If you read through
the other bios, you’ll probably notice a pattern. A lot of us share a similar
background — first responders, service members, veterans. I’m one of them.
My name is Jaap, road
name “Fester.”
What also seems to
connect us is something harder to explain. A drive to set goals that don’t
really make sense to most people. To push ourselves. To see if the impossible
is actually possible. And somewhere in that, a strong motivation to help
others. Not for recognition, but because it simply feels right.
At the same time, most
of us are not the kind of people who like to talk about ourselves. That’s what
makes writing something like this a bit uncomfortable. I’d much rather keep my
head down, do the work, and only speak about it once it’s done - if at all..
Earn the vest first — then wear it with pride.
But I also get why
these bios exist. Hoka Hey Motorcycle Challenge isn’t just a ride. It’s a community. And it’s good
to know who’s out there, what drives them, and where they come from.
So here’s a bit about
me.
I’m from Heinkenszand,
a small place in the Netherlands. Chances are I’m one of the few riders coming
from Europe, which makes this even more special to me.
My journey toward Hoka
Hey started about two years ago. I was on a camping trip with a fellow former
Marines when I saw someone walking around wearing a Hoka Hey vest. That turned
out to be Kurt Kvennejorde (#789), although I didn’t know that at the time. I
was immediately intrigued — the vest, the logo, the whole presence.
I looked it up that
same day and thought: I need to do this.
That was about a week
before the 2024 challenge started, so I quickly sent a message to Beth to sign
up for the next one… only to find out registrations didn’t open until January.
Since then, I’ve followed the challenge closely, read the books, connected with
people, and basically shaped the last year and a half around this goal.
But 2026 is about more
than just Hoka Hey for me.
This year, my
grandfather turns 100 — a World War II veteran who is still with us. I turn 50 myself.
And just a few days ago, our first grandchild was born.
Those milestones made
me realize I wanted to mark this moment in life with something meaningful.
Something that challenges me — physically, mentally, and personally.
I’m not doing this
alone.
For over 30 years, my
wife has been by my side — supporting me, and going along with plans that don’t
always make sense at first. I don’t say it often, but I know very well that
none of this would be possible without her.
And I’m proud of our
three daughters, who are each finding their own way in life. That means more to
me than any challenge ever could.
So Hoka Hey became one
part of that plan.
And then I thought… if
I’m going to be in the United States anyway, why not take it further?
The truth is, over the
past four years I haven’t really been active in sports. Life happened. Work,
responsibilities, everything else taking priority. Like it does for many of us.
And somewhere along the way, I let that part of myself slip.
So if I was going to
do this — if I was going to mark this moment in my life — it couldn’t be
something easy or comfortable. It had to be something that would force me to
rebuild, physically and mentally.
Something slightly
insane.
That’s when the idea
started to take shape.
A swim–bike–swim. Not
because it makes sense — but because it doesn’t.
I decided to try to
swim around Manhattan. And I told myself: if I can get fit enough to do that,
if I can commit to the training, the discipline, the cold water, the long hours
— then there’s no reason to stop there.
So the next step
became the English Channel.
Three challenges. All
of them serious. All of them a little uncomfortable. And all of them requiring
a version of me that I haven’t been for a while.
But maybe that’s
exactly why I need to do it.
Because if I’m honest
— I don’t really like flying. I don’t enjoy being far from home for long
periods. I’m not a big fan of extreme heat. And going out there, alone, into
the unknown… that’s not naturally my comfort zone.
But that’s exactly the
point.
I believe the things
that scare you are usually the things you need to face. That’s where growth is.
That’s where you move forward.
And if I can connect
that to something bigger, even better.
For me, that means
supporting fellow veterans. In the Netherlands, we have an initiative called
“Saamhorigheidsdiner” — a Christmas dinner organized by volunteers at the
Marine Corps barracks in Rotterdam. It’s for veterans and families who could
use some extra support during the holidays. It’s a powerful reminder that
brotherhood doesn’t end when the uniform comes off.
If I can use these
challenges to contribute, even in a small way, then it all comes together.
So that’s me.
No big words. Just a
man with a plan, a few uncomfortable goals, and a good reason to go after them.
