Dust, Wind, and Tarmac Blues: Riding the TET Netherlands and Germany on a Budget, a Prayer, and a Royal Enfield Himalayan
Author: A Dusty Bum with a Grin
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Let’s get one thing straight: adventure motorcycling isn’t all about conquering glaciers in Iceland or dodging camels in Morocco. Sometimes, it’s about riding through the flattest country on earth, dodging Dutch cyclists and German traffic jams, all while praying your cheap hotel has hot water and a real mattress.
Welcome to my latest leg on the Trans Euro Trail (TET), where I tackle the tail end of the Netherlands and dip a toe—well, an entire muddy boot—into Germany.
20 May – Netherlands: Saving the Best for Last
The day started with low expectations. I crawled out of a “meh” hotel bed after a “meh” breakfast. The kind of meal where the bread is suspiciously rubbery and the coffee tastes like it’s been reheated since the Cold War.
But here’s the twist: this ended up being my favourite day of the TET Netherlands. That’s right—after days of teasing gravel and polite tarmac, the trail finally flirted back.
The ride offered a perfect ménage à trois of terrain: a little tarmac to warm up the tires, a flirtatious amount of sand to keep things spicy, and a sprinkle of gravel just to prove the Dutch can be dirty when they want to. It was rural paradise—no cities, no honking horns, no Lycra traffic jams. Just me, the Himalayan, and enough open space to make you forget the country’s flatter than a pancake squashed by a steamroller.
The real magic, though, came in the last 15 km of Section 2. Riding alongside a canal on sandy roads, I felt like some low-budget adventurer starring in a GoPro commercial that no one asked for. Gorgeous, peaceful, and with just enough slip-slidey action to feel like I earned my trail dust.
And then… Germany.
Enter Germany: Confusion, Traffic, and a Hotel Named After a Fort
Crossing into Germany meant a quick reintroduction to traffic misery, courtesy of Leer. I don’t know what Leer means in German, but I’m guessing it translates to “endless red lights and the smell of burnt clutch.”
Fortunately, the countryside redeemed itself. Winding roads, sleepy villages, and enough twisties to remind me my bike has more than two gears. The day wrapped up at a place called “Zur Schanze,” a biker hotel that does exactly what it says on the tin: provides a bed, some food, and a roof over your helmet.
€60 well spent, considering the room didn’t smell like wet socks and the food wasn’t served with passive-aggressive stares. Solid day overall.
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21 May – TET Germany, or: How to Get Bored at 80km/h
The next morning kicked off with a bang—or rather, with the total absence of one. No breakfast, no staff, no goodbye kiss. Not even a vending machine. Just me, my bike, and a growling stomach louder than the exhaust.
As if to match the mood, the weather had clearly decided to channel its inner ice queen. Strong winds, grey skies, and temperatures that made me wish I’d packed thermals instead of bravado.
And the riding? Yawn.
220 km of mostly straight, uninspired tarmac with the occasional off-road tease—just 2 km of sand, if you can call it that. It felt like Germany took one look at my dusty enthusiasm and said, “Nein.”
I eventually landed in Glückstadt, a town whose name translates to “Happiness City.” How ironic. With the forecast promising rain and more wind, I booked an apartment for two nights and hibernated like a cold, grumpy marmot.
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23 May – Germany Section 1 & 2: Tarmac, Wind, and a Tiny Bit of Redemption
Two days of rest (read: sulking and eating bread in an apartment) later, I geared up again for TET Germany Sections 1 and 2. I’d love to tell you things dramatically improved, but let’s not kid ourselves.
The cold was back with a vengeance, slapping my cheeks like an angry Bavarian grandma. The wind howled across the fields, determined to push both me and the Himalayan into the next postcode.
What followed was another 240 km of “meh.
” Mostly straight tarmac that had all the thrill of watching paint dry, interrupted by some surprisingly pleasant off-road bits—gravel, grass, and just enough slip to keep me from completely dozing off.
The highlight? Section 2 started strong, with proper off-road vibes. The recent rain meant less dust, so I wasn’t choking on trail powder every five minutes. Small wins, people. Small wins.
By the time I hit Lübeck, I was cold, tired, and mildly annoyed at the German weather gods. But I found a room—miraculously—despite it being Friday. No sightseeing, no beer garden revelry. Just a warm bed and dreams of trails that actually bend.
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Final Thoughts: Wind-Burnt, Dusty, and Still Chasing the Ride
Look, I get it. Not every riding day is going to be all sand dunes and smug grins. Sometimes adventure riding is more “mild inconvenience” than “epic saga.” But that’s the charm of it.
The Netherlands wrapped things up beautifully—like a cheeky lover who plays hard to get then gives you a proper send-off. Germany, on the other hand, is being a bit of a moody date right now. Cold, distant, and reluctant to get dirty. But I’ve got hope. There are still sections to ride, borders to cross, and surely some trails that aren’t straight enough to play pool on.
For now, the Himalayan’s humming, my boots are still crusty from sand, and I’ve only sworn at the weather six times today. That’s progress.
And let’s be honest: if everything went perfectly, it wouldn’t be an adventure. It’d be a brochure.
More to come, assuming I don’t get blown into Denmark.
Ride safe. Or at least ride cheeky.
#dustysocks
Perfect for the Himalayan and the rider🥰