Nice to meet you!
Have you ever noticed how a place changes when you move through it slowly?
I travel by bicycle for food and outdoor adventures; not because it's the most efficient way to get somewhere, but because it's the only speed where you actually smell the bread from a village bakery, hear a river before you see it, and end up in conversations you never planned. It's just fast enough to cover ground and slow enough to catch the things that make a place feel real.
That curiosity has taken me across countries with friends, across Asia on a tandem collecting stories with volunteers , and through the Spanish Basque Country with my partner. Every trip confirmed the same thing: a bicycle moves at a pace that feels human. One where experiences have time to settle before the next one arrives.
For years I squeezed these adventures into short holidays; always returning just when it started to get interesting. Now I've given myself a sabbatical to follow that curiosity properly in Grand Camp d'Europe.
A long-distance bicycle journey under the European stars.
I'm from the Netherlands, where finding a place to live has quietly become one of those puzzles that shouldn't be a puzzle at all. Not because we're chasing something extravagant; a modest place with a patch of green and a bit of silence would do. But even that has turned into something surprisingly difficult to find, or simply unaffordable.
Our wishes are basic: a roof, fresh air, people who enjoy being outdoors. Yet somehow those basics feel further away each year. It made me wonder how others across Europe manage to build lives closer to nature; whether that's a choice they actively make or simply how things still work in places that haven't lost that connection.
Imagine the European continent as one extended campsite. Forests, fields and mountains as temporary homes; each night a different way of balancing comfort and the world around you. That's Grand Camp d'Europe.
I'm setting off by bicycle with a small tent and no fixed endpoint. From the far north of Europe I'll move slowly toward its warmer edges, letting the road, the weather and the people I meet along the way shape the direction. The bicycle takes me to places you don't pass through by accident; camping keeps everything simple and close to the ground.
Under the European stars, the journey becomes less about kilometres and more about how we live with nature. I'm measuring in nights rather than distance; searching for people and places that still make room for a life outdoors. Whether that's a quiet garden where someone says "pitch your tent over there," a shared meal after a long day of riding, or a simple conversation about what it means to live close to the land.
The journey unfolds in stages; not a strict route but a gradual transition of landscapes, seasons and ways of living.
It begins in the Arctic north, where summer light stretches the days endlessly and nature dictates the rhythm. From there, south through the forests of the Baltic states and eastern Poland; a part of Europe I've always been curious about but never properly explored.
The later stages stay deliberately open. Rather than drawing a line on a map, I'll let people, weather and the simple question of where it still feels right to sleep outside guide the way. One of Europe's southern edges will mark the finish; chosen along the way, not before it.
Tom has always been my nickname. Short, catchy, easy to remember. Much like how I like to be around people; entertaining, sharing stories, chasing good moments wherever they show up.
Carbon arrived later. Literally.
For a long time I made the same choices many of us do: traveling fast, consuming without thinking twice, moving on to the next thing before the last one had properly landed. That started to change when I slowed down and began paying attention.
Not overnight. Through meeting people who live closely with nature; who cook with what's growing around them and make thoughtful choices without turning it into a philosophy or a brand. That's where I discovered how much creativity hides in everyday habits. In what people eat, how they travel, how they adapt to the place they're in.
I'm still chasing the same things: good meals, wild landscapes, people who build their lives around being outside. Just with a sharper eye for what actually matters. Less rush, more curiosity. A personal challenge to travel with a lighter footprint; and still very much, 100% Tom Carbon.
