Day 3/4/5

Day 3: From Gorinchem to… wait, where am I again? Oh right, Veen!

 

The day started, as has become tradition by now, completely different than planned. First: a mini-mission. Everything I didn't need (read: half my backpack) had to go back home. Why do I always pack like I'm moving to a new country? Did I really think I’d have time on the road to read three books, wear a second coat, and do yoga?

 

Breakfast was a gourmet classic: raisin buns (always a win), a banana (healthy-ish), and an apple (for the illusion of a balanced diet). Then: last-minute packing, a quick shower, and a bit of mental prep before heading off on another mini-adventure.

 

But—plot twist!—right before I left, I had an unexpected coffee catch-up with some family I hadn’t seen in ages. Super cozy! We chatted away, and only then I hit the road again like some kind of modern-day pilgrim.

 

Since the weather was turning and I wanted to keep my socks dry (rainy socks are the worst), I left my hotel earlier than planned. Off to Woudrichem! The ferry ride (always feels a bit like a holiday) dropped me off in the cutest little town, with a medieval gate that made me half-expect a knight on horseback to come trotting past at any moment.

 

From there, I strolled along the dike toward Veen. Sunny, breezy, totally fine. I found a campsite by the water and thought, yes, this is the spot! …until I realized they had no food. Nothing. Zilch. So, slightly hangry, I kept walking—and boom, a Jumbo supermarket. My hero. Grabbed some snacks, did a little grocery run, and eventually found a small campsite nearby.

 

Set up my tent basically half-asleep. Shower? Absolutely not. I collapsed into my sleeping bag and was out early. Fresh-ish start tomorrow!

 

Day 4: From Veen to… blisters, ribs, and a minor meltdown 🥾🍖

 

The day started grey. Not just the sky, but also my motivation. The clouds basically dared me to try and stay dry. Still, I got up, showered, packed down the tent—just your average adventurer’s morning (minus breakfast, because this campsite had nothing).

 

Back to my favorite place in Veen: the Jumbo! But this time not just for snacks (okay, maybe a little), but mostly for the cozy little café next to it. Run by some incredible people with an even more incredible story. I’d popped in yesterday for ice cream and coffee, but now I went all in: eggs, toast, coffee... a royal feast. Fully fueled and ready to go!

 

I set off toward Drunen with a full belly and good spirits. That lasted about 17 kilometers—then came the blisters. Not the “oh, that stings” kind. No. These were the evil, fiery, stab-you-with-every-step kind. I was done.

 

Plan B: no trekking hut available (of course not), so it was time to switch to hotel mode. And not just any hotel: one with a horse riding school just outside Drunen. When I called to ask if they could pick me up, the receptionist just said: “I’m on my way.” And sure enough, she personally jumped in a car and came to get me. Hero.

 

That evening, I celebrated life (and the fact I was sitting down) with a mountain of spareribs. Rain poured outside, and I did absolutely nothing. Bliss. But still... the doubts crept in. Blisters. Were they going to ruin the whole journey?

 

In a minor panic, I called both a pedicurist and my doctor. The advice was clear and blunt: “Pop them. Disinfect. Bandage. Keep going.” So, that’s what I did the next day. And I decided: two nights in this hotel. Body rest. Mind rest. Hopefully feet rest too. After all... it’s still a holiday.

 

 

Day 5 – Drunen: Blisters, bikes, and avocado adventures

Waking up with blisters isn’t exactly the dream… and realizing I had to treat them myself? Full-on panic. But first: breakfast and coffee at the hotel. You don’t poke blisters on an empty stomach. That’s just asking for trouble.

Walking to Drunen was out of the question (blister pain: drama level). So, plan B: electric bike! Turbo mode on, cape flapping, cruising toward town like a blister-fighting superhero. Straight to the drugstore, where I basically dropped a small fortune on plasters, tape, ointments, and everything from the first-aid aisle. Then to HEMA for needles (always feels a little shady buying those, but it’s medical—promise!).

Back at the hotel, it was time to face the music. After a short pep talk with myself (“just do it already”), I popped those blisters like a real DIY medic. Painful? Yes. Effective? Also yes. Confidence? Restored.

Feeling like a certified blister boss, I rented the bike again and pedaled back to Drunen for a victory lunch: an avocado smasher and a coffee. Treat yo’ self. Then it was time for some serious essentials shopping: a toiletry bag just for my now-official blister kit (yes, it's a thing now), rain protection for my phone (it’s practically waterproof now—bring on the ocean!), water for tomorrow, turkey Bifi sausages (walker’s delicacy), protein bars, and—obviously—white tiger balm. Because sometimes your nostrils just need a little spa moment.

Back at the hotel: chill mode, blog writing, and tonight a good meal at Herberg D’n Dries. Then a warm shower, a bit of packing, and straight to bed.

Tomorrow: off to Oisterwijk! Fingers crossed for fewer blisters and more epic memories.

 

 

 

Day 6 – From Dunes to Delicacies

 

Good morning Drunen! Or rather: good morning half-empty coffee mug, sleepy eyes, and a head full of fog. Around 8 AM, I sat down for breakfast at the hotel – still half in dreamland, but with a determined look that said, “Today, I shall conquer the world.” Or at least 11.7 kilometers of sand.

I decided to keep my raincoat on, just in case. Not because I expected rain, but because by now it seemed permanently fused to my skin. At 9:15, I left behind the warm luxury of the hotel – two nights of a real mattress, a hot shower whenever I wanted, no crawling insects before bed. Ah, the good life. But the adventure called. And it sounded like: “Hey, here’s some sand in your socks.”

 

The Loonse and Drunense Dunes were stunning, untamed, and ever-so-slightly cruel on tired feet. Up the dune, down the dune. My walking pace resembled that of a limping crab, but I was enjoying myself. Honestly. Between gasps for breath.

 

Waiting for me in Oisterwijk was Paul. Allow me to introduce him: Paul isn’t just anyone – this is the man with whom I once slogged and puffed my way to Everest Base Camp. We shared blisters, dal bhat, and the scent of three-day-old sweat. A friendship forged in thin air. And now there he stood, arms wide open. His wife Patries and their son welcomed me like I’d returned from a world expedition. And honestly, it felt a bit like that.

We lunched like kings. I ordered a carpaccio sandwich, but when the plate arrived, I briefly wondered where the bread had gone. It turned out to be hidden beneath a glorious meat blanket – so lavish even a carnivore would be impressed.

 

The afternoon brought something I hadn’t experienced in ages: a warm bath. Bubbling, no less. For a moment, I felt like Beyoncé on a retreat. Then, in full relaxation mode, we headed to their local pub for some spareribs – so tender they slid off the bone like they no longer wanted to be meat.

And then, like dessert after a full meal, Joris and Erik – fellow members of the Himalaya club – dropped by for a visit. While Willem II played Telstar on TV (as if my life had suddenly become an episode of Other Times, Sports Edition), we caught up, reminisced, laughed, and soaked in the moment. I spent the night in Paul’s guest room, in a bed that felt like a cloud. Fresh sheets, a soft pillow, and the luxury of not waking up because your air mattress is leaking. Bliss.

Day 7 – The Chicken Leg March

 

The next morning, around 9 AM, I sat down for breakfast, coffee slowly reviving me. Then a warm farewell from Paul and his family – complete with hugs, waves, and promises to catch up soon (preferably somewhere with less sand and fewer blisters).

I hobbled off towards Moergestel. Not too far, but my legs acted like I had just finished three marathons. On the village square, I flopped onto a café terrace and ordered a traditional Dutch “uitsmijter” – a fried egg sandwich so massive that halfway through I wondered if I’d accidentally ordered lunch for two.

 

Re-energized by eggs, I continued to the one place where dreams come true: Jumbo. I hadn’t been there for a few days and felt an oddly emotional bond with the soda aisle. Water, snacks, nuts – my holy trinity.

On the square stood a rotisserie cart selling grilled chicken legs. Naturally, I had to buy some. Not stuffed into my jacket pocket (even I have limits), but neatly packed in a bag – tonight’s dinner.

Haghorst was the final destination. A modest 18 kilometers away, or roughly six rounds of me saying “come on, just a little further” and still not being halfway. Once I arrived, the routine kicked in: pitch tent, softly curse at my feet, and then... a surprise.

 

Kai – an old school friend – suddenly showed up with a beer in hand and a wide grin. We hadn’t seen each other in years, but as if no time had passed, we were chatting away like it was recess on the schoolyard again. Normally, I’m not one for spontaneous socializing (read: I usually flee), but for Kai, I gladly made an exception.

 

We laughed, drank, watched the sun go down, and talked about the past, the present, and everything in between. By the time he left, I felt like not only my body, but also my mind had recharged. Tomorrow’s destination? Bladel!

 

Day 8 – Raisin Buns, Kilometers, and Crumbling Feet

 

Alarm at 6:00 AM. Or rather, my internal clock combined with the icy tent floor. I felt like I’d been sleeping on a concrete tile for three nights and... well, I had.

Hungover from two beers. Two. That’s where I’m at now. I shoved some raisin buns and apples down, laced up my shoes, hoisted my backpack, and hit the road at 7:00. Twenty kilometers on the agenda. And not a single shop in sight. As if I’d voluntarily signed up for a survival trek through a no-snack zone.

The route was beautiful, I’ll admit that. But my feet? They were struggling. Somewhere along the way, I spotted a sign for a pedicure practice – an actual oasis in my personal desert of pain. I rang the bell. A kind Ukrainian woman opened the door. I told her my story, complete with sad blister face, and she melted. She was officially closed, but offered me a 7 PM appointment in Netersel. My heroine!

 

After more trudging and sweating, I arrived in Bladel around 2:00 PM. First, raided the supermarket like I’d been fasting for days. Then found a campsite, pitched the tent, and cooked up some beef like a contestant on “Dutch Campfire Chef.”

Time to go to the pedicure. Tried Uber. Hilarious. No one showed. Apparently, the system had collectively forgotten I existed. So I called a taxi – the first quote was absurd. I bargained like a true Dutch marketplace warrior and knocked off €45. Small win.

At the pedicure, I was welcomed like a VIP. She gave me tea, listened to my stories, and lovingly restored my feet like they were an ancient artifact. Band-aids, tips, cotton pads, ointments – I emerged reborn. She gave me a high-five and a smile that gave me half a day’s worth of extra energy.

Back to the campsite in the same (still overpriced) taxi, just in time to dive into my tent before the skies broke open and a thunderstorm rolled in. Outside, the heavens raged, but I lay dry, fed, pedicured, and perfectly content in my sleeping bag.

Sometimes, happiness lives in a carpaccio sandwich, a surprise visit, or a really good blister plaster.

 

To be continued...

 

 

Day 9: Blisters in Bladel

 

Today was all about... blisters. So many blisters. So, following medical advice—well, pedicure advice—I decided to take a rest day in the bustling metropolis of Bladel. Okay, maybe not bustling, but a rest day nonetheless. I slept in a bit, finally ate the pasta I’d been carrying since day 2 like some kind of gourmet treasure, and went on a mini-expedition to the local Jumbo.

 

That grocery run honestly felt like an episode of Survivor. Everything hurt, every step was agony, and I waddled more like a penguin than a hiker. But hey, 7 kilometers round trip (thank you, applause), and I scored breakfast for tomorrow and a new pack of plasters. Priorities.

 

Speaking of breakfast: I thought I was clever with raisin bread… Yeah, no. That stuff was so dry, I started wondering if it was a leftover from Roman times. Luckily, I still had some peanut butter, banana, and wraps. When you’re on the trail, anything that isn’t water tastes like a feast.

 

That evening, I figured: it’s now or never for the pasta. Not because I craved it, but because my backpack had been smelling “al dente” for days. Definitely not a MasterChef meal, but hey—you do what you’ve gotta do. Then I just chilled at the campsite, repacked a bit, let my blisters breathe (I swear they were about to grow lungs), and made plans for the next day.

 

Originally, I thought I’d head toward Luijk-Gestel, but ended up choosing Bergeijk instead. A bit further, but made more sense route-wise.

 

Charged my power bank (because a person without power is like a compass without north), and then: straight to bed. Staying fresh on the trail is basically a full-time job.

 

Goodnight, blisters and fresh air!

 

Day 10: Wraps, Wild Cows, and a Horse-Filled Campsite

 

Waking up early is officially becoming my new superpower. Not that I asked for it, but hey—you get what you don’t order. The catch? I couldn’t pay for my extra night until 9 a.m., so time to be efficient!

 

What does a hiker do with too much time and leftover food? Right: build wraps. Peanut butter, banana, cinnamon – the holy trail trinity. Wrapped, bagged, and lunch-ready. Then a few cups of coffee (or three, who’s counting?), brushed my teeth, took down the tent, packed up the bag. By 07:30, I was standing like a one-man hiking caravan in front of the reception.

 

Thankfully, a kind woman opened up early, so by 8:30 I hit the road toward Bergeijk. It was going to be a warm one, so I planned a few pit stops and walked through the beautiful Kempen-Vennenbos. One of those “wow, this exists in the Netherlands?” moments. Then a stretch along the highway (less wow), before diving back into the woods.

 

On the way, I had a nice chat with a guy about hiking in Nepal and a cycling club where you can stay with locals for €25. A golden tip for my next adventure. Thanks, walking Tripadvisor!

 

Next, I crossed a beautiful heathland—wild cows included. Seriously, they looked like walking pillows with horns. Super zen. Around noon, I managed to score a last-minute spot at a peaceful campsite in Bergeijk. Right then, the rain started. Time for a classic Dutch treat: a fried egg sandwich on a covered terrace. Wilderness luxury!

 

Then – of course – a stop at the Jumbo. Chili con carne, some minced meat, dry-as-sand raisin buns (still a disaster), some quark, and my loyal trail snack: those pink-blue sour cola bottle candies. So sour they briefly change the shape of your face. Love them.

 

At self-checkout, I got flagged again. I mean… I might look like a suspicious backpacker, but come on – with a 20 kg pack, I’m not shoplifting Snickers. Luckily, people often find the backpack intriguing, and before I knew it, I was swapping stories again. By now, I’d crossed the 110 km mark – give it up for me!

 

The last 5 kilometers to the campsite felt endless. You know, that point where even blades of grass seem to sigh as they brush your legs. But I made it. Filled out a form, got a little tour – turns out it was actually a horse camping. No clue what that means, but my little tent was welcome, so no complaints.

 

Tent pitched, mat inflated, sleeping bag in place. Then: dinner time. Chili con carne deluxe with fried ground beef – Jamie Oliver, eat your heart out. A quick shower, some dishwashing, and then coffee with a sweet older couple curious about my journey. Great coffee, a cookie on the side – a perfect moment.

 

And then, darkness fell. Time to sleep, because tomorrow: Belgium, baby! And an exciting visit from a friend who’s helping me shop for new shoes. Because let’s be honest: my current pair is slowly morphing into slippers with laces.

 

Day 11: Crossing Borders, New Shoes, and a Pipo-Wagon

 

Good morning! Or actually… brrr. It was chilly last night. Around 4:30 a.m., I woke up to morning dew and—of course—a pressing bathroom emergency. Some things just won’t wait, not even for a sleeping bag. After that, I squeezed in another hour of sleep before starting the day for real.

 

By 7:15, I was up: brushed my teeth, packed the last bits, and—crucially—handled business. Because every gram counts, and a lighter hiker hikes happier.

 

After about 2.5 kilometers, I found a bench—perfect spot to polish off the two peanut butter-banana wraps from yesterday. Raisin buns? Still dry AF. Thankfully, I’d snagged some Fuji apples—crisp, juicy joy in every bite. Add in some water, Supradyn and electrolytes, and suddenly I felt like the sporty version of myself.

 

The shoes? Toast. I was one puddle away from tossing them on a bonfire. But hey, they got me 5 kilometers further to a tiny café—coffee bonus! Even better: I was only 500 meters from the Belgian border. A real “pilgrim deluxe” moment. Major props to me for this 11-day achievement.

 

Okay, I missed a turn (classic “this kinda looks like a trail” situation), but after a quick forest detour, I was back on track. Crossed a bridge, and boom: my first Belgian town, Pelt. Already had 12 km in the bag. And then—surprise! There was Raymond, my hiking buddy and total lifesaver.

 

He came bearing company and cooked eggs. Big points. Then it was off to Lommel for the main mission: new shoes. The haul? A dreamy pair of low Meindls, a pair of Tevas, a new backpack, and an essential dish-washing gadget (don’t ask, just know it’s a must). Tried on a few shirts—didn’t find one I liked, but Raymond scored two snazzy ones.

 

After a quick pee break, we grabbed lunch at this amazing little spot with chai and flatbreads. 10/10, would hike again just to eat there. Quick stop at Delhaize for a few groceries, then: the grande finale—my Pipo-wagon.

 

Yes, a wooden paradise on wheels. No tent. No mat. Just: a bed. A kitchen. A fridge. A kettle. Everything a tired hiker could dream of.

 

I gave Raymond some of my gear to take home (dirty undies, a pair of pants, and random bits—not actual goats), and he brought clean shirts and other essentials from my house. This is the third time I’ve done this gear-switch trick on this trip. Slowly becoming a pack-light ninja. Learning what works and what doesn’t, step by step.

 

Dinner was soup with bread and half a watermelon. Did the dishes, wrote a bit of this blog, and then: sweet, sweet sleep. Shoes off, head down, and ready for a bag-free day tomorrow.

 

Belgium, here I come!

 

 

Mini-update – Taking a Step Back 🛑👣

 

The past few days I haven’t been able to write any blog posts. Not because I had nothing to say (trust me, plenty of adventures), but simply because I was on the move, exhausted, and couldn’t find the peace and space to put it all into words.

 

Sometimes your body just asks for a break – and that’s totally okay.

 

Luckily, I gave myself a well-deserved pause in a cozy hotel, with a real bed, a hot shower, and a little bit of comfort. My feet have come back to life (they were starting to act retired), and I finally got a proper night’s sleep. 😴

 

Sunday, I’ll take the time to catch up on the past few days, because they were full of it all: rain, sunshine, unexpected encounters, and of course – food (lots of it, and delicious). 🥖🍗🍒

 

See you then – and thank you for your patience

 

Day 12 – Rain, a Gypsy Wagon & Shrimp Rolls

 

Today was all about recovering. I’m currently staying in a charming little gypsy wagon on a fairytale-like campsite on the edge of the forest in Pelt. Slept like a dream – as if a bunch of forest gnomes had gently rocked me to sleep. 🌲😴

 

Woke up feeling like an explorer and set off through asparagus fields and woods. A little wet, a little muddy, but hey – it’s an adventure! Once I reached Pelt proper, I started a walk that… well, let’s just say it got slightly out of hand. T-shirt on, sunglasses ready – or so I thought, until one of the arms of my sunglasses gave out.

 

Mission one: optician.

Sunglasses fixed? ✅

Found a hairdresser? ❌

 

Turns out they work strictly by appointment here, probably in a secret timezone I’m not aware of. I kept walking, hoping to find a hairdresser, a supermarket… or at least a roof, because yes – it started raining harder. 🌧️

 

And then – a beacon of hope! A super fancy bakery appeared like the final boss of this soggy quest. Treated myself to a shrimp sandwich (felt classy) and an éclair (felt like myself). And a drink, of course.

 

Took shelter at a bus stop, where I, in full survival mode, installed the bus app. Surprise: worked perfectly! The bus almost drove past me, but luckily stopped in time. Dropped off near a Lidl – jackpot! 🎯

 

Stocked up on tuna, wraps, bananas, peanut butter – the essentials. My backpack looked like a Christmas hamper on steroids. Limped back to the campsite with about 5 extra kilos, most of it in rain. 🥾💦

 

Dinner? Hot soup and bread. Then… I slept like a rock. A very satisfied rock.

 

Day 13– From Wagon Chaos to Kriek & Croque

 

Time to say goodbye to my trusty gypsy wagon. Tidied the mess – which was impressively chaotic – packed my bag and headed out with fresh motivation. The plan: stay at a bivouac zone. Sounds rugged, right?

 

Small issue: that bivouac zone was totally off route. The road was closed. Internet? Gone. So there I sat, like a wandering nomad, staring at an offline world from a bench. Deep breath. New plan.

 

Wandered past a village named Peer (yes, really). Walked by a festival, which sounded great – but I had zero time. Then I spotted a bus stop like a mirage in the distance. Lifesaver!

 

Off to Genk. Crowded. Very. Too much. Quickly moved on to Zonhoven – much quieter. There, I was greeted by a pit filled with a mammoth skeleton. Not real, obviously – but still: Jurassic Park vibes.

 

Through the woods until I reached my destination: a simple trekker’s hut with: – A bed

– A wooden platform

– A tent spot

Perfect! That’s all I really needed.

 

My neighbors turned out to be a lovely Belgian cycling couple. We got talking, and later that evening they came by again while I was eating – and spontaneously offered me a kriek (Belgian cherry beer). 🍒🍺 Delicious!

 

Dinner was a croque monsieur (always a win) and chicken flatbread. Quick shower and then – out like a light.

 

Oh, and for the next day, I found a last-minute mini eco-camping on the edge of a forest, just in someone’s backyard. Sounds quaint? I bet it’ll be amazing.

 

Day 14 – Bokrijk, Beans & Blisters

 

Woke up on time (go me), packed my bag, and hit the road. The kind Belgian couple from the campsite tipped me: “Go through Bokrijk!” So I did. Great call. 🌳

 

Bokrijk is a gorgeous nature reserve where I even came face to face with a wild deer. 🦌 No joke – felt like a fairytale character. But the terrain? Rough. Mud, roots, uneven paths – ankle-twisting central. Still, I pushed through.

 

Back in civilization, I recharged with a croque madame – basically a fancy toastie with an egg. Then: walk, walk, and more walking. I thought I was nearly there, but of course – classic mistake.

 

Tried to grab groceries (long overdue). Found a petrol station “supermarket” hybrid. Not exactly Carrefour, but hey, desperate times…

 

The loot:

– Tuna

– Chicken schnitzel

– White beans in tomato sauce

– Ham & cheese panini

– Cold drinks (lifesaving)

 

The last 5 km were brutal. My feet? Practically retired. But I made it.

 

The twist: the campsite was full. 😬 But a super sweet couple let me pitch my tent in their garden – absolute heroes. Scored two eggs for 35 cents each – where else do you get that?

 

Tent up, schnitzel fried, beans warmed, quick trip to the eco-toilet (with sawdust – rustic charm, right?). Then into the tent early – slight panic: hadn’t found a place for the next day yet.

 

Weather? Cold, wet, meh. So I took the bus to Sint-Truiden and booked two nights to recover. Because:

a) I’m on vacation

b) My feet were begging for mercy

 

Day 15 – Rain, Chicken & a Haircut

 

Good morning Diepenbeek! And yep, surprise: rain. 🌧️

Breakfast? Tuna rolls – I’ve become a walking fish sandwich. Packed a few more for the road. Multitasking!

 

Boiled two eggs I got yesterday – yes, in the rain. Outdoor cooking show vibes: “Cooking Cold & Drenched.” 😅

 

The campsite had a tiny cabin with a mini-kitchen, so I made coffee (plus backup instant coffee – variety matters). ☕

 

Once the rain calmed down a bit, I packed the wet tent and hiked 3 km through the forest. And guess what – the sun came out! 🌤️ I almost cried.

 

Took the bus to Hasselt, waited 45 minutes, then another bus to Sint-Truiden. No way I was walking with that heavy pack. Instead: lunch time!

 

Then – a haircut! Thought it’d be a quick trim. Ended up in a salon where everyone spoke Arabic, barely any Dutch or English. Felt like a game of charades with scissors – but it worked! Fresh cut. ✂️💇‍♂️

 

Tried to withdraw cash – took some trial and error. Success = reward: half a roasted chicken with fries. Absolute 10/10. People walking past stared at my feast like I was performing a food show. And yes, you eat this with your hands. Period. 🍗

 

Checked in at a hotel run by a sweet mother and son. Warm welcome, comfy room, real bed, and bonus: TV. Hung my tent to dry in the shower, plugged in my power bank (which recharged as slowly as my energy).

 

Later grabbed dinner: chicken bites & sweet potato fries. The fries were so greasy I left most of them. But hey – had a local kriek from Wilderen, and it was divine. 🍒🍺

 

Rain kept falling all day, but on my way back the sky really opened – rain, thunder, wind… full drama. 🌩️

 

Back at the hotel I collapsed, started Into the Wild on YouTube… and yep, fell asleep halfway. The ending? I’ll watch that tomorrow. But today? Definitely not boring.

 

Day 16 – Slow Sunday & Subtle Chaos

 

Woke up in Sint-Truiden, fully rested, took a shower, and went for breakfast at 9. A sweet elderly lady had laid out a feast – way more than I could eat. Classical music in the background. I sat across from a woman completely tuned out with her earbuds in. Slightly awkward… but the food was lovely.

 

It’s Sunday, a real rest day. I tried recharging my devices, but things were charging so slowly I thought something was broken. Turns out – that’s just how it is here. So I quickly went out and bought an extra charger and cable, just to be sure. Now I could finally charge multiple things at once – super handy.

 

Ate some light snacks from my backpack, took a nap, and – because I could – another shower after 3 p.m. (the water was off earlier in the day).

 

Made a Nespresso in the shared kitchen and listened to the wind outside – the weather was wild again, but I kind of liked the excuse to stay in.

 

Mapped out my route for tomorrow and found a nice CampSpace spot in Remicourt – around 21 km. Mostly paved roads, so fingers crossed it’ll be manageable. You usually have to book these a few days ahead, but this was my best option.

 

Tonight I’ll grab a bite somewhere nearby – supermarkets here on Sundays are nearly extinct.

 

Later I’ll finish Into the Wild, pack my tent, and get ready for tomorrow.

8 a.m. breakfast, then back on the road – and of course, back to blogging. ✍️