I made my connections, at Amsterdam Centraal Station and in Alkmaar, by less than a minute, each.  The public transportation system was crowded and busy, a typical Friday afternoon.  Slightly out of breath, standing, swaying with a too-large-for-the-seated-section load of luggage, I found myself cruising through the flat, green pastures of Noord-Holland in a big green bus -- headed towards the village of Groet.  Just off to our left, the rolling hills and trees of the Schoorlse Duinen (a nature preserve, built around a network of massive sand dunes) appeared.  My friend Sokol and I were chatting about the weekend ahead of us -- a special Home Group Leaders Retreat -- with 25 of us from Zolder50 converging on a large group house right at the edge of the dunes.  We were looking forward to the extended, relaxed time with our extended spiritual family.

And then the bus driver turned around in his seat and shouted that the bus would not be stopping in Schoorl "because of a big fire."  Instead, he pulled over to the side of the highway and let out all the passengers bound for that destination; they would have to walk the last couple of kilometers to Schoorl.  We didn't think too much of the situation, since we weren't headed for the town of Schoorl itself -- but rather the next town beyond it, Groet.  But then, the bus entered a thick haze of smoke.  The smell filled the bus.  Over the ridge of forested dunes off to our left, we could see billowing clouds of smoke rising into the air and quickly swirling towards us, carried by a stiff wind from the other side of the dunes.  A fire truck passed us, lights and sirens clearing the way.  And then another fire truck.  And another.  And another.  The traffic slowed.

Most of the rest of the passengers just watched and took in the scene, like us; some talked on their mobile phones or typed out text messages on their miniature mobile-phone keyboards.  Gradually, the gravity of the situation became more apparent.  It wasn't just "a big fire."  It was a massive wild-fire, roaring through the nature preserve, fueled by high winds and a dry summer.  It was totally out of control -- like what you hear about in the western USA, or in Spain or Greece.  Dutch authorities almost never have to deal with such situations, living in a generally well-watered land filled primarily with pastures or buildings.  But they were doing their best to throw their full force into fighting the fire; we later heard that over 80 fire-fighting units had been called in from all over the region.  And it was around that time that we were told that the bus would not be going through Groet anymore either.  Like in Schoorl, we were instead let off along the side of the highway -- with no other option but to walk the last few kilometers to our destination with all our luggage and everything.  But Sokol and I were able to laugh about it.  We walked along the cow pastures and watched the smoke billowing off to the south.  Eventually, a kind-hearted stranger stopped and offered us a ride, which we gratefully accepted.  She gave us a few more pieces of information about the fire, and when we finally reached our destination we heard still more about the situation from the reception workers at the place where we were staying.  It turned out that the fires were truly of historic proportions (at least for the Netherlands).  Several of the neighboring villages were being evacuated, although Groet (where we were staying) was not, because it was up-wind, away from the direction of the fires.  Even so, everyone in the area was on high-alert, and police roadblocks had been set up to divert all traffic (except fire-fighters' vehicles) from the area.

Around that time, I decided that I needed to send a text message to the rest of our home group leaders who were en-route, or about to depart for the weekend.  I wrote:

Massive wildfires in Schoorl. No public transport past Alkmaar. My advice is to stop where you are right now and await further instruction. Call if you have further questions. - Eric

As it turned out, four women were already on their way.  Eva and Naomi were traveling together, with most of our food for the weekend.  Mirjam and Suzy were traveling separately, by public transportation.  They were all having incredible difficulty getting through.  But as we continued to monitor the situation, it seemed reasonable to send another text message to the home group leaders:

Fires still not contained, but Groet is not in danger. Transport to Alkmaar normal, but last 11 km are difficult. Buses stop 2-4 km from Groet (and then you walk). Taxis can get you closer, but traffic is bad. Food should still make it on time. But feel free to decide for yourself (even if it means waiting until tomorrow morning). - Eric

Ironically, just after sending that second text message, the winds dramatically shifted, putting Groet down-wind from the fire.  Within a few minutes, the level of fear and panic spiked among the area's residents.  Looking over the tree-tops to the south, we could see thick plumes of smoke coming up from the forest.  Not just the broad, vague, grayish haze of smoke which has dissipated and drifted on the wind from miles away -- but actual, dark black and bright white, clearly defined clouds of smoke curling just above the treetops, a very short distance from where we were staying.  At one point, the horses in the field directly adjacent to where we were staying starting running wildly in circles, jumping and bucking -- evidently sensing the immediate danger.  And I have to admit, I got scared at that point.  I went back inside and packed up my bags again, so I could be ready to leave at a moment's notice.

Around this same time, Mirjam (who had helped with some of the main organization for the weekend) managed to make it to the house, having walked the last 4 or 5 kilometers from where the bus had let her off.  But we still hadn't heard much from Suzy.  And Naomi and Eva (along with all our food) were basically stuck in Alkmaar.

The weekend was off to a horrible beginning.

Eventually, the wind shifted back in our favor, and the immediate danger again subsided.  But I kept busy for the rest of that afternoon and evening, trying to keep in communication with other individuals and groups of people making their way from Amsterdam to Groet.  After the fact, I counted the totals:  58 phone calls and 81 text messages.  I had left Amsterdam with my mobile phone on full battery power, fresh off the charger (usually quite enough to last for two or three days); by ten o'clock that evening, my phone was dead.

But in spite of all the craziness, our people started figuring out ways to get to Groet, ways of working together, ways to creatively solve the problems.  Sokol, Mirjam, and I prayed together.  In Alkmaar, my wife and kids, travling with our friend Linda, just so happened to hook up Marjan, Sunita, Steven, Joleth, and Leslie at the train station.  Marc, Heidi, and Elora (traveling by car) separately met up with Jen and Jurren (who had taken the train to Alkmaar).  Eva and Naomi had developed a "Plan B" to travel by taxi.  Suzy had made friends with a random stranger on the bus, who freely loaned her a bicycle to travel through the smoke and chaos between Schoorl and Groet.

And piece by piece, we all started reassembling in Groet.  Suzy pedalled through thick, black smoke and pouring rain (one of God's answers to our prayers!) -- arriving out-of-breath, soaked-to-the-bone, and smelling strongly of smoke.  Eva and Naomi arrived (with the food) after two hours in the taxi, along with some help from a kind reception worker who volunteered to help with ferrying them for the last mile or two past the point where the police blockades would not let any outside vehicles through.  We were even able to enjoy a nice dinner together -- with just six of us (instead of the originally planned-for 25) -- sitting by the window and watching the fire trucks whiz by, watching the helicopters dumping sea-water onto the flames, fielding more calls and more text messages from those who were still on their way...

It turned out that the large group out of Alkmaar -- including the rest of my family -- had been dumped off in Schoorl (a full 5 kilometers away from Groet), and they had to walk the rest of the way (carrying all their bags) over the polder.  The kids were exhausted by the time they arrived.  But just before dark, they all made it.  Hugs and kisses and stories were freely exchanged as everyone poured into the house.  At about a quarter to ten that night, we finally heard from the car-load of people out of Alkmaar -- who had been turned back time and time again, and were just about to give up for the night about 2 kilometers from their final destination.  But because they had the rest of the food for the weekend, and they didn't want to leave us high and dry, they helped us to figure out where they were -- and Sokol and I figured out a crazy plan to transport the rest of the groceries by bicycle using (temporarily-)stolen bicycles that we had found by the reception (desperate times call for desperate measures, I guess!).  Jen and Jurren actually decided to walk the rest of the way from the car's end-point, together with me, Sokol, and the heavily-laden stolen bicycles.  Unfortunately, Marc, Heidi, and Elora decided that they needed to give up for the night -- promising to try again in the morning.  But, miracle of miracles, as I was returning the (temporarily-)stolen bicycles, they just so happened to pass right in front of us, having mysteriously found a way through after all!  It was a crazy evening.

Late on Friday evening, we all sat in the living room and shared stories about our day's adventures.  We laughed and laughed.  We re-lived each others' astonishments and dramatic twists.  And about a half-hour before midnight, Martijn knocked on the window -- the last of the day's sojourners -- also having made it through via public transport / walking.  Michaël and Eline wouldn't join us until the following morning.  But amazingly, we all made it through.  And boy, did we have some great stories to tell.

The weekend was off to a glorious beginning.

*     *     *     *     *

For the record, there are also some pictures available of the actual weekend retreat in Groet (some beautiful shots, if I do say so myself, of our extended "spiritual family" here in Amsterdam).  In case you're interested, you can view them in the Zolder50 Pictures section of the website.