Friesland

20th September, 2011 (Sally)

We have been cruising through a water wonderland as we explored Friesland, hundreds of kilometres of canals, large lakes formed from the peat diggers over the years and the inevitable polders, paddocks formed by the industry of man with water filled drainage ditches bordering and bisecting every one. The grass is green, the cows are fat and there is no sign or need of irrigation. Do the Dutch even have a word for drought in their dictionary? And did we mention it is flat. The total lack of any variation in the terrain is something we cannot get used to, but it may change. There is a move afoot to create a mountain in Holland. The rock climbers are keen, the cyclists need it if ever they are to compete and the abseilers are there too. Never mind that it will be only as high as the Eiffel Tower and cost approximately the amount needed to bail out Greece, most Dutch folk if given the choice of flinging money at a mountain or into the bottomless pit of another Euro-zone country would choose the mountain, At least, they say, we would have something to show for it.

Our trip north took us through several of these lakes which are nature reserves and home to a myriad of water fowl, we cruised past flocks of swans, ducks, geese and grebes. So used are they to the constant traffic that they barely moved from our path. This is a stork breeding ground as well but like all sensible folk they are spending the winter in warmer climes. We can visualise them on the roof tops and chuch towers of southern Spain. Flocks of geese have also formed and taken the same path, perhaps they are telling us to do the same and I must admit our thoughts are turning to home and the warmth of the Australian sun. Various friends in the boating community had spoken to us of summer evenings spent moored to quiet canal banks in Friesland, enjoying magical sunsets with only the sounds of nature and that was what we were planning and hoping for. Unfortunately for us the tailend of the hurricane that was lashing Scotland and Northern England bought a fortnight of squally rain and some good breezes to this area so we spent more time sheltering in town harbours than planned and the bike map I had purchased stayed folded and pristine.

We spent a couple of nights at Sneek (pronounced Snake) where we had a mooring right in the middle of town. Unfortunately Tony wricked his back doing nothing more strenuous than picking up a rope so he spent most of the time recovering in a chair watching some of the rugby WC from NZ while I explored on foot. Such a pretty town, surrounded by water with numerous bridges. The two or three that lift are manned permanently and never cease to be opening and closing. Quite a profitable business as a 2€ charge is made on each boat. The bridge-keeper stands ready with a clog attached to a fishing line and as you approach he swings it out to meet you and the appropriate money is expected to be deposited. Sneek is one of the eleven towns on the famous Elfstedentoch route, that is a 200km ice-skating marathon which passes through these towns and happens as soon as the ice is judged to be 150mm thick. It is called the Race of Races, with a huge following of media and excited crowds but I can safely say that it is one sporting event that we will be happy to watch from the comfort and warmth of our lounge and preferably not our lounge in Holland.

From Sneek we cruised north to Grou, another safe and comfortable harbour where we we moored next to an Irish couple who joined us for drinks in the evening. Nice to meet up with some folks from the international boating community. We have noticed very few who are not Dutch or German in this area, once again so different from France where every nationality is represented. It was our intention to continue to Leuwarden where we had arranged to touch base with a friend of a friend but the weather finally beat us and at Grou we made the decision to turn back and perhaps spend a little more time than planned in and around Amsterdam. As luck would have it the sun came out and we digressed again to spend a night at Sloten, a charming town with fortified walls and moats still in place. Good weather so I did get the bike out and surpassed myself with a 50km ride through the area of Gaaterland. More exercise than sightseeing and with a head wind home gave the muscles a workout that they needed.

From Sloten to Lemmer, once a busy fishing village before they closed the access to the sea. It is now a tourist destination and a popular stoppping place for boats on their way to Friesland. The canal runs through the centre of town, a narrow passage lined with boats so Sable provided some interest to the cafe crowd as we wended our way past to find a berth in the outer basin. From Lemmer we followed several boats out into the Ijsselmer, the inland sea that has replaced the Zuiderzee, but where they turned towards the open sea we entered immediately into a lock that dropped six metres, which meant we were five metres below sea level. Hope those dykes hold! Apparently most of the people in Holland live below sea level so they must have that right.

Fine and warm again and a chance to visit a couple of areas we missed on the way north, Vollenhove and Blokzijl where I once again could unload the bike and explore. This is the heart of a vast nature reserve so plenty of bike paths to cater for the many who come to observe. I stopped at one little village to watch the reed cutters at work as they bundled up stacks of dried reeds for thatching. Every house in that village and the surrounding countryside was thatched even down to the boat houses and garden sheds. Then on to Giethoorn, where we had tried to stop on the way north. It is called the Venice of the North and I could see why. Canals lined with picture postcard homes, immaculate gardens and a host of little hire boats carrying sightseers. Not a lot of privacy for homeowners but great business for the town. The Dutch do love their homes, houses sparkle with paintwork that looks like it is redone every year and gardens are immaculate. In every village there is at least one shop selling home decorations and every home has well decorated windows and they rarely pull their curtains or blinds — so completely the opposite of the French who live discreetly behind closed shutters, day and night. Sometimes we mistake a home for a shop window display. It's rather embarrasing to press one's nose to a window pane admiring some objets d'art and looking for a price tag only to discover someone reclining on the sofa reading a newspaper.

We have now crossed out of Friesland, stopped one night on a very busy canal with the usual huge barges going past and have digressed again to visit the old city of Zwolle. Here we are moored inside the moat against the city wall and a walk through town has had us checking construction dates of the buildings. Oldest so far is 1609 still being used for its original purpose though the chemist may be a little more up-to-date than the apotheek of 400 years ago. It seems that we have seen such a lot and travelled long distances in the short time we have been in Holland but in reality everything is on such a small scale. The country is small, the land area is only 41,500 sq kms, that is about a quarter the size of the South Island or two thirds the size of Tasmania so most places can be visited from the 8,000 km of waterways. We still have a few more canals to travel and some more sights to see as we turn towards our winter base at Zaandam. Hopefully there is a little more fine weather and sunshine for us to enjoy before we fly home to Aus.