Author: fiandadrian (Page 5 of 13)

We locked out of Amsterdam and found ourselves in the Markermeer, a vast paddling pool barely deep enough to navigate. The Dutch had built special boats with only a few centimeters draft that can travel safely through these waters. It was wonderful to see these old boats still plying these waterways. For once Away’s magic foldup center board was of no use. The wind was on the nose which is the one time we really need the center board down. We motored enjoying the absence of bridges, locks and massive barges trying run us down at every turn.

Todays destination was Edam, where they make cheese. The town was impossibly picturesque with rows on rows of slightly askew houses and little lift bridges over the canals. The bridges were narrow mostly catering to bicycles and pedestrians, but tiny two seater you-must-be-close-friends cars still found a way to squeeze over them.

Shortly after first light, a coffee, some breakfast and some doggie business the wind blew us across the Markermeer. We traversed the inevitable lock and into the IJsselmeer, another vast pool of shallow water, but this time deep enough to sail. We were enjoying the wind on the beam, catching a group of yachts only under their headsail (did no one tell them its a race?), when we noticed a line of wind approaching. Quickly we reduced the main sail with one reef and then a second as the wind jumped over 20 knots and was soon gusting over 30. We swapped the genoa with the smaller staysail as this was a good chance to try this sail. Away revelled in the stronger winds, the other yachts disappeared behind us as we made a cup of tea and stroopwaffels.

At the other side of the IJsselmeer, Makkum came into view and we headed for the marina and our first box berth. These berths have two posts at one end and a pontoon at the other. We reversed in between the posts and crashed gently into a small finger wharf that contrived to appear behind the boat. After a small adjustment we were safely ashore, no one had died and the restaurant was open for pizza and beer.

Makkum center offered a 45 minute dog walk and a chance to resupply. None of the guide books warned about the local dog that walked up to Bernie in the street and bit him on the neck (he is fine). The welcome in the local shops and cafe was much more agreeable.

The next day was race day (again). The marina we were heading for had a note on the web site that 120+ boats were coming in today in the annual Harlingen to West Terschelling race. We changed destinations to nearby Oost Vleiland and planned our route to avoid the race (really). As we arrived at Harlingen the final yacht classes were being started and we soon found ourselves at the tail end of the race. As the wind strengthened Away accelerated and we started picking our way through the fleet. The racers rounded the final mark and headed for the finish at West Terschelling, we turned away to find Bernie a sandy beach and an Oost Vleiland magnet for the magnet board.

Oost Vleiland turned out to have both magnets and vast expanses of Bernie beach. A couple of nights gave us time to plan our trip east. From here we could head out to sea and up the coast, or on the inland side of the islands through the poorly named Wadden Sea. The Wadden Sea is really a giant beach that floods at high tide allowing access for a few hours until the tide recedes and its beach again. It was an easy choice between a relaxing sail up the coast and stressful race against time through rapidly moving poorly charted drying channels.

It wasn’t long after we left Oost Vleiland and headed up our first Wadden Sea channel that we noticed there were sticks across the channel. These sticks are used to show shallow water, so we decided to err on the side of caution and stop. The words in the guide book about following the buoys and channel markers not the charts quickly came to mind. The sand moves so often that the charts are really only a rough guide in this area.

The last part of the trip was the shallowest. With no markers the guide said to leave the channel at a particular marker close to high tide and with a suitable draft the destination should be attainable. As there were no markers or visual references except the occasional breaking water showing a shallow sand bank, Fi navigated from a computer screen showing a recent satellite image whilst I controlled the throttle (forward unless we hit ground, then reverse). Half an hour later we arrived at KoffieBoonenPlaat and unclenched.

There was no one else around so we choose a spot deep enough that we could float and shallow enough that it would dry out at low tide. Then we waited for the tide to go out and triple checked the tide tables to be sure the next high tide was at least as high as the last one. Fingers crossed…

The country areas of the Netherlands was full of orange cyclists transporting groceries home in large paniers and children to school in even larger child carriers. Leiden however, was full of university students cycling nonchalantly down narrow streets choked with pedestrians, weaving between prams and dog walkers whilst texting their fellow students about the evenings activities. We enjoyed the vibrance of a university town without the tourists of capital cities.

A windmill museum in a windmill gave great views over the city and an insight into the history of these iconic Dutch buildings. Bernie enjoyed a search for food through the crowded market along the canal side. Back on board he sniffed some strange smelling smoke (presumably from a nearby boat) and spent the next hour counting passing bicycles.

The next day bridges opened for us as we left Leiden and headed across the lakes to the twice-a-day opening railway bridge. We were soon in a platoon of boats heading along the canal which made bridge openings easier as the lead boat made the radio calls and bridges were happy to open for a group of boats. At Haarlem we pulled up beside the canal in the city center and found a sunny cafe for a late afternoon beer.

In the morning we watched the bridge master opening a bridge for a passing boat and then overtaking the boat on his bike to open the next bridge as the boat arrived. Our home on the water had become the local water birds’ home too and there was an egg on the sugar scoop in the morning. Bernie was snoozing on the boat when a cat walked across the deck. He loves cats and immediately set off after it barking his head off. We could have stayed longer here, but Amsterdam was only a once-a-day railway bridge opening away.

The canal widened as we approached Amsterdam. The barge traffic and hotel boats were dwarfed by the cargo ships and cruise ships. Add some ferries, tour boats and pleasure craft and it began to feel like Sydney harbour on a summers weekend. Our marina was on the river opposite the town centre. Very convenient with free ferries running continuously, although it was a little tight for a boat of our size. The sound of our bow thruster brought everyone on deck to protect their boats and watch 14 meters of aluminium reverse park into a city sized parking space.

Its always more dangerous to cross the bike path in the Netherlands than the road. In Amsterdam there are so many bikes that it can be almost impossible to cross bike paths at peak hour. At traffic lights cyclists seem to take priority over everyone and everything, even red lights. Cars on the other hand are rare and progress slower than walking pace as they get blocked by the flow of cyclists.

We must be full yachties. We chose the maritime museum over the sex museum, although to be fair the reviews of the sex museum were somewhat limp. At the maritime museum we learned about all the clever boat designs that had allowed the Dutch to discover and pillage far flung parts of the globe.

Amsterdam was two cities in one. On the weekdays the canals carry tourists from the cruise liners past cute cafes and designer shops. On Friday night the police were on duty outside the central station. Well healed cruise boaters were replaced by slightly uncomfortable looking football teams, bucks nighters and weekend getaways. We found the last sunny table in Amsterdam, drank wine, and watched the city go past.

The next day after our unexpected stop at the lifting bridge near Willemstad, the bridge was fixed and we were able to go through into the lock, under the bridge and make a right turn into Willemstad.

I had phoned ahead and so the wonderful harbour master was there ready to greet us. She checked our dimensions, and then directed us to our berth. This is one of those places where we wonder how in the world we are going to fit, but teamwork always trumps our fears, and we dock successfully, not damaging other peoples boats, our boat or ourselves.

First stop, despite the rain, is to take Bernie for a walk and explore around town. Willemstad is another town shaped like a star (you may remember Gravelines was similar) and is designed to be a fortress. There are a number of these types of towns dotted throughout the area. The Germans during the war noted the fortifications, and when the took over the town, they added various bunkers which are still here today. We walked the entire circumference of the town in about an hour.

I wondered why when I went to the shops for supplies everyone was treating me so suspiciously… It was cold!

But we couldn’t stay. The next day we were lifting out Away, and checking anodes and cleaning the bottom. So after the required morning coffee, we reversed out of our spot, turned around, again didn’t hurt anyone or anything, and exited the harbour. They had managed to park a large ‘hotel’ boat in the harbour entrance reducing the channel to a single boat width just for fun. We only had to go across the waterway to another town called Numansdorp where they had a 50 tonne lift ready for us. And up we went!

The team at the yard were excellent, and we had the whole job done in less than an hour, and were tucked up at the marina outside the yard before we even knew it. The following day was “Kings Day” here in the Netherlands, and so rather than go out sailing with crowds, we thought we would spend the day completing some outstanding jobs on Away, and have a nice meal in town for dinner and check out the celebrations. It felt so good to tick off some outstanding tasks (there are ALWAYS jobs to do) and it was nice to have a day of not moving as we had been moving a lot.

BUT – we want to get north soon. Cognisant of the Schengen visa restrictions we have, we do need to keep moving and we would like to continue on the Standing Mast Route through the Dutch canal system.

The following day, we had planned to get as far north as Gouda. We left early (ok maybe at like 9AM), and headed out in to the waterways. Soon, we turn left and the canal starts to pinch in a little. We feel very small with the massive container barges that traverse these waterways everywhere, transporting masses of gravel, gas, petroleum, containers – you name it.

At one point we were four abreast with 3 barges approaching a T junction with a large barge and hotel boat from one direction and a ferry from the other. There is lots of Dutch on the radio and then they all seem to miss each other as they round the blind corner. We keep out of the way and scuttle across beside them.

We also need to convince the authorities that they should lift bridges and stop busy freeways and trainlines for us. We manage to do this successfully, if appearing a bit amateurish at times (my Dutch is not proficient).

Eventually, we make it to Gouda, but not without helping some passing Grey Nomads from Florida who had NOT been given correct direction by their charter company on the use of locks, and decided to go and park in front of the closed lock doors, just as a tanker was due to exit. We shouted at them, helped them pull over in the proper waiting area, and told them to simply follow us to their marina in Gouda. The relief from them was palpable. They are pretty brave people to be taking this on with no knowledge…

We have an equine welcome to Gouda, park up in our marina, sort out the Floridians, and cook some dinner. The day started at 8AM with boat prep, and finished at about 6PM. I forgot to count how many bridges and locks, but we were in bed early, exhausted and realising we would have to do it all again tomorrow, if we were to get to Leiden – a university town just south of Amsterdam, and definitely off the beaten track for 20m tall, lumps of slick aluminium – so naturally we were going to go.

The next day, we would exit the marina and run straight into a massive railway bridge that would have to open for us. It would only open at 10:27 exactly, so we had a little sleep in and took Bernie for a walk into the Gouda township.

I buy 6kgs of cheese, and soon enough, 10AM is here, and we are leaving the dock, ready for our first bridge opening. This would be a trip of 5 hours and 17 lifting bridges. Glad we slept well!

Eventually, after about 15 bridges, we were close to Leiden. We could almost taste the beer. Calling up the town marina, they told us just to come in to slip 10. Slip 10 is a 4.5m (ok maybe 5m) wide slip apparently. Away is 4.4m wide. Crikey.

Again, teamwork prevailed and with some help from our new neighbours, we were in, without hurting anyone, without hurting ourselves, and only touching the separating post with our aluminium rub rail, which is precisely what it is designed for. Winning.

Given the past few days as documented here, we have decided that some relax time is in order. It is a high stress trip on these canals for us, as all day we are essentially doing close quarter manoeuvring in waterways that our boat isn’t specifically designed for, plus trying to get massive infrastructure out of our way so we can enjoy our lives. So we will have some chill time now, and soon get this show back on the road – or on the canal as the case may be.

The Belgium coast is built with flats and beach bars along the shoreline. Whilst there is no obvious line in the sea when you cross into the Netherlands, the change in the coastline is dramatic as flats give way to smaller houses and even gaps in the buildings. We replaced our Belgian courtesy flag with our Dutch courtesy flag.

As the shipping got more frequent we had our fenders at the ready in case they got too close.

We saw a large container ship on the horizon, about 15 minutes away, and darted across the first shipping channel. We considered crossing the second channel but noticed that the channel was effectively on the beach. We waited for a barge and a tanker and then scampered across the channel into the Vlissingen entrance, a tiny area where pilot boats enter and exit at 40 knots every few minutes whilst you try to line up the ‘barely as wide as the boat’ entrance to the harbour (you can spot the entrance in the photo). If you are lucky, wait staff at the local restaurant notice your plight, raise the bridge and shout your berth number as you thread the needle into the marina. We were, in this case, lucky.

There was a restaurant in an old gaol tower on the sea front, where we could watch the big ships passing and pilot boats rushing around without the stress of having to avoid them.

Next day was a short sprint up the river and into the canals. Fi spoke to the sea lock master on the radio and he opened the lock, let us in and told us the starting time for the ‘Blue Wave’. In this area they group boats into waves so that the bridges only open for a group of boats. Its still early in the year and our wave was only us and a medium size barge that we followed.

It was a gorgeous day and it felt great to be on canals again! Bernie was loving his life.

After a couple of hours, and a few bridges that lifted for us we were safely tied to the wharf at Middelburg. Later in the day, when all the berths had a gone, a training yacht appeared and we had our first experience of rafting up with another boat. There was a lot of shouting and throwing lines. And then, once they were in, we learned that 5 out of the 6 people on the boat had just completed their very first day of sail boat training.

The sun was shinning so we walked through cobble stone lanes, squares and canals. We enjoyed lunch in the sun.

Our Brompton folding bikes seemed all at home in London where many of their relatives are to be found. But here in the Netherlands they seem out of place where the average bike has disk brakes, onboard computer, automatic transmission, integrated security and 200hp assisted peddling.

We had read a blog of another yacht that had anchored for a few days in the Veerse Meer, a lake that we would pass through the next day. Keen to have a night away from marinas we headed to the area they described and found small islands with pontoons. As there is no tide here its not a good idea to go aground. We approached slowly with the center-board half down. We touched down a few meters from the pontoon and decided it was safe enough to continue with the center-board raised.

We were the only people on the island and enjoyed an idyllic afternoon eating cheese, sipping wine and sniffing duck poo. Fi enjoyed a little nap on the picnic blanket.

The boat on the left is a barge very full of scrap metal that decided to take the shallow channel around the islands. They spend much of the afternoon engine revving but not moving until the boat on the right appeared to help. At dusk the helping boat abandoned the stranded barge and the next morning we met various tugs heading down the channel towards the scene. I considered calling him on the radio and suggesting he raise his centre-board, but decided it might not be helpful.

The next day we headed through some locks and into a marina (Kats) for our haul out. It was a tight cross wind approach to the slings of the lift. And after a Dutch/English discussion about boat sizes, we decided to leave and find another larger lift rather than risk rigging adjustments.

We stopped for a night, that ended up being two, at Bruinisse. Strong winds made the idea of negotiating lots of locks unappealing.

The next day we felt that the winds had dropped enough to leave little Brunisse. Firstly we would have to navigate the Krammer lock. At the lock, we were too high with our mast to fit into the ‘Sport’ (read: “pleasure boat”) boat lock and had to join the big boys and girls in the commercial lock. There was a little confusion when they told us to go into the port lock as the sport boat lock is on the port side, but they soon corrected us over the radio when they saw our AIS track going the wrong way.

They put the big boats in first and then we squeeze in behind them. Surely the little boats will leave first so we don’t get crushed or churned up in the wash…

At our final lock of the day just before Willemstad, we called the ‘Sports’ lock who advised us to go to the commercial lock. We know the routine now and called the commercial lock who said ‘No problem with the bridge’. Great, no problems, but why did he need to tell us? They loaded a barge into the lock and closed the gates. We called again. This time we understood ‘No. Problem with the bridge’, but we could stay at the sports lock pontoon for the night and they might, maybe, possibly have it fixed tomorrow.

We were met at the pontoon by a who’s who of blue water cruising yachts, all too tall to fit through the sports lock. Would we be stranded on this pontoon for weeks waiting for the bridge to open?