Pilgrim on the dike
A while ago I met a man near Beuningen who seemed to be walking in perfect peace on the dike. His stride was steady, contemplative and around his hip he pulled a bicycle trailer that swayed to the rhythm of his feet.
I was just on my way to drop off a stack of postcards with the icon of our route – Pilgrim – with my panniers full of them and was in a bit of a hurry. But when I had passed him ten meters, I still slammed on the brakes. I had to speak to that man.
The man’s name turned out to be Toon Hoefsloot. His cart made him walk slowly, but he enjoyed it. A few days away from everything, not knowing where he slept in the evening: he pitched his tent somewhere. Below is his own account of his journey along the rivers. I don’t think this is a walk, but a ‘walk of wisdom’.
Walking tour of major rivers.
Sometimes terrible things happen. In July, 300 people died suddenly in a horrific way. The images are etched in my mind and millions of others. Head spinning from intensive reporting. Seeking peace and quiet is a must. For that, I often take the kayak, the sailboat or the bicycle. This time it’s the stroller. Pack with simple, nutritious provisions, camping gear, and water. During a five-day solo walk, it may be good in mind and heart. I can’t take away the suffering of tens of thousands, that would be an arrogant thought. I can connect myself with that suffering and trust in the energetic support effect towards the bereaved. That suits me better than laying flowers.
Walking along the Rhine to Amerongen, war violence, conspiracy theories, disaster scenarios and mostly one-sided propaganda reporting crossed my mind. What do government leaders want to achieve? Cunning play is played over the heads of victims. My gaze glided over sun-reflecting water, pierced in the sky at birds of prey circling on thermals, then rested again on lovely flowering plants. Will we ever know?
Along the way, I met several people. They asked about my experiences with the cart and my walking plan. I don’t really have such a plan. I’ll see how it goes and the cart will follow. It’s not about distance, performance or other toughness. It’s about the walking itself and what it does to my anger and sadness in the meantime. The anger at the violence of war, rancid interests, economic motives and the exercise of power in cunning political chess games.
For example, I walked past vast industrial estates in the direction of Tiel. Efficient, clean homes intended for production and satisfying needs. Companies that generate interests, invent and manufacture products for people like me, who love to consume. Complex global systems that exploit people and nature. Butter melts on my head, just like it does on many people.
When I see rivers, something warms up in me. Vastness of water, side channels, nature development and floodplain landscapes are close to my heart. River Boy in heart and soul walks along the Waal and reads the water movements caused by currents and shipping. In the meantime, coal, scrap metal, gas, sand, gravel and oil pass me by. The Prosperity of the Peoples, Production and Consumption. Gadgets, gots.
What do I actually need? No more than what I have with me. Left all belongings at home. I don’t miss them. I walk in freedom. A great thing. I give it to myself. From the center of my body, Mingman, Hara, you name it, I let what moves me bubble up without thinking.
Every now and then I cross the water with foot springs. People with electric bikes accompany me on crossings. Someone asks me if I am interested in pilgrim walks. I feel like a pilgrim. On the road in a world of which I don’t understand much. Because arguing about the right of way and the latest smartphone seems to be important to so many people. The running and flying, the demolition of nature. Extracting raw materials from the earth for their own gain over the heads of entire populations. Polluting oceans with millions of tons of plastic. Too few people seem to be doing anything yet. Shoulders are shrugged off . Ah, my career, my mortgage, my health insurance and playing football.
So what can I do about it? Story making. Hope people take something out of it. Respect, for example, or awareness.
Back along the Rhine I walk home under a gigantic thunderstorm. It sounds like an affirmation from above. The dust washes the birds out of their feathers. Drives people in. Under a small tuft, I stroll up my garden path cooled down.
My prayer prayers. The head is off again.
Toon Hoefsloot.
