We decided on Friday to have a complete change from boats and boating, so we took our bicycles on the fast ferry to Rotterdam. The catamaran ferry zipped up the river stopping at a number of places on both banks, with shipbuilders, repair yards and wharves and harbours to look at on the way.
An hour later we were in Rotterdam and the first thing we noticed, on the other side of the river from the ferry stop, was a truly massive cruise ship, which turned out to be The Queen Elizabeth II!!
So, as it was by now pouring with rain, we dropped into a rather smart café for coffee and tea, till it had stopped. Then we headed off for the Tourist Info Bureau and got the usual map and list of things to see and places to eat. This of course took us to the Oude Haven (Old Harbour) where we had an alfresco (if chilly) lunch, looking out over lines of lovely old tjalks. Then it was off to the historic harbour section where there were more old ships and working museums of ship repair equipment and methods, quayside cranes, engines and suchlike.
Then over the spectacular single-end-supported suspension bridge to get a closer look at the Queen Elizabeth II and to get our afternoon tea and coffee at the old New York Hotel, so called because it started life providing overnight accommodation for passengers embarking for America - probably dates from the late 1800s but in common with many ‘iconic’ places of interest, was a touch shabby and trading almost purely on its historic connections.
Out again, and people were queuing up to board the cruise ship, and although we were absolutely sure they would not be running tours for tourists – we did just ask! It would have been such a fantastic opportunity if they had been doing so, but, you’ve guessed it – No. The queue turned out to be paying passengers returning from their day out in Rotterdam.
So, back over the bridge, and as we went we noticed that the bunker barge which had been supplying fuel to the Queen Elizabeth II was now much further out of the water than when we had arrived at 12pm indicating that bunkering was almost finished.
We asked a couple of old gentlemen sitting on a bench if they knew when the ship might be leaving. The reply – ‘Any time now’! So we spent the next couple of hours watching all the preparations for the ship to sail and at the same time we were able to watch everything being set up for the Red Bull Air Race qualifying heat which was due the next day on and over the river.
At last the three tugs had their ropes attached, the river police were stopping more barges from churning up and down the river and with three long, loud (VERY loud) blasts on her horn reverberating through the vicinity, the Queen Elizabeth II started to move majestically, if backwards, down the river. (Three blasts? - "I am going astern"?)
We guessed the tugs were going to turn her further down river where it was wider and we would have followed on the bikes, but the last ferry back was due to leave, so we had to forgo that pleasure. But what a treat to see her leaving on her very last voyage before she goes to Dubai to become a hotel! Several other boats sounded their horns and she replied with that deep note of hers that sends such a tingle up the spine.
After we got back to Dordrecht we literally heard that the Rivers Festival 2008 had started, so after supper we wandered up to listen to the live band at the end of the harbour, whose style was a little like ‘Men at Work’ and who sang all their songs in English. Despite this we knew none of them! But we did like the sax, trumpet and trombone set-up, together with lead and base guitars, keyboards and proper drum kit. Well – we stayed till they finished their set at 11.45 – so it must have been OK!
Sunday 20 July 2008
Thursday 17 July 2008
17.07.08 Home from Home
Here we are, back ‘home’ in Dordrecht. After a hectic week back at ‘home’ in Methley Bridge and back at ‘home’ in Newton Aycliffe, we really feel more ‘at home’ on Riccall than anywhere else, if you get our meaning!!
Setting off for the UK, we cycled to the station, caught the train with 2 minutes to spare (always fatal to get up half an hour too early – it gives you a false sense of lack of rush) – got to the airport with plenty of time, got back to the UK on time and were picked up by Angela (thanks Angela) and dropped off at our narrowboat.
Thereafter, the following days were spent at dentists, accountants (Alex), opticians, hairdressers (Louise), old folks’ homes, Louise’s son’s home, our home in Newton Aycliffe, friends in Harrogate and Richmond, and finally the boat in Methley Bridge again. Then the lift, flight, train and bike in reverse! What a palava! Funny how at the airport they were more interested in swabbing the laptop for signs of explosive powder – than noticing the block of semtex disguised as seriously strong cheddar cheese (a present for friends)!
I mean, I ask you, without wishing to sound racist here, how many 59 year old, white Caucasian Englishmen, born and bred in Northumberland, become suicide bombers? We’ve better things to do with our lives.
Our next door neighbour had had no more problems with noisy tyres or ropes (what a relief) and George and Susanne welcomed us back and came for drinks and nibbles the evening before they departed for the south.
We have secured a new, old bicycle for Alex (E40) in the traditional Dutch style of sit up and beg, which is great, and we have arranged to have winter moorings in Gent. So we are all set to leave Dordrecht next week and meander our way to Amsterdam and then slowly south via Maastricht to Gent over the next three months.
Come April 2009 we intend to head off into the French canal system for 8 months or so. But plans are, as always, as fluid as the water we float upon, so we shall see.
More in a week or so, but in between, some pics of us arriving at our Dordrecht moorings and of Aeolus leaving.
Setting off for the UK, we cycled to the station, caught the train with 2 minutes to spare (always fatal to get up half an hour too early – it gives you a false sense of lack of rush) – got to the airport with plenty of time, got back to the UK on time and were picked up by Angela (thanks Angela) and dropped off at our narrowboat.
Thereafter, the following days were spent at dentists, accountants (Alex), opticians, hairdressers (Louise), old folks’ homes, Louise’s son’s home, our home in Newton Aycliffe, friends in Harrogate and Richmond, and finally the boat in Methley Bridge again. Then the lift, flight, train and bike in reverse! What a palava! Funny how at the airport they were more interested in swabbing the laptop for signs of explosive powder – than noticing the block of semtex disguised as seriously strong cheddar cheese (a present for friends)!
I mean, I ask you, without wishing to sound racist here, how many 59 year old, white Caucasian Englishmen, born and bred in Northumberland, become suicide bombers? We’ve better things to do with our lives.
Our next door neighbour had had no more problems with noisy tyres or ropes (what a relief) and George and Susanne welcomed us back and came for drinks and nibbles the evening before they departed for the south.
We have secured a new, old bicycle for Alex (E40) in the traditional Dutch style of sit up and beg, which is great, and we have arranged to have winter moorings in Gent. So we are all set to leave Dordrecht next week and meander our way to Amsterdam and then slowly south via Maastricht to Gent over the next three months.
Come April 2009 we intend to head off into the French canal system for 8 months or so. But plans are, as always, as fluid as the water we float upon, so we shall see.
More in a week or so, but in between, some pics of us arriving at our Dordrecht moorings and of Aeolus leaving.
Sunday 6 July 2008
06.07.08 Dordrecht
As you know, we have agreed with the 'DW' (Dutch Waterways) that we can leave Riccall here in the historic harbour for the next 2 weeks while we return to GB by bike, train, plane and kind lift from Angela.
We have been to the local Aldi (!!!!!), the 2nd hand shop, the only working windmill and all around and about! The few days we have been here have gone in a flash.
On the second day one of the moored barges left and we were advised by 'DW' to moor where it had been, beside two other barges.
The owner was not there when we moored and it became apparent overnight that the sloshing about from the wake of the big ships outside the harbour was causing so much movement between us that all the ropes and tyres were groaning and sqeaking most of the night.
The next day Lisette (fifty, feisty and single) from the next barge popped out the moment Alex appeared, to complain that she had had a terrible night with the noise et. etc.
Alex had to do a massive crawling job - full-on diplomacy and charm to mollify her: explaining that he had been up and outside at 4 am himself (true) trying to quieten things down, and agreed to do everything possible to resolve the situation: different types of rope, different mooring style, extra ropes to the shore etc (and in the end, unbeknown to Lisette, grease all over the tyres between us!).
The lovely bunch of freesias Louise bought and presented along with her heartfelt apologies, brought forth cheek-kissing, smiles and thanks, so perhaps all will be well.
We hope all this will have worked - Saturday night was fine - but there is much less ship movement over the weekend so Monday am will be crunch time.
Back to the UK on Tuesday, for an action-packed week. You should see the list of things we have to do, people we must see, and items we need to buy and bring back with us - decent tea bags being top of the list, closely folowed by Alex's favourite crisps 0nly UK Aldi can do!
We have been to the local Aldi (!!!!!), the 2nd hand shop, the only working windmill and all around and about! The few days we have been here have gone in a flash.
On the second day one of the moored barges left and we were advised by 'DW' to moor where it had been, beside two other barges.
The owner was not there when we moored and it became apparent overnight that the sloshing about from the wake of the big ships outside the harbour was causing so much movement between us that all the ropes and tyres were groaning and sqeaking most of the night.
The next day Lisette (fifty, feisty and single) from the next barge popped out the moment Alex appeared, to complain that she had had a terrible night with the noise et. etc.
Alex had to do a massive crawling job - full-on diplomacy and charm to mollify her: explaining that he had been up and outside at 4 am himself (true) trying to quieten things down, and agreed to do everything possible to resolve the situation: different types of rope, different mooring style, extra ropes to the shore etc (and in the end, unbeknown to Lisette, grease all over the tyres between us!).
The lovely bunch of freesias Louise bought and presented along with her heartfelt apologies, brought forth cheek-kissing, smiles and thanks, so perhaps all will be well.
We hope all this will have worked - Saturday night was fine - but there is much less ship movement over the weekend so Monday am will be crunch time.
Back to the UK on Tuesday, for an action-packed week. You should see the list of things we have to do, people we must see, and items we need to buy and bring back with us - decent tea bags being top of the list, closely folowed by Alex's favourite crisps 0nly UK Aldi can do!
Thursday 3 July 2008
03.07.08 Dordrecht
We have reached Dordrecht, having fixed the steering in Spieringsluis. (For the technically minded, it turned out to be the pump whose pulley wheel was slipping on the spindle.) Our plan had been to reach Dordrecht for an overnight stay and then push on northwards towards Schipol. A suitable mooring in Dordrecht had been recommended by the skipper of ‘de Poolster’, a historic barge dedicated to taking special needs children and adults on trips, which moored alongside us briefly at Spieringsluis.
So we set off for the first lock – Ottersluis – to await the ebb tide which would carry us down to Dordrecht. We had been told by Dordrecht Control that this would be at 4.00 pm. By 4.45pm we were still waiting and at 5.00 pm we decided to go anyway though we still had 1.5 kph of flow going under us. An hour later we were on the outskirts of Dordrecht with a bridge ahead that was too low for us. Eventually, we worked out how to contact bridge control and asked to be allowed through. No answer came from the unseen bridge operator, but suddenly all the rush-hour traffic was stopped, just for little us, the bridge section was raised and we were given a green light.
A little further on and we had reached the recommended ‘haven’ which had one of those lovely little Dutch bridges across its entrance. Needless to say, it took some time to establish how to get this bridge opened, during which time we sat outside the entrance being buffeted against the mooring posts by the wash of the passing barge traffic on the main channels. This is a waterway junction so there is traffic going just everywhere, with conflicting washes to match. Eventually, Alex tracked down a boat resident who gave us a number to ring, and we managed to contact someone to open the bridge. The someone turned out to be a severe looking woman who beckoned Alex to the office to fill in the necessary paperwork. For those cinema-goers amongst you, you may remember Rosa Klebb from the film ‘From Russia with Love’. Well Alex reckons she was a pussycat compared to this woman! (We didn’t notice the spikes in the toes of her shoes but she almost certainly had them!!) (Louise says "All this is Dutch to me!!) She spoke almost no English and was outraged that Alex spoke no Dutch or even German which she could also speak. French was clearly just for wimps! Eventually she let us through the bridge with a fixed and immoveable scowl and we moored up for the day. Soon a couple from a beautiful ‘tjalk’ opposite came across to talk to us, as did several other people with an interest in barges during the evening.
Out of all this it seems possible that if we can convince ‘them’ that we are indeed a historic boat (and British Waterways have rubber stamped that for UK – oh, where is that document?!) it seems we may be allowed 4 days free and thereafter 30 Euros per week! This is wonderful news, if true, and means we will stay here until our flight home on the 8th and get to Schipol by train (1 hour) and leave the boat moored alongside other live-aboards. Problem solved.
Alex has just returned from the office where a different woman was on duty – hurrah! She was just the opposite of the one from yesterday and was most helpful. Apparently, we get three nights free, and if we were minded to go away for one night, we could then come back and get the next three nights free!! ad infinitum presumably. But we think we could easily use more fuel than this palaver is worth so we are going to stay put until we return from England.
Dordrecht remains to be explored and we now have enough time to do that in comfort. It looks just lovely from this mooring in the historic harbour area so we will see and report later.
Once again, however, internet access is not easy, so you may get several of these blogs posted at once and then a gap for some time!
Its great to receive your comments so do keep them coming.
So we set off for the first lock – Ottersluis – to await the ebb tide which would carry us down to Dordrecht. We had been told by Dordrecht Control that this would be at 4.00 pm. By 4.45pm we were still waiting and at 5.00 pm we decided to go anyway though we still had 1.5 kph of flow going under us. An hour later we were on the outskirts of Dordrecht with a bridge ahead that was too low for us. Eventually, we worked out how to contact bridge control and asked to be allowed through. No answer came from the unseen bridge operator, but suddenly all the rush-hour traffic was stopped, just for little us, the bridge section was raised and we were given a green light.
A little further on and we had reached the recommended ‘haven’ which had one of those lovely little Dutch bridges across its entrance. Needless to say, it took some time to establish how to get this bridge opened, during which time we sat outside the entrance being buffeted against the mooring posts by the wash of the passing barge traffic on the main channels. This is a waterway junction so there is traffic going just everywhere, with conflicting washes to match. Eventually, Alex tracked down a boat resident who gave us a number to ring, and we managed to contact someone to open the bridge. The someone turned out to be a severe looking woman who beckoned Alex to the office to fill in the necessary paperwork. For those cinema-goers amongst you, you may remember Rosa Klebb from the film ‘From Russia with Love’. Well Alex reckons she was a pussycat compared to this woman! (We didn’t notice the spikes in the toes of her shoes but she almost certainly had them!!) (Louise says "All this is Dutch to me!!) She spoke almost no English and was outraged that Alex spoke no Dutch or even German which she could also speak. French was clearly just for wimps! Eventually she let us through the bridge with a fixed and immoveable scowl and we moored up for the day. Soon a couple from a beautiful ‘tjalk’ opposite came across to talk to us, as did several other people with an interest in barges during the evening.
Out of all this it seems possible that if we can convince ‘them’ that we are indeed a historic boat (and British Waterways have rubber stamped that for UK – oh, where is that document?!) it seems we may be allowed 4 days free and thereafter 30 Euros per week! This is wonderful news, if true, and means we will stay here until our flight home on the 8th and get to Schipol by train (1 hour) and leave the boat moored alongside other live-aboards. Problem solved.
Alex has just returned from the office where a different woman was on duty – hurrah! She was just the opposite of the one from yesterday and was most helpful. Apparently, we get three nights free, and if we were minded to go away for one night, we could then come back and get the next three nights free!! ad infinitum presumably. But we think we could easily use more fuel than this palaver is worth so we are going to stay put until we return from England.
Dordrecht remains to be explored and we now have enough time to do that in comfort. It looks just lovely from this mooring in the historic harbour area so we will see and report later.
Once again, however, internet access is not easy, so you may get several of these blogs posted at once and then a gap for some time!
Its great to receive your comments so do keep them coming.
01.07.08 The Rescue
We left our idyllic moorings on the nature reserve and had an easy day to the Volkerak Sluice. This huge lock is in two parts – one ‘small’ lock of 200 feet long for yachts and pleasure craft and two really big locks for commercial. Obviously we chose commercial – no sorry, just joking – the yacht lock where we moored up for a quiet free night. The next day we set off at a leisurely 10.30 for our next destination which was to be via the ‘scenic route’ according to our programme Noodersoft. Unfortunately at the very moment where we were entering a labyrinth of small islands the area involved as shown on the screen became devoid of any detail whatsoever. More than that, an area of dense blue covered the layout of the islands closest to us so that we had no idea where we were supposed to be, although we suspected we were off course.
You have to go somewhere, but naturally the route we decided to take became shallower and shallower, with some small areas which were very very shallow, until we went aground. We tried to reverse, to pull ourselves off, but the rudder dug deep, swung round and rammed hard to starboard, bending the operating ram. We managed to move forward again, then went ever harder aground with the port side up some 6”. Oh hell!
We closed down and had lunch, then Alex replaced the ram. But there was now a problem with the power assistance. We were also still very much aground.
Then a little power boat appeared and after much frantic waving by Louise, headed in our direction (only slowing for a few moments while the lady of the couple put her bikini – both parts – back on!) They told us that the area had a small tide, which would lift us about 30cm later in the day and we might get off then. They also gave us the number of the Police Patrol who would be able to alert a local barge to tow us off (for a small fortune no doubt) if we couldn’t do it ourselves.
We thanked them profusely for their help, saw them on their way and sat back waiting for the tide. To our amazement, 1½ hours later the couple reappeared in their speedboat with a 50 ft police patrol power launch and a 350 hp RIB (rigid inflatable) in tow (not literally of course).
The police were pretty disappointed that their RIB wasn’t man enough to pull us out, but the 75-metre rope which we had strung across to the launch did the trick! They were all so pleasant and friendly, gave us a chart, recommended the onward route, shook hands and were off. Hopefully pics will appear although Louise had to be careful not to be seen photographing our rescuers in case it made us look really amateur!
We eventually limped to the next lock, moored up for the evening and treated ourselves to a meal at the local restaurant. When we told the waiter we had gone aground, he said ‘No shame in that, everyone goes aground here – even the trip boat captains who go out 4 times a day!’ And he also added that you should never reverse or you wreck your rudder – and this from a waiter!!!!!! Hey Ho!
So here we sit – safely moored – while Alex does his best to correct the steering problem before we can venture further.
You have to go somewhere, but naturally the route we decided to take became shallower and shallower, with some small areas which were very very shallow, until we went aground. We tried to reverse, to pull ourselves off, but the rudder dug deep, swung round and rammed hard to starboard, bending the operating ram. We managed to move forward again, then went ever harder aground with the port side up some 6”. Oh hell!
We closed down and had lunch, then Alex replaced the ram. But there was now a problem with the power assistance. We were also still very much aground.
Then a little power boat appeared and after much frantic waving by Louise, headed in our direction (only slowing for a few moments while the lady of the couple put her bikini – both parts – back on!) They told us that the area had a small tide, which would lift us about 30cm later in the day and we might get off then. They also gave us the number of the Police Patrol who would be able to alert a local barge to tow us off (for a small fortune no doubt) if we couldn’t do it ourselves.
We thanked them profusely for their help, saw them on their way and sat back waiting for the tide. To our amazement, 1½ hours later the couple reappeared in their speedboat with a 50 ft police patrol power launch and a 350 hp RIB (rigid inflatable) in tow (not literally of course).
The police were pretty disappointed that their RIB wasn’t man enough to pull us out, but the 75-metre rope which we had strung across to the launch did the trick! They were all so pleasant and friendly, gave us a chart, recommended the onward route, shook hands and were off. Hopefully pics will appear although Louise had to be careful not to be seen photographing our rescuers in case it made us look really amateur!
We eventually limped to the next lock, moored up for the evening and treated ourselves to a meal at the local restaurant. When we told the waiter we had gone aground, he said ‘No shame in that, everyone goes aground here – even the trip boat captains who go out 4 times a day!’ And he also added that you should never reverse or you wreck your rudder – and this from a waiter!!!!!! Hey Ho!
So here we sit – safely moored – while Alex does his best to correct the steering problem before we can venture further.
30.06.08 Bergen to Middle of Nowhere!
So Bergen Op Zoom - the only place in Holland apart from Amsterdam that Alex knows anything about (and that’s not much).
This is because 37 years ago during the infamous postal strike in GB Alex acted as a postal courier for an international firm which had its main branch in Newcastle and a subsidiary in Bergen op Zoom. Three times a week he lugged caseloads of outgoing mail by air, train and taxi to Bergen and swapped it for caseloads of incoming mail which had been sent to Bergen for onward delivery to Newcastle.
In real terms it was the best-paid job he ever had! And duty-free three times a week when duty-free really meant something!
But to get back to Bergen – one thing we had to do was have chips and mayo sauce at the station. Ah, memories of long ago. Alex reckons they still tasted special, crisp chips and a very different kind of mayonnaise.
Bergen surpassed all that we might have expected of it. When Alex was there all that time ago, he only ever saw the station and the company site somewhere on an industrial estate outside the city with no idea what a nice place it really was. (Incidentally we had also had fairly disparaging remarks from some young Dutch boaters we talked to – ‘not nearly as nice as …’. We can only assume Bergen didn’t give them what they were looking for – which presumably wasn’t architecture and the historical feel of the place.)
When we had acquired our prized bike in Bergen we had to walk it back to the boat mooring, and found ourselves fighting our way through the town centre where a bizarre carnival of some kind was going on - men dressed as pregnant women, Mad Max bikes and characters, wonderful one man band on a TRICYCLE!
The following morning – Sunday - the total lack of people and deserted streets meant we could ride in peace and really appreciate the architecture and unspoilt look of the whole centre. We sat and had coffee in the central square while the whole of the rest of the population (or so it seemed) sat listening to a no doubt boring sermon in the huge church on one side of the square. The other three sides were full of sleepily opening cafes and restaurants. At church ‘chuck out’ time, they all emerged from prayer and made a dash for the hundreds of empty chairs. We made a hasty retreat.
We trundled about 30 miles north from Bergen and found our way through a flood lock onto a nature reserve canal where we moored to a pair of marker posts which indicated the shallow water beyond. Bit of a tricky manoeuvre as the wind was strong and unrelenting but eventually we made it. We are in the depths of the countryside with only the sounds of nature, the occasional boat and tractor – the last driven by a farmer stark naked! (we only noticed this small fact when he got out of his cab to deal with his sheep!)
This is because 37 years ago during the infamous postal strike in GB Alex acted as a postal courier for an international firm which had its main branch in Newcastle and a subsidiary in Bergen op Zoom. Three times a week he lugged caseloads of outgoing mail by air, train and taxi to Bergen and swapped it for caseloads of incoming mail which had been sent to Bergen for onward delivery to Newcastle.
In real terms it was the best-paid job he ever had! And duty-free three times a week when duty-free really meant something!
But to get back to Bergen – one thing we had to do was have chips and mayo sauce at the station. Ah, memories of long ago. Alex reckons they still tasted special, crisp chips and a very different kind of mayonnaise.
Bergen surpassed all that we might have expected of it. When Alex was there all that time ago, he only ever saw the station and the company site somewhere on an industrial estate outside the city with no idea what a nice place it really was. (Incidentally we had also had fairly disparaging remarks from some young Dutch boaters we talked to – ‘not nearly as nice as …’. We can only assume Bergen didn’t give them what they were looking for – which presumably wasn’t architecture and the historical feel of the place.)
When we had acquired our prized bike in Bergen we had to walk it back to the boat mooring, and found ourselves fighting our way through the town centre where a bizarre carnival of some kind was going on - men dressed as pregnant women, Mad Max bikes and characters, wonderful one man band on a TRICYCLE!
The following morning – Sunday - the total lack of people and deserted streets meant we could ride in peace and really appreciate the architecture and unspoilt look of the whole centre. We sat and had coffee in the central square while the whole of the rest of the population (or so it seemed) sat listening to a no doubt boring sermon in the huge church on one side of the square. The other three sides were full of sleepily opening cafes and restaurants. At church ‘chuck out’ time, they all emerged from prayer and made a dash for the hundreds of empty chairs. We made a hasty retreat.
We trundled about 30 miles north from Bergen and found our way through a flood lock onto a nature reserve canal where we moored to a pair of marker posts which indicated the shallow water beyond. Bit of a tricky manoeuvre as the wind was strong and unrelenting but eventually we made it. We are in the depths of the countryside with only the sounds of nature, the occasional boat and tractor – the last driven by a farmer stark naked! (we only noticed this small fact when he got out of his cab to deal with his sheep!)
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