I absolutely love cycling, but Oksanka isn’t as keen. To be precise, she enjoys the sensation of riding but finds steering stressful and cannot relax. That’s why I decided to take a radical step and bought a longtail e-bike so we could go on adventures together. What follows is the story of our first 100-kilometer ride. Back then, I hadn’t yet had a plan to chronicle our travels across all twelve provinces.
I equipped the bike with a passenger seat and a dummy handlebar for Oksanka to hold onto during the bumpy stretches. I also added a phone mount for her, so she could help navigate on the map. We kicked off the journey on a perfectly dry and sunny day from our home in Scheveningen and headed northeast along the coast.
Our route took us through Meijendel, a vast wetland and nature reserve, and continued into Berkheide. The dune belt here is remarkably wide, reaching up to three kilometers. The “young dunes,” closest to the sea, consist of shifting white sands held together by Marram grass. Next are the “grey dunes,” covered in a carpet of mosses and lichens. Finally, the “old dunes” are characterized by dense oak and pine forests.
These dunes are the country’s largest natural defense that protects lowlands from the rising sea and storm surges. For a country so famously flat, the dunes of Meijendel and Berkheide are surprisingly hilly, offering a constant rhythm of climbs and descents.
We passed several picturesque “lakes” nestled in the dunes, only to realize they were actually man-made infiltration basins. Since the 1950s, river water has been pumped into these ponds to slowly sink through the sand. Over several weeks, the earth naturally purifies it before it’s collected and sent to the taps in The Hague and Leiden. Free drinking water taps were available along the route, and we stopped to refill our bottle more than once that day.
We were approaching Katwijk aan Zee, a coastal town with a charming beach boulevard lined with low-rise historic buildings. But then a strange, tulip-bulb-shaped dome caught our eyes in the dunes. It was the Universel Murad Hassil, built in 1970 as an inclusive space for worship and coming together. Universal Sufism is a spiritual practice that bridges the traditions of East and West, promoting the ideals of unity, freedom, and love for all humanity. This temple in Katwijk is a rare find — one of only two such structures in the world.
When we entered the town, a large white tower appeared on the right. It looked minimalist and modern, but in reality, it was the second-oldest lighthouse in the country! The Beacon of Katwijk dates back to 1605, though a lighthouse has stood in this spot since earlier times. The building was renovated multiple times and remained in operation until 1913, but then Katwijk lost its importance as a port.
Our next stop was in just a couple of minutes at Katwijk’s stunning coastal church, St. Andreas Church (1460). Originally, it was surrounded by houses, but floods and erosion shifted the center of the settlement further inland, leaving the church behind.
Interestingly, this church is not the oldest in town. A Gothic church in the center is two centuries older, but it looks fairly typical. In contrast, this one, with its whitewashed walls and harmonious symmetrical shape, stands out and is visible from afar.
One could easily spend the entire day in Katwijk without realizing it, but we had other things to see. So, we continued on our way.
I thought that was it for Katwijk, but just before leaving, we spotted a snow-white minimalist villa near the road. I guessed it must be an example of Interwar Modernism, and stopped to take a picture. Indeed, Villa Alegonda (1916–1936) is a bright example of the Modernist and Cubist styles. But it didn’t look this elegant all the time. From 1957 until 2015, it underwent brutal alterations and was used as a hotel. Only in 2018 did new owners restore it to as much of its original state as possible.
In 20 minutes, we came to Noordwijk. Unlike Katwijk, with its picturesque seafront street, Noordwijk’s seaside was lined with high-rise hotels and bustling with cars. I was pedalling at cruise speed and didn’t take much time to look around. But then suddenly, something grabbed my attention, so I stopped and walked a little bit back to take a photo.
This was a sculpture by Noordwijk-based contemporary artist Maja van Hall. She made a series of statues depicting women busy with household chores. She ironically called them “Drudges” (an old-fashioned word for someone made to do monotonous, dull work) to protest against traditional gender roles and challenge societal norms. I was surprised to encounter such a deep piece of art right on the street.
Then, we only made a brief stop at Noordwijk’s lighthouse, built between 1921 and 1923 in the style of Modernism. The lighthouse has six floors and a light height of over 33 meters. Despite its relatively recent construction, the site has a long history. Fires were first lit here in the mid-15th century to guide local fishers. It’s no surprise that the Dutch word for lighthouse, “vuurtoren,” literally means “fire tower.”
Time passed quickly, and we soon found ourselves quite hungry. I began searching for a nice spot for a picnic. We took our favorite “assemble it yourself” lunch: pieces of baked chicken, bread, slices of sweet paprika and tomatoes, and various cheeses. Cheap and tasty! We found a lovely spot under the trees near the Oosterduinse Meer. We took off our shoes and walked on the cooling grass near the lake.
There was only one small problem. After riding in the direct sunlight, we got thirsty, with only a few sips of disgustingly warm water left in the bottle. Luckily, Oksanka had a shortcut to the map of drinking water points and discovered a public tap by an old mill in the center of Lisse, where we were going anyway. The town of Lisse has a long history but is best known for its tulip bulb cultivation and Keukenhof Flower Park, which is always full of tourists. We passed the crowded parking lot of Keukenhof and rushed to the mill.
Although the current mill dates back to only 2003, its history stretches back to the 17th century when it was used to drain water from the neighboring Zemel polder. (By the way, if you didn’t know, polders are low-lying areas enclosed by dikes and artificially drained — the Dutch have been experts in land reclamation for centuries!)
But why did we go to Lisse in the first place if not to see the famous tulip park? We wanted to visit a lesser-known spot, the 14th-century Dever Castle. However, don’t be misled by the word “castle.” In this case, we are talking about its only remnant — the donjon, or residential tower. Most castles in the Middle Ages started with a single formidable keep and then expanded around it.
The Dever Castle is the only preserved medieval donjon in South Holland. It was built after 1375 by knight Reinier Dever, a member of an old line of Dutch nobles.
The castle is horseshoe-shaped: its thinner, flat side faced a swamp and thus was naturally protected, while the rounded facade is 2 meters thick! It stands on foundations that extend 3 meters below the surface, which may be one of the reasons the keep still stands despite centuries of decay.
During the 16–17th centuries, when medieval fortifications lost their function, Dever Castle was extended and turned into a stately mansion, much larger than the original donjon.
Since the owners of the castle were Catholics living in a primarily Protestant country, they were eventually forced to leave for Germany, and the place began to decay. By the 19th century, the extensions started falling apart (their foundations were not as strong as those from medieval times), and the donjon’s roof collapsed as well. It is painful to see what a ruin the castle turned into by the 1930s: a grass-covered brick shell with a wooden barn on the side.
After the Second World War, the Dutch government seized the castle under the pretext of enemy property. As I mentioned earlier, the original owners had moved to Germany, the aggressor state that lost the war, making it a suitable moment for the Dutch to reclaim the castle. It was restored in the 1970s and has been open to the public ever since.
The Dever Castle was interesting but quite compact, so after half an hour’s tour, we had plenty of time to explore somewhere else. We headed to the border between South and North Holland.
While taking a picture of a grumpy sheep on the grass, I noticed an old mill in the distance. It was the Lisse polder mill from 1676, built to drain the water from the surrounding area. Although the mill is still operational, nowadays, it is inhabited and not used for its initial purpose.
The mill was gorgeous and nicely located on the bank of a canal. We saw other riders also stop here to enjoy the view and relax on the grass.
We stood right on the border of South Holland, and North Holland was just across the canal.
We rode along the canal towards Teylingen, a municipality that unites the villages of Voorhout, Sassenheim, and Teylingen itself.
What I’ve always loved about traveling through villages and towns is noticing their original details and cute makeshift decorations. Cities often don’t have this naive vibe. For example, the cute yellow house in the photo below had lovely blue window frames and a doily pattern on the bottom parts of the windows.
However, we were seeking not just cute houses but something special — the ruins of medieval Teylingen Castle. It was built as a defensive point of the north-south route through Holland and a keep of the noble family Van Teylingen.
The castle started in the early 13th century as a ring wall 37 meters in diameter, and soon after that, a curved donjon was attached to its eastern side. In the 14th century, a comfortable house was built on the outside adjacent to the fortress, but it didn’t survive.
Unfortunately, the castle was seriously damaged in 1570 during the eighty-year-long Dutch Revolt against the Spanish Empire. In 1675, the donjon burned, while other parts gradually decayed. Starting in the 18th century, the area changed owners, but fortunately, it was sold under the condition of preserving the ruins, which became one of the first examples of Dutch national heritage protection.
I found several interesting historical depictions of the fortress. It was damaged and rebuilt several times, but you can still easily recognize its original rounded shape.
The donjon is just an empty shell now, but you can guess the layout and interior by the marks on its walls.
I didn’t expect it would be possible to climb to the top of the defensive wall near the gate, but the tower entrance was open, so we enjoyed a picturesque view of the entire fortress from above. The courtyard lawn was mowed in visible circles, resembling a UFO landing site straight out of one of those alien conspiracies.
After visiting the second castle during our journey, we continued through Sassenheim. While Oksanka was buying snacks at a supermarket, I couldn’t resist taking a picture of the old village church. The building captivated me because it featured parts from different epochs: an arched Romanesque facade from the 12th century, a Gothic tower with lancet portals from the 13th century, and minimalist additions from the 16th to 18th centuries when the church was damaged in wars.
What’s interesting, the oldest Romanesque part (well visible in my photo) had been concealed under a thick layer of plaster, only being revealed during the 1970s restoration.
After such a concentrated adventure with castles, windmills, and other fascinating sites, Oksanka and I were ready to call it a day. However, we unexpectedly stumbled upon an alpaca farm near the village of Warmond. Such a pleasant surprise at the end of the day!
There was one black alpaca that stood still and stared at us. It looked like a shadowy silhouette, with no facial details visible.
Then we rode non-stop through other villages and towns and finally got to Scheveningen. It was the “golden hour,” right before the sunset. The sea was unusually calm but quite chill.
It was so pleasant to dip my feet in the cold water of the North Sea after a day of pedaling. Unfortunately, I hadn’t bought sandals yet and had to wear sneakers, which were too hot for such nice weather.
This trip inspired me to create a huge list of Dutch medieval castles on my Google Maps. Hopefully, we’ll visit them all someday.
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