Island days, Island ways





It was almost five o’clock in the afternoon. The golden red sun seared our necks as it was going to its dusk, and our feet ached from the non-stop cycling. As we steered our bicycles around the island, we fell in love with the mesmerizing scenic beauty of Texel.  

Up green hills and down flat land, along the dunes of the coast and through the forests of the inner part, we travelled alongside each other. There was an eerie feeling of solitude. As far as we knew, there is always the hum of people and cars during summer. But that winter, grey day, there was nothing. There was no one but us and the sound of the birds twittering on the trees. The whole island seemed from another world, made out of a winter fairytale.

Trying to take the short road back, a side path we followed. Our bicycles sunken into the crumbling earth made ridding such a difficulty. I remember I turned carefully to the left as not to slip in the piles of dried leaves and branches. Little by little we made it to the main bicycle line again…A small church on our right, standing alone, the memory of another time…

And then, a muted rumbling in the distance caused me to look up from my bike for the telltale signs of another storm. And yes, there it was, the inky black clouds lining the horizon, ready to pure down heavy rain...

By the moment we got to De Verzamel Post we were wet to the bone! I remember the frost nipping at my frozen feet, the water dripping from my hair….But what a relief, there was soup for dinner to heal our trembling bodies…