Tag: Netherlands

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

Published on by Marnix van der LijnLeave a comment

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.

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.