Waiting for us in Meinerswijk was Gerard Litjens, who has lived in this floodplain landscape since 1993 and has been closely involved in its design, development, management, and public communication from the very beginning. Trained in forestry and land and water management, and co-founder of both Bureau Stroming and ARK Rewilding, Gerard has played a key role in pioneering large-scale urban nature development in the Netherlands. Bringing nature closer to people, and people closer to nature, is his lifelong passion, particularly through the careful entanglement of landscape formation, biodiversity, extraction, and new ways of living.

Walking together through Meinerswijk, Gerard spoke candidly about the tensions shaping the area today. He explained current plans and work underway for housing development in the floodplains, pointing out how social housing is located outside the dykes, while expensive homes are planned within them. These future residents, he noted, may face flooded access roads or inundated ground floors, raising the question of whether buyers truly understand that living here means learning to live with the river. Gerard stressed that he is not opposed to building in floodplains, but expressed concern about the political and economic decisions currently guiding these developments, and about what kinds of relations with the river they assume.

As the walk continued, Gerard shared stories from the early days of Room for the River, when Meinerswijk was still a pioneering experiment. He spoke about seed dispersal, about how quickly ecosystems respond when given space, and acknowledged the privilege of living in such close proximity to a river. At the same time, he made clear where his loyalties lie: “If it’s better for the river, I would move.” The statement resonated strongly with the group, encapsulating a radical reorientation of priorities that the lab itself sought to explore. Gerard led us along the most overgrown and untamed paths of the floodplain, pointing out beaver winter nests and describing the coordinated hunting practices of cormorants, a species that had once been close to disappearance, and now stands as a quiet success story of ecological recovery. At the edge of the wildest stretch, Gerard left us to continue on our own.

We gathered for lunch in the grass, enjoying the warmth of the sun. Everyone had brought something to share, each contribution connected in some way to a personal relationship with rivers or other watery environments. This simple act of eating together became a moment of grounding and connection, leaving us feeling deeply situated within the floodplain itself. After lunch, the pace slowed. Minds quieted as bodies and senses took over during a long silent walk. Artist and eco-haptonomist Rosalie Bak guided us through an eco-haptic movement exercise, inviting attention to movement, space, and orientation before we continued at our own rhythm. Moving through the landscape, we attuned to smells, sounds, colours, plants, birds, wind, and temperature. Roman ruins appeared along the path, time folding into place, and we encountered non-human inhabitants too, including a group of wild horses. Silence was eventually broken back at the riverbank, where reflections and sensations were shared.

The afternoon unfolded through participant-led practices. Héloïse Thouément, an environmental engineer working with pollution modeling and waste management, introduced an exercise developed in collaboration with artist Julie Escoffier to sense pollution beyond conventional scientific measurement. Through small assignments and guiding questions, participants engaged with the Rhine’s materiality using smell, texture, and temperature, opening an embodied awareness of contamination that resists abstraction. Nearby, sound artist Kristina Mau Hansen set up a listening station using hydrophones. Gathering on a groyne, participants listened collectively to the submerged soundscape of the Rhine. Unexpectedly, the river carried the distorted echo of a radio broadcast (inaudible above water, but clearly present below), revealing hidden layers of transmission, infrastructure, and interference flowing through the river.

To close the day, we followed the river to another beach where Maud van den Beuken led us into a collective action inspired by her work with sediment and displacement. Buckets were filled with river sediment and emptied onto a large sheet, forming a temporary mass. As Maud recited figures related to dredging volumes in Dutch rivers, we attempted to lift the pile together, confronting the physical weight of what is routinely extracted, transported, and relocated. Finally, we carried the sediment back into the water and returned it to the Rhine; a modest gesture of reciprocity, and a reminder of scale.

Tired, refreshed, and quietly elated, we walked back to the ferry. Crossing the river once more, the city came back into view, but the day had shifted something. The Rhine was no longer an abstract system or managed flow, but a presence encountered through bodies, histories, politics, and material relations. Met, if only briefly, on their own terms.