Monday 26 March
We made it most of the way to Leeuwarden, the next main town on our way North, but at 1600 the crew decided they really needed to stop for lunch. We pulled in to a convenient mooring site among fields and under wide Dutch skies, where we spent a peaceful night clearing a couple more DVDs out of the collection.
Sunday 25 March
The crew decided not to explore this town, believing the best is probably along the canal and the ubiquitous campanile, which plays its happy tunes with monotonous regularity. We slipped fairly early to follow a motor boat through the remaining two bridges and out into a small lake, following a buoyed channel. In a repeat of yesterday, it was flat grey, misty and windless, but still cold.
Skipper was pleased to discover that this is the first weekend of the Dutch inland sailing (boating) season, so bridges are manned and opened for us as we approached, even though the Pilot book suggests nothing operates on Sundays before 1 April. Perhaps it’s because Easter falls early this year – next weekend in fact.
Anyway, it meant we were able to reach our next destination in one day, the town of Sneek which is famous for its Waterpoort, a pretty bridge. To be honest, the crew was unable to find much else to recommend it during a short afternoon stroll, but the Harbourmaster was happy to take our berthing fee, and there are clean and pleasant facilities, including laundry and wifi.
Saturday 24 March
The day dawned grey and overcast with no wind. Skipper backed me neatly out of my box mooring and we set off up the channel out into the IJsselmeer proper, for a passage of around 15 Miles Northeast to Lemmer. Out on the open water it was even more overcast, with mist lying low and visibility poor. That is to say, it was almost impossible to distinguish the horizon between sea and sky, and the only movement on the water’s surface was the occasional seabird. Later in the afternoon, some yachts started to appear, some even with sails hoisted, probably to make them easier to pick out in the gloom. I had my steaming lights on all day.
Eventually we drew closer into land, and a field of wind turbines started to appear out of the haze, as the sun finally began to burn off the sea mist. By the time we were approaching the sea lock into Lemmer, the crew were stripping off layers, and the atmosphere began to feel almost Mediterranean, not least because of the numbers of yachts suddenly out and about, the first we’ve seen in months. It looked like a fleet of club boats whose crews were polishing up some pre-season manoeuvres along the walls of the town quay.
We tied up tidily and the crew were soon basking in warm sunshine in the cockpit with mugs of tea and birthday cake – bliss. All went well, until 0430 (0530 really, thanks to European Summer Time clocks change) when the nightclub, in front of which we had unwittingly docked, turned out but showed no inclination to go home…quietly.
Friday 23 March
The pre-payment on shore power ran out overnight, so the crew awoke to a cold cabin, but briefly bright sunshine outside. Skipper prepared me for departure while Mate attended to domestic duties below, and then they disappeared off to yet another museum. They were back after another kibbeling lunch, and I was a little mollified by their gifts of an Enkhuizen ‘courtesy’ flag and a smart new large ball fender, to replace the one they part-melted recently by hanging it over the heating exhaust outlet…again.
However, it turned out that we’re not going anywhere today after all, as Skipper has to go to a dentist instead: he’s lost a crown and needs some urgent – expensive – remedial work until he can arrange for a new one to be made and fitted, which means another place we’ll probably spend longer than we’d wish.
Thursday 22 March
The weather forecast for today indicated rain this morning after snow showers overnight, so Mate planned to have a domestic day, baking (a belated birthday cake), doing some advance meal prep for upcoming passage days, and attending to some overdue cleaning below decks. However, the weather gods had different ideas, and the morning turned out dry and sometimes sunny, so Skipper decided today was the day to get me properly dressed with my foresails re-rigged and ready for action.
After much discussion, the crew has decided that antifouling and sail overhaul should wait for a warm, dry week in an accommodating boatyard on the Southern coast of the Baltic, by which time local boats should be in the water and the necessary specialist services should have time to take on the work we require doing – right now they’re all inundated with pre-season preparations.
Anyway, galley duties were well underway when Mate’s assistance was required on deck, demanding a degree of multi-tasking that was far beyond her powers of concentration. Consequently the chopped stem ginger for the (gluten free) cake mix ended up in the bowl of (regular) bread flour, resulting in a selection of choice phrases and a lot of panning and washing of tiny pieces of preserved root – think gold rush without the chance of prosperity.
It all came good in the end, with the planned museum visit postponed until tomorrow, ahead of another departure for another town in the afternoon.
Tuesday 20 March
Today we walked through town to the bus station, and took a bus South to Monnickendam, a pretty town on the Gouwzee. we wandered through to the harbour, which holds several large barges, but we could probably have squeezed in if we’d tried. We found a lovely lunch in Beauqz, then walked a different route back to the bus stop via some interesting plaques, clockmakers and mini canals with swing bridges.
We took another bus to Volendam, but it was full of schoolchildren mimicking an aviary full of overexcited budgies, so we got off as soon as possible, near the swanky marina, whose facilities look brand new, but the chandler said it was 11 years old. It was a good walk along the high dyke from the very tourist-tacky town, but quieter for that and probably comfortable.
We wandered along the town quay where the ferries leave for Marken, and escaped the clutches of the tourist traps through to the other side where we found the right bus stop for Edam and home.
We were both tired by now, and decided to save Edam for the return trip in the Autumn. From the bus we spotted lots of geese, in fields and sky, oystercatchers and (possibly) greenshanks, feeding in flooded meadows. Livestock included horses and sheep, five or six tiny black ponies, two huge amber pigs and two chocolate donkeys, and several pairs of huge bunnies. They couldn’t have been hares, as the ears weren’t long enough or black-tipped, but they were easily twice the size of British wild rabbits.
MATE RATES:
On arriving back at Hoorn bus station, we took a brief detour to Albert Heijn for emergency provisions, and then made our way to the tempting Greek restaurant I’d earmarked for Skipper’s birthday supper (as we plan to be en route tomorrow). Having found it open on Monday, it was unexpectedly closed today, so we headed instead for tapas at ‘La Cubanita’.
This turned out to be a far better choice, great food and a fun way of eating out: you order two dishes per person in each round, writing their numbers on a beer mat, and you keep ordering and eating until you are full – all for €17.50 a head. Sparkling water is expensive but tap water is available, the wine list is short and rather uninspiring, desserts are extra and the crème catalana is very good.
Saturday 17 – Monday 19 March
The weekend brought a bitterly cold wind, with some sunshine. On Saturday the crew took a walk around town, picked up a few items in the very good street market, and had a light lunch at Bagels & Beans. They located the bus/train interchange and Albert Heijn supermarket on the far side of town. With no sign of the harbourmaster they were careful with water.
On Sunday they ventured a brief walk around the harbour, and then tucked up cosy inside to enjoy some light reading and blog-updating. Mate made a warming carrot, leek and cumin soup for lunch and one of the current favourites: Rendang curry for supper.
Monday was still cold and bright. The crew waited around most of the day for the boat near us to come down to sort out the water hose for the nearby hydrant. After two chasing phone calls to the Harbourmaster, he suggested we help ourselves to the hose and DIY – which we did, taking the opportunity to rinse the boat down by way of letting the pipe run through to clean it before delivering into our tanks. It did little to reduce the grit and grime currently embedding into the fender covers from the stone wall against which I’m tied.
Friday 16 March
This morning Skipper decided on a tactical departure as I was still being blown onto the quay wall, albeit only in the gusts. They walked me from bollard to bollard back towards the corner I met so rudely on the way in, and then sprang off my stern into the wind until my bow came around into the exit channel. It took time, but avoided any further altercation with the hard stuff, and I was soon bouncing along in 18 knots of wind, a good F5, with occasional proper waves pushing me around. Visibility was poor, the coastline only a hazy impression of darker grey shapes, but we were accompanied for almost all the 13 miles to Hoorn by a small black-headed gull hovering determinedly in our wake.
Somewhere over to the left was Edam,
which the crew hope to visit by bus while we sit out the next bout of wintry weather, tucked in to an attractive inner harbour amongst traditional craft and elegant gentlemen’s motor boats (the boats, not necessarily their skippers).
The final half mile to the harbour seemed to be marked by a line of foam, which at sea often indicates a line of shallows, but this whole inland sea is only around three metres below my hull, so Mate was a little puzzled…until we drew closer and I scuffled through my first ever patch of brash ice. Once I was well tied up and tidied, my crew settled down to lunch, inside just before it started to sleet, and then snow.
Thursday 15 March
The morning began in a fairly stiff wind that would have made it difficult to leave the quay wall, so the crew decided to stay here for a second night and explore the village. Marken was established as a small island fishing community. One January night in 1916, the village was almost destroyed by severe flooding. A causeway was built in the 1950s to link it to the mainland in the Southeast corner of the IJsselmeer.
Small buildings around the harbour, originally fishermen’s family homes, are built of horizontal wooden planks on a brick base. They are painted black with the ‘joins’ picked out in white, a distinctive architectural style even by Holland’s decorative standards.
Behind the harbour is a community of varying ages of homes, a primary school and one small supermarket. The island’s main economy is tourism, and even this early in the season entertains occasional ferry-loads of day trippers from Volendam, across the Markermeer on the mainland. 
There were also several coaches bringing passengers from Amsterdam to visit the Clog Museum and hunt for souvenirs. One lady cycled by wearing traditional local costume. A small herd of pretty brown goats grazed in a smallholding.
Feeling peckish, my crew finally decided to brave a local delicacy from a street food van, ‘kibbeling’, lightly battered fried fish with a mustardy mayonnaise. This proved delicious, and a relatively cheap lunch snack. They also picked up some lovely fresh tuna to cook for supper.
On returning home, an elderly gentleman hovering around the boat turned out to be the Harbourmaster, who granted us a “special deal” of “only” €32.80 for two nights, one with electricity, but no water, facilities or rubbish disposal available.
The sky remained grey and flat, but the wind gradually dropped during the afternoon, bringing rain after nightfall. Tomorrow we need to move on to a more sheltered spot, ahead of a new lump of sub-zero temperatures and strong winds forecast for the weekend: but at least the sun’s supposed to shine.
Wednesday 14 March 2018
Exactly four months since we arrived in Twellegea Marina, Amsterdam-Noord, my crew slipped the lines just before noon today, and then we stopped again at the bottom of the polder, approximately half a mile away, to top up my diesel tanks. We joined the main channel of the River IJ, heading East, went through the Oranjesluizen locks without incident, and waited for the Schellingwouderbrug to open for us, and another yacht that was heading in towards Amsterdam.
Apart from the air still being cold, it was a perfect Spring day: sunshine with a light breeze. They’re easing us back into cruising gradually, as the mainsail halyard is still attached to the stern end of the boom as a Winter topping lift, and the foresails are still bagged awaiting cleaning and repair. The crew didn’t expect to be able to actually sail to our first destination, Marken in the Gouwzee in the Southwest corner of the IJsselmeer, which is probably the largest paddling pool this side of the Caribbean. For most of the day we had less than three metres of water under our keel, and we’ve joined the dots by following the channel markers all the way here.
We almost completed the day unscathed, but lack of a centreboard coupled with an unexpected 
crosswind just as we came alongside the town quay in Marken has added another souvenir ding to my aluminium hull. The crew are both rusty and out of practice, but that will soon change.
