CHANNEL ISLANDS: Part II

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GUERNSEY

Thursday-Thursday, May 23-30, 2019

With decent winds we left Alderney for the 24-mile sail to St. Peter Port (aka, Saint-Pierre-Port), the capital of the Bailiwick of Guernsey, which is one of the three Crown Dependencies of Great Britain.

After 5 hours we arrived at the harbor entrance, requested permission to enter and did so after waiting outside while a large ferry docked. Next we waited for one of the marina skiffs to guide us carefully to one of the floating pontoons.

We opted for those docks in lieu of Victoria Marina, an interior harbor protected by a sill from low tides*.

Originally planning on getting a berth in the marina, we decided not to risk crossing the stone barrier:  some cruisers in Alderney mentioned they had heard of a boat with the same draft as ours (2-meter or 6’ 6”) getting stuck on the sill (!). No thanks. Plus, the pontoons were only a three-minute walk from one of the main streets.

I have to say living in Maine one gets use to tides and steep ramps to and from floating pontoons, but in this neck of the woods, they can get a heck of a lot steeper…

which is why many boats are built to sit on the ground when there’s no water under them.

JUANONA, not so much.

*A sill is a barrier that captures a harbor’s/marina’s water at high tide and retains it during low tide. Basically, just think of it as a bathtub for boats.

And, in spite of the rather tired and dingy appearance, the showers provided luxurious hot water with strong pressure (similar to Alderney’s) and appeared surprisingly clean. Actually, even the public restrooms throughout the islands seemed exceptionally clean. No laundry facility at the marina, but we found one in town easily enough. With a supermarket nearby, plenty of buses and ferries within a five-minute walk, and a great Tourist Information (TI) Office just across the street, the location offered everything we needed. Oh, yeah, and a great coffee shop, too :)

Doing some quick research online we discovered a fabulous treasure in St. Peter Port–Hauteville Maison, also known as Victor Hugo’s House.

Having visited his apartment in Paris a few years ago, to tour his home here seemed a no-brainer. Especially since this is where he wrote one of our favorite books and musicals, LES MISERABLES. Just writing that makes me break out in song, lucky for Max it’s not out loud.

Reading that they required reservations and noting none available until the following week, I thought we’d miss seeing it. But, the lady at the TI suggested I try calling, and, voila! a last minute opening for the hour-long tour was available.

The house had actually stayed in the family until 1927 after which Hugo’s granddaughter and the children of his grandson donated it to the City of Paris. When water leakage damaged the interior, the billionaire art collector, François Pinault  (also, a key benefactor of the Notre Dame roof re-build) funded the entire, 3 million-euro renovation in 2018. Fortunately, careful restoration left the house the same as when Victor Hugo lived here.

Not being up on the details of this novelist/poet/dramatist/artist, we learned that Victor Hugo’s (1802-85) political beliefs morphed over the decades, from supporting the monarchy to opposing it. The latter occurred when Louis-Napoleon Bonaparte (1808-73) threw a tantrum over the one-term limit of his presidency and staged a coup d’etat. Having a way with words, Hugo coined the derogatory (but, one must admit, clever) phrase, “we have had Napoleon the Great, now we have Napoleon the Small”, a none-too-subtle expression of his feelings towards Louis-now-self-titled-Napoleon III.

He (Hugo, not Emperor 3) avoided arrest by heading to Brussels in December 1851. But his stay was short due to the proximity to France and a formal decree of exile, so he left for Jersey in 1852 where other non-Napoleon III supporters lived.

But, Hugo obviously knew how to p_ _ s off royals. An unflattering article about Queen Victoria’s visit to Paris in 1855 caused his next boot out of a country. Not that he wrote it; but, the article penned in London was re-published in a Jersey paper by some of his fellow exiles. When they were expelled from that Channel Island, Hugo decided to also leave in a show of support.

He moved to the nearby island of Guernsey in 1855 and with the success of THE CONTEMPLATIONS, a poetry book, he purchased the house in 1856. And proceeded to decorate it. And, boy, did he decorate.

Arriving before our scheduled tour, we had access to his backyard,

and, while Max enjoyed the ambiance here,

I went on the hunt for a cup of coffee, which I found just up the street in a hotel with another lovely garden view.

A young guide with a lilting French accent (of course) led our small group of ten through the public rooms where he entertained:

the Billards Room with family portraits and drawings…

the Tapesty Room wallpapered with oriental rugs (a small sun-lit room next door offset this dark one)…

the Dining Room with Dutch Delft tiles, and where he provided meals for the city’s poor children,

along with lessons of life, which were also carved into the decor.

Stairs to the first (what we call second) floor landed us in an elaborate hallway off of which were two richly,(overly so in my opinion) decorated lounges for more entertaining,

with one end of the two rooms suitable for presenting plays.

Then to the second (third) floor where the hallway served as his library, which included one of the first ever editions of an Encyclopedia…

and opened into a large study and bedroom, but one he never slept in.

To the tippy-top third (fourth) floor where he did actually sleep…

and work (this is the room in which he was sitting in the sepia photo above…

and where, finally, I would be able to rest if I lived here) as he looked out to his garden and the sea beyond to France.

Throughout the house the guide pointed out Hugo’s fascination with Chinese culture,   one shared by others during this time.

(Ellen, note the peacock :)

I can’t imagine how wonderful it would be for those who had studied this man’s life and work because for me, not well-versed on Hugo, this tour was fascinating and a definite highlight of our time here.

Unlike some of our other cultural visits we didn’t tour a lot of museums here. Actually, as I write this, I realize Hugo’s house was it as far as museums go. We did, however, do a quick stop at one other building, also overly decorated:  the Little Chapel.

We reached this little (and, it is wee) site after a 30-minute bus ride to the center of the island.

Along with a group of other curious tourists we hopped off to stroll the one-minute walk to a building festooned with broken pottery shards.

Inspired by a similar chapel in Lourdes, this grotto chapel was the third one begun by Brother Déodat. His first one (9’x4.5’) was too small as was his second (9’x6’), and I love this–he decided the second one didn’t fit the bill when the Bishop of Portsmouth couldn’t fit through the door.

The one we toured measures 16’x9’, and, as you can see, we easily stepped through the opening.

Being un-consecrated anyone and everyone can mediate/pray/worship/perform miracles here. And, visit for free with donations accepted.

It is lovely it its kitchyness and fantastical mosaics,

It’s also where Max caught the spiritual glow.

As I said, basically you could walk through the chapel

and out the door

in 20 steps.

We could have dwelled a bit longer but…. And, evidently we weren’t the only ones feeling as such because we joined the same stampede of visitors who caught the bus out with us who were now determined not to miss the next bus heading back. Otherwise, we’d all have to wait another hour and there’s just so much cemented pottery shards I can take at one time no matter how devotedly placed.

Another day, while waiting for our coffee place to open we popped into a larger place of worship, the Town Church.

Spotting a guy who appeared to give impromptu tours we asked him about some mounted plaques. For the next 15 minutes he entertained us by pointing out some of the more interesting of these memorials.

When I asked about a rather prominent one for The Very Reverend Daniel Francis Durand and noted it was pretty cool he was the son of the guy who headed up Canterbury, he laughed and corrected me saying,’no, that was something stated to make him sound important:  he wasn’t literally the son, he simply came from there.

He then walked us over to the memorial of Captain Nicholas Messier, a privateer (aka pirate) who fought the French. Our informal guide appreciated the hypocrisy for he said isn’t it wonderful how someone is lauded by the same people who could just as easily have treated him as a criminal. I think I could use this guide on all our tours…

One of the largest plaques immortalized one of the most famous islanders, James Saumarez, Lord de Saumarez. He fought with Lord Nelson in the Mediterranean, though not at the Battle of Trafalgar. The two officers had a strained relationship, and our guide mentioned it was due to Saumarez not approving of Nelson’s romantic liaison with Lady Hamilton. As our host stated succinctly, ‘Saumarez was a prude.’

Our last critiquing of these plaques concerned one dedicated to Rear Admiral Thomas Saumarez Brock (his father being another famous islander, Isaac Brock, who defeated the Americans when they attacked Canada during the War of 1812) and his wife and her eldest son. Here we learned their daughter used plundered marble from the Roman Temple of Diana in Ephesus, a famous ruin in Turkey… and, bragged about it.

It’s also when I noticed a clerical collar peeking out from our guide’s sweater.

I left that church thinking now, he along with a few others, is a minister whose sermons I wouldn’t mind listening to. Nothing like some irreverent humor to spice up one’s Sunday :)

Next, the great outdoors…

CHANNEL ISLANDS: Part I

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Getting there

Monday-Tuesday, May 20-21, 2019

To lessen the miles (and help with any adverse current) we left Lymington and headed to Studland Bay, an easy 17 miles away. As we passed the Isle of Wight the three formations of chalk and flint called the Needles came into view.

Although, to me, ’The Molars’ would be a more appropriate moniker.

Reaching our destination, startling white cliffs greeted us reminding me of how much we enjoyed our first visit here in 2014. One of the reasons being Studland Bay was the only anchorage we had while cruising the south coast of England due to being a coastline relatively devoid of safe places to drop one’s hook.

The anchor dropped quickly and smoothly, always a relief when performing that exercise the first of the season.  Pulling it up made up for the ease of dropping it as the current pushed JUANONA forward while the anchor chain pulled backwards. But, the windlass (anchor motor) won out, and off we sailed to Alderney, the northernmost island of the Channel Islands.

You could count my knowledge of this archipelago in the English Channel on two fingers:

(!) They are not part of the EU, which means non-EU boats can check in here to reset the VAT clock (avoid having to pay VAT tax on the boat) of 18 months. Considering the other possibilities to reset the VAT are Norway and Morocco, this land mass offers a valuable service to yachties. If we didn’t have our import of JUANONA under our Dutch temporary residency, we’d also be very thankful for this (and our visit here will serve as a backup for difficult bureaucrats)

(2) The 2008 book, THE GUERNSEY LITERARY AND POTATO PEEL PIE SOCIETY, that swept the U.S. book club repertoire described a brutal Nazi occupation during WWII.

So, I checked online to find a bit more background on the Channel Islands…

Romans visited the islands followed by Christian missionaries (which may be why the largest cities on the islands all start with “Saint”?) in the 6th century. In the 9th century Norse invaders took over the islands and they became the property of the Duchy of Normandy. By the 10th century the islands came under English rule when William II of Normandy (aka William the Conqueror) became William I of England after the Battle of Hastings in 1066.

A jumbled history of English and French stakes to the islands occurred over the next eight centuries, resulting in a split of the islands into two Crown Dependencies:  the Bailiwick of Jersey (the largest island) and the Bailiwick of Guernsey (the latter covering Guernsey as well as Alderney, Sark and some smaller islands).

Not to go into too much detail (and, frankly, I don’t think I could untangle the snarl of who-ruled-what-when well enough for myself, much less you), the islands are self-governing but are still ‘possessions’ of the United Kingdom. They print their own currency (1:1 to the British pound), and have their own courts and administration. (FYI:  there are three of these Crown Dependencies, the other being the Isle of Man.)

Jersey (population 100,000+) and Guernsey (pop. 63,000+) are the dominant islands with Alderney (pop. 2,000), Sark (pop. 600), Herm (pop.60), Jethou (and, I love this:  pop. 3) and Brecqhou forming the primary grouping, with much smaller iles dotted around.

Fishing, quarrying, mining (silver), and agriculture (cows) formed the economies, with tourism now being one of the largest money-makers.

Obviously, I’m missing a lot of history here but you, at least, know as much as I do (and, probably more if you’ve read about this area).

So, now to our first island…

 

Alderney

Tuesday-Thursday, May 21-23, 2019

Current and tide rule the boating world around here. No wonder when there are 10+ meter (33 ft+) tides which can create currents of up to 5 knots or more. The high tide range significantly limits anchorage possibilities, which is one reason there are so many shallow-draft boats around here which can ‘take the bottom’ (ie they can dry out and stay upright on ground when the tide goes out).

When we left England we set a heading of 190 degrees, a straight line into the town of St. Anne at Alderney, 56 miles south-south west of us. But, as you can see from the chart plotter, the current pushed us almost 40º to the east giving us a course over ground (COG) of 150º and moving the bearing to Alderney to 205 degrees and eventually even more.

It wasn’t until a few miles from our destination that our COG came close to matching our set heading. As these two photos show, our track simulated a drawn bow.

We picked up one of the many guest moorings and the next morning hailed the water taxi operated by one of the many friendly locals we met during our two-night stay here.

Expecting more deserted harbors the number of other boaters (mainly, a lot of guys enjoying a boys’ cruise it seemed) surprised us. Yet, sailing season starts early over here. Although, we still had plenty of time to peruse this area of the sea before the huge bubble of boaters when schools let out in July and August.

Within 90 minutes, we managed to snap a photo of the interior harbor,

climb the steep hill to town center, eat a lovely breakfast (some of the best coffee ever) at Jack’s Cafe (highly recommended),

rent electric bikes (and, we agree with Colleen:  they provide the perfect spurt of energy when needed :), and clear Customs after lowering our official yellow quarantine flag we had raised prior to entering.

Speaking of Customs, we asked the officials to stamp our passports. Now we felt doubly ‘legal’ for not only did we have our temporary Dutch residency covering us for Schengen and temporary import of JUANONA but also official exit from the Schengen zone.

In addition to the official paperwork we will also retain receipts of our Channel Islands marina andharbor fees to prove our temporary exit from the European Union for any future official questioning. This pertains to diesel fuel as well, for some countries require proof that we didn’t cheat the system by buying fuel while claiming it was for commercial use and therefore exempt from tax.

Official business completed we hopped on our rented bikes for our jaunt around the island under a brilliant blue sky and warm sun.

Although it’s not my area of interest, anyone fascinated by military equipment and defense should visit here. Known as one of the most heavily fortified places in this part of the world, Alderney boasts over 30 forts, batteries, bunkers and armories seemingly on every headland, 18 of which the Victorians constructed between 1850 and 1860.

Within two hours we had easily biked and toured various landmarks around Alderney, espying a rookery of gannets,

spotting an immense fog horn located on top of Mannez Lighthouse, built in 1912…

reading the plaques in English, French, Polish, Hebrew, Russian, and Spanish on the  Hammond War Memorial commemorating the forced laborers who lost their lives here during the occupation…

and recognizing a name used for Rod and Jo’s famous log on Sleeth Island :)

As we continued our cycling the circumference of this island we couldn’t avoid reminders of how heavily fortified this island became. It seemed every few miles we’d come upon some sort of military structure. Many, if not all, of which the Germans repurposed during WWII.

To obtain a more in-depth education about Alderney we visited the local museum;

and, it’s well worth visiting, beginning with the lovely lady greeting us. She was happy to have us since it seemed we represented 50% of the museum’s visitors that afternoon. We were joined by another couple from the states, two friendly gentlemen ending their three-month, eclectic travel of Malawi, the Greek Isles, and now the Channel Islands. The four of us weaved various paths in and around several rooms filled with peacetime artifacts, such as a mangler (in which I once got my arm caught in a motorized  one a long time ago  that was fun,),

juxtaposed with wartime memories.

IMG_3861The book mentioned earlier in this post has generated huge interest during WWII. Unlike Guernsey, the majority of the islanders decided to evacuate. This occurred when they saw the Germans continuing their march west towards the French coast. In 1940 the first to be evacuated were the children, many of whom went to Cheshire, England. The islanders voted at a town meeting to leave their homes and the next day on June 23, 1940 six ships from England left for Weymouth.

Hitler relished the invasion and occupation of these islands, Germany’s one foothold in territory belonging to Great Britain. In particular, he saw Alderney as an important part of his ‘ Atlantic Wall’. It was this island’s proximity to mainland Europe (only 8 miles separating it from mainland Cherbourg, France) that caused Hitler to heavily fortify Alderney.

He also planned to invade England from Braye harbor in which we were currently moored (which, thankfully, never took place).

Initially German soldiers felt it an honor to be posted on the first invaded piece of British soil; however, the lack of fighting and amenities soon changed this attitude to one of boredom and lackluster duty. Although, it didn’t keep the local SS from terrorizing the 5,000 slave laborers imported from mainland Europe to construct fortifications around the island. As one German soldier wrote in his diary, “It certainly was a godforsaken island.”

But, there always seems to be bits of caring humanity regardless of which side one is on, and the museum featured one such German soldier, Conrad Gries.

He was responsible for drawing up plans of the minefields laid on Alderney. Ordered to destroy the plans prior to the liberation of the island May 16, 1945, he hid a copy in the hopes the Allies would find it. Which they did, no doubt saving many lives.

A small room off to the side detailed a curious event right after the war when islanders returned to Alderney (due to lack of resources on the island this occurred in stages using the application below). The first group returned December 15, 1945.

A joint project of the curator, a school group, and residents describes the ‘Battle of the Butes’ (the Butes being a locale). After five years of occupation, many homes were in disrepair and household goods sorely lacking. Added to this was the need to fumigate for vermin, causing further destruction to personal property. To compensate, the Red Cross, British government, and other sources sent, i.e., ‘issued’, supplies, aka ‘Issue Furniture’. Included in this stash were items recovered from the island’s homes.

This didn’t sound so bad but how the appointed judge from the Home Office in England decided to allocate these household goods is bizaare:  they roped off the goods, assembled the returning islanders, then blew a whistle, lower the ropes, and a stampede of frantic men, women and children try to claim as many pieces as possible.

I mentioned to the woman at the front desk how demeaning this free-for-all must have been, especially considering what those people went through during the war. She said it caused a lot of friction between the islanders, and even now, there’s a residual disgruntlement. People would enter a friend’s home only to spot a bureau or vase that use to be theirs (!). Or, they wouldn’t invite someone over in case the friends recognized an item belonging to their family.

Beyond the horror and sadness of WWII, the museum showcased local shipwrecks, all understandable due to the dangers of navigating these waters.

From an Elizabethan wreck dating late 1500s to the  LIVERPOOL, the world’s largest four-masted, full-rigged ship, in 1902

to a small cabin cruiser in 1969 and the SS ARMAS of Cyprus in 1973.

Another interesting bit of information concerned the Alderney Cow, bred form the 1850s to 1920s. Since my knowledge of cows as a farm animal is iimited to the love of cheese, butter, and all things fatty, I’ll quote directly why these animals were prized:  ‘high quality milk-butter yield, easy husbandry, and requiring littler expensive dietary needs’.

Unfortunately, the uniqueness of the Alderney cow was lost when interbreeding with Guernsey cows occurred in 1927. But, at least they live on in literature for those who have read A.A.Milne’s “The King’s Breakfast” and Jane Austen’s EMMA.

Looking for further island exploration Max happened upon, most likely, the most dangerous adventure on Alderney:  The Bat and Hedgehog Tour.

Checking with the Alderney Wildlife Trust, the guide said this week’s tour had been scheduled for Tuesday (the day before) but he’d be happy to accommodate us by doing it tonight. Sounded great to us! So, we made our reservation and then strategized on filling up the four hours prior to meeting him at 9p.

We settled on finding a local hang-out followed by dinner. However, we faced a minor problem: the liveliness of the town bustling with locals and tourists alike that greeted us in the morning had now dwindled to a trickle of activity. All shops and most eateries had shut their doors and would next open Thursday morning.

As we slowly made our way up the main street peering in windows hoping for an ‘OPEN’ sign, a kind woman stopped to ask if she could help us (this was the second time of the day someone had offered us guidance, earning Alderney high marks on friendly natives). She said we may have noticed that businesses close every Wednesday afternoon but what were we looking for? We said eventually a place for dinner. And, with that piece of information she said, ‘Eddie’s is just right up the block, and tell him Norma sent you.’

Her name worked like a charm. Being his Tapas Night, he said he was full but could serve us out in the garden. Which is how we ended up with not only a lovely view but also some exquisite samplings of dishes.

A setting sun brought on a chill so we left for a pub we had checked out earlier. Wanting to be alert for our tour, Max decided to order a tea, and if anyone looked like the sort of person who would ask for tea in a pub, Max would be it:

But, the most entertainment came from the warm and chatty bartender’s response to his request. She was flummoxed and stunned, then exclaimed, ‘TEA? You’re in a pub and you want TEA?!’ I can only imagine how she would have responded if he had added that it was really herbal tea that he wanted…

Forty minutes later (after a beer after all) we found ourselves back in the Alderney Wildlife Trust office where our young guide Roland commenced the tour with so much information my head was spinning. This guy is a walking encyclopedia for bats and hedgehogs.

We discovered bats comprise almost 20% of the earth’s mammals… you identity the different families by  their echolocation range… they actually fly, not glide like ‘flying squirrels’… and, they’re difficult to spot in the dark (that’s my observation after walking around with a loudly clicking echo meter managing to only see one or two madly darting objects).

 

Hedgehogs, on the other hand, are easier to spot as long as you know where to look and have an informative guide. Alderney has the unique distinction of being one of two habitats (North Ronaldsay, an Orkney Island is the other) where you can find blonde hedgehogs. And, it seems locals take on bragging rights if one lives in
their garden. Otherwise, it’s the more common brown ones.

They don’t burrow but nest. And, naturally, those nests are often under and in hedges.

Roland ensured we knew that they were not albino but blonde due to a recessive gene that just keeps occurring. Having no predators on the island, hedgehogs thrive on Alderney. And, possibly the blonde ones increased in population due to being easier to see at night, so less road kill. Nice to know.

My fondness for these little creatures comes in large part from a childhood addicted to Beatrix Potter’s books.  A favorite was THE TALE OF MRS. TIGGY-WINKLE, the story of a female hedgehog who washes clothes for the animals in the neighborhood.

I even had a little animal hedgehog I could dress up. I know, I know, anthropomorphism and sexism combined but, hey, I was a kid. Who wouldn’t want to know of a hedgehog with whom you could sit and share a cup of tea?

So, when I saw them they immediately brought to mind a little hedgehog running around in a mob cap and apron while my voice became the high-pitch of baby talk.

Roland told us not to worry about harming them because if they truly felt threatened by us they’d curl up in a ball versus just scurry away. Which made both of us relax a bit when he shone his flashlight on one.

Supposedly, it’s rare to see them, but all we saw were little blonde hedgehogs out for the night.  Hmmm…. perhaps the blonde ones have more fun? :)

Our dangerous tour ended with our happily exclaiming our luck in seeing those cuties as we made our way back to JUANONA.

With sun shining and decent winds we left the next morning for our next Channel Island, alas, one without Mrs. Tiggy-winkles…

 

Really?

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We’re in France, and to get further southwest, we’re going north? 

Yup, we’re going north…

ENGLAND

Thursday-Monday, May 16-20

New Haven

Our original plan for reaching the Channel Islands was to follow the French coast from Boulogne sur Mer to other French ports until we reached Cherbourg. Then cross to Alderney, the northernmost of the Channel Islands.

But, after speaking with other cruisers and considering the tides, we changed countries (and courtesy flags) and headed straight across to New Haven, England.

With decent winds and a favorable current, 10 hours later we pulled into a small marina in New Haven for the night. At a local pub we recovered from our docking (strong currents and wind on the stern created a ‘fun’ time) and made plans for an early leave-taking the following morning.

Lymington

We hoped to stay in Cowes on the Isle of Wight. You may know of this as being the location of Queen Victoria and Prince Albert’s summer home, Osborne House. Maybe more noteworthy for sailors:  it’s the site of the original race leading to the America’s Cup. However, we discovered two regattas had fully booked the marina. Quickly perusing the chart we noticed a port opposite the island and found an open berth there.

Again, currents and tides dictated our ETA as this area, known as the Solent. The currents flow at significant strength and require diligence and careful timing.

Another full day’s sail and we landed in one of the poshest marinas we have ever been in, the Lymington Yacht Haven (the marina in the bottom, right-hand corner below).

When checking in the friendly, young staff member handed us a welcome bag (four-color, marina brochure, floating keychain, and two bottles of water) stating, ‘…and, the showers are luxurious.’  That intriguing endorsement ensured I’d be holding them up to a high standard only to discover that, indeed, the shower facilities were jaw-dropping to die for. First, you walked into a bathroom you would be happy to find at a pampering spa…

only to enter your personal shower stall featuring

not one, but TWO shower heads…

a teak changing bench and sink complete with sweet-smelling soap and lotion…

and, drum roll here:  a towel-warming rack (!).

I later discovered Max wasn’t as careful and almost singed a body part….

When delicious hot water gushed from the heads my joy increased:  I felt my hair leap with happiness as I purged it of the shampoo build-up from five weeks of tepid, spitting showers. Plus, a convenient hair dryer and curling iron, if needed, resided in the shared sink area.

Adding to my high rating of the facilities was the laundry room with two washers and two dryers (and an ironing board with iron available at the front office).

The only downside came from trying to hook up to the free WIFI, but in all other areas–easy stroll to town, access to chandleries and groceries, bucolic scenery, and helpful staff–this marina earned its hefty nightly fee.

Taking the weekend to enjoy our surroundings we walked into town, a leisurely ten-minute stroll. With its cobble-stone roads fronted by small cottagey-stores,

we felt as if we stepped back in time to August 2014 when we first landed on England’s SW coast after our nine-day passage from the Azores. Then, Max, our crew member Steve, and I soaked up the yachting heritage associated with Falmouth.

And, similar to Falmouth, you’re never far away from someone plying the waters.

One boat’s captain exited a wheelchair to take a disabled passenger for a ride on the water. From the passenger’s huge grin we knew he was anticipating a lovely morning on the river.

Walking back from town we noticed a large pool stocked with floating apparatus. This was the Open Air Baths filled with sea water and waiting for customers to enjoy a chilly (refreshing?) swim.

It seems any town on this side of the English Channel reflects centuries of livelihoods earned from the sea. Lymington’s economy depended on four industries:  shipbuilding; smuggling; salt; and, sailing.

From the medieval times shipbuilding played an important role in this town. During the reign of Edward I (1272-1307) nine ships built here contributed to the defense of the country. Just up the river from our marina, the Berthon Boat Company founded in 1877, continues that trade.

Like many of the towns situated on England’s southern coast, smugglers found plenty of ways to ‘import’ wine, bandy, silks, coffee, tea and other goods into the country. Support from the local community here ensured a steady flow of goods (and revenue), especially at the end of 17th century.

Salt created Lymington’s wealth in the 1700s with this town and surrounding area being the largest sea salt industry in England. This dominance eroded when Cheshire mined it for less causing Lymington to close it’s saltern in 1865.

Finally, sailing and yachties provide a good source of income for the locals; and, based on the fee for our two nights, it’s a very rewarding business.

The marsh served as the backdrop for the marina, and on Sunday we joined other walkers and stretched our legs along one of the many paths. It was here Max found some jetsam that he quickly rescued.

He managed to return it to spiffiness with a wash; and, after scraping off the algae grime he proudly added it to our flotilla of fenders. I have to say it’s a handy souvenir of Lymington :)

Next, crossing the Channel (again)…

Hi Ho, Hi Ho, it’s down the coast we go…

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HOPPING ALONG

Monday-Friday. May 13-17, 2019

Favorable winds from the north encouraged us to leave our adopted Dutch country and head down the southern part of the North Sea. As opposed to doing one long overnight passage we decided to do daily hops of 40 to 60 miles, landing us in a new port each night.

Covering miles only during daylight made it a heck of lot easier for coastal sailing. If sailing at night, I’d rather be out in the middle of the ocean:  when you see a light, there’s no question it’s attached to a ship, oil platform, or UFO. When you’re near the coast it could be an onshore beacon, street light, reef, or even a low-flying airplane (which occurred in 2004 sailing by Boston’s Logan Airport…).

As our AIS shows, we were amidst a lot of ships,

some requiring a close watch, the ship named CAUSEWAY being one of them. According to the CPA (‘Closest Point of Approach’) of 0.0 miles, if neither of our courses changed in the next 3.7 miles, we’d see a bold ‘Collision warning!’ flashing on the screen.

By the second day we’d established a routine of rising, checking the wind forecast, reviewing the currents and tides as well as shipping lanes* then heading out of the harbor to follow the coastline south and west.

* To facilitate  commercial traffic while lessening the chances of collision with pleasure boats the authorities have established shipping channels, typically a lane in each direction with a TSS (Traffic Separation Scheme) in between. To accomplish the fastest crossing of these lanes, we need to do so at a ninety-degree angle. And, trust me, when crossing the lanes extending out of Rotterdam, the busiest port in Europe, we wanted to be on the other side of them as quickly as possible. You can see the solid line of ships heading south in one of the AIS photos above.

With only a few, all-weather ports (many man-made) along this stretch of the coast we based our selection of marinas on their ability to accommodate our 2-meter (6’ 6″) draft and the ease of entering and exiting the harbor (strong currents can play havoc when docking and undocking). For three mornings we exchanged one port for another:  Scheveningen (Netherlands) for Zeebrugge (Belgium) – the teal blue dot is where we docked;

Zeebrugge for Dunkirk (France)–the green is where JUANONA was,

and Dunkirk for Boulogne Sur Mer (France), not to be confused with Bologna, Italy…

It got to the point where I’d wake up and try to remember the previous port’s layout by visualizing the dock, and the toilet-shower facilities.

A ritual we carry out at sea is exchanging one country’s courtesy flag (flown on one of our spreaders) for another’s. In this case it was our Dutch flag

for France’s.

Having covered a fair bit of miles in three days and seeing the favorable forecast of northerly winds continuing for a few more days we decided to stop for 36 hours in Boulonge, a port other cruisers had recommended.

Being one of the few American boats around we managed to attract the attention of the French law enforcement. Four officials boarded the boat upon our arrival in Boulogne, and for an hour they perused our paperwork trying to decide if we needed to pay V.A.T. on JUANONA.*

* Just to give you a quick synopsis of issues facing foreign boaters in European waters, we would have to pay a 20% Value Added Tax (basically a sales tax) on Juanona if she had been in the European Union for more than 18 months. The only way to avoid this tax is by taking her to a non-EU port (which is why we always touched the coast of Norway prior to returning to an EU country).
On top of this is a restriction on foreigners themselves in Schengen countries (currently, all EU and Scandinavian countries except for the UK). If you’re not a Schengen resident, then you’re only allowed three months within those countries; and, once you’re reached that limit, you have to leave and not return for three months.
These regulations mean your boat is allowed for 18 months and yourself, three. You can see how tricky of a dance this is if you plan to cruise these European waters.
By obtaining temporary Dutch residency in the Netherlands, Max and I are considered Schengen residents. And, thanks to the advice of fellow cruisers, Gus and Helen Wilson, we were able to temporarily import JUANONA into the EU. Due to those two actions we’ve protected ourselves and JUANONA from the EU and Schengen restrictions.
However, the French customs officers weren’t familiar with the Dutch paperwork stating we had temporarily imported JUANONA into the EU, thus the hour sitting in our cockpit trying to decipher another country’s government form.

It all ended well with their providing us a French document approving our temporary import. Since 2014 we’ve been boarded five times by custom officials:  twice by the Brits, once by Germans, once by the Dutch, and now by the French. And, we were hailed over VHF by the Norwegians.

As the French Customs officials were leaving I realized I had actually seen them as we made our way south. Fortunately they didn’t board us then as it would not have been fun maneuvering, especially for an hour…

Like most European cities and towns we visit, Boulogne’s history includes centuries of different occupants who desired this strategic port. Situated at the mouth of the Liane River, the Romans called it Gesoiacum. Later it became known as Bonoia and switched hands often:  Normans destroyed it in 882; it was rebuilt in 912 and became a desirable harbor for the Burgundian Dukes, then French kings beginnng with Louis XI in 1477; England got hold of it in 1544 after a two-month siege and ruled for a short while before it reverted back to France in 1550 via the Treaty of Boulogne. Napoleon used this as his headquarters when planning to invade England (but didn’t); and, the British used it in WWI; the Germans overtook this port in the 1940 Battle of Boulogne just a few weeks before Operation Dynamo (evacuation of Dunkirk); finally, the city was liberated in 1944.

We explored the upper city or ‘old city’, which features preserved buildings from earlier times including the fortified gate.

Max, in search of an MDT (Max Disaster Tour), read two reviews saying there’s ‘a must-see’ crypt under the Basilica of Notre Dame de Boulogne.

I joined him for the above ground walk-around but, having read in a guidebook that the crypt was ‘imminently skippable’, I opted out of paying the 5 euro fee to visit below ground.

Considering Max found me down the street within 15 minutes of his MDT, I think the LONELY PLANET guide book provided a more accurate description of that site…

But, the real highlight of Boulogne was a modern building perched above the beach:  a fabulous aquarium.

With a 2018 expansion the Nausicaá became the largest aquarium in Europe. Its mission not only focuses on raising awareness of the marine environment but also encourages action to improve global management of this vital resource. This French National Sea Centre is now a UNESCO site due to its promoting of healthy oceans and seas.

The design of the new Nausicaá replicates a manta ray, although my photo of it as we’re leaving the harbor doesn’t provide the aerial view to show it as such…

The admittance fee of 25 euros each gave us pause, but a second look at recent reviews convinced us to take the plunge. And, we are very glad we did.

We weren’t the only ones anticipating a fun day of exploring the mysteries our oceans.

In spite of kid mobs, who always seem to carry their own peculiar smells and exuberant noise levels,

 

the displays handled crowds well with easy-to-follow signage creating a smooth flow of people throughout the exhibits.

Imagine oceanography, marine biology, and environmental studies combined into one semester of school. That’s what it felt like when peering in the tanks and reading the signage.

The mission of Nausicaá focuses primarily on the relationship between mankind and the sea; and, in each area the aquarium presented the effects of climate change and its disastrous consequences,

while acknowledging those without a political voice or monetary resources are the ones paying the price caused by those with that power.

Yet, as opposed to being totally depressed by the way we’re destroying our world, Nausicaá offers hope in the forms of activism, both on the parts of individuals as well as organizations. For example, a partnership between The Environmental Advisory Company and the Four Seasons Hotels has funded the Reefscapes Programme (at the end of 2011 160,000 cuttings were transplanted onto 200 coral structures).

To encourage visitors’ participation in these efforts, the aquarium provided websites as well as coin drops so visitors could donate to various causes, which we did for one (Andrea, this was for you :).

 

It was difficult to avoid being caught in a hypnoptic trance gazing at tanks populated by ballooning jellyfish…

 

 

and swirling highways of fish,

 

with the pièce de résistance being the soaring ray.

 

All with New Age music (which you can’t hear in my clips) enhancing the otherworldliness in front of us.

We had seen a similar exhibit but on a much smaller scale at the Ozeaneum in Straslund, Germany  last year. There, the focus was on a specific body of water, the Baltic Sea, versus Nausicaá’s global coverage. Both are stellar examples of using entertaining displays to teach those of all ages about our watery world.

From simple explanations of tides…

and displays on oil rigs…

to communing with marine life,

we found ourselves stopping at almost every display, only skipping those geared towards young children, with one exception as seen in the top photo of this post…

The exhibits did include flora and fauna associated with the water but not necessarily in it. One being the stick insect hiding in this photo.

This aquarium would be worth seeing just to surround yourself with fantastical marine life. In one of the largest tanks in Europe we became encased in blue,

with smaller tanks showcasing otherworldly critters, both bizarre

and lovely.

After three house of meandering through exhiibits of above and below the oceans, we reluctantly left.

I find it easy to be overwhelmed by the richness of information available in sites such as these. If we were going to be here for any length of time, I would get a season pass and peruse one small section at a time. Or, simply sit and watch a world swim by.

When leaving the next day it seemed so appropriate that Nausicaá was one of the last landmarks we saw exiting the harbor. A reminder of the precious resource on which we sail as we continue cruising…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Wait, HOW do you pronounce it ?

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SCHEVENINGEN

Monday-Friday, May 6-13, 2019

With seemingly favorable winds we untied from Haarlem’s town wall.

After three bridges…

and two locks, with Sarah paying the lock master at one…

then her steering us down the main canal to the industrial lock of Ijmuiden…

we tied up

opposite a group of Russians heading to southern Norway…

then exited into the North Sea. The first time  JUANONA’s hull felt salt water on her hull since last September when Max and I finished our 2018 cruising.

Hugging the coast to stay out of the busy shipping lanes,

the winds turned out to be less west and more southwest along with residual waves from a previous storm resulting in a bouncy ride vs. winds perpendicular to the hull providing a smoother sail. With five hours of washing-machine waters (less than 60 feet depth) behind us we thankfully entered calmer waters when turning into Scheveningen’s Marina, Den Haag’s (The Hague’s) port.

Difficult (make that impossible) to pronounce we later discovered this city’s name was used to tell a German from a Dutchman during WWII. When trying to get my mouth around the ups and downs of this word, I saw locals invisibly cringing and envisioned them covering their ears as protection from a foreigner’s inept attempt.

Yet, that was the only difficult part of this port. Friendly marina managers, such as Roger,

and welcoming locals, including Leane*, who had spotted us entering the harbor from her apartment (where we took this photo, JUANONA s the furthest boat on the right with blue sail cover) and her husband Rob,

soon made JUANONA’s crew feel like we had found another home. With great facilities including two machines and dryers :) the three of us settled in.

*Sarah first met Leane at Dierckx & Dierckx, the cafe she and her sons own. Like me Sarah searches for the perfect spot to write while enjoying the ambiance of an aromatic cup of coffee, the opportunity to taste delicious food, and warm hosts and patrons,  including Nicole whom we also met there.
I joined Sarah when she returned to the cafe and instantly understood why she raved about this locale.

In full disclosure we did have a bit of a tough docking scenario with strong winds and a tight turning radius. I was thinking at least we didn’t entertain anyone since no one was around. Wrong. Leanne looking out from their apartment saw us approach and also land. She added, though, another, earlier boat had similar issues.

Her seeing us land reminded me of our friend Gunnar, who also had spotted us coming in and docking not so well. However, I’ll gladly perform that exercise if it means we can meet folk like them.

From Scheveninger we introduced Sarah to one of our favorite Dutch museums:  Mauritshuis (where Johann Vermeer’s 1665’The Girl with the Pearl Earring’ and Rembrandt’s 1632 ‘The Anatomy Lesson of Dr. Nicolaes Tulp’ reside).

With Rembrandt’s 350th Anniversary (he died 1669) the museum hosted a special exhibit of his work. In addition to self-portraits (the room added the light halo, not him) and others of his works,

the museum featured paintings attributed to him but found to be by someone else (possibly a student of his).

The exhibit also explained how a painting became part of the museum’s collection, such as the anatomy lesson work:

commissioned by the surgeon’s guild, 26-year-old Rembrandt’s The Anatomy Lesson of Dr. Nicolaes Tulp originally hung in Amsterdam’s Weigh House (the Waag). Yet, having been moved from the surgeon’s guildhall to the kitchen, the painting wasn’t looking its best by 1817. Ten years later the powers-that-be considered selling it. Fortunately art connoisseurs decided otherwise, and the Dutch State purchased it. Rather than landing in the Rijksmuseum, the obvious choice, King William I (1772-1843)* stipulated it to go to the Mauritshuis.

*He was actually the first king of the Netherlands. Prior to him the de facto leader of the country was a stadholder, a position similar to a duke or earl.

Other paintings that caught my eye included Vermeer’s 1660 beautiful cityscape of his hometown, Delft,

which prompted the three of us to hop the train to show Sarah another quintessential Dutch town, one where William the Silent (1533-84) was assassinated during the Dutch revolt against Spanish rule. His tomb [another painting in Mauristhuis, by Gerard Houckgeest (1600-61)]

is found in Delft’s Nieuwe Kerk where Max and Sarah are standing.

Sarah wasn’t the only folk from home we were lucky enough to meet up with. Our friends Rod and Jo from NH were visiting their daughter Kim who lives in Amsterdam with her husband Pete.

With Jo and Max sharing common ancestors off the Mayflower, Max led us on a pilgrimage through Leiden’s sites. From where they stepped into boats to take them down the canal to meet the Speedwell (the ship that would take them to the Mayflower in England)

to the church where they worshipped…

to the lane where Max and Jo’s common ancestor (William Brewster) had lived…

to the Pilgrim Museum, a small 14th century home first used by parish priests in the nearby Hooglandse Kerk (Church) and later serving as two apartments in the 1600s.  Sarah, an enthusiastic young woman, served as our guide in spaces not much larger than JUANONA, pointing out specific objects related to the Pilgrims. One being a reference book describing America. The Pilgrims most definitely read this as they decided to go to North America.

Our host helped Max with locating some specific documents associated with his ancestor.

Anyone interested in the Pilgrim’s history, check out Max’s blog. The day wandering in the sun was delightful and only one slight mishap of which you’ll have to ask Rod when you see him…

Catching up with family and friends overseas is always a treat, and seeing the Joneses made our last days in the Netherlands special. Our Sarah would have enjoyed meeting them, but she had finally obtained a prized ticket for the Van Gogh Museum. Yet, she did stop in Leiden on her return to Scheveninger for a brief exploration.

The next day Sarah and I enjoyed coffee and Leane’s traditional Dutch apple cake

before we saw her off for the next leg of her journey, this time to meet up with her sister Hannah in Spain.

Waiting for weather we used a rental car to retrieve our re-certified life raft (a French requirement for sailing in their waters) and explored the small town Brielle. The history museum in this town reacquainted us with the Eighty Years War, including Queen Elizabeth’s sending of Robert Dudley (1532/33-88) with 6,000 troops to the Netherlands in 1585 to help them fight the Spanish (yet, his incompentcy and arrogance caused her to recall him).

Surprisingly we also noted a 17th-century portrait of Christina of Sweden (1626-89) (posing as the goddess Diana). She was briefly queen until forced to abdicate with her first cousin, Charles X, stepping up to the throne. If I recall from our last summer’s travels, she had quite a colorful, rebellious life. The picture hangs in this small museum because a local merchant purchased it in the 1700s to hang above his fireplace.

 

On our last full day in Scheveningen we took the tram, train, and metro to Rotterdam and visited the Maritime Museum (Max is posing with Captain Splash below...).

The highlight of this museum is a simulation of working on an energy platform in the North Sea. Thinking this would be a bit of a kids’ activity when I donned my yellow helmet and vest, I was pleased to find how interesting it was.

Before we entered the simulation platform we noticed a video loop featuring Trump regarding climate change. An interesting intro. One we quickly absented ourselves from.

Punching our tickets into various machines that track your personal performance and either give you encouragement

or something else …

Not that I’m really competitive but it did make me feel better when Max got a similar message…

So, we tried our hand at loading containers (Max’s work on this one)…

identifying locations for a wind farm…

and directing a helicopter landing where Max first made it disappear (into the sea)

but made it ascend again into the heavens for a proper landing.

Having dismally failed our rig work we left for Deltshaven, a 30-minute stroll from the museum. It was here the Pilgrims (those who could fit aboard) took off on the SPEEDWELL to Plymouth, England.

Waiting for the church to open

we enjoyed the sun, some beers and coffee

while meeting a young English-Russian couple who had just moved to Amsterdam. He’s IT, and she’s a capital market lawyer. She shared with us that her father had a sailboat on a Russian lake and she enjoyed being on it. As we walked away Max whispered, “I bet she’s one of those oligarchs”.

A service was being held at the church (the same one the Pilgrim’s worshipped in prior to their departure). Luckily, we were able to quietly enter and take a few shots before the service got underway.

We returned to JUANONA and began preparing for an early morning departure, destination Zeebrugge, Belgium, the old harbor of Brugge. But, before I end this post I wanted to mention the famous boat we saw moored opposite ours at the marina:  MAVERICK.

Sailed by Dutchman Mark Slats in the 2018 Golden Globe Race (a non-stop, single-handed round-the-world competition) it was a tight finish with his just missing first place.

The guy had also participated in the 2017 Transatlantic Rowing Race in a two-man boat; however, he finished solo because his rowing partner couldn’t take it and jumped off in the Canaries Islands. Mark continued, taking first place in the solo division and fourth behind three, four-man (!) boats. I remember we actually saw one of the racing boats in the 2003 rowing race docked in Barbados. A homey spatula and toothbrush hung in the little cockpit.

Max spoke with him when he saw him on the dock earlier. Slats told him he signed up for the rowing race to give hope to his mom battling cancer and raising funds for a charity. In the brief conversation he also mentioned he was leaving to bring a VOLVO-race boat back. Max would have loved to join him but didn’t ask.

As we were leaving the next morning we spotted it in the outer harbor and was just able to pop a shot off before entering the seas.

With that we left our Dutch home behind and headed southwest to explore new harbors and lands.

Next, a change from ‘Goedenmorgen’ to ‘Bonjour’…

 

 

 

 

Launched (for real)!

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MONNICKENDAM to AMSTERDAM…

Friday-Monday, April 26-29, 2019

After sprucing up JUANONA with new bottom paint

and John’s repairing of the keel,

Jim carefully launched her

after Max taking a ride to the top of the mast for affixing the repaired wind instrument.

A successful launch and some good-byes

And, we’re off! Although, only for a short distance(16 miles) to Amsterdam Marina located a free ferry ride

across the harbor to the city center.

This marina offers great amenities, including, Anne, a bathtub (!), private showers, AND my fav:  washing machines!

We took the opportunity to revisit some sites and explore new ones, such as Micropia, a museum focused on microbes.

And, where’s there an opportunity to use my most agreeable model…

IMG_2486

A bit bizarre and one I’d recommend as a second (third?) tier museum; but, it provided some interesting tidbits such as the fact that all species on earth “share a single ancestor:  an ancient bacterium… the same hereditary material within their cells:  DNA.”

The museum featured a microbe body scan where Max discovered he carried 168 trillion microbes.

By selecting a specific body part details we found that the small intestine trains our immune system to recognize the good and the bad bacteria. And, that Brevibacterium linens, which digest dead skin cells such as between the toes resulting in stinky feet, also produce some of the strong-smelling cheese some of us enjoy. That can give one a bit of a pause…

Being a holiday weekend (April 27 is King’s Day, celebrating his birthday) we found some lines intensely long (such as the Rijks Museum) and the city crowded (typical, though, especially in tulip season). Remembering a great Asian restaurant we decided to get take-out for dinner

where we peered through the window into a tiny kitchen where three to four people managed to choreograph delicious dishes. And, incredibly (too) filling.

 

Continuing onto HAARLEM…

Monday-Monday, April 29-May 6, 2019

Knowing we could easily access Amsterdam and its sites from one of our favorite Dutch cities, we decided to head off to Haarlem, just a few bridges and one lock a further 12 miles down the canals.

Three years ago  this city seduced us in the loveliness of the Netherlands, from the abundance of flowers to its famous Golden-Age Dutch master Frans Hals to its 16th-century charm, prompting us to apply for temporary residency and making Holland our winter home from 2016-19. It felt appropriate to return, making our stay here a full-circle.

We tied to the town wall on the other side of the windmill where we were on our first visit. And, the perfect introduction to Holland for our young friend, Sarah Arndt.

One of John and Leslie Arndt’s daughters, Sarah had worked as one of the program leaders shepherding 20 college students through a semester of accessing Ecuador’s, Malawi’s, and Italy’s food policies. With time between the end of her job and meeting her sister Hannah, she joined us adding a zest to JUANONA’s crew.

And, it was wonderful.

Seeing familiar haunts through the eyes of a newcomer inspires renewed appreciation for all we’ve experienced, and Sarah’s interest in different cultures gave us that gift. During her stay we toured Haarlem,

enjoyed local beers,

and requested poses, which she kindly agreed to do.

With a shared interest in Dutch history and art, we visited some of Haarlem’s museums–Frans Hals, Teylors, Corrie Ten Boom’s House–while taking in the city’s ambiance of what some call the small Amsterdam.

Our daily excurions would often begin as a trio, then duo, ending as singles when specific areas would draw us into solo journeys.

One example of our divergent courses began when we couldn’t get into the new David Hockney exhibit at the Van Gogh Museum. This led us to the Rijks Museum’s Gallery of Honor featuring stellar work by the Dutch Masters of the country’s Golden Age (17th century), with Rembrandt’s ‘The Night Watch’ covering the entire back wall.

Exiting we heard music drawing us to a group of street musicians. Having mentioned to Sarah we usually hear some beautiful classical tunes, I couldn’t identify these notes (not unusual for me). I decided to record it in order to ask some knowledgeable, musical friends, Melanie and Anthony. Then I heard a familiar tune and laughed…

yep, the score from ‘Game of Thrones’! Soon followed by the theme from ‘Mission Impossible’.

But, back to the Van Gogh Museum, one Sarah really wanted to see. So, while Sarah decided to take her chances of garnering a ticket from any possible no-shows, Max and I headed to the Neue Kerk (New Church) to see the World Press 2019 photographs. Finding that closed, we turned to the Palace just to the left of the church.

Never having been tempted to tour this site, the short entry line enticed us in, and we’re glad we did. The palace is a stunning example of the imperial style created during Louis Bonaparte’s brief reign as King of Holland (1806-10) during his brother Napoleon’s occupation of the area (1806-13) .

Initially constructed in 1648-55, this building served as the Amsterdam’s Town Hall and came to represent Holland’s independence from Spain and the end of the Eighty Years’ War (1568-1648).

Designed by architect Jacob van Campen and featuring over 100 sculptures by Antwerp sculptor Artus Quellinus, considered in the same league as Italy’s Bernini, the building was pronounced the eighth wonder of the world by the residents of Amsterdam.

Beginning with the impressive Citizen’s Hall,

we wandered through 21 rooms–many containing the original furniture from Louis’ time.

Now, it’s a tourist attraction as well as the official reception Palace of the Royal House of the Netherlands (one of government’s three palaces). It also is where foreign dignities may stay during their welcome here.

With the Tribunal room located on the ground floor we discovered an MDT (Max Disaster Tour) site. In this surprisingly small but elaborately sculpted room judges reviewed and announced death sentences four times a year. Here the accused would be tried, sentenced, and the type of execution chosen – hanging, strangulation, beheading, or drawn (big ugh).

This led upstairs to the Justice Chamber where all knelt in prayer upon which the accused stepped through the window to the balcony (installed during Louis’ times) where he/she was executed.

Max and I also saw the special exhibit at the Hermitage, a small sister museum to the one in St. Petersburg. Catherine the Great (1729-96) began collecting art and in 1764 displayed it in the ‘Small Hermitage’. Her grandson Tsar Nicholas I expanded it by building a larger museum 88 years later. This was renamed the State Hermitage Museum after the 1918 Russian Revolution. In 2009 Amsterdam opened its Hermitage, a sister museum we’ve frequented often when in Amsterdam.

Unfortunately we had only an hour before closing but the art was tremendous, and some was intriguingly juxtaposed with two similar items yet from two distinctly different time periods. One example being the statue of Egypt’s King Amenemhat III with the affable bust of Catherine the Great; both were created during their lifetime and both reflected the monarch’s desires to be approachable. Catherine’s even smiling!

The exhibit included a wide range of items, from a rather disturbing portrait, ‘Donna Nuda’, by Leonardo da VInci…

to a wasp-waisted dress worn by Tsar Nicolas II’s mother, Empress Maria Fyodorovna (1847-1928)…

to a musical desk created for Catherine the Great.

With a video demonstrating this lyrical desk’s sliding doors and hidden drawers we ended our too-brief tour and began our trek back to JUANONA.

Memorial & Liberation Days (Saturday & Sunday, May 4 & 5, 2019)

On the weekend we observed the two-minute silence at 8pm. Initiated at the end of WWII this joint event has grown into recognizing the sacrifices of all who have died to protect the freedom of others.

We thought this time would be extremely powerful if surrounded by a stilled, hustle-and-bustle crowd; but, unable to locate one we wandered into St. Bavo, Haarlem’s imposing church anchoring its main square. There we stood with a small group as they tolled a bell up to the time,

then listened to the quiet sound of thankfulness to be where we were because of the sacrifices by others.

The next day the mood flipped 180º from the somberness of memories to a fiesta associated with Liberation Day. Since 2016 this time has been a keynote in our Dutch experience and truly the one that cinched our decision to use this delightful country as a home base. Yet, unlike in Amsterdam’s Dam Square 2016, this time the celebrations mainly offered loud music, food and drink carts, and a horde.

As you can see from an overflowing receptacle,

the public urinals came in handy with Max demonstrating his single-hander.

And, a mixed signal with a young entrepreneur dressed as a hot dog selling hamburgers…

Sarah, too, found it underwhelming in culture and overwhelming in crowds as she tried it out after a day in Amsterdam.

Back aboard we enjoyed another evening of shared meals, some augmented with treats from Sarah, and conversation

then retreated into our private thoughts and projects as the late evening sun turned to night.

With a decent weather forecast we decided to give Sarah a taste of canal cruising then sailing in the open sea. Tomorrow:  On the move again with favorable winds, and even better, more friends to see!

 

 

One’s downfall is Another’s windfall…

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ANVERS in French, ANTWERPEN in Flemish

Monday-Wednesday, April 15-17, 2019

Having left Bruges we headed east to Antwerp. We had come close to touring this city when visiting our Belgium family while checking out Bastogne and  Waterloo in the fall of 2016. But, we didn’t make it as we needed to return to JUANONA to get ready to return to Maine.

This time, Antwerp was our original destination in between boat errands, yet we had added in Bruges because it was close to where we had to be Sunday. The only drawback concerned the lengths of our visits. Both seemed way too brief. We definitely could have enjoyed at least one more night, if not two, in both cities. If you’re thinking of visiting either, add on days!

Because of being short-timers here we wanted to be within easy walking distance of the sites we planned to see. And, we wanted to be able to park the car without having to pay half our room budget. AND, we wanted a comfortable place to crash with good wifi that wasn’t too expensive. Oh, and the ability to make a cup of joe in the morning… Good luck, right?

Well, we found one:  “Because the Night” B&B.

Not only did our room meet all the above criteria but also included one of the warmest and most helpful hosts you could find. Paul and Ann have an inn with three rooms available in a quiet neighborhood close to the city center. He greeted us, helped us park (free on the street!), and spent time showing us the best walking routes to reach our destinations as well as pointing out some good, but inexpensive eateries (one only served spaghetti, and, boy, was it tasty and filling :). In short, we found it the perfect place for our 36-hour touring of Antwerp.

Antwerp is the unofficial capital of Flanders, the northern region of Belgium populated by predominantly Flemish (Dutch) speaking people.

Its name originates (some say) in a legend involving a Roman soldier (Silvius Brabo) and an evil giant, Druon Antigoon, a toll-keeper living in a fortress beside the Scheldt River. Antigoon would cut off the hands of those unfortunate boaters who couldn’t or wouldn’t pay the toll and toss the bodiless appendanges in the river. As you can gather, manly Brabo killed this despot and threw HIS amputated hand in the river. Now that’s a helping hand… Thus, the city carries the name derived from the Flemish word (Antwerpen) and Dutch (hand werpen) for hand throwing. Which a statue on the main square commemorates.

Considering Romans settled here in the 2nd and 3rd centuries you can see how this could be true, right? Right.

Skipping ahead 12+ centuries Antwerp became a Spanish enclave after the Netherlands won their independence from the Spanish King Philip II

whose father, Holy Roman Emperor Charles V, bequeathed him the Low Countries. Catholicism remained the official religion; yet, today similar to many Western European capitals, the city’s population features multiple religious affiliations.

Antwerp’s strength grew out of its opportunistic location of being where three rivers–the Scheldt, Meuse and Rhine–flow together into the North Sea, forming the largest estuary of Western Europe. Its growth as a shipping port, second today only to Rotterdam, began when Bruges’ water access began to silt up in the 15th century. This loss of watery transportation caused merchants and businesses to relocate east to Antwerp (reason for the title of this post). Add in the increased trade due to colonization and Spain’s exploitation of the Americas and you have a booming commercial city. Population grew five-fold from 20,000 at the end of the 14th century to 100,00 in the mid-16th century.

During this economic growth the city’s Golden Age blossomed with the Flemish School of painting. And, for those, like moi, who need a definition of this style, here it is: “Flemish painting is characterized by extraordinary subtlety, attention to detail, vivid colours, and inspired technique.” (http://www.historyofpainters.com)

With such a rich history during the 15th and 16th centuries, it’s not surprising two of the museums we targeted featured amazing feats by two local sons:  a printer and an artist.

But, before we began our cultural experiences we were on the hunt for a good breakfast while walking towards our first site. We reached a small plaza where the museum stood but no cafes seemed to be open with the exception of one, only because he was waiting for a repairman. And, he only served alcohol… He did point us to the other side of the square and down a block, and, voila! the perfect spot for an excellent cup of coffee (or two) and a healthy breakfast of fruit and bread items (my type of meal). Although, Max wasn’t too keen on being the photo subject…

After satisfying our stomachs, on to food for the mind:  MUSEUM PLANTIN-MORETUS.

Two friends had told us about this museum: Seppe, one of our Belgian Family members who visited it with his school group, and Deborah, one of our Dutch Family members who knew it from her touring. Two good recommend-ers.

The name comes from the founding printer, Christophe Plantin (1520-89), a Frenchman who began as a bookbinder and leather maker, and emigrated to Antwerp around 1500, Antwerp’s Golden Age.

He opened his printing shop, Officina Plantiniana, and within 20 years had expanded his business to Frankfurt, Leiden (actually he printed marine charts there), and Paris garnering the distinction of being among Europe’s industrial leaders. He operated 16 printing presses, and the museum’s collection included two of the oldest in the world (Max and I assume ‘Western’ may need to be added as a qualifier)

and employed 50 operators as well as shop assistants.

But, he definitely established a family business which included Plantin and his wife Jeanne Rivière (not the happiest looking creature) and five daughters.

During their childhood he ensured they could contribute to the family enterprise, which also included making lace, with an education in reading and writing and languages. What I found pretty wonderful was the involvement of these women in the business world. One daughter, Martine (1550-1616), begins working in the lace shop and eventually is put in charge.

Another daughter, Madeleine  (1557-99), holds an important position as a proofreader for one of his major achievements, the polyglot Bible (the proofreaders’ room is pictured below and an actual sample of proofing work)

If you’re wondering about the second name of the museum, Moretus, it’s Plantin’s successor:  Jan Moretus (1543-1610). He began work here at the age of 14 and became the boss’ right-hand man partly due to his language ability (he knew Dutch, Greek, Latin, Spanish, Italian, French and German) as well as his managerial skills. He also married Martine, the boss’s daughter, with whom he fathered 11 children.

Delightfully, we literally stepped and explored where these families had lived and worked. Over two floors and several hours we walked through this history.

The ground floor included a portrait gallery featuring family faces, many of which were painted by family friend Peter Paul Rubens (1577-1640). I tired to keep who was who straight but after awhile I gave up and just enjoyed gazing at the actual founders seen above, as well as influential friends, one being Justis Lipsius (1547-1606), a humanist who favored the Roman stoic Seneca (4 B.C.E.-65 C.E.).

In the painting below Lipsius (in the fur collar) is explaining a classic text with a bust of Seneca in the background and Rubens looking on.

The family kept a study for this guy, which attests to Plantin and Moretus’ honoring intellectual pursuits. Balthasar I Moretus (1547-1641), considered the intellectual of the family, printed Lipsius’ collected works of Seneca with illustrations by Rubens.

Plantin’s belief was ‘With hard work, perseverance and patience one is able to surmount any hardship.’ He did experience hardships throughout his career (one being when he had all his possessions auctioned off due to a run-in with the authorities). Yet, he lived by his motto and continued to build his business with the bulk of the Plantin’s printing featured religion (35%), Humanism and Literation (35%), Science (10%), Governmental publications (8.5%), Pamphlets (4.5%), and Other (7%).

He also knew how to network, acquiring the lucrative contract as the appointed typographer royal to King Philip II of Spain (the one who fought William I of the Netherlands at the beginning of the Eighty Years War). It was with the death of Philip II’s father, Charles V, that helped Plantin establish his reputation with a book covering the 1558 funeral procession (also sold as a 12-meter roll). It was printed in the five languages (Dutch, French, German, Spanish, and Italian) spoken in the Holy Roman Empire.

Although he printed for the Catholic King, including the church’s Index of Prohibited Books in 1569*,

he also was a businessman who would print competing religious teachings, such as Hendrik Barrefelt’s preaching of tolerance in 1584. But, Plantin wasn’t stupid:  he did so using the pseudonym Jacobus Villanus.

* This listing of banned books began in 1559 and didn’t end until 1966 (!).

In addition to the humanist and religious works the company published atlases by Abraham Ortelius (1527-98). Ortelius first atlas contained 53 maps, growing to 117 eight years later. Because maps were printed individually one could build their own atlas based on which maps they collected.

‘Atlas’, by the way, is a term first coined by Gerard Mercator whose maps would eventually be seen as more accurate than Ortelius’.

Plantin and his successors kept a competitive edge by constantly improving the printed word. He would use engravings over woodcuts to ensure a better quality of illustration.

And, typography was another of the company’s key strengths. He used the best designers for his typefaces (for example, Robert Granjon’s modern Times New Roman and Claude Garamont’s Garamond), and he ensured no other printer could use them because Plantin literally owned the metal type. Eventually, the company had 90 fonts enabling them to print in a variety of languages, which they did:  Latin (62%), Dutch (14%), French (14%), Greek (5%), Spanish (2%), Hebrew (2%), and ‘Other’ comprised of German, Italian, English, Old Syriac, and Aramaic (1.8%). The typefaces were stored in large wall drawers.

Balthasar, mentioned earlier, went one step further by building a foundry which operated between 1622-60 and 1736-60.

A staff member–who saw us peering at minute type with quizzical expressionswondering how the hell did they do that?!–

kindly explained some of the printing and fonts. He asked us why capital letters were called ‘upper case’? It’s because they stored those less-frequently-used letters in the upper case of the cabinet holding the alphabet of a particular font.

To ease the arm movement of the typesetters they placed the most commonly used letters in the lower center to avoid unnecessary movements.

Plantin’s masterpiece was the Biblia polyglotta or Biblia regia. Under the sponsorship of King Phillip II (who sent theologian Benedictus Arias Montanus to overseer it), this work composed of eight volumes gained international fame. An original set shows the interesting clasps used to bind them.

During our wanderings I discovered quite a few business women assisted in running this business, such as Anna Good (1624-1691)… Anna Maria de Neuf (1654-1714) who grows the business during difficult times… and, Maria Theresa Borrekens (1728-1797) who married François-Jean Moretus.

Nine generations of this family managed to produce amazing work. Edward Moretus (1804-80), grandson of Maria and François-Jean mentioned above, publishing the last book, the breviary of Saint Francis. He sold the house and contents, including a rare musical instrument–a combination of  a harpsichord and virginal (one of the only four known in the world),

to the city who, thankfully, turns it into a museum.

By now my eyes are rolling sloppily in my head and I’m feeling very, very uneducated and, definitely, not very linguistic. But, wow, did this museum exceed all expectations.

It wasn’t all serious pondering. We managed to get into the spirit of it all when I persuaded Max (didn’t take much) to don an outfit of the time…

After lunch at a laundromat (great idea and one my sister and a friend almost started),

we headed for our second museum of the day, RUEBENSHUIS. In actuality, a mansion.

Unlike Plantin’s abode, Peter Paul Rubens’ home didn’t survive the four centuries without major renovations by subsequent owners. The only remaining parts are those Rubens, himself, commissioned:  the garden portico and the garden pavilion, heavily influenced by his study in Rome.

Yet, the ‘house’ Rubens inhabited beginning in 1610 until his death 30 years later definitely felt like he’d been there.

Although he was born to a Calvinist father who fled with his family from the Southern Netherlands to avoid religious persecution, Rubens was raised a Catholic (his mother’s religion) after his father’s death in 1587. With a classical education and apprenticeship to Antwerp’s leading artist, Otto van Veen (1557-1629)– one of Ruben’s earliest paintings (of Adam and Eve) reflects van Veen’s influence with the use of cool blue and green color hues as well as a more static background –

Rubens eventually left for Italy in 1600 where he continued to perfect his talent, marrying the styles of Renaissance to Baroque.

When he returned to Antwerp in 1608 he gained local fame with his 1609 commission Adoration of the Magi for the Town Hall, which found its way to the King of Spain in Madrid in 1628 (now in Madrid’s Prada Museum).

Like Plantin, Rubens obtained the patronage of royalty, the Hapsburg regents Archduke Albert and Archduchess Isabella, enabling him to amass even more wealth. At the time of his death he owned this mansion and several country properties.

His studio became the largest and best known in Europe, helping him to become a superstar at the time of his death.

We learned apprentices would use Rubens’ preliminary oil sketches to do the large scale versions. Then Rubens would fine-tune the most important elements–people and flesh tones. Yet, the master painted the entire piece of his most important commissions.

One of his most successful apprentices was Anthony van Dyck (1599-1641) who became more of a collaborator with Rubens as opposed to pupil. Later considered a rival to his teacher, Van Dyck became a court painter to Charles I in London, who knighted him in 1632. Below is a portrait by van Dyck.

Royalty is definitely one’s ticket to success…

We meandered with a small booklet through rooms showcasing a variety of paintings, Rubens’ as well as his contemporaries’.

Later, in reading about this artist it’s not surprising he became a friend of Plantin and other famous residents of the city. Rubens spoke five languages, was a scholar, a humanist, a diplomat and possessed extraordinary energy.

Speaking of energy, ours was flagging. We had filled our heads with the art of printing and of oil painting, both fields represented by two genuises, one I had heard of and one I hadn’t. Time for that full plate of spaghetti, bed, and home to JUANONA.

With a stop for a libation

in the shadow of the cathedral,

we slowly strolled back to our B&B stopping to gaze at some art along the way.

Unfortunately, we missed touring a third site on our list, the Red Star Line Museum covering the emigration of several million folks to Canada and the United States between 1837 and 1934. We learned afterwards what a mistake this was when two friends told us how rewarding their visit thad been.

Next time, for Antwerp along with Bruges and other historical, thriving places are on our list for repeat visits.

Now, back to JUANONA and prepping her for summer cruising… and a visitor!

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Venice of the North

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BRUGES in French, BRUGGE in Flemish

Sunday-Monday, April 14-15, 2019

To make the most of our out-of-town boat errands we sandwiched between the tasks two Belgium cities we wanted to explore:  Bruges and Antwerp. We had visited the former when visiting with our Belgium family (Ta, Koen, Seppe, Frieke, & Wannes and pup Cuba) in 2002. But, Max didn’t feel well, it was cold, and early Christmas shoppers packed the streets. And, we had missed Antwerp in our previous travels, making it now a prime destination before starting summer cruising.

So, off we drove early Sunday morning, first dropping off Scandinavian cruising guides to some friends in Blankenberge, Belgium then to Bruges.

This once-fortified city was one of the richest in Europe during the Middle Ages thanks to the trade of cloth. And, the city wears this mantle of medieval entitlement well, starting with its stately buildings

and scenic canals, which give Bruges its well-earned descriptor Venice of the North*.

*Another nickname this city earned is Brugse Zotten (The Bruges’ Crazies) from the time of Holy Roman Emperor Maximilian I (1459-1519). Due to his having been held captive here for four months, he denied Bruges the right to hold fairs. The residents tried to appease him with a huge party in his honor. In addition to being allowed to have fairs again as well as levy taxes, the townsmen requested the right to build a madhouse. Reportedly he replied, “Close all the city gates and it is a madhouse”. By the way, the local beer is called Brugse Zot and, since the early 2000s, is sent by pipe out of the city to be bottled, as we saw in the Brewery’s floor.

For an excellent background of Bruges during its medieval period read Dorothy Dunnett’s eight-book series THE HOUSE OF NICCOLIÒ. I hated reaching the last page of the final book. Frankly, I think it would rival “The Game of Thrones” if someone managed to translate her story into a TV show.

But, you can see Bruges on the screen in the film noir “In Bruges” with Colin Farrell. Definitely another worthwhile view of this town, although we later met two travelers who hated it, so consider my recommendations as very subjective.

The history of Bruges and the province of Flanders becomes clear as mud when you start reading about the power struggles between various rulers and wanna-be-rulers over control of this European territory. So, below are excerpts providing a glimpse of this city’s past:

  • The site began as a landing on the Zwijn estuary of the Reie River (Bruges’ name is derived from a Roman bridge over the river). Later flooding of the area created channels as well as a link to the North Sea and an opportunity to increase trade.
  • The town later served as the fortification of Baldwin the Iron Arm (love these names), the count of Flanders, against Vikings/Norman invaders in the 9th century.
  • The House of Burgundy entered into the picture when Count Louis II of Flanders’s heiress Margaret III (1350-1405), the last Countess of Flanders, married Philip the Bold (1342-1404), the youngest son of French King John II and Duke of Burgundy.
  • Due to its monopoly on English wool (considered the finest grade) used in the weaving of Flemish cloth, Bruges became one of the richest European cities during the 13th- and 14th-centuries, along with nearby Ghent and Ypres.  With such a reputation, it’s not surprising to hear of the royals purchasing Flemish tapestries to warm their damp and chilly castles. Some of the most famous and stunning ones- black & white as well as full color -are the Jagiellonian tapestries ordered by Polish Kings Sigismund I & II in the mid-1500s for their Krakow royal residence, the Wawel Castle. Out of the approximately 170 made, miraculously over 100 still remain.
  • The city’s wealth led to internal struggles including one between the guilds and the governing power, resulting in the Brugse Metten (Bruges Matins) May 18, 1302:  guildsmen murdered anyone who couldn’t pronounce the Flemish phrase ’schild en friend’ (shield and friend). A statue in the main square memorializes the two leaders of this revolt, Pieter de Doninck (head of the Weavers Guild) and Jan Breeder (head of the Butchers Guild).

  • Bruges, whose status in the cloth trade attracted the attention of the economic powerhouse, the german Hanseatic League, joined this commercial organization in the 14th century.
  • In the 15th century the Dukes of Burgundy helped foster Bruges’ trade dominance. Not only aristocrats and merchants prospered but also artists, such as  Jan van Eyck (1370-1441) who became the court painter to Philip the Good, Duke of Burgundy (1396-1467) (not sure why he acquired the nickname ‘the good’ but I did read he had at least 18 illegitimate kids so he was obviously good at something besides begetting riches).
  • But, just as water positioned Bruges as a vital trading port on the North Sea, it also took this gift away when the Zwijn waterway began silting up. The Hanseatic League moved to Antwerp with merchants soon following, and by the end of the 15th century Bruges slipped into dormancy.
  • The Eighty Years War (1566-1646) between the Spanish rulers and the Dutch created a split between a Protestant secular governance in the Netherlands and a Catholic royal rule in the Spanish Netherlands (basically, present-day Belgium, Luxembourg, and a part of northern France).
  • Bruges began its revitalization in the 1800s when wealthy tourists discovered this idyllic city wreathed by canals.

  • Spared during German occupations in WWI and II Bruges became a UNESCO site in 2000 and was designated the European City of Culture in 2002.
  • In 2015 the city hosted 7.8 million tourists. A bit overwhelming considering only 20,000 of the just under 120,000 residents inhabit the city center.

Okay, I’m finished with the history lesson, now off to explore.

With less than 24 hours to see the sights we booked a room within easy walking distances of the sites, which isn’t difficult since one can cover the whole area within two hours of walking. We quickly stashed our luggage and exited into medieval times.

Believe it or not, we didn’t tour many museums because we wanted to simply soak up the ambiance during our short stay here. Which meant we strolled the streets in spring sun beginning in the Markt, (the main square) where the Halle with its famous, 83-meter (272 feet) belfry stands.

The belfry was added in 1282 with the octagonal upper section completed 200 years later.

With 366 steps to climb we opted out of that exertion but did peek into the courtyard

and snapped a photo of a photo showing the view if we had climbed all those steps.

Similar to other cities we’ve toured a small carnival plopped itself on the main square flashing colorful lights advertising kiddie rides and games.

All a bit surreal against a backdrop of imposing buildings; yet the modern fair added a light-hearted touch to the surroundings dominated not only by the 13th-century Belfry but also the late 19th-century, Neo-Gothic Provinciall Hof (seat of the provincial government).

Spotting a city tour bus

we hopped on for 50 minutes of a bored driver who would pull up to a site, point his arm and let the multi-lingual headphones provide their limited commentary. The only time he smiled occurred as we were exiting next to the tip jar.

Just to give you an idea of the throngs milling about this spring day (foretelling the mob scenes to come as spring turns into summer), I took a photo out of the window:

Not too informative of a ride but it did provide an opportunity for our picking out where we’d want to go next.

And, two sites we selected centered on the importance of religion (not unusual since churches seem to sprout like mushrooms in these medieval towns), the first being Onze Lieve Vrouwekerk (aka O.L.V.-Kerk, aka The Church of Our Lady)

Built on a plot inhabited by previous churches (first from the 9th-century, followed by a Romanesque one in the 12th-century) the current structure began 1210 in the Gothic style and continued birthing additional parts (steeple tower, chapels, etc.) into the 16th and 17th centuries. Bizarrely (to me) in the 18th century, after the French Revolution, the church was for sale resulting in the parishioners buying it back.

During the centuries saintly relics, those pilgrim magnets, i.e., money-makers, pumped up attendance and the church’s coffers insuring O.L.V.’s religious importance. But, entering structures of this magnitude with their soaring ceilings and impressive decor, such as the 12 apostles lining the main aisle of the nave, one doesn’t need dead people’s organs to feel spirituality hovering in the air.

Today the church serves as a museum with one of its most notable pieces being the statue ‘Madonna and Child’ by Michelangelo Buonarotti (1475-1564). Commissioned by a Cardinal who later became Pope Pius III for the main alter of Siena, Italy’s cathedral, it ended up as a gift by Bruges merchant Jan Mouscron to O.L.V.

Because you can’t get within less than 20 feet of this guarded piece of art (I zoomed in to capture the image above), there’s an unimpressive duplicate, although, that, too, is encased in a glass box. When I noticed Max peering at it, I pointed to the real one. He was happy to hear it wasn’t the original as he didn’t think the copy looked too great. (Nor did this statue replace Michelangelo’s Pieta as his all-time favorite.)

The need for security is understandable considering the statue was stolen in 1794 during the French Occupation, returned in 1816 following the Peace of Vienna, only to be seized by the Nazis in 1945, then found along other priceless pieces of art in an Austrian salt mine. And, it was placed back in its original site for paying visitors to now see.

Other notable work catching my eye included:

two elaborate oaken confessionals carved over two years in High Baroque style (1697-98)…

two ceremonial tombs of Mary of Burgundy (1457-1482) who died falling off her horse and whose husband, Holy Roman Emperor Maximilian of Austria (1459-1519), commissioned this tomb in 1502 with her son, Philip the Fair (1478-1506), adding the gilt-work,

all on top of her bricked-in remains (empty burial tomb seen below through glass floor)

and lying nearby is Charles the Bold (1433-1477), Duke of Burgundy who died at the Battle of Nancy, in the other glittery tomb after Charles V brought his remains to Bruges in 1558 and his son,  Philip II (who fought William I of the Netherlands for control of the Low Countries during the 80-year war) commissioned this one in 1562.

Unlike Michelangelo’s statue these monuments were safely squirreled away during the French Revolution only to be returned in 1806, and you could get with ten feet of them…

The pulpit created in the mid-1700s features a woman (‘Faith’) sitting on a globe who’s proclaiming the ‘Good News’ while holding the proverb “Understand what is wise, O ye of little wisdom; listen, and I will tell you many great things; for what passes my lips is righteous and true”, obviously what’s true has something to do with Jesus or God and not advertising Burger King’s Impossible Whopper…

finally, lots of paintings hung on the walls with one, to me, of the most striking being ‘The Crucifixion’ attributed to Antoon van Djick (1599-1641).

 

Of course, we can not not tour something with even a whisper of an MDT (Max Disaster Tour ), and we found one of those in The Basilica of the Precious Blood (a 19th-century photo of this building appears earlier in this post)

The Chapel sits on the 9th-century fortification occupied by the first count of Flanders, Baldwin Iron Arm.

Crusading Count Thierry of Alsace (1099-1168) built a Romanesque, two-story chapel. Dedicated to St. Basil, the lower chapel creates a sombre and muted atmosphere with its unadorned stone walls and dim lighting,

while the upper story, added in 1530’s, matches the exterior with regards to ornate architectual elements. With no flash allowed some of my photos, as you’ll see, are unfortunately blurry but will give you a hint of the richness within these walls.

And, it’s in the Upper Chapel where one can witness and partake of the bizarre, daily ritual of parading past a cylindrical vial holding some of Jesus’ blood; and, those who know me can probably imagine my eye roll at that bit of ‘truth’. But, hearing this event would occur in 15 minutes we decided to take one of the seats in a small area (seen below) off to the right of the main altar (seen above) to get our dose of sacredness.

Supposedly the Patriarch of Jerusalem bestowed this valuable bit of Jesus to Count Thierry, a fanatical crusader, to thank him for his bravery during the Second Crusade (1147-49).

However, later research indicates the relic most likely came to Bruges from Constantinople in the early 13th century. Oh well, at least the Jesus’ blood part is true…

By the time the relic made its appearance on the altar, a guard motioned people, by now standing as well as sitting in front of the altar, to begin lining up one by one. When my turn came I climbed the eight steps or so, approached the relic, smiled at the woman overseeing it, then dropped my eyes to see a stained bit of cloth.

A bit anti-climatic for me but I can only imagine how powerful this must be for those who believe in it.

However, for me, all I can imagine is the power of the all-mighty coin; yet, to be fair, surprisingly we were not charged extra to see the relic.

When not being brought out for 30 minutes of homage by tourists such as ourselves, the encapsulated blood resides in a gold and silver, gem-encrusted reliquary.

The highlight of this worship occurs every Ascension Day (when Christ finally goes to Heaven 40 days after his resurrection).

After our holy episode, it was time to leave Bruge, but not without gazing once more at this sumptuous jewel of a Medieval city and saying to one another, we’d love to come back. Only this time I can skip the blood.

And, that ends our 24-hour stroll through this medieval treasure.

Next, Antwerp!

 

 

 

Back in the water… well, sort of

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HOORN

Wednesday-Sunday, April 10-14, 2019

On Tuesday we left a snow-covered Orr’s Island

to catch the bus to Boston and fly to Amsterdam a day earlier than planned due to a last-minute booking on Aer Lingus (our WOW tickets went belly-up with the airlines, and we’ll miss the inexpensive fares but not the lack of amenities!).

We trained back to Hoorn where an artistic display and much appreciated gift of breakfast food from our Dutch family, Deborah, Thijs, and Tika, welcomed us,

a thoughtfulness we’ve received from them several times over, as Tika’s handmade cards attest.

We’ll miss them and others, such as Maartje and Ingo with whom we’ve spent some time. One issue with cruising comes from making friends and then having to leave them. At least there’s digital communication now for keeping in touch.

Within 24 hours JUANONA acquired a live-aboard atmosphere always enhanced with fresh flowers. Spring is here and summer is coming!

But, what really got us back into the cruising mode was an impromptu social hour(s) with some neighbors, owners of a brand new catamaran they designed and just launched.

The three guys in the photo met in school while studying engineering and have kept in touch since then in spite of one living in the Philippines, another in France, and one here in Holland. And, what’s really wonderful is they are only one-fifth of a larger group who frequently gather for class reunions.

I had stopped to talk with them earlier in the day due to noticing their new boat but not seeing a port of call or name on her. They pointed out they did have a name, “H”, written in band-aids on the stern.

Seeing my quizzical look they explained the logistics…. With the Christening and name application occurring Saturday they needed a quick fix to comply with the Dutch requirement that all vessels sport a name. Since all are engineers I have no doubt they used waterproof band-aids.

The next morning I met Deborah at Jesse’s cafe, Het Koffielokaal.

As my friends know, these type of establishments become a mental and physical haven for me when boat living. I found Jesse’s just after he opened in the fall of 2018. And, how I got to know him was due to my totally spacing out and forgetting to pay the first time I was there. As you can read below he graciously accepted my apology. Since then it’s been my go-to place in Hoorn for writing enveloped in the comfort of peaceful and friendly coffee aromas.

Het Koffielokaal is where Deborah and I rendezvous if not at her home or on JUANONA, and this morning we stayed for several hours talking about our winters. She’s the co-author of a book informing how to get a better night’s sleep (September 2018). She’s on the fourth reprint, so it’s slowly but surely picking up momentum. I just wish it was in English.

Knowing boat errands would limit our time in Hoorn we planned a Saturday dinner aboard JUANONA with the piece de résistance being

Tika demonstrating how to crown Max with extra hair…

Sunday we left for those boat errands, one being to drop off the life raft for its three-year inspection in Rotterdam and another leaving Scandinavian guides for some cruisers in Blankenberge, Belgium. In between we managed to explore two other places in Belgium, both of which I’ll cover in later blogs (oh, lucky you.. but, you may want to scan one of them because our B&B owner in Antwerp is a superb host).

MONNICKENDAM

Friday-Sunday, April 19-21, 2019

After a too-brief catch-up Thursday night with our friends Richard and Linda from England (pictured 2nd and 3rd from the left in the August 2018 photo on the Danish Island of Møns), we prepped JUANONA for her 2019 inaugural sail to our haul-out port 11 miles south the next morning.

What made this voyage truly memorable, and poignant, was our crew-Deborah, Thijs, and Tika. Memorable, because we were leaving a port we’d called home for the past three winters,

and poignant because our time with our Dutch family was counted in hours, not days or months or years. If Thijs hadn’t stopped by our boat May 2016 when we were tied to the wall in the old harbor we never would have thought of wintering in their small, volunteer club. So, you can understand how wonderfully apt it was to have them aboard for our last sail out of Hoorn.

Tika served often as both photographer

and helmsman (helmswoman?).

We reached 7 knots speed in 10-15 knots of wind on the beam (perpendicular to the boat) in a gentle sail. In short, a glorious day on the water :)

Within two hours we had arrived at Monnickendam, an old Dutch town we had visited a few years ago with our friend Anne (March 2017).

With their bus to catch and our organizing for haul-out, we had to say good-bye to our friends, something I never enjoy. Like removing a bandaid, it’s best to just rip it off and then not think about it until later. They’ve been our home port and close friends since 2016. We’ve sung ‘Do re mi’ cycling through Hindeloopen, shared many a meal both on land and water, seen Tika grow into a teenager, and traveled in conversations through many topics. The hugs were powerful reminders of what we were leaving behind, but also what we’ll have when we meet again.

The next day we motored the short distance to the lift for haul-out with Max watching a competent team of two at Marina Monnickendam handle the crane…

and later power washing the hull.

It’s been three years since we’ve had her out of the water and we were pleasantly surprised to see relatively little marine life adhered to her.

The two winters in Ipswich’s brackish water and the three in Hoorn’s fresh water kept barnacles to a minimum. In 2015 and 2016 we managed to remove the one-year growth with an hour of gentle sponging by hand. However, this time a forceful spray managed to remove all the algae within ten minutes. A nice reprieve for our four arms.

 

 

 

 

 

Next, a ladder delivered by, what else, but a bicycle…

and on Easter morning we were ready to start the work of preparing JUANONA for a summer cruise:  with Max working on the garboard drain hole (water drips down the mast into the bilge, which can freeze during the winter if on land; the garboard allows it to drain),

and my doing some laundry…

thanks to our new crew member:

Now, with just a few more days and nights ‘on the hard’ * we’ll be back in the water and primed for summer!

But, not before we celebrate with a chocolate Easter bunny from Tika! :)

*’Hard’ in nautical terms means being on the land versus in the water. For me, it means trying to remember NOT to brush one’s teeth only to realize you can’t spit it out in the sink since it’d just drain out of one of the seacocks, dropping eight feet or so to splatter on the pavement for all to see. Don’t ask me how they got THAT term but I will tell you a seacock allows water to drain out of the boat such as from a faucet, as well as into the boat such as for a saltwater sink. And, if you’re wondering, toothpaste water is not a pleasant nightcap…

 

Wintery Holiday: Finale

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Tallinn

December 26, 2018 – January 2, 2019

Deciding to extend our time in the Baltic we researched the best way to reach Tallinn (Estonian for ‘Danish Town/Fortress’), Estonia’s capital and another Old Town jewel. A bus seemed to be the fastest and the easiest, so we purchased tickets and the next day experienced an extremely comfortable, four-hour ride outfitted with reclining seats, plenty of legroom, and individual screens with Wifi.

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