Last night Henk of Henk en Renée passed away. Henk and Renée are my grandparents – not by blood, but through love. My mother, brother and I lived in their house in Bennekom for several years. We also spent many summers with them with in the South of France growing up. The grandchildren would swim, make artworks, play tennis, and put on little theatre performances for the parents and grandparents. I celebrated many birthdays there, and every year Renée would make a spectacular birthday cake to celebrate. Henk without fail would play lang zal hij leven on the harmonica – which he continued to do until recent years, when I received birthday wishes on the phone. I will remember him as a warm and kind man. A man who was there. A man who made little jokes. A man who tirelessly worked the large garden. A man with a comforting presence. This summer was meant to be the last summer they would spend in the South of France before moving to the Netherlands permanently. Henk was resistant, he didn’t want to leave France. It appears his wish has come true. I will miss him. Thank you Henk for being a part of my life.
This morning I was out hiking again around 07:00. In Sittard I had a large coffee and an avocado and egg sandwich. On the outskirts of Sittard there were lots of athletes training for an upcoming cycling event. I didn’t like that. They drove like people possessed, entitled, as if the road belonged only to them (as speed-racing cyclists often do). It only served to confirm my place within the hiker tribe – people who can spare a moment for a chat and a look around. Speedracers also don’t smile as much (which makes sense, considering they get their perineums battered for hours at a time).
The trail wound through farmlamd and little patches of forest. The landscape is more sloping now, as expected for the southern part of the Netherlands. After receiving the news of Henk’s passing, my tears mixed with sunscreen. The wide open space of the countryside welcomed my sadness, it is easy for me here to let it pass through me.
There was more hiking through rolling hills and a chat with an older man on a bench. After a coronary event he decided to stop eating frikandellen and meatballs. He had a pacemaker and two stents. He preferred walking, while his wife preferred cycling. He’d been to Roden once. Stopped for a meal. It was your run of the mill diner with an attitude of ‘lets put everything on the menu to please everybody’. That tends to diminish the quality of most dishes. There were pastas, and burgers, and game, and pizzas, and fish, and deepfried appetizers and much more. My expectations were low, so my burger was all right. The waitress was gorgeous — petite, with green eyes, blonde hair and skin of silk. She had that bubbly uninhibited charm with which twentysomethings sprinkle magic dust wherever they go. A cool drink on a warm summer’s eve. My spot at the campground was booked and I had about an hour left to hike. Checked my maps to make sure where to turn left. Today was the longest day on trail, so I was pretty tired. After what seemd like too long a time, I checked my maps to see when that turn left would arrive… ofcourse I missed it and had hiked way further than intented. It would be another hour to the campground. Mega Yikes. However… Public transportation gods to the rescue! There was a bus leaving in 20 minutes. So I hopped on, and all was right again. On the campground I was greeted by Tom, lounging in a camp-chair in front of his tent – he’d been there for some time already. It was fun catching up and it looks like we’re going to finish the trail together tomorrow. The campground is really cozy, there was a nice spot left for me to pitch my tent and the sun set beautifully agains the backdrop of rolling hills. There’s bats circling the lanterns. This is a good place.
