The route continued through several national parks. A small section of the route reminded me more of a savannah in Africa. I continued through beautiful sand dunes and forests until finally – typically Dutch – a windmill appeared on the horizon. Majestic and impressive, until it turned out to be my personal final boss. The path to the mill was sandy and low-lying – a treacherous combination, as I soon discovered. As an ambitious tourist, I pulled out my cell phone for the obligatory photo, ready to properly document the adventure. Photo taken, cell phone gone, and on we go – at least that’s what I thought. But as I started moving, my front wheel dug mercilessly into the sand. Bang, my balance gone. I fell like a stone with full force onto my shoulder. Lying down, all I could think was: “Breathe deeply, stay calm.” A careful movement of my shoulder showed that nothing was broken – probably a bad bruise. Painkillers helped to ease the initial pain. After 20 minutes I got up and continued riding, as the position on the bike was bearable as long as I avoided any sudden movements. That's just how it is: most accidents happen when you least expect them. And for me, of course, it had to happen on the third day of the trip - thanks too, Windmill.