I am riding a bike along a rough track in the woods in a remote part of the Netherlands, the rain pelting down, and visions of Anthony Gordon's bruised face in my mind as I navigate my way through mud, puddles, and the entire Hibernian first-team squad, who are cycling towards me in the opposite direction, fresh - so to speak - from the first of three gruelling sessions on the first full day of the club's summer training camp. 

Thankfully, most of the players are more comfortable with a ball at their feet than on two wheels and the fear I might have of any hurtful comments being aimed in my direction quickly dissipates as we wobble past each other, concentration at a maximum. I'm well used to cycling in Edinburgh, on a bike made for withstanding and conquering considerable potholes, but the recognisable omafiets, or grandma bike, with its slender tyres constructed for pristine Dutch roads, doesn't fill me with confidence as I slither through another mound of sand. 

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But it really is the best way of getting around in the Netherlands. There are bike lanes on every road, no hills to speak of, and courteous drivers who are prepared to give you a wide berth. It's a far, far cry from the Leith Walk cycleway. 

Outside the team hotel we stash the bikes along with the hundred or so other cycles lined up in the car park (ample room, of course) and head inside to speak to whichever player is unlucky enough to have been collared for media duties in between training sessions.

Josef Bursik gets the short straw; the former England under-21 cap strolling into the room and dispensing with the usual clichés to tell us about his heritage and, in particular, his Czech-born war-hero grandfather, Josef Buršík. "It's a mad story, mate. Mad," he says, as he finishes off a potted version of his family history. 'Who Do You Think You Are?' would struggle for a background this fascinating but the goalkeeper, on a season-long loan from Club Brugge, is also keen to enjoy his football again after a difficult time in Belgium with injury, and believes he can do so at Hibs. 

In the background a handful of players gather around a table to play cards before heading out for the second session. Hotel staff are laughing and joking with them, and the players seem relaxed and happy. The mood in the camp - literally! - feels very upbeat and even though it's a busy week with double and triple sessions and two friendly games, the atmosphere is noticeably positive. 

With the day's work written and filed, we set out on the bikes again, hopeful of coming across an establishment where one might get a bite to eat while watching the Netherlands take on Romania in Munich. 

The small bar we find has a screen much too large for its modest interior, and a menu that ticks all the boxes. Perfect. The joint isn't exactly jumping, but there are enough locals in to watch the match, who sternly check that we are indeed supporting the Netherlands. We were hardly going to say, 'No', were we? Hup Holland Hup, and all that. 

It's not quite the scenes we became accustomed to seeing in the squares of Germany during the group stages but at least two people are wearing bright orange wigs, and raucous cheering greets all three goals. I think we might even have heard the Dutch for 'ya useless huddy' as Memphis Depay passes up another golden opportunity in front of goal, but we've watched football in worse places, and the young waiter is very keen to try out his language skills.

"I'm sorry for my English; it is not very good," he says, apologetically, as he takes our order.

It's still miles better than our Dutch.