Hikers' cabins

And the people who now start to make ridiculous comments, you can carelessly beat them with a chain or cardan. Hikers' cabins have nothing to do with solo sex. Hiker's cabins might just have been conceived for us, motorcyclists. After all, we are individualists who after a day of driving are very happy with the uncomplicated convenience of a roof over the head and a bed? And such a one or two-burner stove is handy for making coffee in the morning, but we do eat outside the gate or just in the camping restaurant. Hikers' cabins also extend the motorcycle season.

What is a hiker's cabin?

Hikers' cabins are wooden log cabins that are furnished in a cozy, simple but practical way. If you are looking for a little more luxury, there are Trekkershutten Plus and Trekkershutten Comfort at various locations. They are more spacious and equipped with running water and a refrigerator. The Comfort Trekkershut has two separate bedrooms and a wet room with toilet and sink. But that is of course for wimps.

There are more than 300 locations in the Netherlands, Belgium, Luxembourg and Germany that are affiliated with Stichting Trekkershutten Nederland. You will find hikers' cabins on both simple camping sites, where the focus is mainly on tranquility, but also on campsites with extensive recreational facilities.

Our exemplary journey was not representative, but very nice

We went out with two aged vintage cars. A Harley WL who has been in the family since 1961 and a Russian bastard who has been living with his owner for almost 20 years. The route was roughly Dieren, Ellecom, Maarn, Zeist, Aalten, Winterswijk, Doesburg, Ellecom, Dieren. Such an 250 kilometer. It took us three days and two nights. The end point of the first day was Maarn, because we had planned a visit to a motorcycle collection in the area on the second day. The second night was in Aalten, because we wanted to catch up with an old acquaintance near Winterswijk.

The trip to Maarn lasted only half a day. That was because the terminal Russian tricycle turned out to be tougher than expected. We had a reservation at Allurepark Laag-Kanje. That is a Cosmo-like name for a surprisingly wooded and peaceful campsite in the green heart of the Randstad. We looked at our accommodation and saw that it was simple and clean, so good.

After all the hardships of that day, we did not want to return to the wild outside world

We took a gamble that could have turned out badly and decided to eat in the camping restaurant. The meal there was not only sufficiently filling, but also tasty. And affordable. We walked contentedly to our hikers' cabin, took a cigar and a glass of whiskey. We analyzed the day. And saw that it was good.

There was a mother and daughter whose daughter wanted to know if we were bad midlifelosers or tough bikers. We explained that we only regretted the things we did and that we had no tattoos. The father or husband of the two apparently scored a midle crisis, a Harley and a younger friend. The two women were resentful about that. It was nevertheless a pleasant conversation.

And what does a bunch of motorcyclist tigers do that is away from home for a few days?

While all the camping visitors stared at us with jealousy and longing, we went into our basket at ten o'clock. Actually at a quarter to ten. But that sounds so childish. The ride to Zeist the next day was a breeze. About fourteen kilometers. We were at the agreed address before our friend arrived. We waited in the sun and smoked satisfied. The Ural bastard marked its newly gained ground with a puddle of oil. Friend Elmer materialized and after we had looked closely at his collection and our dream bikes we made an excursion through the rest of his company. Elmer's collection is a true museum. We got down to business, discussed the adoption of some small stuff and headed for the distant Aalst through the shortcut.

That ride proved that you have enough on secondary roads at a cruising speed of 70 km / h

After the necessary, and very quiet breaks, we landed early in the afternoon in the Aalten countryside at the Goorzicht campsite. We washed our faces and hands and dived into bustling Aalten. The terrace of Herbergh d'Olde Marckt turned out to be a great place to wait for dinner.

The food was fair and tasty

Later on we drove back to our camp site where dusty toddlers looked at us admiringly or ran to their mothers crying. A round glass of whiskey plus a cigar. The next day we were awakened by the birds. And in Aalten you have breakfast as it should be: quiet. The excursion to Winterswijk, where our old acquaintance has a unique motorcycle collection, was of course a walkover. While we kept him from his work, we managed to make a considerable hole in his coffee supply. To make it all right, we bought a set of used suitcases, three 15 ”wheels for a BMW 'Vollschwinge' sidecar and a classic leather jacket.

We did the journey from Winterswijk to Ellecom and Dieren with only two stops. And on the terrace of De Waag in Doesburg, we concluded that we would just make the next trip to the Ardennes two nights longer. Because hikers' cabins are great!