BIKE ADVENTURES
Spirit of the North: wild paths, cute seals, and mustard soup
Our 4-day cycling vacation across the Groningen countryside — from coast to coast
Technically, my wife and I had been to Groningen before, but only for a few minutes. It was a quick stop on our Flixbus journey two years ago, when we were moving from Germany to the Netherlands. But even that glimpse was enough to make us want to return. So, this August, we booked a room on the outskirts of Groningen, which became our cozy base for exploring the surrounding province.
We arrived in Groningen by train in the afternoon. I tried to keep our plans light, so instead of going straight to the city center, we rode to the Wall House II, a must-see for architecture geeks like me. The timing felt almost cinematic: the sun broke through the clouds, casting a warm glow over the house’s overlapping modules.
The Wall House II was designed by John Hejduk in 1973, but because of the high costs, it stayed unbuilt for years. It finally came to life in 1990 as part of an urban design experiment.
Although we hardly had any activity yet, we felt surprisingly hungry and stopped at a cozy gastropub. We thought the real adventure would begin the next day, so after a hearty meal and before heading back to our B&B, we allowed ourselves just one more stop — the row of colorful townhouses at Reitdiephaven on the city’s northwestern edge.
This cluster of 102 waterfront homes, designed by Oving Architekten and completed in 2008, felt like a postcard come to life. Each house has two faces: one inland, featuring traditional red brick, and the other waterside, with bright wooden facades evoking the spirit of a bustling harbor town.
And with that, we called it a day. The room we rented was cozy, and we had a good rest. Before falling asleep, I weighed two mutually exclusive route options for the next day. The forecast promised rain and a northern wind, but we felt ready for whatever the day would bring.
Our host suggested visiting a huge open-air festival in the park — a natural choice for someone who had lived in Groningen all his life. But we were more drawn to the countryside, a place likely too familiar to him, yet still unknown to us.
As expected, the sky was heavy with dark blue clouds, and a drizzle fell from time to time, but the view was simply extraordinary!
We cycled northwest, toward the edge of Groningen Province, where the seal rescue center awaited — the day’s main attraction. But we were also curious about everything we’d encounter along the way, like this lifeboat on a trailer. It looked like someone’s summer hut.
Drizzle and wind followed us for a few hours, and we felt the need to warm up. Oksanka started scanning for a cafe and found a lovely tea house just a few minutes away — “De Theefabriek” in the village of Houwerzijl. Cycling together is so convenient: while I steer and pedal, she navigates and spots places to eat, refill water, or take a rest.
So, “De Theefabriek” combined a tearoom, tea museum, and shop. It opened in 1990 in a former church and rectory. We sat on the terrace, sipped herbal teas infused with liqueurs, and waved away the bees that buzzed between the flower beds.
Tea and snacks gave us much-needed warmth, and we were ready to continue to Ulrum. Before our trip, I had marked a spot that few would call interesting — a 1939 weighbridge, once used by farmers to weigh straw, grain, and potatoes, and serving as a checkpoint to make sure vehicles weren’t overloaded. Its 14-meter-long platform could handle up to 30 tons. I hadn’t expected to stumble upon such a structure, but here it was — a charming example of rural industrial architecture!
Ulrum also boasts a beautifully preserved 13th-century village church in the Romanesque style. While most people associate medieval architecture with Gothic, Romanesque appeared earlier and feels cleaner, more solid, and somehow even more atmospheric. Unlike much of the Netherlands, Groningen Province is home to many such Romanesque churches, each with its quiet, timeless charm.
While visiting all those beautiful spots, we eagerly anticipated reaching the seal rescue center. It was very close — just a half-hour ride or so. As I pedaled on, the farms and fields gradually gave way to a wilder landscape — the Lauwersmeer National Park.
Our bike path was lined with sea buckthorn, looking like bright orange dew on the shrubs.
Finally, we arrived at the Seal Rehabilitation and Research Center. It was early afternoon, and we had plenty of time to explore everything around.
The center’s story began back in 1971 in Pieterburen, when Lenie ‘t Hart set up a sanctuary for injured and orphaned seals. Over the years, a modest rescue station has grown into Europe’s leading seal hospital. In 2025, the center moved to Lauwersoog, within the UNESCO World Heritage Wadden Sea, gaining much larger and more modern facilities.
But why do seals need rescue in the first place? To be honest, we had no idea before visiting the rescue center. Sometimes it’s nature, but often it’s human activity. A pup may be left behind while its mother hunts, or abandoned if adults are startled by fishers or tourists. People who approach too closely can also scare adult seals resting on beaches after days at sea. Without that break on land, seals risk exhaustion and, in the worst cases, death.
At the rehab center, pups go through several stages of care. At first, caretakers feed them by hand, slipping salmon puree through a tube. Soon after, they throw fresh fish into their pools, stirring seals’ hunting instincts. In the final stage, the largest pool filled with live fish becomes their training ground, where they learn to hunt. All the while, they live in groups, watching and learning from each other. Every step builds toward one purpose: a confident leap back into the wild.
Right in front of us, one of the seals caught a fish for the very first time after weeks of being fed through a tube. The caretaker’s face lit up with joy; she told us this pup hadn’t managed to switch to fish for weeks!
At the seal center, we were surrounded by more cuteness than we could handle. Just look at these little sausage-shaped fluffballs with those big, round eyes!
The seal enclosures and pools were carefully soundproofed, and even the glass was partially shaded to give the animals some privacy.
The seal rehab center also had a small but intriguing exhibition about the region. Along the North Sea coast of the Netherlands, Germany, and Denmark lies the Wadden Sea — a shallow stretch of water between the mainland and the Frisian Islands. At low tide, the sea often retreats far enough to allow walking across the mudflats — a hobby locals call “wadlopen.”
By then, we realized evening was already approaching; we had to start making our way back. Oksanka planned a return route that didn’t retrace our outward path so we would visit new spots along the way. And since we no longer needed to rush like in the morning, we could take our time enjoying the landscape of the Lauwersmeer National Park. We paused to watch woolly highland cows grazing on the lawn.
Heavy clouds hung over the park’s waters, but no rain was in sight — just a soft, overcast sky.
Our route brought us to the village of Zoutkamp. We were about to cycle straight through when we noticed a replica of a 19th-century lime furnace. It was used to heat limestone until it turned into lime, which could be used in building or farming.
After nearly a full day of cycling across Groningen, I realized what I liked about the region’s bike paths. Unlike the cycling “highways” of South Holland, these were narrow, winding through fields, and occasionally interrupted by narrow and steep, barely passable bridges over canals. They offered a real sense of exploration — though I’m pretty sure we were close to falling off a time or two.
We were on our way to a village called the prettiest in the Netherlands, but first, we had to cover a good couple of dozen kilometers through the gloomy countryside.
Our water bottle was nearly empty, but luckily, we stumbled upon the most thoughtful self-service drink stall we’d ever seen. It had a coffee and tea machine, a fridge stocked with ice cream, homemade jams, a washbasin, and even a QR code for cashless payment!
We enjoyed ice cream and tea and continued to Winsum, the village officially recognized as the prettiest in the country. Its first houses soon came into view on the horizon.
Meanwhile, the sky went full-on dramatic, with sharp contrasts between light and shadow. The last sunrays lit up the fields ahead and the warm-orange coats of a cow family resting beside our path.
We circled the village center just to get a sense of it, but soon realized we needed dinner and quickly looked for a nice spot. We stumbled into “De Jongens Uit De Buurt” (“Guys From the Neighborhood”) without knowing much about it — only later did we realize it was the village’s top restaurant that the locals are very proud of. Alongside our meal, I enjoyed a local beer, “Het Zotte Kalf,” with a charming cow illustration on the can.
But we still hadn’t really explored the village itself! After dinner, we took another stroll around the main spots, this time capturing photos in the soft, beautiful evening glow.
It felt as if we were the only ones on the street. Even the prettiest village in the country is still a village — people go to bed early, and you won’t find noisy crowds wandering around.
Winsum felt truly magical — a beauty that’s hard to capture in a photo. Its two old mills were perfectly mirrored in the glass-like waters.
I felt an inner tug-of-war between wanting to stay a few more minutes to take in the beauty and a need to head back to rest for the next day’s equally intense program. In the end, reason won, and we took the quickest route back to our temporary base in Groningen.
With the northwestern corner of Groningen Province explored, the next day, it was time to head east and see what awaited us there. I decided to follow the straight line of the Ems Canal, which links Groningen City to the Ems estuary, with Germany just a ferry ride across. For many kilometers, our ride was calm and easy, with just occasional boats drifting by.
Then we reached the first interesting spot — the so-called hanging kitchens of Appingedam.
These small wooden extensions, jutting over the canals, were built in the 18th and 19th centuries. Residents used them to wash dishes and prepare food right above the water — a clever way to make the most of the limited space in the town’s center.
We continued along the Eems Canal to its end at the coastal town of Delfzijl. The sun was blazing, so we hid in the shade of the local aquarium and maritime museum. From the outside, it didn’t look large, but inside, we found a surprisingly rich maritime exhibition. However, what captured our attention most were the aquariums filled with various sea creatures, housed in a former World War II bunker.
I stayed the longest watching small stingrays, perfectly camouflaged to hide in the sand, except for their cartoonishly cute eyelashes.
And then we unexpectedly learned the story behind those kitschy porcelain dogs we had seen so many times on Dutch windowsills. At first, I thought they were just a sentimental knick-knack. But in fact, they once carried a discreet code: prostitutes would place the dogs facing outward to signal availability, and turn them inward when they had a client. Mass-produced in 19th-century England, the “hooker dogs” entered Dutch homes since the country was a sea nation and sailors frequented brothels. Of course, seeing them today doesn’t imply anything about a household’s occupation — it’s simply a curious trace of history.
The museum gave us a refreshing pause from the heat. Afterwards, we climbed the massive dike and looked out over the Wadden Sea at low tide — its seabed stretched bare for kilometers toward the distant islands.
People lounged on the beach below, but no one swam — there simply wasn’t any water nearby.
Our next plan was to seek out more Romanesque village churches, like the one we had discovered the morning before, while exploring the Groningen countryside along the way. It wasn’t really about the churches themselves — they were just a reason to venture deeper into the region.
Before reaching any village, we rode along the top of the dike, and a breathtaking panorama unfolded in every direction. A flock of sheep grazed right on the dike, and I had to steer very carefully to avoid their poo.
Groningen proved to be such a beautiful and diverse region that we could have easily spent a full day in each of the places we had packed into a single ride.
We rode further from the sea, and the scenery began to shift: fields and small settlements replaced the endless, treeless expanses. We stopped in several villages to admire their old medieval churches, but the one that truly posed for a perfect photo was in Oldenzijl.
The 13th-century St. Nicholas Church perches on a small hill. Its round Romanesque apse and brick arches caught the light perfectly, while the simple layout gave it a calm, authentic look — silently watching over the surrounding fields.
It was exactly the timeless, local mood we hoped to capture. There was one more village church worth visiting, but first, we paused for a snack beside what seemed like a piece of contemporary art, standing quietly in the middle of nowhere. Later, I discovered it was one of the five works in the series “Rest Points” (“Restpunten”) by the Dutch creative duo Maree Blok and Bas Lugthart.
St. Antonius Church in Kantens boasted a unique leaning octagonal tower, held steady by a massive buttress. The oldest part of the church was built around 1150. I tried to capture it in color, but the harsh light and deep shadows from the surrounding trees made the details tricky, so I switched to monochrome instead.
It was the last Romanesque church we saw that day, and from there we rode toward Groningen through the village of Onderdendam.
Once again, we nearly passed straight through — until an unusual statue by the canal made us stop. It was “Het Jagertje,” a 1992 sculpture by Fred Mennens. It shows a female ship hauler, one of the women who once labored alongside men to pull barges through the waterways. Around her band runs an old saying: “Whoever loves his wife keeps her in sight,” said the skipper and put her on the line.”
The sun cast long shadows as we let the tailwind carry us swiftly toward the city. Another day of more than 100 kilometers of adventures behind us!
As I hoped, we managed to get to sleep before midnight. I had a plan to wake at 5 a.m. the next morning to finally capture the city of Groningen itself, since until then we had been exploring mainly the surrounding region rather than its capital.
In the end, I managed to pull myself away from the soft, warm pillow and rode to the city center for a couple of hours of shooting. Oksanka preferred to stay asleep, knowing I’d be hopping chaotically from one photo spot to another — not exactly her idea of fun.
I began with the 15th-century Akerk, dedicated to Our Lady of the Aa. Its tower glowed softly under the young moon.
Following the street, I arrived at the main square, and you’d probably never guess what I wanted to capture here — an underground public toilet! Not just any toilet, though. Opened in 1926 and designed by Siep Bouma, it combined Amsterdam School and Art Deco elements. It had separate entrances for men and women, both leading through a shared vestibule, so a single attendant could oversee the whole facility.
Since I was there, I also captured the nearby 97-meter-tall Martini Tower — perhaps the most iconic medieval landmark of the old town — and, not far from it, the Groningen Forum, a bold glass-and-steel shopping center. I’ve always admired this kind of honest contrast: when contemporary architecture doesn’t mimic the past, but instead asserts its own presence beside it.
And speaking of contemporary architecture, I couldn’t skip the undisputed champion — the Groningen Museum. It doesn’t just house striking modern art; the building itself feels like a bold artwork.
I arrived just in time to catch its colorful forms mirrored perfectly in the still canal at dawn.
The city was slowly waking up, and I hurried from one spot to the next on my list, eager to capture it before cars and people filled the streets.
And here’s a gem of interwar architecture — a former Public Works Department office. Designed in 1925 by Siep Bouma (the same architect behind that underground toilet), it showcases the expressive and colorful style of the Amsterdam School.
Now let’s leap several centuries back to what is likely the oldest residential building in Groningen: the 14th-century “Gothic House.” The early sunlight caught the red shutters, making them sparkle.
With only a short window before the morning crowds arrived, I almost regretted not getting up this early on the previous days.
The final building I managed to photograph before picking up Oksanka for breakfast was this charming shop-and-apartment house in Westerhaven Street. It was built in 1932 by local architect Henri Rots in the New Objectivity style. The building looked like it was assembled from Lego bricks — so cheerful and utterly charming.
I was glad to have had those three hours of hyper-focused photography — pure magic for someone holding a camera, but a test of patience for anyone tagging along.
Oksanka and I then visited the contemporary art museum to put a final dot on our exploration. But the real highlight wasn’t the exhibition itself — although we genuinely loved it — it was the mustard soup at the museum café. The soup’s roots go back to the early 20th century, when local producers crafted a distinctive, robust mustard from black seeds.
We enjoyed this soup multiple times during our trip, but it was only at the museum café that I remembered to snap a picture before devouring it. Naturally, we also picked up the key ingredients — hard to find in South Holland — so we could recreate this Groningen specialty at home and relive the memories of our fantastic cycling adventure.
✍️ This article is part of a series about the regions of the Netherlands. You can find the other stories on my blog.
