Going Dutch And Diamonds From Amsterdam

The phone call came on Thursday afternoon from Paul Graves, a fellow sailing nut, “Tim, can you get next week off to go sailing in Holland? Tom Harmer has his River Cruiser Sandpiper moored in Friesland and has kindly said we can use her". The answer being yes and clearance from the boss, the wheels were in motion. A quick call to the airport revealed a flight available on Monday morning but at a cost of £260 pounds each, a little on the steep side!!

A call to Anglia Railways confirmed that they ran the Amsterdam Express, which for £49 covered rail and ferry fares to any destination in Holland. Finishing night duty on Monday morning at 8am it was a quick change and down to Thorpe station for the 0830 to Ipswich.
With the words still ringing in my ears Amsterdam is famous for diamonds, I phoned home, I think I have left my credit card at home, was met with it's with your passport, ...Damn that tactic didn't work!

A change of train at Ipswich for Harwich and we were soon on board the ferry, ready for the off. The crossing was smooth and uneventful on the High Speed Cat. Arriving at The Hook of Holland we found the train already waiting for the journey into Amsterdam, efficiency that was to be repeated throughout our stay.

Arriving in Amsterdam with just enough time for a brief look around before boarding a train for Leeuwarden in Friesland. If you have read Friesland Meres and through the Netherlands by Henry Doughty, you may have recognized Leeuwarden as the capital of Friesland where Doughty wintered his Norfolk Wherry Gypsy in 1888/89 before setting off in July 1890 for his adventures that are recorded in his book Our Wherry in Wendish Lands.

Following a delicious steak meal in a local bar, it was off to find the boat, easier said than done as Paul had forgotten in which "jachthaven" the boat was moored. After consulting with the taxi driver the options were narrowed and the mystery tour began, luckily the driver came up trumps and despite the smell of a slipping clutch in the Mercedes taxi, we soon arrived at the correct boatyard. Tired after the travelling, and sampling the local beer we turned in.

The morning gave an opportunity to have a proper look at Sandpiper. A 28ft River Cruiser built by Kingsley Farrington and with a handicap of 11, she is a fast and pretty boat. After a trip to the local supermarket to stock up on the essentials, Paul set to work replacing components on the alternator. After much cursing and skinned knuckles he stated all is well and hit the starter button. The engine coughed and then sprung to life, Paul’s satisfied grin lit up the cockpit!  Breakfast of bacon sandwiches and orange juice and we were raring to go. Over coffee and stroopwaffles we familiarized ourselves with the charts of the area and planned the days route. Motoring out of the boatyard and on to the main river it was soon time to hoist the sails. A warm steady force three made for very pleasant sailing and we were soon clocking up the miles.

Paul doing what he does best!

The first thing I noticed was the similarity between the Broads and Friesland even down to the familiar sight of the Grey Heron, Coots and Moorhens. After a leisurely lunch of ham and cheese it was noticeable the wind had increased to a brisk force four. Sandpiper was soon charging along and we were soon overtaking everything that was on the water. Sailing for around three hours we decided to moor for the night in an area called Princenhof, which was a maze of small islands and reed beds.We found a sheltered spot within an area called Zandmeer and were soon sampling a bottle or two of the local beer. After much discussion the evening meal was the old standby, Spag Bol followed by fresh fruit, cheese and biscuits. During the evening huge black clouds appeared on the horizon and within ten minutes hailstones the size of grapes were hammering on the canvas boat cover.
Never one to miss an opportunity Paul placed the rather burnt saucepan outside and within five minutes it had been shot blasted and returned to its’ former shiny state.

We awoke to sunshine and a stiff breeze so, instead of breakfast, it was up with the sails and away. Exploring the Princenhof and its' many channels and small Meers at about seven knots gave me an idea of the problems faced by the navigator in a rally car. Paul responded with unusual grace to my calls of we should have gone left there. Stopping after around two hours of wonderful sailing it was time for eggs, bacon and lot's of fresh coffee.
We resumed sailing with a single reef and were soon on the Pik Meer approaching the small town of Grouw. The Meer was hosting dinghy racing from the water sports centre and the whole area was alive with activity from the smallest dinghy to large commercial shipping passing through the "Prinses Margriet Kanaal".
Finding a mooring spot at the crowded town moorings involved some deft manoeuvres between moored and passing boats. Waiting for the lifting bridge a few metres away up to twenty boats were circling (some with care!) in an area equivalent to just downstream of Potter Bridge all waiting for the green light above the bridge. The mooring we found was against the harbour wall and with the huge tower of the town church rising above us it was a very pleasant spot to spend the night.

Busy Town centre moorings in Grou

Handing over a few Guilders to the very friendly harbour master who had estimated our length with uncanny accuracy, I called out for Paul who, on the approach of the harbour master, had mysteriously disappeared .
Spotting the runaway over by the church examining the brickwork!! I could only but admire his speed of thought and equally fast legs.

A pleasant afternoon was spent exploring the town and water sports centre. Returning to Sandpiper laden with cheese, beer, postcards and pasta it was time for a siesta in the afternoon sun. Paul prepared the evening meal; he served a concoction of pasta and things, followed by bananas and melon. Once again into town to sample the local brew, we found the custom of half beer half froth hard to accept, they even slice off the excess froth with a knife. Oh well, When in Rome!

The following morning several Dutch people stopped and enquired if we had sailed over the North Sea in your little yacht. It was obvious that not many people had seen a Broads River Cruiser. We were invited aboard a splendid steel motor cruiser for a glass of wine with the owners who were on holiday from Amsterdam. Several glasses later after discussions ranging from income tax to refuse collection we bade our farewells and staggered back to "rest for a while". Setting sail just after lunch in bright sunshine and a steady breeze we were soon on the Prinses Margriet Kanaal, a major route for shipping which, at times, can be intimidating.

Typical Barge traffic and Lifting bridge on the canal

No tacking is allowed on the canal due to the size and frequency of the barges and commercial shipping. We were soon on a vast stretch of water called Sneeker Meer and frequently closed on the local Dutch yachts who were amazed at the speed of Sandpiper. Often heaving to and chatting with other sailors it was very clear that they loved their boats and kept them in immaculate condition.

It was on Sneeker Meer that I had my first encounter with Skutsjesilen, an impressive and extremely competitive sailing race between boats from all over Friesland. The racing is held over the summer months at different venues and attracts a large following. The skipper of each boat is held in great esteem by the people of the town he represents, (unless he fails to win a race), Skutsjes are similar to our Wherrys having been developed to sail the rivers and canals delivering all types of cargo. The racing is fierce and no quarter is given, do not get in their way during a race!

 Skutsjes 0n Sneeker Meer

Finding a quiet spot for the night on Jentje Meer we dropped the mudweight in the lee of some trees and relaxed with some more fresh coffee and a drop of Rum. Dinner of gammon steaks and eggs followed by bananas, (we bought rather a lot), cheese and biscuits. We both settled down for the night with a glass of wine and a good book, Paul plugging his ears with tissue, (something to do with snoring). Up bright and early, eggs and bacon dispatched, we hoisted sails and lifted the mudweight discovering that it's not just on Hickling Broad that the mud smells!  Exploring the numerous rivers and canals took up most of the morning and with the sun still shining lunch was taken on the move as we sailed down the Johan Friso canal. The canal leads onto another huge stretch of water the Heeger Meer and Fluessen. With the wind on the beam the ten Kilometer sail was most enjoyable, memorable for me though was the comment from Paul stating I am going to have a snooze, wake me up when we need to tack! After tacking, the return journey to Heeg was just as much fun and I could not wipe the smile off my face for the rest of the day. Sailing into a village called Woudsend reminded me of the bottleneck at Potter Bridge, loads of boats milling around waiting for the lifting bridge. Although really busy, craft of all sizes were handled with great skill. Stopping to have a beer and a bite to eat in the village Paul remembered an excellent bakery from a previous visit, we stocked up on bread and cakes, visited the working thatched windmill, now used as a sawmill. Deciding to spend the night in Woudsend we moved Sandpiper to a quieter spot and I started to prepare the evening meal.
 

Woudsend

Delving into the lockers in the main cabin I called out to Paul asking if he knew where the chopping board was. Getting no answer I went into the cockpit to find he had disappeared. Three Guilders please, came the cry from the bank, and as I handed over the coins to the harbour master my eyes were scanning for possible hiding places! A meal of cold meat and salad with a very pleasant bottle of plonk and it was time for a stroll around the village before turning in for the night.

The morning brought sunshine but no wind, so after a leisurely breakfast the engine was fired up and we got underway. After about 2km the river opened up into Sloter Meer. Looking at the chart it appeared we could sail on most of the Meer, the average depth being 1.4 mtrs. A gentle breeze was evident when we came on to the Meer, so the sails were hoisted and the 5km run to the village of Balk was made under the scorching sun. The huge telecommunications tower at Spannenburg made a wonderful reference point, although over 5km away it appeared to be much closer.  Mooring up alongside a grass bank opposite the sailing school it was time for a refreshing drink of cool beer. Walking towards the village we could see lots of activity with market stalls and a children’s car-boot sale beside the canal that ran through the centre of the village. As Paul wanted to buy some Klompens (clogs) for his boys he was soon bartering with a young stallholder who had two pairs of clogs the correct size. On completion of the transaction he had only gone five metres before spotting a pair of adult roller blades, miffed that his size eleven feet would not fit into the boots he somehow persuaded me to try them on. Fitting like a glove and with Paul’s reassurance that they were a top quality pair of blades I parted with the equivalent of five pounds. Moving onto the market stalls, which were selling everything from lace to lavatories was ideal as we could purchase most of our presents in this one location. The highlight for me was a stall piled high with bicycle seats of all colours, shapes and sizes. Remembering that Ruth had complained often about her narrow rock hard seat on her new bicycle I spent ages sorting through the piles of seats until I saw it. The Super Comforter, it was wonderful, with sturdy springs and acres of soft squishy padding I just had to buy it.
Laden down with our purchases we returned to Sandpiper and exhausted with this shopping experience, (we did have one or two beers), we had a very pleasant doze in the sun.

Refreshed and raring to go, I could not resist a trial run with the roller blades. With Paul shouting words of encouragement I cautiously made my way on to the path by the canal. Doubting my own sanity, I completed a few trial circuits without breaking any bones, style and elegence were not my priority. Paul, being a very proficient skater had by this time had hidden below decks, I could not understand this until I heard three Guilders for your overnight stay please, mumbling under my breath, trying to keep my balance on the skates and retrieve my wallet from my back pocket, I was sure I could hear fake snoring sounds emanating from below decks!

An early morning walk into the village secured a freshly baked loaf of bread and a very spicy fruitcake. The bread still warm from the oven, together with some rashers of smoked bacon cooked until crisp, was a very pleasant way to start the day. A gentle run under the jib alone we were soon back on the Sloter Meer. As we were still finishing our morning coffee the mainsail stayed furled until we were all cleared away and shipshape. After chasing anything with a skirt sail and comparing boat speeds we made for the village of Sloten.

On a previous trip to Holland Paul had become friendly with a family who were very keen sailors and who were building a house in the village. Leen and Nel Swagermaan were in their garden and helped us moor up beside their own sailing boat. After introductions Leen proudly showed me Neeltje, an 8mtr steel boat with varnished leeboards that he had built and fitted out himself. With highly varnished woodwork and a very well laid out saloon she is very much part of the family. Within minutes Nel produced coffee and biscuits and an invitation to dinner was accepted. Len and Nel proved to be great fun, easy going and full of life, they were wonderful hosts.
The following morning was bright and breezy so we sailed back to the Sloter Meer and had a glorious sail albeit with one reef in. Lunch in Woudsend with some last minute shopping for presents and another trip to the bakery for some of their delicious cakes.

Tim on Sloter Meer


Leen and Nell on Neeltje

On our return to Sloten Leen told us that after our evening meal we must go to the windmill in the village for the firing of the cannon. Leen explained that during the summer months on a Friday evening the cannon was fired in remembrance of the attempted invasion by the Spanish in 16...?

Arriving at the windmill we found many of the locals dressed in traditional costume with the Burgermiester who, at around 6ft 6", with a booming voice, was clearly in charge. Addressing the crowd in Dutch for five minutes or so, startled us when, in perfect English, he ordered "Mr. Paul Graves and Mr. Tim Oldman from England into the middle of the arena please..."

Paul stepping forward to fire the cannon

We were offered a glass of something strong, and Paul was invited to accept the honour of firing the cannon. A great show was made by the costumed soldiers of loading the cannon, but Paul and I were not alone in our surprise at the terrific noise of the blast. If there had been a passing boat on the river they would have been showered in wadding and straw that had been tightly packed into the muzzle. After signing the guest book and still in shock with our ears still ringing, we turned to find Leen and Nel with very large smiles upon their faces. The last evening was spent in the village sitting by the central canal and sampling the local beer.
Leaving Sandpiper at Sloten ready for Toms next visit we said our farewells to Leen and Nel. Catching the bus to Heerenveen, then by train to Amsterdam and the Hook.

Arriving home, and after the presents were handed out to the children, it was time for the tricky part! Deciding honesty was the best policy, I blurted out, you haven't got Diamonds from Amsterdam but, I have got you a bicycle seat from Balk. 
I never saw it coming..................

A Big thank you to Tom and Ruth Harmer for the use of Sandpiper.

By Tim Oldman