Koen de Leeuw shares his experience: “Sleeping outdoors isn’t a challenge - It’s a Reset for Your System”

Miel Bonduelle
May 23
4 min read

I’m Koen, a former Para Commando, certified survival guide, and passionate adventurer. After my military service, I chose to channel my experience into guiding people through the wilderness. Over the past decade, I've led expeditions across some of the world's most rugged and untouched terrains.

Sleeping outdoors has been a part of my life for years. However, the first time I did it as an entrepreneur - amidst a hectic work environment, high pressure, and little time for self-care - I truly felt its impact. I became acutely aware of what it does to your body and mind.

For many, the first nights aren't comfortable: tossing and turning, feeling every stone beneath your mattress, missing the small comforts of home. While you're used to falling asleep with background noise, an expedition offers none of the usual stimuli. Everything fades away. No Wi-Fi, no walls, no distractions. Just yourself, the group, and the elements.

Disconnecting from your daily environment by sleeping in nature isn't trivial. It requires time and surrender. But once you're there, something remarkable happens.

It becomes less about the luxuries you think you're missing and more about the small things you only appreciate once they're gone - things that seem so obvious but become truly meaningful when absent.

Jungle-Level White Noise

You hear every sound: the wind, your breath, the creaking branches... But what stands out is the incredible diversity and abundance of life. The unfamiliar rustling, distant animal calls, sounds whose origins aren't immediately clear.

With all these experiences in my metaphorical backpack, it's still incredibly exciting to relive them each time. The night comes alive. With every new sound, you wonder: what's its source, which animal is it, or what could it be? It resembles an orchestra of natural sounds, all harmonized without a story or purpose. Full of mystery and tension, but above all, wonder.

What Does the Sun Have to Do with Decompression?

I'm grateful to explore and share the world's most beautiful places with others. But such a change in environment always brings an adjustment period. My biological rhythm seeks structure, as it's this structure that determines my hormonal cycles: when I feel tired, hungry, or emotionally balanced.

Every expedition starts with a slight disruption: transitioning from the home rhythm to life in nature. Waking up with the first light, sleeping as darkness falls. No alarm needed. It's as if my mind shuts off, and my body realigns with the environment's rhythm.

Returning home from nature poses a greater challenge. You'd think it's similar, but that's not my experience. Nature offers stability and continuity. Your alarm is the sun, and you can't snooze it. The inputs I process are physical and stoic: cold, fatigue, hunger - granting me ample mental space.

At home, numerous factors influence my rhythm: light and dark, artificial screens. I can steer my rhythm through the many variables I control. Structure and rhythm become choices. Adjusting to that environment doesn't happen automatically. It demands commitment, energy, and determination.

I Sleep Best on the Ground

Each time, I notice how accustomed my body has become to indoor living - artificial light, screens, heating, constant stimuli, and noise. Those first nights under the open sky, purely beneath the stars, are a detox. I still check Instagram on my phone right before sleeping, even when there's no signal. My mind still races.

But as days pass, my sleep deepens. Not because I'm physically exhausted, but because my system truly calms down. Fewer thoughts, more peace and space. I feel the difference in everything: waking up more alert, increased energy, better balance.

No Friction, No Shine

It's something I experience repeatedly: how my body recovers from being outdoors. My breathing deepens, my movements become smoother. My body feels sturdier, more stable, stronger. As if weather conditions and a poor mattress no longer affect me.

While I know this partly stems from movement, fresh air, and sunlight, there's also something subtler. Something in the environment that nourishes my system. Time and again, I feel: nature benefits me.

Physical Space Brings Mental Space

Initially, it's noisy inside. Every time. My mind races from the hustle I've left behind: deadlines, conversations, schedules, screens, notifications. Sometimes, I literally jump around to dispel that inner storm.

But without stimuli, without constant input, something happens. The silence that first feels uncomfortable becomes clear. My focus returns. Not because I force concentration, but because there's finally space again. I just need to be.

My Conclusion

Every time I embark on an expedition, I leave something behind: comfort, convenience, control. And each time, I realize it feels like a loss, only to later recognize it as a gain. No excess. No rush. Only the essentials. That's enough - more than enough. It reminds me of what truly matters and how much noise often fills our ordinary days.

It doesn't always click from day one. But I'm certain: sleeping outdoors has changed me. Not suddenly, but permanently.