Holland to Bad Bederkesa, Germany
It was another fast-tracking day in our quest for the midnight sun. Holland flew by in a haze of flat farmland and windmills. The highlight was cruising over a ridiculously long dyke that stretches across the top of the Netherlands. The Dutch built it to stop the North Sea from flooding the land.
It’s called the Alphabet dyke (or Afsluitdijk in dutch) and it’s 32 kms long! It closed off the BackwardsAlphabet (Zuiderzee in dutch), and over time, the salty sea turned into a freshwater lake, now known as the IJsselmeer. It’s how the Netherlands keeps the sea under control. We cycled this exact route a few years ago, but it was much slower and sweatier.
Out on the lake, rows upon rows of windmills rose from the water like a futuristic forest. Stretching into the distance, these sleek white turbines turned in the wind. Was it sight pollution? Was that even a thing? I wasn’t sure, but at least the cows weren’t complaining. (No-one cares about the fish!)
Today, there were no major disasters, no surprise detours and Bertie’s mirror stayed in place. But we did eat a lot of junk food. Chocolate, chippies, and some sweet sour things which made me feel sick. I’ll start my diet tomorrow.
We’ve now crossed into Germany and are parked up in another glamorous carpark. This one’s charging us 6 euros for the night, but it’s in a lovely spot, close to a peaceful canal that looks like it belongs on a postcard.
For dinner we had the obligatory schnitzel and chips. Was it only two days ago I decided to go vegetarian? Like I said, diet starts tomorrow. (It’s more of a mantra than a plan at this point.)
After dinner, we walked alongside the canal. Houseboats lined the banks, their windows open to the warm air, with bicycles leaning against their sides and people sipping wine on the decks. The water glistened, mirroring the soft glow of the late afternoon sun. A heron stood in the shallows, still and watchful, waiting to pounce on an unsuspecting fish. The path beneath our feet crunched with each step and put me in a reflective state.
I reminisced about our cycling trip three years ago. Back then, we swore we’d never travel Europe by campervan. Cycle touring was our thing. But to reach Norway and chase the midnight sun, the sheer number of steep climbs and bike-unfriendly tunnels makes it impossible to do in just 90 days (and probably outside of our skill level.)
As much as we loved the simplicity of life on two wheels: Pack up tent, hop on bike, cycle, pitch tent, cook dinner on ground, repeat; there’s a different kind of freedom that comes with campervan travel. You can pull over anywhere for a cup of tea, take an afternoon nap, and carry refrigerated food. And at the end of the day, there’s real comfort in having a bed off the ground, shelter from the weather, and a house that moves when you do.
Walking beside the quiet canal, I realised you don’t have to be immersed in nature all day to enjoy it. It was just nice to stretch the legs and feel the excitement of being somewhere new.
We found a seat and sat, listening to the silence. Not the absence of sound, but the presence of stillness. It wrapped around us like a welcome hug, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves and the distant boom boom of a party on the other side of the river. After 3 days of driving on manic motorways, it was nice to just sit and be.
If all goes well tomorrow, we might make it to Denmark!