I thought it might be time for another update, three months into living on my bike here in Europe. This probably isn’t a standard bikepacking post; it’s more of a reflection for anyone interested in the inner process that can unfold during longer rides.
One thing that stands out most is how intimately I’ve felt the change of seasons. Being outside every day makes those transitions so tangible. The past month has been a slower one, full of quiet moments, some loneliness, and a lot of reflection on how expectations and planning can shape (and sometimes distort) an experience.
After visiting friends in southern Croatia, I hit a crossroads: keep going south into unknown terrain without a clear goal, or turn north toward the mountains that were starting to call me again. I love autumn, and something about heading back to familiar ground felt right, but also confusing.
For the first time, not having a destination started to feel uneasy. My mind spun in circles, torn between two directions. I wrote pages in my journal, talked it out with people I met… and eventually, I just had to cut the knot (as we say in my language) and make a decision. I bought a train ticket north.
At first, I felt peaceful again. Visiting friends in Slovenia, then settling on a small mountain farm to help out for a while. But as the rains came and temperatures dropped, the novelty faded and doubt crept back in.
Did I give up on adventure? Was I just seeking comfort? My mind started replaying what-ifs and craving something else. It felt like I couldn’t just be where I was.
One afternoon, I sat with the goats, sheep, and pigs and finally let myself cry. Somehow, their quiet presence made it easier to release all those emotions.
After that, things softened. The restlessness calmed, and I could see the beauty around me again. It wasn’t that everything was suddenly perfect, just that I stopped fighting it. I realized I was missing that feeling of being truly on the road, the uncertainty, the openness, the not-knowing. Familiarity had triggered old patterns of restlessness and judgment.
So I started leaning back into curiosity, letting each day surprise me, going mushroom foraging, exploring new places around, and slowly feeling that pull to ride again, alone and without a plan.
Traveling solo for so long has shown me both the freedom and the challenge of constant movement. I notice how easily I grow restless staying in one place, yet also how empowering it feels to walk away when something isn’t right. It’s teaching me a lot about boundaries, needs, and the courage to speak up. But I want to make sure that it doesn’t cause me to ‘run away’ from any discomfort.
I’m so deeply grateful for the people who hosted me and the friendships that evolved along the way. I’m even more grateful for incredible food that somehow came to me, and the natural beings that provide abundance and love all around me.
As winter settles in, I feel called to head back to my home country for a while, to find some warmth, temporary work, and time with friends and family. I’ll keep the same open, learning mindset as I make that shift, and hopefully hit the road again in early spring.
Thanks for reading, and for being such an inspiring community to check in with.
Cheers,
Koen
by Feisty-Enthusiasm224