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.
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