Well, that could have gone very wrong

Not a good start, really.

I didn’t sleep the best last night. It seems that the new in thing with backpackers is coming into shared rooms as late as possible, turning all the lights on and opening the noisiest bags they could find on the market.

Still, onwards.

As cool as the Via Amsterdam feels, it does fall slightly short on its €12.50 breakfast. Yogurt, cereals, meats and cheeses, accompanied by the most bitter black coffee you could possibly get your hands on.

With a loaded plate in me, a couple of boiled eggs in my bag and some fresh oil on my chain, I hit the road.

Back to the long roads.

The clouds hung low all morning before deciding to open up with full force around midday. Luckily for me, I was protected by the forest, riding gravel roads through the trees. It was a welcome change from the hard tarmac.

One thing I’ve already noticed is just how differently the Dutch plan their towns compared with the UK.

One minute you’re in a deep, dense forest, and then suddenly — town. Village. Houses.

And they don’t seem to just decimate the forest to build. It’s almost as if the town was there first and nature has slowly taken it back.

I kept having a funny thought in my head.

I imagined a conversation with a Dutch planning board about building more like we do in the UK.

The looks on their faces, I imagine, would be something of pure confusion.

“Why?”

“Because that’s how we do it.”

“But why would you do that?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Why would you not just build like the Dutch?”

And honestly, I agree.

The feeling of how close the houses are is interesting too. Like us, they back onto each other, but I don’t think the Dutch seem to mind it quite as much as I would in the UK.

Then there are the speed bumps.

Except they’re not really speed bumps.

They’re the actual road.

Rather than slapping a speed bump onto an otherwise perfectly normal road as an afterthought, the whole road seems to be designed around slowing you down.

And even without them, the way the villages are built makes you not want to speed.

They almost demand respect for the people who live there.

It forces everyone to be happy with it.

And everyone seems to be.

It just works.

It’s nice.

Even the ending of the day was good.

I’m currently sat in someone’s back garden, in their orchard, with two other groups of campers.

€14 gets you a pitch for the night.

50 cents gets you a shower.

And if the day’s riding has got you feeling it, there’s a fully stocked fridge of beer.

Who can complain?

Well, actually…

Let’s go back a bit.

Because I very nearly never made it this far.

It was only thanks to a fellow at a bike repair shop, which was a 2 km detour, that I’m actually sitting here now.

A tiny screw had come out.

And been lost.

“Is a tiny screw really that crucial?” I hear you say.

Well…

Yes.

Yes it is.

This particular tiny screw was holding the frame to the rear wheel bracket.

And it was pure luck that I felt it.

The rain had been coming down hard for about an hour. My head was down, I was trying to keep pace, and I was just concentrating on getting through it.

Then I reached a crossroads and stopped.

And there it was.

A slight flop to one side.

Something wasn’t right.

I looked down.

A quick pull and twist, and I noticed my back wheel moving from side to side.

Shit.

Thankfully, I managed to find a bike repair shop about 2 km away.

And thankfully, there was a kind sir there who knew exactly what he was doing.

So, to that man: thank you.

I will pay you back one day.

Even if you did keep calling me the “crazy Brit”.

I can’t really disagree.

There are probably more screws loose in my head than there are in the bike.

But, back on the road.

Crisis averted.

For now.

Check the nuts, boys, or you might lose your bolts.