Day 9: Blisters in Bladel

Today was all about… blisters. Lots of blisters. So, on doctor’s advice—or rather pedicurist’s advice—I decided to take a rest day in the bustling town of Bladel. Well, “rest day”… I slept in a bit, ate some pasta I’d been carrying since day 2 as if it were a gourmet delicacy, and went on a mini-expedition to the Jumbo supermarket.

That grocery run felt like an episode of Survivor. Everything hurt, every step was drama, and I felt more like a waddling penguin than a walker. But hey, 7 kilometers later (round trip, applause please), I had breakfast for tomorrow and a new pack of plasters. Priorities.

Speaking of breakfast: currant bread. Thought I was smart… Nope, that bread was so dry I wondered if it was from Roman times. Luckily, I still had some peanut butter, a banana, and wraps. Anything but water feels like a feast at moments like that.

In the evening, I thought: I really need to finish that pasta. Not because I wanted to, but mainly because my backpack has smelled “al dente” for weeks now. Not a masterchef meal, but hey—you do what you must. Then I chilled on the campsite, packed a little, let my blisters breathe (I swear, they almost grew lungs), and made plans for the next day.

At first, I thought of walking toward Luijk-Gestel, but ended up going to Bergeijk instead. A bit farther, but more logical route-wise.

I charged my power bank (a person without power is as lost as a compass without north), and then: bed. Staying fresh and energetic is basically a full-time job when you’re on the road.

Goodnight, blisters and fresh air!

Day 10: Wraps, wild cows, and a campsite full of horses

Waking up early is becoming my new superpower. Not that I asked for it, but hey—you get what you don’t order. Only… I could only pay for my extra night at 9 am. So time to be efficient!

What does a walker with too much time and leftover food do? Exactly: make wraps. Peanut butter, banana, cinnamon—the holy trail trio. Wraps in a bag, check. Lunch to go, check. Then a few cups of coffee (or three, plenty of time), brushed teeth, broke down the tent, packed my bag. At 7:30 am, I stood like a one-person caravan in front of the reception.

Luckily, a friendly lady opened a bit earlier, so I could hit the road at 8:30 am. Off to… Bergeijk! It promised to get warm, so I planned some stops and walked through the beautiful Kempen-Vennenbos. Truly a “wow, this actually exists in the Netherlands” moment. Then past a highway (less wow), and back into the forest.

Along the way, I talked to a friendly man about hiking in Nepal and a cycling club where you can stay overnight at people’s homes for 25 euros. Another golden tip for my next adventure. Thanks, walking Tripadvisor!

Then I crossed a vast heath area—including wild cows. Seriously, they’re like walking cushions with horns. Very zen. Around noon, I got a last-minute spot at a quiet campsite in Bergeijk. And then it started to drizzle. Time for a fried egg sandwich on a covered terrace. Luxury in the wilderness!

Afterwards—how else?—to the Jumbo. Chili con carne, minced meat, dry currant buns (yes, still dry), some quark, and my trusty trail snack: those pink-blue cola bottles. So sour your face temporarily distorts. Delicious.

At the self-checkout, I got checked again. I mean… I might look like a backpacking hustler, but come on: with a 20-kilo backpack, I’m definitely not stealing Snickers. Luckily, people often find such a backpack interesting and before I knew it, I was sharing life stories again. The mileage was at 110 kilometers—applause for me.

The last 5 kilometers to the campsite felt endless. You know that moment when every blade of grass sighs as it brushes your legs. But I made it. Filled in a form, got a tour—and then it turned out it was actually a horse campsite. No idea what that means, but my little tent was welcome, so I don’t complain.

Set up my tent, pumped up my mat, put in my sleeping bag. Then: cooking. Chili con carne deluxe with fried minced meat—like Jamie Oliver camping style. Then shower, washing up, and… coffee with a sweet older couple curious about my journey. Good coffee, cookie included—such a nice moment.

Then it slowly got dark. Time to sleep, because tomorrow: off to Belgium! And—exciting—a friend is coming to help me find new shoes. Because let’s be honest: my current boots are slowly turning into slippers with laces.

Day 11: Crossing the border, new shoes, and sleeping in a Pipo wagon

Good morning! Or actually… brr, it was cold last night. Around half past four I woke up from the morning dew and—yes—a desperate need to pee. Some things can’t wait, even in a sleeping bag. Then I crawled back into my cocoon for another hour of sleep.

At quarter past seven it was time to really start the day: brush teeth, fill backpack with the last loose bits, and—very important—a big bathroom break. Because a light walker walks better.

After about 2.5 kilometers, I found a bench. Perfect moment to munch two wraps with peanut butter and banana (yes, the same ones from yesterday, they stay that good). Currant buns? Nope. Still dramatically dry. Luckily, I had scored a few Fuji apples—juicy luck in snack form. And with a mix of water, Supradyn, and electrolytes, I actually felt like a sporty version of myself.

The shoes? They’re so worn out I almost want to toss them on a campfire myself. But they still carried me 5 kilometers further, to a coffee spot. Bonus! And what a moment: 500 meters from the Belgian border. I felt like a deluxe pilgrim—kudos to myself for this 11-day feat.

Okay, I missed a turn (classic case of: “oh, that looks like a path too”), but after a forest detour, I got back on track. Crossed a little bridge, and ta-da: the first Belgian village, Pelt. By then I’d walked about 12 kilometers. And then: surprise! There was Raymond, walking buddy and lifesaver.

He didn’t come empty-handed but brought fried eggs. Bonus points, people. Then on to Lommel, mission: new shoes. The haul? A pair of lovely low Meindls, Tevas for backup, a new backpack, and a dishwashing tool (essential, trust me). Also tried on some shirts, but only Raymond scored—he happily walked out with two fresh ones.

After a quick bathroom stop, we had lunch at a fantastic spot with chai and flatbreads. Honestly: 10/10, would walk that route again. Then a quick stop at Delhaize for groceries, and then it was time for the grand finale: my Pipo wagon.

Yes, really—a wooden paradise on wheels. No tent pitching. No mat inflating. Just: a bed. A kitchen. A fridge. A kettle. Everything a tired walker could wish for.

I gave Raymond some extra ballast to take home (dirty underwear, a pair of pants, and some unnecessary “little goats”—small stuff, not actual goats). He brought clean shirts and essentials in return. Sweet. This is already the third time on this trip I’ve done such a ‘logistics swap trick.’ Slowly becoming a pack-light-as-a-pro ninja.

In the evening I ate soup with rolls and half a watermelon, washed some gear, and even had time to write my blog. And then… bedtime. Shoes off, head on the pillow, ready for a day without a heavy bag.

Tomorrow: exploring Belgium with my fresh new shoes. I’m already excited!