including a television and air conditioning. I don’t use either of them, though; I don’t understand how the remote works and have no desire to figure it out, and cold air is no longer necessary. The temperature has since dropped to 23 degrees.

I sleep in wonderfully late and treat myself to coffee and breakfast in bed. There is no kettle, so I’m very happy with my gas burner, as it still provides for my most basic need… COFFEE! It’s raining outside; I’m enjoying this morning indoors.

Impressive Smederevo

When it dries up around half past twelve, I walk into town to the fortress and visit the church, which is very impressive. Many believers walk in and out, constantly crossing themselves and often lighting a candle. I sense an intense devotion.

Then I go looking for a restaurant; today I want to treat myself culinarily, and I succeed quite well. I have an excellent meal and recharge my energy. After lunch, I walk around for a bit, but I’m actually just longing for my little apartment. The city is quite noisy and busy. Besides, there’s a fair and a market; I’m happy to skip it all and go cocooning in my room.

Figuring out a new route

A short afternoon nap does me good. After that, I write a bit and study the route to follow for the coming week. I won’t be able to walk the entire route from Belgrade to Sofia anyway, so I want to see which less interesting stages I can skip. It’s quite a puzzle; there isn’t convenient public transport everywhere along the route, and it’s also hard to judge what’s best to do. In the meantime, I’ve been in touch with a Dutch team member of the Sultans Trail, who is helping me out a lot and giving great tips. Hats off!

I have nothing more to report, other than that I’m also thoroughly enjoying a day like this. I never get bored anyway, and I’m very good at idling and dawdling without any guilt. More people should do that!