**Why This Madness?**

My brand-new tent, still fresh in its neon-orange bag, had been mocking me from the hallway for weeks. The fine art of “not picking troubles from the floor” was whispering from my bike’s mule bags - just to be sure before the planned weeklong trip through Saxon and Bohemian Switzerland. But something had to be done: time to de-glam-master this bag.

One late-night scroll on [bikepacking.com](http://bikepacking.com) delivered a registration notification for Grunnduro 25, and suddenly I was committed.

**The Plan (or what passed for one)**

Pick a train, jump in another one, disembark in Groningen, grab a coffee or two and enjoy the canals for a bit. The next morning, start two days of roads and fields between forests. Repeat back. However...

A few days before departure, Deutsche Bahn and Dutch NS sprinkled a bit of their signature spice into the stew: half the trains were cancelled, and the rest were swapped for buses.

Fine. Let's rephrase one classic movie line:

>Rider, it's not you who chooses adventure - it's adventure that chooses you.

Reach the closest German train station near the Dutch border → ride → catch a train as far north as possible → ride again.

Return? Unclear. Trains from Groningen to anywhere else: cancelled. Options are too close to the starting point.

So... I figured I'd just finish in Amsterdam instead. Komoot says it’s about 140km. Sounds doable, right? Seriously, back where I grew up, that’s just the distance to the hospital with actual doctors. You don’t pack snacks. You go.

**The Ride Log**

Day 0: Kleve → Nijmegen → Assen → Groningen

Not earth-shattering, but a solid \~60km on the books before the event even started.

Day 1: Diever, we have arrived

My drip bag failed about 5 km before the start line, so no fancy coffee to kick things off. Lazy ride through cinematic city. Photos, a quick espresso, and a slow start. Took the short route - 85 km. No stamps, no selfies, no small talk. Just gravel and silence. The best 50 shades of aubergine pasta in my life *(no offence - it was delicious, with options for every taste. I don’t know who cooked it, but I’d follow them into the next forest)* served right after the campground got DDoS’ed by a few dozen riders demanding free shower cards.

Day 2: A City on the Horizon

Breakfast, pack, breakfast again, and then the first quest of the day: find a cigarette. Mission accomplished, followed by more coffee and an ice cream. Hurry up to this “magic road” along the coastline (as I had dreamt for no good reason). A short brake at mark 75km, sitting on the dam and staring at boats. And… the most boring 40k in my life: swamp on the left, sea on the right and road going straight to the horizon with a mirage of the City. Finally, some town, a spaghetti of roads, bike paths, and highways, and the first road sign “Amsterdam 18”!

In total 150km.

Day 3: Get Me Home

Amsterdam is nice. But home is nicer.

Bikes everywhere. Grannies on upright Hollanders are overtaking guys on Pinarellos. Trains late. Connections missed. A pinch of German train-travel chaos, just why not?

Rolling back: Nijmegen → Kleve. A lazy 30 km to finish off.

**Conclusion: One Tent, Two Countries, Three Nights. Zero Regrets**

The Grunnduro event was only part of the madness. I skipped the stamps and most of the social stuff, but the people? Great crowd, good route choices, chill vibes, and suspiciously cheerful volunteers. The real ride was chasing sunlight running from rain, dodging train cancellations, and discovering that some of the flattest roads can still break your spirit.

But the tent? Finally used.

Grunnduro 25, or How I Accidentally Rode Half of the Netherlands and Understood Nothing