Tag: long-distance hike

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.

Sultans Trail Hungary - Serbia Border

The great magic trick and other bumps on the road to Belgrade

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Day 3: The Sultans Trail from Belgrade to Sofia

#throwback September 8, 2025

After a wonderful night’s sleep, I slowly wake up over a few cups of coffee at my hostel’s kitchen table. I feel a lot better.

The metro whisks me away to the bus station, where the bus that will take me to Belgrade soon pulls up. When the grumpy bus driver sees my Wheelie hiking trailer, he mutters crossly, “That trailer isn’t allowed.” I tell him as cheerfully as possible—since annoying him further isn’t a good idea—that I have a magic trick. I skillfully remove the handles and wheels from the trailer, leaving just the body, which is the size of a suitcase. He gives a short nod: “Alright then.” First hurdle cleared!

Seat 20a is mine, which means I’m right at the back of the bus—the spot that used to be for the cool kids during school trips. I’ve finally claimed it for myself. In front of me sits an English tour guide explaining to her followers what they can expect. She has a terribly corny sense of humor, but the ladies find it hilarious; they’re laughing excessively loud. It’s hurting my ears.

It takes us over 1.5 hours to cross the border from Hungary to Serbia. First, we wait on the bus for our turn. Then everyone gets off the bus and lines up at the Hungarian customs window. Then everyone back on the bus. We drive the bus 50 meters forward, where we wait for the next barrier. When it’s our turn, everyone off the bus again and now into the queue for the Serbian window. Only one window is open, and with the less-than-diligent customs officer, it takes forever. Then everyone back on the bus and off we go. Hurdle number 2 overcome, and I have the first stamp in my brand-new passport!

On the bus, I try to get my SIM card with coverage in Serbia working. All Balkan countries are included in my phone plan, but Serbia isn’t. I can’t get it to work, even though it should be very simple according to the instructions. I decide to stay in a hostel in Belgrade; this needs to be sorted out properly, and I’m not sure if I’ll manage it quickly on a Sunday. I’ll just set off a bit later. Eventually, I get it working with an e-SIM. Another hurdle—or rather, a mountain pass—overcome. A huge relief.

Belgrade is a contrast to Budapest. It’s dirty there and the people are curt. This day will go down in history as a bumpy one…

Setting off on a new adventure: the Sultans Trail

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Day 1: The Sultans Trail from Belgrade to Sofia

#throwback September 5, 2025

Exciting: a new route, new countries

Finally. I’ve been looking forward to this so much; my journey has begun. A new route, new countries. On the agenda: a section of the Sultans Trail, from Belgrade to Sofia. About 550 kilometers ahead of me. A beautiful new adventure in unknown places.

I find it exciting. Perhaps mostly because of the languages—Serbian and Bulgarian, written in the Cyrillic script—I can’t make heads or tails of it. It’ll probably all be fine, of course. These days you solve everything with a bit of googling and Google Translate. And yet… those first few days in a new country always make me nervous. I have to get used to things. To the language, the money, the people, the customs. And afterwards? Afterwards, it’s always better than expected.

By train and bus

Because I want to fly as little as possible, I’m traveling by train and bus. Actually, that’s a gift in itself. Slowly disconnecting and slowing down. Especially after an emotionally intense period where I was barely keeping my head above water. This trip feels not just like something fun, but like something necessary.

It is starting with a heavy headache and a protesting body, though. A touch of burnout, perhaps. Hopefully it fades quickly, step by step. The media training from Wandelnet, on the day of departure and something I was really looking forward to, I unfortunately have to cancel; it’s just too much right now. My body is hitting the brakes and this time I’m listening—quite a victory.

The night train to Vienna is an experience in itself. Out of (misplaced?) frugality, I booked a seat. Real sleep is hard to come by, but between the swaying I manage to catch some catnaps. At seven in the morning, a fellow passenger brings me a cup of coffee. One of those small gestures that suddenly feels huge. I’m less tired than expected.

Slowly it sinks in: the holiday feeling. My shoulders feel lighter. My head quieter.

The adventure has begun. Serbia, here I come!

But first: an afternoon and an evening in Budapest, Hungary.

The Sultans Trail is a long-distance hiking trail from Vienna (Austria), via Slovakia, Hungary, Croatia, Serbia, Bulgaria, and Greece to Istanbul in Turkey. It roughly follows the journey made by Sultan Suleiman the Magnificent, ruler of the Ottoman Empire in the 16th century. The total length is approx. 2,400 km and the trail runs through eight countries and eight nature reserves. The path is developed and promoted by volunteers from the Dutch Sultan’s Trail Foundation, A European Cultural Route.

From wage slave to nomad: my path to ultimate freedom

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Footsteps of Freedom: the path to a writing and hiking life

Resignation and cold feet

It’s been quiet on this blog for a while, but that’s about to change. The time is almost here: I’ve handed in my notice.

March 31 is my last day at work, and I hope to officially start my life as a hiking and writing nomad in May. To be honest, I find it quite exciting and get cold feet every now and then, but there’s no turning back now…

Why the best stories happen on the road

During my sabbatical (from May 2024 to January 2025), I discovered that the best stories don’t happen behind my desk, but somewhere on the road, with all my belongings in my Wheelie hiking trailer and wild camping in my tent or sometimes just under the open starry sky.

My best ideas often come after walking miles and miles, far away from everyone.

On this blog, I’m going to share those stories.

And if you enjoy that, you can always sign up for the newsletter. You’ll automatically get a message whenever a new story is published. No strings attached, of course.

A little preview: The heat of the Sultans Trail

Next week, I’ll start a series about a trek I did in September 2025: a section of the Sultans Trail. This long-distance hike runs from Vienna to Istanbul, about 2,500 kilometers long, through eight countries and eight nature reserves.

I walked a part of it, from Belgrade to Sofia. As a wage slave, I didn’t have any more time. But I’m definitely going to walk the whole route one day. This has left me wanting more.

And what a three weeks they were.

Three weeks of heat.

Three weeks of walking through Serbia and Bulgaria.

Three weeks in a world without trail markers, where the alphabet looks different, where churches are Orthodox, where monasteries sit on hills, and where paths were more than once impassable.

Along the way, I met people who crossed my path, I walked sections where the trail no longer existed, and I reached places where time seems to move just a little slower.

Starting next week, I’m going to tell the whole story. Day by day. Kilometer by kilometer.

And this is only the beginning.

What can you expect here?

As I said, I’ve since quit my job. April 1 (no joke) marks the start of my new life (emptying the apartment, final preparations) and I hope to leave for good in May. Where to exactly?

I’ll find out along the way.

What I do know: I’m going to walk, write, and share the stories here. The life of a hiking and writing nomad.

If you don’t want to miss anything, you can sign up for the newsletter. You’ll get an automatic notification when a new story appears. But feel free to choose: you can always unsubscribe.

If you do stay, you’ll be walking along with me step by step.

You are more than welcome.

Note: Just as my path on the road has yet to take shape, this website will also grow with me in the coming period. Soon you’ll be able to read my stories not only in Dutch, but also in English and Spanish. Please be patient; it’s being worked on, along with other improvements. I’m not satisfied yet!