Day 3 or wherever, the main thing is, the weather plays well….
This night was a bit shorter, but I had expected after the late last night’s sleep.
Shorter means in the context but not earlier out, no, rather later in.
And so I am today at 8 o’clock on the obligatory toilets. You have to do, what you have to do!
Coffee is of course no longer rocket science, rather a finely tuned and well oiled mechanism (show-off!).
So I get the machine out of it´s “hiding place” behind the reception and against expectations it starts without complaints. I did not necessarily expect it after the experiences of the last weeks.
So with machine to the stand and “loading”!
I am cocky about the small Japanese girl’s easy first start, and before I packed completely, I already connect my phone to the USB port and start packing.
Well, time flies by and when I have packed everything and the machine starts a second time this morning, the starter already sounds much weaker. I almost manage to just breathe life into the engine and my cold sweat breaks out.
Is the battery charge still enough to start it again after the upcoming ferry ride and to roll off board on my own, or do I have to give myself the nakedness and be pushed?
To make it shorter, I did it.
The drive to Hoek Van Holland was hardly eventful, which can be seen in the number of pictures.
In between, I have to bypass a road closure and short for the A22, which costs me alone for half an hour due to the traffic.
But who drives for a long time finally drives well or eventually arrives.
And so I reach around 13:30 clock the campsite of my choice.
Shortly before I drive through Scheveningen and ask myself, while of course I concentrate on the road, from where the name seems so familiar to me.
When I finally drive past the Europol building, I remember.
And here, please follow my thought chain:
Europol – Scheveningen – Hänschen – Kripo Duisburg – Schimanski! (This makes only sense for Germans, sorry)
Oh, therefore!
But back to my campsite. Again, my wheeled pedestal must remain at the gates.
But I find a nice spot on the tent site and instinctively choose an area close to the hedge. And that will prove helpful.
The construction of my temporary domicile succeeds, as expected, smoothly, one is meanwhile practiced.
The machine finally goes to the “restricted” parking at the reception.
This time “unhidden”, which makes me a little nervous, but I have to live with it.
I notice, even if this opinion is not necessarily empirically sufficiently substantiated by only 2 campsites, that obviously all Dutchmen are only with large-sized camping trailers on the way and thus a “vehicle-free” space is certainly desirable. But not for motorcyclists.
On the one hand, we like our “apple of the eye” nearby, on the other hand, the dismantling of the panniers, the rollback and the tank bag is a bit cumbersome and my tent size is not very effective, since there is hardly any space in the tent for additional luggage.
I help myself by finally packing my motorcycle clothing into the rollback and packing it waterproof with a large garbage bag, because at some point the rain will come.
Everything is ready, so first buy some food.
At the entrance to the place I noticed the small little supermarket, which looks right at the entrance for campers with everything necessary to provide. Well, that’s my first goal.
I am already quite late in the season, what strikes me by the fact that the supermarket has adapted its opening hours to the declining rush.
It opens on the following days only from 8 – 13 clock: Tuesdays and, one suspects it, Thursday, so today.
Lucky me! But, Google helps here and shows me a gas station just 10 minutes walk away, where I then inevitably stock up with water and some resistance for my teeth.
So I enjoy water, 2-3 coffee and a roll with meatball and think about how I spend the day on.
The weather is with me and so I go first to explore the the town Hoek van Holland.
Fewer tourist-oriented shops, as in Den Burg, but also shops like Aldi and Lidl.
So out of the place, off to the beach.
Again, despite the proximity to the port of Rotterdam, chic, windy and empty due to the working day and the time.
So I make a dangling through the sand and finally arrive back at my accommodation.
In fact, i spend the late afternoon and evening with one (I do not know if you consider short stories by Stephen King a good one) book.
In between something like appetite drives me in the small snack bar, right next to the supermarket.
Simply built, with beer tent sets as a seat and a menu that does not necessarily fits star level, but fills a hungry stomach.
Attempting to order something edible in English from the young part-time employees (I still do not speak Dutch) is proving difficult. Although she claims to speak English quite well, but when I ask for a “beer”, she shows unmistakably food that is waiting in the fridge for it´s bath in hot frying fat.
Thankfully a lady translates, who is waiting behind me and I come to fried chicken nuggets, potato fries and a bottle of local beer.
The nuggets are as expected, the amount of fries huge, as well as the amount of salt in which they have obviously been rolled after the frying process.
I’m sure my family doctor, if I had one, would put those fries on the list of “prohibited substances” for over 50s.
What the hell, my family doctor is not present, so “go for it”.
The evening is relaxing, the bad weather that floats like a sword of Damocles above us, according to Google is late. Thank goodness, and so I crawl around 10pm in my polyester habitation.
At 2 o’clock in the morning I wake up for a moment and hear the rain patter on the tent. But somehow it does not bother me. I can think about that the next morning …..
