Last Days

4th October, 2012 (Tony)

The last three weeks have flown by. Mark and Debbie joined us at Fragnes, first port off the Saône on the Canal du Centre. Fragnes is one of our favourite places, not much of a town, relatively new, but a lovely port with excellent facilities including a great restaurant and a boulangerie right on the quayside. The Indian summer persists and we sat under the shady bower of a magnificent weeping willow sipping champagne, two evenings in a row. We all biked into Chalons sur Saône to explore the town and enjoyed a healthy salad lunch in the cathedral square. After that the cycling was exclusively their domain. They brought their own bikes from Australia, with all the associated kit and gear, to discover the bikeways of Burgundy. There was no way we were going to try and accompany them on their rides. So we harried Sable up to Chagny and beyond while Mark and Deb pedalled deep into the Bourgogne district. It's very pretty to see. From Chagny, we took the train to Beaune where we wandered the town, one of the most popular tourist spots in France, then met them for lunch at a cafe in the sun. We caught the train back to Chagny and had a nap, exhausted by their strenuous exercise, as they continued their exploration of the vineyards via Mersault, Montrachet, Puligny and Santenay. Everywhere grape pickers were bent among the vines busy bringing in the harvest.

We spent a couple of nights at Chagny then moved barely five kilometres up the canal to a rustic mooring close to the village of Santenay, one of the prettiest in Burgundy. There, the oldies managed to bike half-a-kilometre to the chateau to indulge in a degustation of pinots and chardonnays. Meanwhile the junior riders roamed far and wide to take in Nolay, Rochepot, St Romaine collecting a few samples to bring back to the boat. They were also very adept at selecting delicious sausages and tasty cheese at village markets. We continued to St Léger sur Dheune where the weather took a turn for the worse — heavy rain for the first time in weeks, but it didn't last long. Since our first visit to Burgundy we have made strenuous efforts to learn to like and appreciate its pinot-noir wines, for which it is world famous — the most expensive wines are produced here, unaffordable to most, includung us. Each little village has its own distinctive "terroir". My favourite is Mercurey, considered by connoiseurs to be rather 'rustic' but to my palate its wines are more robust and aromatic, comparable to Aussie cab-sav. So when Deb mentioned that one of her employees was French and had an aunt who owned a domaine in Mercurey that they hoped to visit, we begged to tag along — on our motorbikes. Despite being in the middle of harvest, Natalie kindly invited us to come for a tasting at 6pm. We all set off up the hill, deviating first to Givry a picturesque village farther along the Côte Chalonnaise. We arrived in Mercurey village centre in time to see dozens of grape pickers, dismissed for the day, alight from mini-buses, cold, dishevelled, mud-spattered but in remarkably high spirits, change into dry clothes in the car park and get into their cars to drive home; or in many cases their camping base. Natalie hadn't had an opportunity to change but warmly welcomed us into their cellar and gave us an informed insight into the full process. Her husband stood atop a ladder, stirring with a rake a vat full of freshly picked grapes. They ferment for up to a week in the skin to build the colour before going into the crusher to remove the first cru, then into new oak vats for eleven months. All seems very simple really but we know that everything to do with making wine and growing grapes involves lots of very hard work. We tasted the full range of their wines, red and white, from previous vintages and bought half a dozen bottles to take home. They sell 60,000 bottles each year, 30% at the cellar door, so we were very grateful to Natalie for being so hospitable to us on a day that would have been one of her busiest of the vendange. Peering at an aerial photo of the town and environs, Sally and I realised we had sat among Theulot Juillot vines when we paused for lunch on our motorbike journey to Mercurey in 2010. Burgundy AOC comprising 27,900ha is the oldest appellation in France, though one of the smallest. Around 200 million bottles are produced each year — 61% white (chardonnay); 30% red (pinot noir); 1% rosé; 8% Crémant.

Determined to see more, Deb and Mark rode 75km to Macon and then caught a train to Lyon. They spent a night there and were as impressed with this great city as we were. They returned bitten by the bicycling bug and next day set off through the Grand Cru scenic route through the Cote d'Or to Dijon for another night to remember, past some of the most renowned villages and vineyards in the world — Aloxe Corton, Pommard, Nuits St George, Givry-Chambertin etc, blah!! Meanwhile we continued on, through the top pound at Montchanin, to Blanzy and Montceau les Mines. We had to keep moving as the Canal du Centre was due to close for the year on 30 September. The Canal du Centre is one of only a few canals in France not fed by a river. It relies on huge man-made reservoirs with relatively small catchment areas. Last year, as in the UK, there was very little rain and at the start of the season the authorities declared that the canal would only open until 20 May. No sooner was that decision made the deluge started and it rained almost non-stop for four months. But with hardly any rain July through September it was decided to conserve as much storage as possible for next season. We found Sable virtually the last boat and by the time we left Paray le Monial it was obvious no water was being released behind us. At each of the last few locks boats ahead of us drained another lockful of precious water. The water level was about half a metre lower than normal and at times we were scraping the bottom. And at Digoin they refused to fill the last (empty) lock until another boat approached upstream, a wait of two hours til the local tourist 'lunch afloat' boat returned to base. We were pleased to be back on the canal to Roanne with a day to spare.

We took several days to drift back to Roanne, stopping along the way to greet old acquaintences still cruising; and to bike into Marcigny where Emile Henri, makers of attractive earthenware cookware were having a sale. How did Sally know that? We pedalled back across the Loire laden with all sorts of pie dishes, tartine pans, serving bowls, cake plates and even shot glasses. Come, be entertained. It was all we could carry yet we didn't spend more than 85€. We arrived in Roanne and friends were on the quay waiting to greet us before we had finished mooring up. There has been a big chageover of boats in the port and I doubt if we know half of the bargees mooring here for the winter. We're off to lunch today and so another round of socialising starts... We're due back in Aus within a couple of weeks and are looking forward to walking the beach and relishing more sunshine. But first we have to get Sally a new knee. Our love and best wishes to everyone. We hope to resume this cruising life May, 2013.

Counting Down

16th September, 2012 (Sally)

The canal between Champagne and Burgundy— well, if you have to leave Champagne at least one is heading towards Burgundy, and when better to visit the Cote D'Or than when the leaves are starting to turn and the harvest is about to begin. All that is still ahead of us as we await the arrival of our last visitors for the year, Deb and Mark, who arrive at Chalons sur Saône along with their bikes tomorrow. What a glorious two weeks we have had on the Canal entre Champagne et Bourgogne with leisurely cruising, frequent stops and barely another boat to be seen. Two-a-day seems to have been the norm, though as luck would have it at our first stop after Tony's slight altercation with the Aussie boatie who screeched at him, they were taking up a large portion of the available quay and it was left to me to 'politely' ask them to move. Well did I get an earful, but at least they did move, though only a couple of metres, albeit grudgingly, and left us to squeeze into a space with barely half a metre fore and aft. The moral of the story, if you are going to have words, make sure the other party is travelling the other way.

At Chaumont we celebrated Fathers Day and the fifth anniversary of owning Sable with a Sunday lunch in the town. Chaumont sits on a prominent rocky spur, a nice walk up from the port but a scarcity of eating places as, like so much of France, they choose to holiday with the crowds. Luckily we found the quintessetial French restaurant, through an old arch to a flagged courtyard with the minimum of tables set in the sun. A delightful way to celebrate and reminisce over the sights and experiences of the last five years. It was at Chaumont three years ago that I picked crab apples off the trees in the port, and sure enough they were waiting for me again so we have jars of crab apple jelly, flavoured with sage or rosemary for our cote de porc, roti d'agneau or whatever takes our fancy.

The canal and its surrounds have not changed at all since we were last here. In fact it seems that in some of the villages time has stood still for the last few hundred years. We walked into litle hamlets that have no commerce at all and in spite of the obviously occupied homes an absolute dearth of people on the streets. It was close to here that Joan of Arc was born and it was through this valley in 1428 she passed on her way to Chinon to confront the king and tell him to, "get his butt in gear," or words to that effect. I'm sure she would still find the way familiar, probably more so, as the path she took is a recognized Joan of Arc trail with churches and chapels dedicated to her along the way. Nogent is renowned as a maker of knives, scissors, tools, as well as surgical instruments. We took the 13 km bike ride into the town hoping to buy some nice steak knives which we have seen at exhorbitant prices in the shops. The 13 km was fine, a gentle ride along the valley floor but like most towns here Nogent was set at the top of a hill. A good 1.5 km push to the top — to find the town was closed. The butcher, the baker et al on holiday. We did eventually find a small knife shop which seemed to have the worlds' biggest collection of pocket knives and embroidery scissors but little else. The steak knives were no better than what we have on board so a small tomato knife was the sole purchase, but it should be noted, it is a very good tomato knife... On the way back we passed the foundry, which is huge and expanding; manufacturing pieces for the airline industry is a big part of their business so perhaps knives are very much a secondary industry nowadays.

The other main town in the upper Marne valley is Langres, noted as one of the fifty most beautiful villages of France. It occupies a dominant position on the top of the hill, as it has done for the last 2000 years. Langres was founded by the Romans and still in the almost intact fortified walls is the original Roman arch that was one of the entrances into the town. One can walk the whole ramparts, which we did, enjoying the views from all points of the compass. From Langres it was into the tunnel at the top of the canal and then the easier task of locking downwards towards the Saône valley — 77 locks up from Vitry le Francois; 43 down to the Saône. Everywhere there are early signs that autumn is on the way, the harvest is in except for the last fields of corn and sunflowers but most of the barns are overflowing with hay and huge rounds of straw for the winter bedding. Leaves are ever so slightly starting to turn and evenings are getting much cooler. The markets are displaying autumn fruits and veg. The first bright yellow chanterelles, pumpkins, figs and lovely little melons. Our barbeque season has been too short but perhaps it will be nice to have a Boeuf de Bourgogne and a cassoulet before we leave for warmer, southern hemisphere climes.

After a quiet two weeks on the canal we emerged into the Saône and immediately we were among the mass of hire boats, all seemingly on their first day on the water. At the very first lock, there was a hold-up as two newly hired boats had managed to jam the whole works. How I don't know, but it took forty-five minutes to free them and as they left the lock we watched as one steered itself straight into the bank. The river was alive with hire boats, a great number flying flags from NZ or Australia. We moored at St Jean de Losnes and of the eight boats on the quay only one was from the northern hemisphere, but we found out later he was a young guy from Darwin temporarily living in Britain. Good to meet up with some old friends and make a few new ones all enjoying the leisurely life on the waterways of Europe. St Jean d L is always a good stop, a visit to the chandlers, new fenders, paint etc, fill up with diesel, all 700 litres, and to take into the book swap a huge bag of books and come out with just as many. Now well stocked up we have said goodbye to the Saône and made our first stop on the Canal du Centre at Fragnes, a delightful port. This is very much the final leg of another great year on the waterways of Europe and one we are looking forward to sharing with Deb and Mark. A few good restaurants along the way, some fine vineyards to visit and plenty of time to relax and enjoy the countryside, especially the Burgundy vineyards. They should be picking the grapes in earnest next week

Languidly Lingering

31st August, 2012 (Tony)

After sixteen days in Sillery, resting under the shady trees, painting, and glued, goggle-eyed, to the Olympic Games we drifted down to Condé sur Marne to spend another four days lolling under the shade of trees before moving on to Chalons en Champagne where we rested for a week, relaxing under the shade of the trees. We finally wrested ourselves away from Chalons and paused at Soulanges for a day, resting under the shade of trees and continued to Vitry le Francois to while away a couple of days sitting in the shade of the trees. Cousin Paul, and Pat, re-joined us at Vitry and cruised with us to Orconte, St Dizier and Joinville — a lazy week mostly whiled away under the shade of trees. We've since over-nighted at Donjeux and are now ensconsed at Froncles appreciating the cooling shade of the trees. Long may this glorious, but very late, European summer last! Needless to say we've done an awful lot of reading aided and abetted by a sizeable swap of books with three English couples moored adjacent to us at Chalons. There have been so many grassy reserves (now rather crisp and brown rather than soft and green) and shady trees along this route that we have barely had the awning up in the past month. However, we did erect the awning the other evening to enjoy a pre-dinner drink in privacy and to elude a pair of obnoxious Brit brats from a motorhome parked nearby. I was tempted to wander over and belt one of them on his big obese backside as clearly his parents weren't bothered. What is it with teenagers on holiday? The family should have hired a boat instead. Perhaps it's the heat or maybe I'm getting old for I responded rudely to an Aussie boatee drifting past the port where we were moored with six other boats. "You've taken up all the quay!" she shrieked. I spun around expecting to find a Sulphur Crested Cockatoo; then I thought perhaps it's someone who knows us and it's just a bit of sardonic Aussie sledging. But no, it dawned that she seriously thought her 16m floating scrapyard was more worthy of a berth than our 20m. "Well, bad luck," I retorted (or something of similar rhyme). After that incident I had to go and sit in the shade for a while to cool down.

Generally we have been very lazy, we've hardly been out on our bikes and we have only walked around a mere handful of villages to replenish supplies. At Condé we got on the motorbikes to take a couple of runs: to Ay and Mareuil sur Ay; and Bouzy and Ambonnay. We couldn't bear the thought of turning left after Condé and slipping out of Champagne without visiting these beautiful towns and calling on our favourite vintners to stock-up the cellar. Several remembered us, much amused at our mode of conveyance. They are all apprehensive about the pending harvest. The wet, cool early summer weather has produced smaller than usual grapes and the late heat has strained the skins to bursting which means they can no longer be sprayed. The Euro crisis and the fact that everywhere people have less desire to celebrate has diminished orders. And the AOC has provisionally decreed that this year growers may only harvest 9,000 tonnes per hectare (normally 10,500 t/h is produced) to turn into fizz. A dismal forecast for vintage 2012. Whilst at Condé, Paul and Pat stopped by for a couple of days on their way to Paris and Brittany. They returned later to spend a week with us as we cruised from Vitry le Francois up the Canal Entre Champagne et Bourgogne. While aboard they sealed the purchase of their own boat, an ex-hire boat from Le Boat, at Hesse (near the incline plane on Canal de la Marne au Rhin) and are looking forward to returning to France next May to take delivery and begin the cruising lifestyle. We wish them loads of pleasure and much happiness.

We are now climbing up towards the upper reaches of the Marne. We last travelled this route in 2008 and not a lot has changed. The restoration work on the cathedral in Chalons en Champagne is now finished and church services have resumed. Likewise, the scaffolding is gone from the gorgeous Chateau du Grand Jardin at Joinville and it looks wonderful with its new slate roof, surrounded by its meticulously tended parterres gardens. According to local legend Duc Claude de Lorraine had the chateau built, around 1546, to obtain the forgiveness of his wife, Antoinette de Bourbon, for his infidelity. Emblazoned under every window are sculptured mottos: Toutes pour une (all for one) and; Là et non plus [ailleurs] (there and no longer elsewhere) to emphasise his reformed commitment. We all ambled up to the top of the hill overlooking the town, the site of the original enormous castle. It was reduced to rubble following the revolution and the townsfolk made off with most of the stone to build houses for themselves. There's a lot to be said for keeping a log — it makes it easy to predetermine stopping places and special points of interest when the journey is repeated. It is a pretty canal. But we are astonished at the dearth of boats. We have seldom passed more than two boats, going either direction, on any day. What is refreshing though is the increase in the number of French owners of pleasure boats. Whereas they once seemed a rarity it is now quite common to find several in every port. Americans are nowadays almost non-existent. We are looking forward to revisiting Chaumont and Langres before descending down to the Saône, St John de Losne and into Burgundy again via the Canal de Centre.

Yesterday, we rode our motorbikes to Colombey les Deux Eglises, a 29 km pilgramage to the memorial and museum of Charles de Gaulle. We were impressed, not only by the gigantic Cross of Lorraine erected to his memory on top of the hill behind the town, but also with the vast, modern, cubist museum. We spent two hours, not long enough but information overload started to kick in, wandering the museum and we learned more about the man and the tumultuous period of politics that wracked France during WWII and on into the 1960's than we ever previously understood. Churchill and Roosevelt did not particulary like him. But he was the one who stood firm and resolved that France would be restored to freedom and glory. He bought a lovely home on the fringes of the town in the mid-thirties and lived there with his family most of his life, apart from during the war and whilst he was president. The views over the surrounding countryside are sensational. Today, Colombey LDE is a mecca for tourists stopping to pay homage to the General, his memorial, grave and museum.

We were eager to watch the opening of the Paralympics the other night. Suddenly, just as it was about to start, a violent electrical storm struck right overhead, obliterating any chance of receiving a signal. So we retired to bed where Sally drew comfort hiding under the covers. The storm was specatular but short-lived and we couldn't be bothered getting up again. I'm sure the rain, brief as it was, would have brought welcome relief to the farmers who have almost finished sowing their next crop rotation. 

Champagne Again

4th August, 2012 (Sally}

Our stay in Rethel was extended when we woke one morning to find water running down the inside wall of our bedroom. A small weld in the corner of the foredeck that had long looked suspicious had finally failed and the incessant rain had found its way in. Luckily we were able to contact a workman with a welder in his van and he called on the first fine day and all was quickly and expertly repaired. It meant a full spring clean and wash of every winter jumper in my cupboard but a good chance to decide that if they hadn't been worn this year they were definitely past their use-by date.

It was also at Rethel that we met up with Miles and Skye, on their way back from Paris to Germany to collect Skye's Dad and return to Australia. We were delighted to pop the champagne and toast their recent engagement. Well what else do you do in Romantic Paris but "pop the question" — and where else but the Eiffel Tower.

From Rethel it is a short distance down the canal to a very quiet grassy mooring at Variscourt. There, five picnic tables, a water point and several shady trees, all donated as a memorial to a local soldier killed in the first months of WWII, honour his sacrifice. Much more appropriate than a plaque in the town square and obviously well appreciated by the locals as in the two days we were there it was constantly visited by family groups, walkers and of course the fishermen. The quiet did not last too long as we used the two days here to grind and sand all the spots on the front deck that have been waiting for attention all this long rainy summer. The farmers around were also making the most of the window of fine weather and for the first time we were seeing harvesters working to all hours of the night getting the crops in. Huge fields of wheat and canola which have been waiting for so long, turning grey. There must have been some anxious nights for the farmers.

Next day took us into the Canal de l'Aisne à la Marne, the pretty waterway that leads into Reims, city of cathedral, coronations and champagne. We moored just past the main marina on a quieter bank to find a water fête taking place on the roadway and canal right beside us. So we had front row seats to the paddle boats, ice cream stall and childrens' entertainment and they had the same to us. The city had provided free sun lounges and many people took advantage of them to sit looking over the water; and in some cases at us. The advantage for us was at night when it was all over the area was closed to traffic with a security guard in place so we had a very peaceful spot. We were joined here by Lorraine and Shirley Ann on their way home after their 4,500 km campervan trip around Germany, France and Holland. We sent them off to visit Taittinger Champagne cellars before meeting them outside the cathedral for a long leisurely lunch in one of the many restaurants. You cannot visit Reims without visiting the cathedral, it dominates the main square and for the first time we saw it without scaffolding over the front. (It has been moved to do some more work on the sides and back.) So much cleaning and renovation has been going on for so many years and still a lot to go. One shudders to think how much of France's GDP goes to the upkeep of hundreds of historic buildings. The cathedral recently celebrated its 800th anniversary. A sound and light show on the facade was commisioned for that and so successful was it that it has been reinstated this year for the summer months. We saw it on a magic balmy evening and were enthralled at the spectacle. Laser lights in all colours depicting the statues as they would have been painted when first carved and then a reinactment with silhouette figures of the stonemasons and carpenters working on the building followed by the pagentry of the coronations. A memorable evening in one of our favourite cities.

We needed to get to a major city to sort out the problem I had with my Mac computer. Since leaving Holland I had been unable to receive or send email. The changes in internet providers had caused one of those glitches that are sent to test one. We were directed to the only Apple shop in Reims, a long bus journey to a huge complex in the outer suburbs. The problem was finally solved, the technician spent 2 hours, worked right through his lunch hour, and all for 40€. I don't know what was the most amazing: the 40€ bill, an Apple shop with only 2 customers in 2 hours, or a Frenchman missing his lunch. For those with a technical bent the problem was our previous (Dutch) providers were over-riding the latest (French) one and somewhere in the setting-up of my machine they had put in a program called MacKeeper which did not allow us to uninstall the unwanted providers. Now all is fixed and I am happy.

From Reims we have travelled all of 8 km to Sillery, nice quay, grassy park with shady trees and one of the best boulangerie/patisseries in France, plus of course easy riding distance to Champagne villages. We booked in for a fortnight and the day we arrived so did summer. Months of indifferent weather with never two consecutive fine days and then overnight a heatwave; 35C for several days, too hot to do anything but sit under the shade of the trees and read. It's still lovely now but not so hot and the painting has been done. Sable looks very smart with spotless white decks and sides. It has been a good chance to keep an eye on the Olympics in real time. After weeks of very negative press it is good to see London doing it in such style. The venues have been breathtaking, equestrian at Greenich Park, beach volley ball at Horse Guards and the time trial at Hampton Court to name a few, but the one that tops them all is the rowing course. Eton College built it for themselves and then offered it to the Olympic Games. What wealth does that school have that they can build a course of that quality?

We have had the motor bikes off and done a couple of long rides in the countryside. They have been locked on board for a year as one needs them registered on the roads in Holland so was good to be out and about again and get up into the higher roads to enjoy the sweeping views over vineyards, wheatfields and occasional field of sunflowers. We stopped in the small village of Chigny les Roses, pretty name for a very pretty village. Population 553, no shops but a notice board showing the location of the 41 champagne houses. It is a feature of all the small villages in this area, there are no shops or other facilities, nothing matters except champagne. Our first night in Sillery we were woken at 1.00 am by a thump on the boat caused by a couple of lads trying to remove our bikes. Fortunately they were securely locked to the deck but they did get away with our wooden outdoor chairs from our front deck though one was dropped in the rush to get away. People on another boat lost their bikes so we are being a bit more careful about putting all things inside at night. In five years our only incident so we are thankful for that. We are here for a few more days, time enough to explore a few more villages and visit a few more cellars. Well, what else would one do in Champagne.

Farewell to Holland

13th July, 2012 (Tony)

A number of big locks on the Maas in Holland and Belgium are undergoing major reconstruction to make them even bigger — to accommodate commercial barges up to 180 m long. So it was no real discouragement to accept the advice of authorities and deviate back up the Canal Nederweert-Maasbracht and rejoin the Zuid-Willemsvaart Canal to Maastricht — through Belgium. We were welcomed into the basin at Maastricht, close to the city centre. Gray, Suellen, Elsie and Joey joined us there a couple of days later. Maastricht, which we visited in 2008, is probably our favourite town in Holland. No evidence of recession here — the shops and restaurants all doing a roaring trade. Now, Maastricht is also the home town of André Rieu and every year, in the last week of June, he takes over the entire town centre to preview his forthcoming world tour. For 75€ one can buy a ticket to a hard plastic seat in the square; or for 80€ one can enjoy a three-course alfresco dinner and view the concert from the comfort of a padded dining chair at one of the restaurants on the periphery of the square. We succeeded in booking one of the few remaining tables for four on the last night. And to our surprise, we found ourselves in a premium postion with not only a good view of the stage, but also a big-screen nearby; and right on the edge of the road which a band and later André and all his entourage paraded past close enough to touch. In times past I have been a bit ho-hum about A R notwithstanding that we have a number of his CDs. But this concert was sensational entertainment, clearly appreciated by his home-town crowd. The BBC is advertising the soon-to-be released DVD of this concert from Maastricht, "Songs from the Heart." I can't wait to buy it!

We bade farewell to Holland and enjoyed a leisurely day's cruise upstream to Liège. As expected, the port was full and we found ourselves rafted for a night to Sable's sister ship, Highlander whose owners are long-time acquaintances of Bob and Bea, Sable's previous owners. It was nice to finally meet up with them after all this time and to also meet Roger and Mary from Sydney who were about to put pen to paper to sign a contract to buy Highlander at the very instant we hove into view. Talk about coincidence. I think they were relieved to chat with us and we like to think we may have allayed any doubts or fears they may have had about the commitment they were about to make. I'm sure they will be delighted with their new asset. Liège was abuzz with the excitement of hosting the start of the Tour de France. We were all in the centre of town next morning when the caravan went through, then we relocated to a roundabout a couple of hundred metres from Sable's mooring to watch the riders whirl around it in the time trial prologue event. Having Sable so handy meant we were able to cart chairs and steps to better view the three-hour event. The following day we found a seat on a wide stone balustrade beside the road at the start of the 1st Stage race to Seraing. It really is an enthralling spectacle. Needless to say, Elsie and Joey collected a pile of sponsors' give-aways.

Gray and Suellen were joined by their friends, Steve and Prue and daughter, from Brisbane to spend a week cruising aboard Sable which provided a window of opportunity for Sally and me to head off to Prague, a city that has long held a fascination. Liège is the closest place that Sable could ever be, relative to Prague, hence we jumped at the chance to catch a train via Cologne and Munich to spend a couple of days there. Our first impression was, frankly, disappointing on arriving at the old railway station surrounded by crumbling and decaying buildings that reminded me of old Macau. However, all was redeemed when next morning we wandered around the heart of the city and especially when we later took a guided walk through its historic centre. The highlight of our visit was attending a proms concert in Smetana Hall by the Czech National Symphony Orchestra, conducted by guest conductor, Karl Davis. Marvellous. On leaving Prague we took the metro to the train station to discover a fantastic, truly modern hub underground, built beneath the old station that had so disgusted us on our arrival. Presumably the old station will one day be restored to its original grandeur as it must have been a nightmare to construct the new station under it without demolishing any of the ancient structure. Our apologies to Prague... a wonderful place to visit; and judging by the number of tourists, very popular.

We continued by train to Berlin, a lengthy detour, but well worth it. There's a lot one can say about trains in Europe — they are very fast and comfortable. Our day in Berlin was very enjoyable and, if only we had time, we could have spent a week there. A magnificent city. In the Philharmonie, Spohie Anne Mutter with Daniel Barenboim and the Berlin Philharmonic were due to perform but, alas, our chances of getting tickets would have been negligible. Instead we rode the buses and walked Sally's feet (and knee) off inspecting all the main tourist sights. On one of the balmiest evenings this summer we promenaded along the river bank and stumbled upon an exquisite French restaurant. If nothing else, it made us yearn to get back to France. On the way home we stopped off at Wiesbaden to catch up with Miles and Skye who arrived next day at Frankfurt to begin their holiday in Germany and France. We'll be seeing them again next week as they return to fly home. Our return to our boat required a changeover at Metz where by conspired coincidence the finish of Stage 6 of the Tour was about to happen. Strolling out of the station we found ourselves a spot on an embankment within 15m of the finish line, high enough to see over the heads of the crowd crushed against the barricades. It was an exciting finish. The atmosphere was electric. So too was the sky for soon after we were drenched in a thunderstorm as we waited for the presentation of the maillots. A beer in the square soon revived us and we were dry again by the time we caught the train out of Metz. In all, a hectic but pleasant week's break.

We re-embarked aboard Sable at Fumay, still on the Meuse but now in France. Sally and I cruised with the kids to Charleville-Mezieres while the Generation X-ers motored off in a hire car to investigate the sights, smells and tastes of Champagne. After a weekend of indulgence they returned with a bootload of bounty, some to take home, some for Sable's cellar. We are now off the Meuse, having brought the gang down to Rethel where they caught a train yesterday to Paris. They celebrate July 14th in Paris and fly home next day. We have had a wonderful sojourn in Holland. We have seen and learned a lot about a country we had no previous experience of and whilst it is easy to blame the weather for our occasional indifference it has to be said that all over Europe it has been a dreadful summer. Here's hoping for a vast improvement, especially for the Olympic Games.

The Maas

18th June, 2012 (Sally)

Those of you who have been watching the Queen's Diamond Jubilee celebrations on TV, and I imagine it would be difficult not to have been, would have seen the drenching rains and wind that has been the Brits' idea of summer. We have managed to escape the worst of it but for the last two weeks have been on the edge of the storms and it has rained almost every day. Is summer ever going to arrive? The week before the Jubilee we moored at the delightful town with the unpronouncable name of s'Hertogenbosch, or as the locals say, Den Bosch. Large cobbled squares supporting quantities of cafes, lovely streets and enough shops to satisfy even the most ardent shopper, which we are not. The next day being sunny we took our bikes and ourselves by train to Arnhem, scene of the Battle of Arnhem in the latter stages of WW11. This was part of Operation Market Garden, the largest deployment of airborne paratroopers ever attempted and as one general before the battle suggested, it was trying for "One Bridge Too Far" a quote which later prompted a title for a movie. Ten thousand paratroopers were dropped and the bridge over the Rhine at Arnhem was taken but the 600 troops who made it to there were unable to be reinforced and they could not hold it against far superior forces, it was conceded and the war continued for another bloody seven months. The city of Arnhem was evacuated by orders of the German Army and by the time the townsfolk were allowed back in 1945 less than 150 houses were standing. Today it is totally rebuilt with the bridge replaced and named after the British commander, the church tower has risen again and now sports a glass lift that takes one to a viewing platform where you can admire a panorama of the Rhine valley and surrounding countryside. The paratroopers are remembered with models of them suspended, with their parachutes, from the ceiling of the church. Of the 10,000 only 2,500 made it back, many spent the rest of the year in POW camps, some were hidden by the Dutch and escaped later but the greater number were lost.

From Arnhem we trained back to Nijmegen and cycled through the forest that lies to the south of the town. Such pretty forest (includung a hill!) with lovely little villages among the trees. In July Nijmegen is the scene for four day hikes in which 50,000 people take part. It would be hard to find a more attractive area in which to do that. We ended up back in the square of the town and as bikes are not allowed on trains between 4.00 and 6.30 we spent the extra time enjoying the ambiance of a warm summer evening, a glass of beer and a plate of Dutch delights and as an extra bonus, learning to pronounce Nijmegen. For those who are interested it bears no resemblance to those pesky little comic strip turtles. It was as well we did our trip that day as the weather was against us for the rest of our stay in Den Bosch, so much so that we moved off a day early to get better TV coverage to view the River Regatta; and what better way to spend a rainy Sunday. Our Dutch Barge Association was asked to provide some of the flotilla so we were interested to see them nearly at the end, and to hear one of our executives being interviewed. The BBC reporter couldn't get over the luxury they had on board, including a waterbed, and caused us a bit of mirth when he said, "They could have all that in a semi-detached in Clapham."

Our next visitors were arriving by train from Paris so we found a mooring at Helmond which was on the direct line from Rotterdam. They managed the trip easily, one change at Rotterdam but the taxi driver at Helmond must have been totally new to the job, she had no idea where she was going and poor Lorraine and Shirley-Ann were taken on a very protracted and expensive trip up and down the canal. She did turn the meter off but not soon enough in all our opinions. However a quick tour of Sable and a nice enough day for a bike ride through the countryside, stopping only for reviving drink at the local cafe put them into the Dutch way of life. Nederweert where we stopped next was awash with orange for the EuroCup — flags, bunting and orange t-shirts on every Dutch football supporter. We joined them at the local bar but left at half-time when the mood got very somber. They have now lost all three games so I imagine there will be some vey cheap decorations in the shops from today. Nederweert is also the home to the best ice cream shop in Holland. As we were making our various choices from the vast array, all made on the premises, we noticed and commented on the show case of cups and trophies which we thought belonged to a local sports club. No, it's their own collection from national ice cream competitions, and judged by our taste buds, all richly deserved. From Nederweert, according to our on-board manual, it is 4km to the De Peel National Park. A nice little distance for novice bikers so off we went for a late afternoon cycle. Oops, the book was wrong and when we finally reached the park after 10 km our guests were starting to feel a few tired and sore muscles and we still had a return journey to make. They made it but we didn't get a game of cards that night as they elected for an early retirement.

The Floriade in Holland happens every ten years and this year is in Venlo not too much further down the Maas so we did a long day cruising to get there and spent most of a very rainy Tuesday wandering around the displays. Floriade is the World Horticultural Expo, they have taken over a huge area of 66ha and built two permanent structures and a cable car ride from one end to the other. About thirty countries were exhibiting plus some lovely areas of natural landscaping. However we were all a little disappointed as too many of the countries had used their space to be nothing other than souvenir shops, rugs from Pakistan, gem stones from Yemen etc. The only purchase our party made was a couple of bright blue plastic ponchos which I fear will have more use yet. Some displays were stunning, lovely use of grasses planted under silver birches, plenty of "living walls" for inner city greening and orchids from all around the world while other landscaping had suffered with the wet and many plants were still very small and unattractive. I think we were spoilt with Keukenhof where it was a blaze of colour and not a weed or faded flower in sight.

Dinner that night was a barbeque on deck but no sooner had the meat gone on than the heavens opened and Tony, dressed in bright yellow raincoat and enveloped in clouds of steam, rescuing the steaks before they washed away, was a source of amusement to all in the harbourside restaurant. Must have been some chuckles around their tables.

By bus, train and bus again we travelled to Overloon where the National War and Resistance Museum is sited. Overloon was the Ombing challenges suspended through the trees for the young and hardy and a very comprehensive museum which gives an overview of all that Holland suffered in WW11. Also there is the Marshall Museum which houses the largest collection of military vehicles in all Europe, many of which were rescued from this battlefield.. A huge hall containing every sort of motorized vehicle you can imagine: tanks, trucks, troop carriers, guns, planes, jeeps, field kitchens, motor bikes etc all in immaculate condition. Anyone with the slightest interest in motors should definitely put this on their list. This region is now the centre of market gardening; asparagus, potatoes and carrots by the acre so it was relaximg after viewing all that to sit on a bus back to base and view the peaceful fields of vegetables and flowers.

Our vistors are now in Amsterdam and we have found a quiet little quay where we have spread our belongings and started to paint. One coat, finally, on the back deck and yes you guessed it, it is starting to rain!!!

The Great Rivers

27th April, 2012 (Tony)

The mighty Rhine enters The Netherlands near Millingen and soon after splits in two to be known thereafter as the Waal and Lek. The Maas, which rises more than 250 km south in France where it is called the Meuse, flows north through Belgium and the Ardennes entering Holland at Maastricht. It continues north almost to Millingen then turns west towards the sea. These three great rivers wend their way across the delta, merging a number of times — sometimes naturally other times through man-made canals to create a giant carriageway for commercial barges, many more than 100m long, transporting products and materials to and from Germany, Belgium and France. The land between is laced with a myriad of smaller canals and natural waterways. These are our preferred routes, not just to avoid the commercial traffic or strong currents, but because they are so pretty and more intimate. We have just completed a leisurely voyage down the Merwede Canal, one of the few waterways in Holland we have revisited for a second time. We rested up for a few days in Vianen to allow our boiler to undergo its annual service. It was installed new last August but between last autumn and this spring it has done more work than a whole normal year. A pleasant sojourn at Meerkerk coincided with "Windmill Day" when every windmill in Holland is, where possible, activated. Many are open to the public. Across the landscape windmills were turning gracefully everywhere. We were surpised at how close to the ground some blades come. Protective fencing is vital. And the noise from the blades was louder than expected. But they are unquestionably a majestic sight and a timeless symbol of carbon-free energy.

We spent a week exploring the Linge, possibly the prettiest waterway we've seen since France. The Linge is only navigable as far as Geldermalsen but we turned around at Asperen a few kilometres past Leerdam and used our bikes to explore the upper reaches. Leerdam is famous for its glass and crystal and we were absorbed for the best part of an afternoon watching glass blowers practising their craft. There are many galleries in the town displaying beautiful pieces of glass art. We would have loved to bag a souvenir but the prices were fairly exhorbitant and the worry about getting a heavy, fragile glass piece back to Australia caused us to demur. We spent several days at Heukelum moored to the bank of a grassy field favoured by dozens of families of Canadian Geese and numerous other varieties of water fowl. Goslings and ducklings everywhere. It was fascinating to watch the adults guarding and educating their offspring, as if they were in day-care. An idyllic setting marred only by the guano which was impossible to avoid stepping in. We were astonished one day to witness a flotilla of amphibious vintage sports cars drift past. Presumably someone makes boats to resemble old sports cars but this crowd was off to revel in a picnic somewhere. But here at last the weather caught up with how late spring should be, temperatures hit 20C and we were in shorts and tee shirts for the first time this year. Please may it continue! It struck me as the ideal spot to begin some overdue painting preparation. But within minutes of getting the sander going the harbour master turned up to order me to desist. Not allowed, unless I have a dust bag. Until now the weather has thwarted any notion of doing any maintenance outdoors. I expect we will find a nice quiet mooring somewhere soon where I can grind and sand without disturbing anyone.

Our long stays at places has not meant we have been idle, despite the cool weather. Almost every day we have been for long bike rides, often using ferries, large and small, to transport us to the other side of a river or canal. There is not a lot of this part of the country that we haven't seen. In total we must have biked hundreds of kilometres. Old folks on two wheels is no rare sight in this country; men in lycra are less common but quite startling when they overtake you at high speed, especially on narrow cycle paths. The countryside is so lush and we have seen many huge orchards of apples and pears. The grass doesn't seem to mind the cold for pasture growth is phenomenal; so much silage is already cut and harvested. Most of our recent bike rides have taken us past old forts on the Nieuwe Hollandse Waterline. In 1815 King Wlliam I instigated the contruction of an 85 km long system of forts, sluices and dykes from Muider, on the Isselmeer, to the Biesbosch, south of Dordrecht. The idea was to flood an area 5 km wide, impassable for soldiers or carts and too shallow to navigate by boats thus protecting the land to the west. Hundreds of concrete bunkers remain, standing silent sentinel over tranquil pastures. Many of the forts are now being restored and some are open to public inspection. The system was last put on alert in 1939. However it was no barrier to the German bombers who devastated Rotterdam and the Dutch were forced to capitulate before the flood gates were opened.

We lingered for almost a week in Gorinchem. Mooring for pleasure boats is in a narrow canal right in the heart of the city. When it came time to leave we had to reverse about 300 m to get back to a waterway with bridges high enough for Sable to clear. It has a lovely big square and it was nice to take advantage of the summer sunshine to lick an ice cream and another day, have a salad lunch, al fresco. From Gorinchem we crossed the massive Waal and chugged upstream for just a few kilometres before turning into the calmer water of a branch connecting to the Maas. Sheltered behind this junction is the historic old harbour of Woudrichem. Only old tall-masted ships are allowed to moor in the main port, and there were dozens. Around the corner, past the old-timers and out of sight from the tourists gaze there is a quay for others. A two night stay is all that is allowed. We stopped for just one night paying a fee that seemed a bit steep but no doubt helps to keep it maintained. After a leisurely stroll around the ramparts we sat on the sand on a man-made beach on the river bank and watched youngsters braving the water for a brief swim. Barge spotting seems to be a popular passtime for the less energetic locals. Huge commercial barges bearing every cargo imaginable continuously stream by — day and night, 24/7. Woudichem is a cute old fortified town, part of the N H Waterline. We are currently in an even more attractive old fortified town — Heusden, on the Maas. The town was practically destroyed by the Germans when they withdrew in 1944 but it has been painstakingly restored and is nowadays a major tourist attraction — a huge cruise ship came into the harbour last night much to the shopkeepers' delight. It is a long weekend in Holland and we were lucky to find a berth for Sable. We are surrounded by dozens of ships that would more appropriately suit Cannes or Monaco. All are luxurious. Most are so high, and wide, they could not cruise normal canals. I imagine they must ply the big rivers, mast-up routes and open waters.

Tiptoe Thru Tulips

25th April, 2012 (Tony)

A few "bucket list" items have received the big tick in the last couple of weeks. After a very enjoyable, if somewhat cool, week in Haarlem we cruised down to Lisse in the heart of the tulip growing region. We spent five days there, venturing out on our bikes to take in the spectacular colours of tulips, daffodils and scented hyacinths blooming in their millions in the fields. What a sight. Every kilometre brought on a fresh photo opportunity; another blend of hues in every shade imaginable. Tick...

And then there was Keukenhof — probably the most visited spring garden in the world. Sally thought if we got there before 10am we would be ahead of the crowds but there must have been two hundred buses neatly parked inside the entrance by the time we arrived (four hundred when we left). We need not have worried about the crowd because thirty thousand people spread over seventy-nine acres, ambling their way along the wide pathways didn't seem too many at all. The mass of people just made one appreciate how blooming marvellous the place is. Seven million bulbs, all hand-planted each year in stunning artistic arrays, are donated by nearly ninety growers or syndicates. The gardens which were one part of a royal palace unfold beneath magnificent old trees and are open to public view from 22 March until 20 May so designers have to be mindful of each variety's peak blossom period in order to maintain continuity of colourful display. A number of pavilions scattered throughout the grounds feature other wonderful displays: orchids and anturynims; gerberas; hydrangeas and begonias and other springtime blooms. The whole park is a credit to the gardeners' skill at enhancing nature's artistry. Tick...

We arose early one crisp morning and cranked up Sable to move along the Ringvaart 5 km thus reducing the bike ride into Alsmeer to a reasonable 10 km exercise so that we could visit Bloemenveiling in operation. This is the biggest market in the world in terms of volume of trade. It deals only in flowers — mostly cut flowers but also some pot plants. Most of the flowers are grown in Holland, under glass; but many are also brought in each day from all around the world. About eighty percent of the worlds flowers are sold daily by FloraHolland at this place, or its five other locations. Finding the visitor's entrance was the biggest challenge — the entire enterprise covers the area of 250 football fields! A suspended walkway over the main floor filled with thousands of trolleys (about 1m x 1.2m) full of buckets of flowers of every type imaginable and linked together into miniature trains leads, eventually, to four auction rooms. It seemed to take half as long as our 10 km bike ride to reach the end of the walkway. The operation of this place almost defies comprehension so forgive me for recording this chronicle for the sake of my own memory and future recall. In each auction room (there are twelve others) about two hundred buyers arranged in approximately ten tiers sit behind computers bidding for their fancied lots. Selling commences at 6am and is generally over by 11am. Trains of trolleys move in one door and out another passing by at the rate of one every fifteen seconds. Meanwhile two huge screens each display the contents of the respective trolley below, along with all the essential data: grower's name; flower botanical name; colour; number of stems per bucket; number of buckets per trolley etc. A digital dot swings around the circumference of a huge clock at a frantic pace, counting down the price per stem, until a buyer hits his button. We saw hydrangeas going for up to 2.60€ per stem; and calla lilies fetching 0.26€. Each bid secures a minimum (say 4) buckets though the first bidder has the option to buy the lot. The clock keeps swinging back and forth until the whole trolley lot is sold. A trolley under each clock is sold every fifteen seconds; on average about 116,000 transactions are made each day. After exiting the auction room the trolleys are trundled off to a distribution area where a staff member (one of 4,600) checks the barcode of each bucket and transfers the buckets of flowers to buyer's individual trolleys. When a buyer's train is made up it is led away by a little dodgem-car to the export bay to be loaded into a lorry to take it to nearby Schiphol airport, or direct to the buyer's European destination. Talk about efficiency. How did they do all this before computers? By midday the place is virtually empty, ready for the next days flowers to start arriving from about 4pm. Definitely one of the most compelling spectacles we have ever seen; and not to be missed. Tick...

We continued our cruise to Leiden, another old and interesting city situated on one of the original fingers of the Rhine delta. The city centre is laced with a myriad of little canals with few bridges, making it easy to get lost. Leiden university grounds contain Hortus Botanicus the medicinal nursery garden where Head Botanist, Carolus Clusius brought the first Dutch tulip to flower in 1594. The rest, as they say, is history. Myra and her sister-in-law, Wendy, arrived to spend several days with us whilst we were in Leiden. Unfortunately the weather remained too cold to contemplate a bike ride to the tulip fields but they took a bus to Keukenhof and explored Leiden on foot. They departed for Turkey on a miserable morning but soon after the weather cheered up considerably so we set off on our bikes to explore Katwijk another seaside town that in summer is no doubt crammed with sunbathers. We've decided we're not into North Sea beaches. North Burleigh in a cyclone would be more attractive. On our ride we witnessed at very close quarters a prang between a cyclist and a car at a crossing. Fortunately the teenager was unhurt and continued texting on her smartphone even as bystanders helped her to her feet, despite my protestations that she should be left reposing on the ground at least until she had finished composing her message. It is amazing that there are not thousands of similar collisions every day. Without exception, cyclists are always blameless. It was the sound (loudness) of metal striking metal that lingers in our minds. Lucky girl...

We caught a bus back to Lisse to see the Bloemencorso, a parade of more than forty floats decorated with millions of real flowers, marching bands and assorted vehicles bearing enormous bouquets of fresh flowers. This is an annual parade held on the last Saturday of April to celebrate the spring blossom. The amount of work that had gone into making the floats was impressive and there were thousands of spectators lining the route to admire and applaud those taking part. Traffic jams after the event meant buses were severely delayed. We waited in vain for two hours, finally flagging down a taxi in desperation to get back to Sable before dark. Tick...

Contrary to the lock keeper's assurance that we would find a berth easily, we entered the port at Den Haag to discover it isn't geared for boats over about 15m. However the obliging harbour master assisted us to delicately reverse Sable into a pen meant for a boat half her size. From nowhere half a dozen boatees arrived, ostensibly to help, but more likely to mind the welfare of other boats. Next day we jumped on our bikes to reconnoiter the capital city of the Netherlands. Apart from a number of stunning architectural edifices, it is just another large metropolis. We enjoyed a tasty Indonesian lunch at a low-key restaurant then visited Prince William V gallery to view Vermeer's "Girl with a Pearl Earring" where it is temporarily on show prior to leaving for two years to Japan and USA. Tick... We also enjoyed a long bike ride through a vast forest, past the official Royal Palace and numerous foreign embassies— magnificent residences screened behind tall trees and gorgeous gardens. It reminded us of France. Next stop: Delft.

Haarlem

10th April, 2012 (Sally & Tony)

Spring, 2012 the start of our sixth cruising season. What began in 2007 as a two year dream continues on and we still are enjoying our transient life. Mind you we only enjoy it this much because we can escape the northern winter and head back for an Australian summer with a good dose of sunshine to carry us through. We admire the fortitude of those who live on board all year, their winter is a very different one from ours. We arrived back on board Sable two weeks ago, what a difference it makes landing at Schiphol airport as opposed to Charles de Gaulle. The train station is part of the airport terminal and within an hour of landing we were on the train enroute to Zaandam, a short taxi ride and we were home to a nice warm boat already restocked with basic groceries plus a homemade pie in the fridge courtesy of our friendly British neighbours.

We spent a week in Zaandam, restocking the pantry and the wine rack, replanting the herb garden and flower pots, overwhelmed once again at the price of food in the shops. My first supermarket vist saw me laden down with a trolley load and two shopping bags for only E47. The next day at the market I bought armfuls of fruit and veg and only spent E27, where are we going so wrong in Australia? The biggest delight as you would expect are the flower stalls, bursting with spring blooms. Three bunches of Orange tulips plus some lovely potted pansies were the next purchase, so hard to choose from all on display. Between socialising and shopping we managed a trip into Amsterdam to visit the Rijksmuseum. It is known for its collection of Rembrandts housed in a very old traditional building as opposed to the Van Gogh Museum next door which is a new, very modern-lit gallery. I was expecting dark Old Dutch Masters but ongoing restoration work and some very clever lighting made it an extremely enjoyable day. Even more so with the large number of school parties fom the young to the more serious students. What a bonus to be able to study such riches at first hand. I was particularly taken with a small class of youngsters sitting in front of a Rembrandt while the teacher explained with a box of pigments the use of the colours. If I could have understood a word I would have joined the class.

Also while in Zaandam we joined Mike and Rosaleen, bargees from Ireland, to eat at an Indonesian restaurant and found one with the original rijsttafel (rice table). A small family run business, mum cooks while daughter waitresses. No menu - you eat what they are cooking that night. We had 6 or 7 communal dishes, desert, plus wine for 30€ a head, a good night out.

From Zaandam we have cruised down the Amstel river, passed some very serious unloading facilities for ocean-going ships, and turned south into the quieter waters of the Spaarne river which will lead us through many bulb fields of Holland. Our first stop was the old town of Haarlem and it's such a delightful city we have elected to spend a whole week here which of course includes the Easter break. The start of cruising coincided with the return of winter weather (after an amazingly warm welcome to spring the first week we arrived) and we have had some very cold nights and days that have taken awhile to warm. It hasn't stopped us doing a lot, just means the bike rides are shorter and faster, and the glass of wine at a sidewalk cafe has become a cup of hot chocolate back in the comfort of Sable. The other reason for the longer stay at Haarlem was to have the last of some electrical work done by a very good ship's electrician who we have been using in Holland. Because of the huge number of boats in Holland every trade and supplier is available so we are now well stocked with spares and paint as well as having a new gangplank made from a recycled ladder and aluminium checker-plate salvaged from a scrap yard. I can see a week coming up somewhere quiet so we can repaint the decks; there is always work to be done on a boat.

One particularly cold day we spent a couple of warm hours in the Frans Hals museum for another dose of culture. They are celebrating "The Golden Years" an exhibition of paintings of fetes, fairs and parties a good insight into the riches of past revelry. Pride of place goes to the huge Frans Hals canvases of the Civic Guard of Haarlem. He made his name painting these portrayals of the Guard, usually sitting around a table celebrating the end of their term of civic duty. Apparently the town was obliged to provide them with a feast at the end of each term. These became out of hand and a law was passed that limited the festivities to four days and prohibited them bringing all their family and friends. The portraits are obviously painted at the begining of the four days rather than the end as they all look very respectable and sober, not to mention clean.

Our most interesting visit so far has been a bike ride along the river to the Cruquius pumping station which stands today as a monument to great engineering and man's determination to conquer nature.

In 1840, having lost Belgium due to its secession, the King of Holland determined to improve his reputation by invoking a grand scheme to bolster the economy. He first dallied with an idea to install pink batts in everyone’s roof; then considered building a new assembly hall for every school; (solar power hadn’t been invented otherwise that may have made the shortlist); but nature intervened and whipped up a huge storm in the Haarlemmermeer, a 180 sq km inland sea 4.5m deep that resulted from digging peat over centuries, and which threatened to undermine and destroy Amsterdam. It was quickly decided that this giant polder had to be drained in order to preserve the cities of Amsterdam and Haarlem. Windmills were contemplated but it was soon realised that the number required and cost would be prohibitive so they turned to the British to design and build steam driven pumps. Meanwhile 500 men set about constructing by hand a 65km Ringvaart (canal) encircling the lake to drain the water out to sea. It took them 5 years. Three pumping stations were built, the biggest at Cruquius. It began pumping in 1849 and was decommissioned in 1933.

The steam engine at Cruquius is the biggest ever made, in the world. It was built by Harvey Co in Cornwall and shipped and assembled on site. Here’s the impressive stuff: the vertical single piston is 3.66 m in diameter; the entire cylinder had to be cast within 6.5 minutes to prevent cracking or distortion (they failed with the first attempt); rises 5m; 5 strokes per minute; thrusts a gigantic counterweight that pulls down 8 pivot arms simultaneously each lifting an 11,500l bucket; the boiler consumed 800kg coal per hour, all hand shovelled. It took just 3 years and 3 months to completely drain the polder of 88 million cubic metres of water using the 3 pumping stations. This is one mighty piece of machinery, housed in a beautiful neo-gothic building and still operational (by hydraulics now, not steam) to demonstrate to museum visitors how it all worked. All but the front of the gigantic boiler has been removed to provide space for museum exhibits but the engine and pump has been lovingly retstored. It is one of the best marvels of engineering I’ve ever seen. Today, Schiphol Airport occupies roughly one-third of this vast polder, now permanently drained, 4m below sea level. The town of Hoofddorp was built and the rest converted to farmland.

The pump station at Halfweg remains the largest still-operating steam-driven pump in the world. It is fired up two days a month throughout the summer by enthusiastic volunteers for the public to admire. In its heyday it could move 25,000 litres per second! Electric pumps now do the real work. We attempted to visit that by bike yesterday but found it doesn't open until next week, however on the way back we came upon a huge Aerial Adventure Park which was providing lots of energetic amusement for young and not so young. I counted at least 40 huge poles with a great assortment of ropes, pulleys, nets, swings and flying foxes. At least 20 people were completing the course with another 20 waiting to take a turn. They were all harnessed to wire ropes and wearing helmets so no danger of falling, I could only imagine the fun and mayhem our posse of grandkids would have there.

Easter Saturday warmed enough for us to contemplate a bike ride to Zandvoort, once a fishing village on the North Sea, now a seaside resort catering for those less energetic than most Dutch. The main recreation seems to be sauntering down the main street, or sitting in well protected cafes built right on the sand. When we arrived a chilly wind was whipping across the beach, a few hardy folk were huddled in their down-stuffed jackets, the only business doing good trade was the hot chips and the coffee shops. A nice bike ride though through an interesting National Park and on well marked and great bike trails. So well sign-posted that it should be impossible to get lost, so how is it we always do? Perhaps too busy looking around that we miss the numbers. Not to worry one keeps going and sooner or later you come upon another trail. Next week we expect to be right amongst the tulip fields...

Our anniversary was celebrated with a wonderful night out, a memorable meal that surpassed all expectations. The restaurant, recommended in our guide book, sounded interesting, an old converted brewery. We checked it out during the day and arrived at night to find it was still a restaurant but had changed hands and was now in the five star bracket. We hadn't booked so we were lucky to get a table as before long the place was full. The service and the food was world class, every plate a picture and what made it even more interesting was the kitchen was in full view of the diners. No dramas there, everything worked like clockwork — at least five chefs. If I went back I would ask for a closer seat just to watch the action. Salmon served 3-ways; white asparagus spears (local specialty); sea bass; yummy deserts