Even though I don’t speak a single word of Dutch, I had my own theory about what De Goudsberg might mean in English. Would you believe it to be God’s Mountain or the Gold Mountain? I went with the first option—God’s Mountain—but, unfortunately, that turned out to be wrong. It’s the Gold Mountain instead, and what a fancy name for a place.
This so-called Gold Mountain happens to be located right in the center of the country. The exact center lies just next to it, in an area that is surprisingly wooded for a country so often associated with flat fields and open skies. Thankfully, the Gold Mountain itself was on the other side of the road, because my movements that day were anything but golden. I parked the car, took the very first path I saw, and confidently started following it—only to realize a bit later that it might be leading me somewhere entirely wrong.
Instead of turning back immediately, I decided to rumble through the forest like some low-budget version of Rambo. In my defense, it was genuinely difficult to spot the smaller paths, as the fallen autumn leaves had done an excellent job of carpeting the ground. Still, I couldn’t help but feel like an idiot: wandering through the forest, getting my shoes dirty, blindly following the GPS on my phone. If I ever had the patience to think before acting, a walk of a few hundred meters from the car to the destination wouldn’t feel like such an expedition.
To be fair, whatever this place is officially called, it actually has proper trails—good ones. Trails for walking, running, getting fresh air, and generally behaving like a normal person. Eventually, I stumbled back onto one of the main paths, straight as a ruler, and from there I could already see my destination ahead.
All the Benelux countries seem to have put some effort into marking their geographical centers, and each has some sort of monument for the occasional visitor who ends up there. This place was no exception. There was a stone engraved with the coordinates and a short text, reminding you that this was indeed the very center of the Netherlands. Oddly enough, it was surrounded by a circular steel structure, almost like a stage—perhaps meant for performances, or simply for people to sit around the center of the country itself.
Nearby stood an artsy telescope, pointed over the treetops toward open fields in the north, and a solitary tree growing right next to the stone. Nothing dramatic, nothing overwhelming—just a quiet, slightly peculiar spot marking the middle of a nation, hidden away in the woods.
On the way back to the car, I decided to take the easiest and shortest route—the one I should have used in the first place. I walked toward a small tower standing next to the parking area, apparently meant to offer a better view over the surrounding fields. I looked at the fields, then at the tower, and thought to myself what a waste. I wasn’t going up there. I walked past it, only to start regretting it a few steps later.
What if it actually gives a good view after all? I’m here now, and I’ll most likely never come back—this is the chance. So, of course, I turned around and climbed the stairs, only to confirm that no, it didn’t offer any better view at all. And the local bees were clearly not impressed. Thankfully, I escaped without getting stung, because I still had a long journey ahead of me—a full day of driving, not just today, but for the days to come as well.