Toward sunset I still had not found camping, but the rains had slowed down. The sunset was one of the nicest that I have ever seen, and cast a deep pink and purple glow over everything, including the trees, reflective highway signs, and anything else that the dimming light hit. It was a really long and wet day of cycling, and at around ten o´clock I decided that something needed to happen in the way of my sleeping arrangements. I stopped at the first hotel that I saw, walked in through the restaurant, where neatly-attired old Dutch people sat drinking hot beverages at lace covered tables and I felt uncouth sloshing through in my dripping wet cycling gear. The price was to steep and I pressed on to finally locate a campground where I upset an old Dutch caretaker by trying to enter at nearly midnight. After initially turning me away with sharp reprimands he took pity and allowed me to rest my weary body within the security of his precious campground. It was a wet night of sleep. (9/13/04)