Cast: Alf Baldwin & Adrian Piggford in Misty

      Roger Titshall & Bob Legg in Omebac.

Sunday 2/6/02 7pm.

All packed and ready to go after months of anticipation. I’d really been looking forward to this trip ever since we came back from last years rally in the south of Holland and this time we planed to explore the Ijsselmeer. It would all be new to me but Roger and Alf have both been to parts of it before and Alf wrote up his adventures for the S.O.I.A mag. which was the inspiration for last years trip.

Roger and I had an easy hour drive to Harwich to meet up with Alf and Adrian for the night at the ferry terminal. We had booked cheap tickets (£249) through the Caravan Club on what turned out to be an extremely smart freight ferry. There was some initial confusion while officialdom decided whether a Silhouette is a lorry or a caravan. They decided on the latter and sent us back across the dock to queue with the caravans.  A & A joined us and after emptying a few cans (first of many!) off to bed.

Monday:

Up early to get onto the ferry. When we went through Customs and Immigration we were stopped and quizzed about our flares and ships papers which we had available but they didn’t actually ask to see them. Omebac is SSR registered and we even have a VAT certificate. A & A had left their passports in Misty so Adrian climbed aboard to get them and passed them down to Alf. Before he could climb down Alf drove through the barriers with Adrian clinging on in the cockpit looking like an illegal emigrant. Thought they were bound to get stopped and Alf doesn’t bother with papers or bureaucracy but they sailed through.

On the ferry at 0730 and breakfast was waiting for us. Self service with unlimited amounts of free good English and continental food. Fortunately lunch, also free and very good, wasn’t served until 2.15pm so Roger had time to finish breakfast in time for lunch.

Docked in Hoek Van Holland 4.15pm continental time. We had an easy 60 mile drive to Naarden although it was a bit busy around Amsterdam in the rush hour. The marina a few miles out of Naarden is superb. Three easy ramps, showers, secure parking and very reasonable. We rigged in the middle of a rain storm with thunder and lightning which made it feel like a proper Silhouette rally. Felt rather silly erecting a metal pole in lightning.

The storm passed over and we were ready to launch when A & A decided they were thirsty. They were devastated to find that the bar is shut on Monday’s and asked a passing Dutchman where they could find a beer. He told us to get into his Mercedes and took us to the ancient fortified town of Naarden to the oldest and quaintest bar and bought us all drinks. I do like the Dutch!

The barmaid was the usual stunning blue eyed blonde that is so common over there I expect the Dutchmen get bored stiff with them - or not!

Great evening networking with the locals. After a few beers I vaguely remember boring the socks off of a Dutchman about carrots. I read somewhere that they should be purple but the Dutch bred them to be their national colour Orange. Alf meanwhile turned into John Cleese and was busy explaining to a young chap that if he hadn’t faced up to Hitler the lad would be part of the third Reich now. Remarkable as I reckon Alf would have been five at the time! When he started practising his German on the poor barmaid she decided it was time to pour us into a Taxi. The driver had security passes to both barriers at the marina and took us right to our boats still in the car park. "Jesus Christ you can’t seriously be sleeping in those?" He felt so sorry for us we almost had to persuade him to take the fare. I felt I should sell him a copy of the big issue.

Tuesday:

Alf and Adrian were taking their new membership of the caravan club too seriously. Adrian could have settled in for the duration but Roger and I would not have been able to face Elizabeth and Brian so we launched and ghosted out onto a benign Ijsselmere heading for the island of Marken arriving at 16.00 with much help from the iron topsail.

Marken is like a living museum of green and white wooden fishermen’s cottages. We explored the village, saw some unusual birds including spoonbill, merganser and others we couldn’t identify and finished up with a good meal and coffee at a bar on the quayside watching a vivid sunset to end a perfect hot and sunny day.

Wednesday:

I was awoken at 2am by squeaky fenders, thunder, lightning and heavy rain. When I finally got up, the weather had improved. We had another look at Marken and visited a cottage which had all the original furnishings including the sleeping cupboards. The bottom one with wooden doors was for the husband and the top bunk was for the wife with a curtain and a small trough on the wall for the baby.

There was even a guest cupboard and the walls were covered with ornaments, lace and pretty plates. It reminded me of a larger version of a traditional English Narrow Boat cabin. The lady of the house wore native costume and answered all our questions. Marken is a little expensive but not to be missed.

We pottered across to Monickendam ahead of some very nasty clouds. It is a rather sleepy town with some industry and shipbuilding but very pretty and interesting. We had the local snack lunch of fried eggs, bacon and cheese on bread. Went for a splendid sail in the afternoon out to sea and then returned to Vollendam. This is a lovely spot with lots of interesting ships, cafes, bars, grockle shops and a diamond factory. We ate out again in a lovely bar overlooking the harbour generally putting the world to rights and thoroughly relaxed. 

The Silhouettes drew much attention and disbelief and everyone asked whether we sailed here from England. I found myself itching to lie about our dramatic crossing.

The harbour entrance faces south and the southerly wind sends the swell straight into the harbour and it bounces around making things uncomfortable. The wind also sounds worse at night.

Thursday:

Bought some bread and fruit from the supermarket and set off for Hoorn following a 26' English boat called Demon King. He has a secure marina mooring at Medemblik costing £300 p.a. when he is not on his home mooring at Heybridge basin. He had just fitted a radar set so we chased him and asked if we appeared on his screen. We were invisible so we hoisted Roger's slim cylindrical reflector and we were relieved to hear that he could now see us. I suppose a "stealth" silhouette might be useful for smuggling?

Roger worked out the course for Hoorn at 350 degrees and we set off over the horizon. When I sailed between the narrow entrance piles hours later I was still steering 350. Like threading a needle from twelve miles away. No tide to worry about but still good navigation.

We rafted up with Misty in the town centre and had boat stew aboard ship much to Alf's disgust. Mollified him with a few beers in the yacht club and town bars before exploring the town. There are some classy and expensive shops and ornate buildings. Adrian was busy taking photographs (he is very knowledgeable) and with his big blue baseball cap, oversized camera and usual neat and compact appearance he gives a good impression of a Japanese tourist.

On the quay opposite our mooring was the Grasshaven Cafe (the clue is in the name) and cars and motorbikes came and went late into the night so the occupants could collect their wacky backy.

Friday:

On our side of the harbour there was a small park with large trees overhanging the moorings. I was awakened early by what sounded like squealing pigs waving football rattles.  High in the trees above baby Herons were demanding breakfast from their parents. There were lots of large nests and a woodpecker was also nesting in a nearby tree. The noise didn't wake Roger but few things do until I get the kettle on.

The wind was still in the south and had risen a bit overnight so we reefed before we went out. It was OK with the wind on the beam but when we turned north for Enkhuizen with the wind astern it became a bit uncontrollable. The waves were only about 5' high but with the shallow water they became rather steep. We dropped the main which left us with just the small jib and it was much more comfortable but almost as fast. Misty did the whole trip with just a reefed main and seemed to cope very well.

We met a constant procession of old Dutch working boats including some square riggers all beautifully restored and used for sail training kids which we were told is heavily subsidised. From where I wrote this in Enkhuizen I could see 65 masts of old boats.

This was another lovely old fishing town to explore. Whilst looking at the menu in the window of Georgio's cafe and speculating whether this was Italian translated into Dutch Georgio came out to help us. He didn't speak a word of English but he was so anxious to please that we felt obliged to go in. He turned out to be Egyptian and the food was just sublime but far more than even Roger could cope with. He even gave us large coffees on the house and the bill was about £8 each. This was another lucky find due to Adrian who has a habit of wandering off down side streets muttering that serendipity will show him the way. Some sort of spirit guide perhaps but it has worked so far.

Our quiet mooring had become very noisy due to a wedding reception and a very good band played all the English party favourites. When they finished the Carillon clocks took over playing tunes every 15 minutes through the night.

Saturday:

Lovely bright sunny morning. We went off to the shops for basics and stopped off at a bar for al fresco coffee. An old open top Leyland bus pulled up and the occupants were a blues band with two guys dressed as the Blues Brothers. They were good fun and when they finished their routine they drove off and we went back to the harbour where there was a folk festival. The cloggies certainly know how to enjoy themselves. We thought about visiting the Zuider Zee museum village but we were told this would take all day and we wanted to get on to Medemblik. Running goose winged Misty overtook us, a botter and a couple of local yachts. I think Alf has a winner on his hands especially when his new sails arrive. Medemblik harbour was packed as it was Saturday night but you can always fit in a couple of Silhouettes. Our cat’s cradle of ropes was obstructing the Dutch yacht in the corner of the harbour. Roger asked him if he was likely to want to leave and he replied "I haf knife - no problem!"

Yet another lovely harbour with masses of character and old boats. We went for a stroll and got led astray again. At least we are saving on gas.

Sunday:

Woke up to blazing sunshine and blue skies. Strolled to the bakers for breakfast and coffee, a perfect start to the day. Not having to worry about tides makes you oblivious of time and very lazy.

Sailed out of Medemblik and headed 60 degrees to Stavoren on the east side of the Ijsselmere. There wasn't enough wind to sail for most of the crossing so we motored at a steady 3.8 knots until the wind picked up. The breeze was a blessed relief as apart from the heat we had encountered a plague of gnats and the breeze blew them away. What are they doing 6 miles out? We hoisted the sails and finished the crossing in fine style.

Stavoren is a modern harbour with some interesting architecture but is still stuffed with traditional craft. There are toilets and showers but not as many and not as smart as all the other ports. At £2.30p per night its one of the cheapest, we have been charged as much as £4.50p which is still a fraction of the cost in a soulless UK marina and no harbour dues either.

It's just as well it's cheap as I was dragged struggling and protesting to the Posthoorn bar for pints of Murphy's Red and another great meal. We had coffee back on Misty and went to bed feeling guilty. Yet another group of Dutchmen were admiring our seamanship at crossing the north sea and we didn't have the heart to disappoint them.

Adrian was suffering badly from gnat bites. The rest of us are clearly not as tasty and we decided that alcohol deters them and resolved to work on keeping up our immunity. Omebac has a red ensign on a flagstaff but since hearing that England beat Argentina in the world cup we have been flying a large cross of St. George on the backstay. The Dutch cover their boats with flags and we think it looks very nice and is a good guide to where our little boats are hiding when we come back from the pub. Sadly nobody knows what it is. One man told us off for flying a white ensign when Omebac was clearly not a warship. Worse, a man off of a boat from Maldon asked us why we were flying the Scottish flag!

Monday:

Awoken at 4am by a tapping halyard. Lay awake blaming Alf until I realised it was our mast and my fault. I’m too fat to go through the fore hatch with all the junk stowed in the forepeak so I had to do a balancing act getting around the tent. I wore a lifejacket as I have very nearly fallen in doing this before and the others were all in the land of nod despite the racket. It was wet cold and windy and not my favourite start to the day. Thought it could be worse I could be working today and immediately felt better.

We needed to get to Lemmer but the forecast was SW5-6 possibly 7. Fifteen miles in shallow water on a lee shore with no bolt holes and a fetch right across the Ijsselmere seemed suicidal. We got the charts and maps out and Alf worked out that if we could do a short trip south to Stavoren Marina before it got too bad we could lock into the canals and lakes and get to Lemmer by the back door. A 25

mile trip via the Johane Frisco and Princess Margaret canals. It was only 4 or 5 when we left the harbour but a few rollers had us on our beam ends and we were glad to reach the lock. Inside was a different world very like the Norfolk Broads but much bigger. Creaming along with just a reefed main the weather soon deteriorated to force 7 with driving rain. There were a few bascule bridges where we had to tack and dither about while the bridge keeper waited for other boats to arrive and then open the bridge. Tacking about with large motor cruisers doing circles was a bit hectic.

The last part of the route was more commercial with large barges and as the wind was on the nose we motored into the waves of the last mere. A few hundred yards from sanctuary Alf's engine packed up so we took them in tow till they got it going again. Alf later worked out that although the tank wasn't empty the engine stops when the fuel drops to a certain level. A hole in the tube inside the tank perhaps.

We moored up just inside the sea lock in Lemmer town centre. This is another nice port and we had a meal before retiring early as we were shattered.

The forecast for tomorrow was still SW5 or more and no better for the following two days. We had to get south and through the Kettlemere and into the shelter of the Randmeren by the following night to give us two clear days to get to Naarden and complete the circle. Again there appeared to be an inland route but we would miss out Urk and have to motor part of the route with the masts down. Lying in my bunk listening to the wind in the trees it seemed like the sensible option.

Talking to the locals they seemed divided on whether the route was possible, certainly only in a small boat but all agreed the sea was too rough and we should stay a few days, drink, eat and forget schedules, return ferries and such trifles.

Tuesday:

This day did not go according to plan. Does it ever? We came out of the sea lock leaving Lemmer having disgraced ourselves by sniggering at a yacht named Wankje which misjudged his turn into the lock and rammed the wall. We got our comeuppance when we reached the lock into the Flevoland canals. The bridge next to the lock was being repaired and had been replaced by a non lifting structure made mostly of scaffolding. This meant that we had to drop the masts whilst bobbing about in the harbour and as we had left the crutches in the cars we had to lash together any bits of stick we could find to support the masts.

There was a 6 meter drop into the first stretch of canal which was very boring.

The next part had lifting bridges so we put the masts up. The wind was in our teeth again so we motored along this very pretty stretch until we came to the last lock and bridge into the main canal into the Kettlemere.  The lock didn't open so we went and saw the keeper who told us the road surface on the bridge had just been replaced and was still runny so it wouldn't be opened until the following afternoon. Further the two bridges ahead of us would shut at 7pm. We said "oh deary me" and derigged the boats again. Only 15 mins. we were getting good at it.

This was a lovely spot and we would happily have waited but we had made the classic mistake of not allowing enough time for the return trip and we were determined to reach Schokkerhaven Marina on the Kettlemere so we could relax over the last two days.

We had 10 miles left to go with the masts hanging over the back. The wind was blowing straight down the Swarte Meer and the masts became a problem in the choppy water and frequent barge wakes. At one point our lashings started to slip causing a few tense moments but we got it sorted and kept going. This trip turned into a marathon 30 mile slog and to cap it all the bridges weren't shut and on a grey damp windy evening the Marina seemed very drab. We had a boat stew and Alf and Adrian joined us for cheese and biscuits and a serious assault on Rogers supply of Port.

Wednesday:   

When I woke there was a horrible little man trapped in my head with a hammer trying to beat his way out! I swear I won't touch Port ever again. The wind was howling and the rain lashing down, this was supposed to be the middle of June for goodness sake. After some paracetamol and a nice shower things were looking brighter.

We set off on the 2 mile crossing of the Kettlemere and into the Randmeren for the last 45 miles to Naarden and our last 2 days. We had sunshine and showers and the whole of the Randmeren turned out to be very pretty. Surrounded by woods with narrow navigable channels through large lakes with small uninhabited islands to visit. There are lots of campsites and water sports centres and a number of ancient towns and fishing villages on the southern shore. The northern shore is a huge island reclaimed by the Dutch from the Zuiderzee and completed in 1967. There is plenty of scope for a very relaxed holiday in this area alone.

We visited the fortified town of Elburg for lunch and moored up in the 12^th century Hansiatic town of Harderwijk in the evening. The town is much modernised but we found an interesting bar for our last meal out. Inevitably we went back over the trip and agreed that we had had some great times, seen some lovely places, eaten great meals and the majority of the weather was kind to us.

This time we were going to make it back to where we left the trailers without the use of a taxi. Alf unkindly said this must be a first for me but it only happened twice last year and one of those wasn't my fault.

I felt rather sad that we were nearing the end of the trip. The four of us make a perfect team. We didn't have a cross word and even when it was raining, blowing and things weren't going to plan we still had a giggle. I couldn't have wished for more amicable companions. (must have been drunk when I wrote this!)

Thursday:

It was raining and blowing from the wrong direction again but on the plus side I hadn't got a hangover. Stuck to the Grolsh last night.

Left at 10am, one of our earliest starts, and motored to Spakenburg for lunch.

There were loads of dredgers taking soil from the meers and offloading it to build sea walls and reclaim more land. Roger wondered what the Dutch will do when they have finished building Holland but I think they are trying to build it higher to allow for global warming.

Spakenburg is a fascinating little place with a Botter museum and a working boatyard where they were replanking a botter which was commissioned by Herman Goering as a luxury yacht. 1.5 " oak planks were being forced into incredible curves by two lads and a girl using lots of bottle jacks and hammers. All the fixings were countersunk and plugged and were almost invisible.

We wanted to do some shopping but couldn't understand why most shops were shut and the people standing around looking nonplussed. Alf realised they had a power cut and Adrian explained that this was because the wind had dropped and the windmills had stopped - obvious really.

The last sail to Naarden into a stiff breeze was the best so far and when we arrived at the marina we had our photos taken by a yachting journalist who wanted to do an article for a Dutch yotti mag. He had read about Silhouettes when he was a child and was interested in our trip. We must have looked a sight after eleven days afloat and Alf in his chest waders. Headline will probably be "Invasion of the scruffies."

Had a meal aboard, only the third one, and slept in the car park.

Friday:

Bit damp but it wasn't a bad day and not a breath of wind. Drove to Hoek van Holland in 1 hour 10 mins. After buying some beer and wine we boarded Stena Hollandica for a misty crossing and another two free meals.

It was quite an anticlimax after such a splendid holiday during which we sailed and motored 190 miles and visited 13 towns in ten days. I'm sure we will be back.