As usual we took the night boat over to Hook of Holland, on which I reacquainted myself with the joys of drinking Heineken. It's been a few years since I last had a pint of Heineken, and I thought I'd try it once more to see if my recollection still held true. Sure enough, it was still just as cold and tasteless as I recalled, and I suspect it will be another few years before I have another.
One of the many joys of going to Holland are the trains. Unlike their UK equivalents, they are invariably on time, spacious and comfortable. The Dutch have the knack of doing so many things properly - such as double-decker trains with a silent coach. Yes, no half measure "quiet" coach, but a silent coach in which talking is prohibited. There are few things in life that I'm quite good at, but one of them is not talking, so I heartily approve.
Bert and Suus had chosen an excellent location, right on the lake (Sneekermeer)
Everyone enjoyed the sunshine on the terrace, while pretending not to notice the rather seductive pose that Alva had adopted on the bench......
Bernie, in particular, had to avert his eyes
Next day we had a choice of activities - sailing, cycling , or a bit of both. Naturally, I went for the cycling option, taking advantage of the superb cycle routes in the Worlds Best Cycling Culture
At home there are generally three types of cyclists -
Those who enjoy cycling for the joy and fitness it brings - invariably lycra clad and increasing in number (that's me)
A small number of hardy souls who use cycling as a practical means of transport - commuting to work and so forth
Those cyclists whose bikes stand in the garage all year, and come out once or twice a year in good weather
In Holland it's very different - bikes are everywhere, used for shopping , sport, commuting, and just pottering about on a superb network of separated cycle paths. There's just one drawback, though, and this is it.........
Yes, it's the Dutch bicycle saddle - armchair wide, fully padded, looking most comfortable until actually sat upon. I'm not sure if the British backside is very different from the Dutch posterior, but I just don't know how they put up with these saddles.
The bikes that Suus had hired for us were the traditional "sit up and beg" Dutch types, which do look a bit girly to me.....
but, nevertheless, we had a fine days biking, with the inevitable coffee stop
before Pete and myself rode back
So, after 35 miles of cycling, that could only mean one thing - going out for a night walk. Suus had arranged for us to join a mass walking event, in which around 500 locals do a 14 km walk around the lakes and dykes in complete darkness. The event reminded me of the famous Tim Vine joke about his holiday ("it was a once in a lifetime trip - I won't be doing that again"), and combined utter pointlessness with rather endearing charm. The event itself was wonderfully well organised and all the Dutch turned up in their traditional hiking gear - leather jackets and jeans, skyscraper-tall Dutch men and strikingly attractive amazonian Dutch ladies striding through the darkness as if it was a perfectly normal way of spending the evening
Next day, for me, was more cycling in the south-west of Friesland, a wonderful day riding on the dykes and sea-defence walls. Much of the latter part of the ride was spent standing up on the bike, as my buttocks gradually and inexorably turned to minced meat, courtesy of another Dutch saddle...
and, of course, a stop for apple pie
The Dutch are particularly fond of their flags
Our last full day was a trip to the Wadden island of Schiermonnikoog , as unpronounceable a place as you would expect in Holland. The is a nature reserve, and afforded a fine day of walking through heathland, beach and dunes - rather like Suffolk in fact.
Near white-out conditions made for tricky navigation.....
we came across an ants nest
and a scrounging jackdaw
before boarding the ferry back to the mainland
A wonderful trip, organised, as ever, with military precision by Bert and Suus
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