Off-grid: rest and rejuvenation in rural Ruinerwold

By Ella Dunham

What is the true meaning of luxury travel? Having worked in the industry for a decade, I think the concept of luxury travel has changed exponentially. Of course, what is classed as luxury differs from one person to the next, but the overriding factor I’ve noticed in recent years is that luxury travel is now something far beyond the modernities and ultra-all-inclusive features of big brands and five-star hotels. Today, true luxury is about experience.

And to me - well, there’s nothing more luxurious than being given the chance to slow down.

I’d been feeling - for want of a better word - suffocated by life in the city. Something about being in cities pushes me into an ‘all-systems-go’ state of mind, one that makes me start thinking of my to-do list from the second I open my eyes. Even the time I set aside for myself each morning, for journalling, reading, or going for a walk, had become something of a chore or something I felt I needed to tick off a check list. For some reason, I kept having the same thought over and over again - of walking barefoot on grass in complete solitude, being completely off-grid, self-sufficient, and uncontactable.

With this in mind, I started scouring AirBnb for wood cabins across the UK, but couldn’t seem to find one that quite felt ‘right’. Potentially because the concept of solitude in the UK is still such a luxury, and being off-grid considered a novelty, the prices are astronomical even for the tiniest shepherd hut. My search expanded to Europe, seeing as flights and (very nice) accommodation were coming out cheaper than trains and a wooden hut with no bedding in the UK. But widening the search made it even more difficult, and after spending every evening for a week looking for what seemed like an impossible find, I turned to - no judgement here please - ChatGPT for a potential solution. It suggested using a website called ‘nature.house’, a site I’d never heard of, surprisingly.

I didn’t want to drive abroad, so I’d found that on many sites options were limited and it was time-consuming having to search the distance to local bus or train stations for each place I found. Nature.house, however, focuses on sustainability and has a handy feature that allows you to narrow your search to properties that are accessible via public transport.

Having finally narrowed my search, I came across VrouwenVerdeming (which literally translates to ‘women’s relief’) - a build-your-own solo retreat for women, on sprawling farmland in rural Holland. Sometimes when you come across somewhere, you just know, and that was very much the case here. However, I did have some reservations: 1) I wouldn’t be in total solitude, I’d be staying in a farmhouse as a guest of Katja and her husband Harry, the owners. 2) I wouldn’t be ‘self-sufficient’ as I’d planned; the kitchen wasn’t for guest use, and I’d have breakfast made for me, with the option to go out for dinner or have a dinner and dessert service included at the farm each evening. 3) It wasn’t as ‘off-grid’ as I’d pictured myself being, as there was a village nearby and I’d be in the company of the aforementioned owners. 4) All the reviews had been translated from Dutch - did they take English-speaking guests?

An important aside - oftentimes women give much more than they receive. We’re unable to receive compliments, but we are more than capable of giving them (an example of this that comes to mind is when someone compliments an outfit, we can’t just say “thank you” - we have to say thank you, plus give a detailed description of when we bought said outfit, how much it cost, and that, can you believe, it’s actually from Primark?). We’ll go above and beyond for people, but few times do we expect the same level of reciprocity. We tell our friends to slow down, look after themselves, help them get back on their feet when they’re struggling - but how often do we do it for ourselves?

Having taken some time to consider this, I decided that I would allow myself to receive. I cook for myself everyday, why do I need to be self-sufficient whilst I’m on holiday? What’s more nourishing than being cooked for, with homegrown produce from the farm and fresh eggs every day from the chickens who call the farm home? As for solitude, I’d be the only guest there. Plus, it differed from usual retreats where everything is included - the price advertised was for accommodation and breakfast, and you could choose optional add-ons (I’ll get to these later) to make your retreat as reclusive or as involved as you’d like. And being off-grid - well, you can be off-grid anywhere, should you make the conscious decision to ditch your phone. Being English would be no problem either - I’d forgotten that it’s only English people, in our arrogance, who have never bothered to learn another language.

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Having said all of that, I do think I was already sold even just from the pictures - the idea of staying in a thatched-roof, ivy-covered farm cottage in the countryside, with homemade meals, fresh produce, and the option to do some ‘woo-woo’ activities was too good to pass up. It was still the stay I was craving - the chance to slow down, surrounded by nature. I booked my stay for me to arrive in three days time.

Getting there

I flew from Manchester to Amsterdam, and then caught the train from the Amsterdam Schiphol airport to Amsterdam Centraal (13 minutes, 1 stop), where I changed platforms (same platform, other side - very easy) to hop on the commuter train to Meppel (1 hour 35 minutes ish, 5 stops). Usually, the train runs directly from Amsterdam Schiphol to Meppel, but there was ongoing maintenance works that meant I had to change. Despite this, it was a smooth journey and I arrived in Meppel two hours after leaving immigration. Katja, very kindly, picked me up from the station and took me to the farm, giving me a little tour of the village on the way.

Life on the farm

Any apprehensions I’d had melted away the moment I met Katja - she exudes a warmth and kindness that makes you instantly relax. Arriving at the farm, she showed me to my room (a cosy, beautifully decorated space which is slightly separated from the main house) and took me around the property and its surrounding land, introducing me to the chickens and resident pup, Jutta the Rottweiler.

It was already getting late, so Katja brought me dinner and I sat in the garden to eat. During my time at the retreat I’d jokingly commented that Harry would have to find a new wife, as I’d be taking Katja home with me; towards the end, it was less of a joke and more of a case of wanting to work out the logistics to make it possible. Katja has an undoubtable talent (amongst many others) for cooking - her meals taste like the feeling of a warm hug. My first meal was a sweet potato and cauliflower (grown in the garden) curry, with a boiled egg (thanks to the chickens), crispy chilli oil, yoghurt and rice. As though that wasn’t enough, it was accompanied by the most delicious custard-type dessert topped with edible wildflowers, made using fresh, raw milk from a neighbouring farm and a raspberry compote using hand-picked raspberries, plus a cherry liquer Katja had made herself. All of this, displayed beautifully on a tray with a hand-picked wildflower arrangement on the table too. It was like breathing a sigh of relief; instantaneous bliss.

Switching off

I retreated to my room for the night, where I deleted my email applications, switched off all notifications, and put my phone into aeroplane mode. I nibbled on the homemade cacao balls that had been left on the desk and read the leaflet of activities that were available, which had been lovingly translated from Dutch and handwritten for my benefit, as the first English guest at the farm. I’d had a message from Katja to say she’d left me some nighttime tea on the bar, which I went and collected, then I was asleep within minutes, and, for the first time in a long time, slept through the night.

I won’t bore you with a minute-by-minute run down of each of my days on the farm, so I’ll summarise instead: I spent my time doing very little.

I was surprised at how quickly my nervous system settled into switching off. My first full day, I was relaxed enough to have a midday nap - something which is almost unheard of for me. I read and read and read, and wrote pages and pages in my journal whilst listening to birdsong and watching butterflies float around the garden. I’ve always been a writer, but when you write so much, day in, day out, for work, it’s hard to find the energy or desire to write either creatively or cathartically.

One of the best things about slowing down, though, was that it gave me the ability to really feel my feelings. It’s so easy when we’re constantly on the go to say that we’re processing big emotions, sitting with our pain, but are we? Or is it just distraction? And who are we when no one is watching? With no phone and no ‘outside world’ distractions, I found memories floating to the surface - ones I hadn’t visited in years. One afternoon, I sat beside the pond and was reminded of being in my grandparents’ garden as a child, a memory so vivid that it made me choke up. Being able to read books without worrying about getting back to tasks meant that I actually enjoyed them more, my mind floating off to think about my sister when we were kids, the friends I really need to make more effort with, that I really must incorporate more simple joys into everyday life.

One night, my body was exhausted but my mind was not. I tossed and turned for a while, before bursting into tears. I was baffled - I hadn’t felt sad that day. But I didn’t feel ‘bad’ or ‘good’. I just sat with it, sobbed, and sobbed (and sobbed) for a while, then fell asleep. It was just a much-needed release of emotion that my body was finally recognising and felt safe enough to release. I woke up feeling much lighter.

Simple joys

I understand that the idea of a total switch off is overwhelming for some. Fear not - there are an abundance of activities to get involved with at the farm. Katja offers 2-hour mini-courses in permaculture, making tinctures, natural herbs, and foraging. Or you could opt for 1-hour energetic session, cacao ceremony, power yoga or guided meditation.

As a nature lover, it is surprising how little I know about nature, so it’s something I’ve been especially keen to learn more about. I took the foraging mini-course with Katja and we headed out the back of the property, twee wicker baskets in hand, onto a well-maintained plot of land filled with greenery, fruit trees and bushes, and six geese who live beside the beautiful pond Harry (Katja’s husband) added when he acquired the land over 30 years ago. We picked raspberries; said hello to the resident geese; Katja taught me how to pick nettles without being stung; I learned about the farm and its history; we sat beside the sun-dappled pond and talked as afternoon light trickled through the trees overhead. Oh, and I got the barefoot walk I’d originally envisioned for my escape to nature.I also learned how to make tinctures, with Katja and I melting bees wax and adding essential oils whilst chatting over a glass of homemade cherry liqueur - it was so easy to feel at home with myself at the farm.

I also booked in for the cacao ceremony. I’ve participated in cacao ceremonies before in a group setting, but never 1-1 - the thought of which was admittedly a little intimidating. I needn’t have worried, as Katja’s calm nature made me settle in within minutes. With the ego dissolved, I found myself singing out loud with no inhibitions, the first time I’ve done this in the presence of another person for, well, I don’t know how long - not including the occasions that involved copious amounts of alcohol and a karaoke booth. It is incredibly easy to open up when you are in the company of someone who is so non-judgmental and creates a place where your mind and body feel safe to be themselves.

Should you choose to explore the local area, a bike is available to hire, or the local area is easily traversed on foot. I didn’t do either, though, as I was content in cocooning myself in the bubble of the farm. You can also pay to use the sauna, relax by the pool with a lounge chair and towels included, or hire the workshop/studio space - the perfect place to paint, read, or write, amongst many other possibilities.

Whilst I’d originally booked a four-night stay, I woke up on my penultimate day not feeling ready to leave. Katja was more than accommodating in arranging for me to extend my stay, despite another guest’s arrival on my day of departure. It would serve as a good transitional period, anyway; I could continue writing from the farm for two days, bringing myself back into the digital world but without being thrown straight into the hustle and bustle of city life.

Putting the ‘treat' in ‘retreat’

Katja epitomises the feeling of being enveloped in care, and every morning I’d wake up excited to see what hand-written note and treats awaited me on the bar. As part of my digital detox, I wasn’t even using my phone to listen to music, and I relished that the house always had soft, ambient music playing, which only contributed to the atmosphere of utter peace. From buttered fruit bread to homemade teas using herbs and flowers picked just metres away, every single meal, snack, and drink felt nourishing.

An important detail is that Katja is a listener - one day I told her how much I loved elderflower, the next day I had elderflower tea. I mentioned that I loved leeks, my next dinner had leeks in. I said how much I loved her homemade kombucha, I had it on tap for the rest of my stay. The devil is in the detail, and no detail was overlooked here: as her first English guest since starting the retreat, everything had been translated from Dutch to English - even a little inspirational note in the bathroom - with a selection of English books put in my bedroom too. She is a published poet and author, and somehow, this felt woven into everything she did, from daily handwritten notes to her genteel presence. Her words, both spoken and written, were little offerings of calm.

Katja is the very essence of a woman who embodies her power and utilises it to bring out the best in others; she is what has transformed this place from a stay in a farmhouse to a blissful, life-affirming retreat - an opportunity for you to come home to yourself.

The house and surrounding land is, without doubt, a she. There’s an undeniable feminine energy about the place, and should you surrender yourself to embracing its slowness, you’ll be rewarded with pure, unadulterated peace.

My stay has made me question my need for constant stimulation and rigidity in my daily routines at home. What do I truly need? It’s certainly not HIIT classes, 5am starts, seemingly never-ending life admin, late nights, or hangovers. No - it’s just the simple, grounding joys that we’re often too busy to notice we’re craving. Silence, slowness, books, womanhood, nature, animals, seeing the details of a flower in the afternoon sun.

The art of receiving: luxury in its truest, purest form.

(Note: Whilst this is a women’s retreat, it’s important to note that Katja’s husband, Harry, also lives on the property. Harry exudes the same warmth as Katja - kind, gentle, and effortlessly respectful of space. You are left entirely to your own devices, with no pressure to engage unless you choose to. This balance - of presence without intrusion - only deepened the sense of safety and softness that characterised my stay).