The morning at the farmers’ camp site starts at 6 with the feeding of the cows, who were already for some time asking for that. Still, I manage to doze on in my cozy little tent, waiting for a reluctant sun. The days are already growing shorter, darkness comes earlier.
The muffled sun accompanies me as I walk across the heights that guided the river Rhine westward, long ago. Dry leaves rustle under my feet and in the wind. There is a musty and stuffy smell in the forest. A sad and sorrowful early autumn feeling. It feels like someone or something has furtively taken away the summer. It is busy on the paths; mountainbikers, hikers with and without backpacks, families. I am the only one to feel this way?
At the market place in Wageningen I treat myself to a sandwich, that later on noisily tries to leave me. My stomach is good at enduring, something that at least now is helpful. The sun now stings through the high clouds and I walk sweating on the Rhine dike. It may look like hardship, but I actually enjoy this. Or is this just another type of endurance?
Later that afternoon, with a low sun, the wind rustles the leaves of the poplars near the river. It is a rustling at a time that never fails to give me this intense and deep feeling of loneliness. Where it comes from, I don’t know. The natural pool at the little camp site brings relief and chilling.