Definitely feeling blind (which is one of the translations for this channel’s name) as we carefully motored our way in dense fog through what is described as southern Norways most scenic cruising grounds. At one point I turned to Max and said thank god you’re familiar with this having grown up in Maine. Me, I’d drop anchor at the first possible cove and wait for the sun to come out.
After three nights tied to a pontoon both we and JUANONA yearned for another anchorage. Mandal had provided the perfect location for provisioning, walking, catching up via the Internet, and conversing with others; but, dropping the hook in a secluded cove surrounded by mom nature offers a welcome balance to the hustle and busyness of towns and cities.
I’ll just preference these summer posts with an overall impression: southern Norway provides an extremely different cruising experience than our adventures on the west coast during the summers of 2015 and 2016. There, we found dramatic scenery and sparse harbors, whereas here brings to mind a Maine summer with shared anchorages and bustling towns. Case in point: we’ve seen and met more yachties in our first week in southern Norway than we did in our previous two summers combined.
Each type of cruising provides memories we hold onto, and in both, those memories remind us once again how lucky we a
We cast off our lines from Farsund where we landed two days prior from the Netherlands.
Winds still not favorable, so on to our next Hanseatic port city: Bremen; but, first a sobering stop along the way outside of Hamburg. We wanted to see Neuengamme, a concentration camp we’d never heard of before.
With Danielle on her way to new adventures we readied JUANONA for our next port, a Friesian Island off the northern coast of Netherlands. Having stopped at Vlieland Island going to/returning from Norway last summer we opted to explore a bigger one just to the east.
Another crew member hopped aboard JUANONA Tuesday night, an adventurous free spirit with her feet on the ground and now on the water.
“Wait? You can go anywhere you want in the Netherlands for free if you have a specific book?!”, which is what we asked our friends Maartje and Ingo at dinner one night. And, their answer was ‘yes’ with the explanation of why and how.
On the road again…, which is that tune playing through my head as I we head north from Orr’s Island to Canada. Because of the Schengen Visa restrictions in Europe we had to get out of Dodge. So, for the next couple months we’re in the states taking care of business and doing a bit of road travel to Canada.
At this point the only scheduled events were the interviews for our Global Online Enrollment System (GOES) applications at the Canada-US border, a hotel reservation in North Sydney, Nova Scotia, and a ferry reservation from North Sydney, Nova Scotia, to Port aux Basques, Newfoundland. Plus, we hoped to connect with the Harmons, a sailing couple who purchased Max’s family’s boat, MAJEK, in 2001, and, if possible, Max’s cousins, the Lambs who live in Nova Scotia.
Arriving an hour early for our GOES appointments, we knew we had arrived in the more relaxed and hospitable country of Canada when the customs guys said not a problem, come on in. Ironically, we had tried to schedule our interviews in Boston only to find out the next available slots were in March 2017. Looking at other sites, this border town popped up and, voila, plenty of slots. And, that’s why we ended up sitting in front of our interviewer who was a Laser sailor and travelled to the Bahamas. He mentioned just that week he’d interviewed people from South Carolina, Maryland, and New Hampshire for the same reasons we had scheduled ours here. Even if Boston interviews became available it’s worth the drive just to be cleared by these guys.
After 20 minutes we were approved and on our way to the Harmons, whom we’d emailed earlier to see if they were around for a quick visit to see MAJEK. They had invited us for dinner and to stay the night, and how wonderful that was! Not only did we get to see Bev and Doug but also their lovely daughter Erin and her three children, Tom, Ian, and Maeve who were just as enchanting as their mom and grandparents.
Bev and Doug’s home catches one eye, and not only due to the beautiful lines of the architecture but also the pastoral scene greeting you when you step inside and see the upper St John riverscape stretching in front of you. I couldn’t help but let out a happy sigh as I gazed down a meadow to the river flowing right in front of their property.
Doug took Max and me out to MAJEK moored in this pastoral scene. Doug who’s a woodworker and carpenter had totally refurbished the boat, and, boy, did this 50-year-old boat look beautiful:
As we looked around below, some items really hit home such as his dad’s handwriting on back of a locker cover
and a wooden key holder a ten-year-old Max made copying his dad’s mahogany ones.
But, what really meant the most was knowing how well loved MAJEK was by current owners, Doug and Bev.
Returning back to their home we gathered on their patio overlooking the river
while the kids occupied themselves with their curiosity and creativeness.
Later we feasted on grilled chicken, homemade bread and strawberry salad (which Bev kindly gave me the recipe). The next morning we sampled luscious strawberry jam Bev and Erin had made then set off after hugs all around and the hope of catching up again in Maine before too much time goes by.
The road ran pretty much straight to Nova Scotia where we spent Saturday exploring a few spots. We awoke to a blue crisp sky and warm sun, which prompted us to set off for Baddeck, a small town on Bras d’Or Lake (called Golden Arms due to brilliant sunsets over the water). Three years prior Max had joined Finn Perry here aboard his beautiful 46 foot sloop named Elskov. From Baddeck Finn, Max, and two others sailed up the coast of Labrador and into Hudson Strait, an area seldom visited by yachts. Max returned to work from Kimmirut, while the boat with fresh crew continued as far as Cape Dorset.
Down the road was a small museum on the Scottish-born Alexander Graham Bell (1847-1922) who, with his wife Mabel, moved here in the late 1800s after being charmed by the area’s beauty in 1885. They built a house and a laboratory where Bell along with assistants continued his scientific explorations.
Situated in a small building perched on a hillside, the museum served as a picnic spot as well as host to this man’s fascinating life.
And what a fabulous life he and his wife created! Artifacts and photographs illustrated the storyline, beginning with Alexander’s birth and early years and relating his achievements throughout his life with his wife Mabel as his lifelong partner. They were devoted to one another, a love so strong and comfortable you can’t miss it when gazing at photos of the two of them.
I had no knowledge of anything about Bell other than his patent for the telephone so it was with awe I learned more about this warm and brilliant man. Some things really made a lasting impression on me:
I would have loved to have sat at their dining room table and hear their conversations. At least I had a tantalizing glimpse into their lives, however brief.
Our day ended with a drive partway up the Cabot Trail where we spotted more watery vistas, only this time across an ocean.
At a lookoff (which is what we call ‘lookouts’) I spotted a familiar sight, which always brings to mind my brother Cammy, his wife Carmen and their sons and daughters-in-law.
After in-the-blink-of-an-eye ferry ride
we returned to our hotel with the makings for dinner, breakfast and the next day’s lunch. Tomorrow, Newfoundland!
After a dinner of take-out pizza and salad watching the Olympics, we arose Monday morning for a breakfast of stashed apples (and cold pizza for Max) to head to our first foray into Newfoundland’s storied small-town experiences. And, we landed in one thanks to our friends Tim and Joanne who heard about Rose Blanche from John and Margo.
Of course, there’s always something acting up with a car when the whole trip revolves around using one. Fortunately, it was only a slowly leaking tire from a nail that a friendly mechanic fixed right on the spot. Max perked right up upon seeing the bill: a grand total of $14.95 Canadian.
On our way out to town we did our usual stop at the Tourist Information Office. We’d done our typical ‘we’ll just wing it and find places along the way’. Well, that’s fine traveling off-season, our usual choice, but not during prime summer vacation season. Fortunately, we had two helpful and very patient young woman who worked with us and were most likely happy to see the backs of us.
And, so began our Newfie experience of which I’ll highlight some of our explorations over the next three weeks…
Reaching the town identified as a typical fishing harbor village we noticed ‘welcome home’ signs posted on houses and streaming pennants decorating buildings. Thinking if was a greeting for a soldier we later discovered every summer different towns throughout Newfoundland hold community festivities in anticipation of emigrants returning to their hometowns. Unfortunately, we missed any parties in the towns hosting these welcomes but it was pretty wonderful to think of the celebrations during such gatherings. Probably a good thing as we would have been two Americans going around echoing ‘eh?’.
Known for its lighthouse constructed 1871-73 of local granite, this building was an easy stroll from our B&B. Over its 70 years of operation, five lighthouse keepers lived in several small rooms under the tower. At one time, there were 18 (!) people living here comprised of the keeper, his wife, their eight children and the wife’s sister and six of her 11 children. They said a wooden building was added on. Frankly, even living on a 40-foot boat 24×7 with Max the idea of sharing that small of an enclosure with that many people would make me, well, would NOT make me a cheerful person.
Stopping for a short hike to a cove we made it to this small city-town up the west coast where we spotted a paper pulp and paper mill (something one rarely sees in Maine these days) and drove up a hill to see the James Cook memorial. Wondering why the connection to this South Seas explorer a little tickle of a memory began. I very faintly recalled his surveying skills from visiting a small museum on the east coast of England, a home where he lived as an apprentice, seaman and master’s mate to a Quaker ship captain, John Walker.
This South Seas sailor who, for me, was more associated with hot vs. cold weather sailing, actually received the commission to captain the Pacific exploration aboard ENDEAVOR due to his surveying of Newfoundland’s west coast.
So, here in Corner Brook, Newfoundland, he is remembered for the accuracy of his charts, still used today. Hence, us and an arriving busload of tourists gazing at his statue.
We were lucky in that the weather forecast of rain turned out to be just a little spitting then cleared as we drove up to one of Newfoundland’s most spectacular parks, Gros Morne. Located on the west coast mid-way up this spot of nature is woven with hikes, from easy to difficult. Looking through the literature we ended up on a fabulous guided tour of the Tablelands, one of the most accessible views of the earth’s mantle.
The guide named Trevor turned out to be a young man who thoroughly entertained the 50+ people who gathered around him at key spots during the 1.5 hour walk.
Not only did he explain the unusual geology but also to some of the flora, which had adapted to the heavy-metal, i.e., toxic, soil by becoming carnivorous (think Venus Fly Trap).
Further education about the park’s landscape and underpinnings was found in the Discovery Center where we spent about an hour strolling through the self-guided tour.
Heading back to Corner Brook we stopped at the Insectarium, a site I thought would be somewhat of a yawn and eye-roll; but, it was fascinating!
I shudder at the horror of imagining being in contact with creepy-crawlies yet am drawn to just staring at them… through a protective barrier, of course.
The young guides enthusiastically informed us of various insects, one being the millipede (a much calmer and friendlier multi-legged creature than its frightening cousin, the centipede).
The insectarium, one of three in Canada, hosted a large see-through bee hive, one in which the queen recently left with a swarm to find another hive (too crowded in this one). Again, another opportunity to be hypnotized by insects.
Butterfly chrysalis hung behind a glass window where we could watch any hatching that might occur during our visit. We didn’t see any (usually a one-to-two-second birth followed by several hours of wing-drying) but still stood peering in at these crepe-covered larvae. And, my husband did his best to encourage them to hatch in front of our eyes.
And, no, it didn’t work.
Returning to Corner Brook we spent one more night then headed north again with a stop and walk to Gros Morne’s fresh-water fjord, the Western Brook Arm. Arriving at the end of an easy 45-minute walk we gravitated to the deck where a riverboat offered an enticing two-hour tour. We opted out but it looked mighty fine.
Just north of where we were staying we found another easy trail at Hawkes Bay (named after Admiral Hawkes by the surveyor James Cook). This path commemorated the actions of a newfoundlander ranger named John Hogan. It all began on May 8, 1943, in Labrador when he caught a ride home on a small plane only to have it fill with smoke and start losing altitude. Along with the other passengers, Hogan parachuted out landing safely but alone and in dense woods. Being a ranger he used his wilderness skills and began making his way to the coast over the next two days. However, in spotting footprints in the snow he found a fellow passenger whose feet had frozen making progress painful and, ultimately, impossible. They did manage to hole up in some cabins but had to wait out the spring thaw, which made traveling across water unsafe.
For 52 days they survived on Hogan’s snaring of a few rabbits, his gathering any berries uncovered by melting snow, and the brewing of herbal tea. Finally on June 25, a survey team spotted them and Hogan and his companion were rescued.
The path followed the Torrent River, a 100-mile stretch of water,
and where we visited the Torrent River Salmon Interpretation Centre and Fishway. In spite of viewing five minutes of a famous salmon fisherman tying flies and catching a fish, we both enjoyed our short walk through the exhibit. Boards explained how the river’s salmon eventually lost their ability to head upstream to spawn due to the destruction of their habitat by the logging industry. Even though Fisheries and Oceans Canada (DFO) twice tried to correct the problem, the salmon population continued to decline.
Eventually, it was a community leader and businessman who raised local and tourist awareness of this issue, resulting in the rebuilding of the fish ladder installed by DFO.
Just like the insectarium, watching these salmon gird themselves for the final push was mesmerizing. So, gaze we did. I could easily have fallen into a stupor. At least I didn’t drool.
Another day we headed to Port aux Choix, the site of the first inhabitants of this island, the Maritime Archaic people who lived here around 4,400 years ago. When the climate got colder, the Paleoeskimoes came down from Labrador and Baffin Island, and eventually the folks across the pond landed here: Vikings around 1,000 C.E.; then, the French and English in 1500s.
All of the above took advantage of the rich sea life of seals and whales in addition to the meat on hoofs, paws and claws, such as moose, caribou, fox, hares, birds. Unfortunately, a flightless seabird, the Great Auk, became popular as food and bait, and was hunted to death in the 1800s (more like slaughtered due to their defenselessness), the last one killed in 1844. (Imagine having a specific year for the extinction of an entire species? Thank you, mankind or, more appropriately, inhumane human.)
Must say the small cultural centers dotting the roadsides are well set up. It’s so easy to zoom by or pooh-pooh them since they look as if they hardly have any information worth seeing; yet, after visiting these exhibits I’ve usually exchanged my ‘why stop there?’ to ‘did you know about that?’.
Max checked out the water temperature and found it not too cold, which has been the case whenever we’ve gauged the waters around here.
We’ve also noticed how deserted many side sites seem to be, which makes this exploring easy with so few visitors but also a bit lonely since no one to share some of these highlights. But, as you can see, we’re really enjoying oh Canada :)
After deciding to camp this coming week, we decided to air out the sleeping bags and tent that Natalie Shiras so graciously lent us. Not being a true camper who wants to rush out and embrace the wilderness, I eyed these accommodations with a skeptical eye with Max’s puzzled expression only adding to the fear of finding ourselves sleeping on top of the structure, not in it.
But, figure it out he did; so we repacked it all and stowed it in the car as we organized our gear for leaving the next morning.
A six-house car-ride later we landed at the tip of the Northern, western peninsula at L’Anse aux Meadows (a bastardized version of the original French name, named after a ship ’Anse a la Medea’ ). This is one of the two Newfoundland UNESCO sites, Gros Morne National Park being the other. Here we were led through the sod-covered depressions where an outpost of the Norsemen scouted out resources for Greenland, such as timber for ships and iron ore for tools and weaponry.
Reconstructions of dwellings and huts were situated close to the original sites. Bricks of peat formed foot-thick walls with roofs of sod for further insulation.
It’s actually the smelting of iron ore that provides proof of the Europeans reaching North America because in the late 10th and early 11th centuries the locals at that time hadn’t worked with iron prior to the Norsemen.
With an excellent guide we learned that this was definitely not a settlement because too few people lived here (only 100 or so when a settlement to survive required at least 500). He also stressed that these were the Norse, not Vikings because the term ‘viking’ should be used as a verb for ‘raiding’, not applied as a noun to identify Scandinavians at that time.
The amount of knowledge and his way of imparting it made me wish, once again, we could share a meal with him just to hear more about the history of this land. He carefully selected what he felt was true, saying much of what historians have learned comes from matching archaeological artifacts with the old Scandinavian sagas while taking into account probably poetic licensing occurring. He also reminded me a wee bit of Al Pacino.
But, then again, maybe you had to be there to see the resemblance…
The night before Max had found a lookout for whales and icebergs (being in Iceberg Alley we had spotted one way off in the distance the day before at L’Anse aux Meadows). Not seeing any more big blocks of floating cubes but spotting the languid arching of whales through the waters, we decided to return with our morning coffee and rolls. No whales but definitely a lovely post for sipping morning brew.
Today’s drive was taking us to another noted location for icebergs and whales: Twilingate. Perched on an island on the central coast, this, too, was part of Iceberg Alley. We had read that the current brings these huge ice cubes down along this coast after breaking off from Greenland two years prior. The season for seeing icebergs and whales close to shore is usually April/May-June/July; so, we were fortunate to actually see an iceberg and some whales the day before.
Our destination of the night was to be our first camping experience on this trip located at Dildo Run Provincial Park. Yes, a bit odd.
And, what we discovered is what our friends Tim & Joanne had told us the day before we left that camping here is glorious. And, it is! Thank you, Natalie!
At least when it’s not raining, which it did in the middle of the night into the morning. Pouring is a better description…
We survived, as did the tent and, after a soggy start, we need up with a brilliant hot day where we met two locals who owned a garage and heavy-equipment business. They told us some spots to check out, one being Dover Fault, the location of the splitting of Pangea when the Atlantic Ocean formed between two new continents.
Wishing we could spend more time with them, we drove an hour south along the coast to Dover where we met two more locals, a grandmother and her grandson picking blueberries. The bushes were loaded with those berries. Just look at what they had picked in 20 minutes.
Max and I managed to munch on handfuls when climbing to the lookout in spite of telling myself I’d try to save some for later. And, of course, we couldn’t pass one of these by, which, uncharacteristically, my husband opted out of…
Another geological wonder greeted us as we gazed upon the town’s coastline.
The diagrams provide the best description I’ve read to-date, so I’ll just post it here for anyone interested and for anyone who’s not a geologist.
Back in the car we completed our five-hour, round-trip drive but not before being entertained by a traffic controller along a stretch of highway. First, let me just assure you the accident that had occurred causing the stop-and-go traffic looked bad but didn’t appear to cause serious injuries to the driver. Secondly, it’s not often you get your traffic controller fighting for your right to proceed.
What was happening was our guy was stopping cars while the other one way off in the distance was letting his through. After five minutes, our guy seemed to be getting a little antsy, and after ten he was definitely ready to let his stream of vehicles go. But, his partner down the highway wasn’t cooperating as car after car kept on coming our way.
Being first in line we had a great view as first our guy looked at us as if to say, ‘do you believe that knucklehead?!’,
then started walking towards his fellow controller while screaming his name and waving his STOP sign/SLOW sign back and forth, which must have really confused the vehicles approaching our end.
Finally, he just turned back to us and said,… well, you may be able to hear it :)
Ending back at Dildo Run (can’t believe the Park Service actually kept that name), we feasted on some pre-cooked ribs and corn on the cob (although, hot dogs would have been more appropriate fare)
while a rainbow peeked out
and a fire-flamed night put us to bed.
How can anyone beat Mom Nature?
More camping but now back to the premier park of Newfoundland, which we briefly visited from our stay in Corner Brook earlier in the trip.
Wanting to camp, we selected one of the sites on the ocean (I’m a firm believer that any breeze we can capture would help keep bugs at bay, plus, the sound of the surf is glorious) and proceeded to cook some chicken over the fire (it was good) before crawling into our nylon, home-away-from-home.
Once again the scope of all of this national park spreads across a huge acreage (697 sq mi.). And, similar to our last visit we only walked-hiked to a few sites noted as ‘best of’.
One of these was Green Point, a geological destination identified in 2000 by the International Commission of Straitgraphy as one of the determining sites marking the distinction between two eras from multi-million years ago: Cambian (595 million years ago) and Ordovician (492 million years ago).
Gros Morne is comprised of so many geological wonders, such as the Tablelands we toured during our first visit to the park. There we saw one of the best examples of the earth’s mantle. Now we were looking at ancient pieces of the earth’s sedimentary sea floor tilted on its side due to the converging of two primeval continents. We learned that on average, 1 meter of rock represented 60,000 years worth of sediment buildup. The older layers are on the right, meaning the earth has been folded up like an accordion past 90 degrees. On a guided tour we took the following day we learned about some of the theories that explain various layers. We also joined fellow tourists in seeking evidence of some of earth’s earliest life forms: Iapetognathus fluctivagus and Graptolites. Several of our fellow tourists found the imprints of these ancient creatures in pieces of shale that had recently broken off. We found it pretty exciting to discover the evidence of life from 492 Million years ago.
That evening our 15th anniversary dinner was comprised of grilled hot dogs with some vegetables a wee bit past their prime… all hurriedly assembled ahead of forecasted rain.
Max played caveman and started the fire while I noticed a young woman seemingly solo quickly trying to assemble her tent. I asked if she was alone (affirmative) and if she’d like help (double affirmative). In lightening speed she instructed me what went where and her tent mushroomed into the appropriate shape. I asked if she’d like to join us for dinners (warning her it was hotdogs), and Kayla came over with a bag of salad she’d been planning on eating since rain would have made fire-starting a bit of a trial.
Over a grilled dinner followed by mistakenly baked s’mores, we discovered Kayla was a social worker originally from Prince Edward Island now working in Ottawa, Ontario. We also found out she was an alumnae of Bishop College, the same school some friends had attended. Kayla enjoyed traveling solo, which recently included Peru, Nepal, and India.
She apologized for talking nonstop for the first 30 minutes due to having been alone since landing in St. John’s the previous Sunday; yet, her verbal travelogue made for wonderful story-telling so she entertained us as she slowly unwound. At that point, night had fallen and rain had begun so the three of us scattered to our respective tents for a drenching, blowy evening of a downpour.
Waking up to just some remnants of the night’s torrential water fall, we made a beeline for the breakfast place we’d located the previous morning. Then attended both the Green Point ranger tour and one on medicinal plants given by a native who learned them from his grandparents. And, both were fascinating. I mean, really fascinating. Max says he wants to come back in his next life as a geologist. Me, I’d like to be a medicine woman. It was so cool how weeds and trees are like a pharmacy in one’s own backyard. If anyone decides to visit this park, be sure to show up for any of the ranger guided tours.
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An overnight ferry from Port Aux Basques retraced our steps to North Sydney, Nova Scotia. If only we had known we would have brought our sleeping bags and pillows up from the car deck. We loaded at 15 minutes before midnight to arrive at around 7:00 am the next morning. And, within one hour the seating area (large reclining chairs set in groups of two, three, and four facing several tvs offering a range of programming) the place was a mass of sleeping bodies slumped in chairs and on the floors. At one point it was a cacophony of snores that was comical.
If one can block out the disruptive snorts, snuggles, and snuffles, it’s marvelous how different noses and throats can perform so many vocal variations upon a theme of sleeping. There must be some evolutionary purpose for these noises. What, I don’t know, except to irritate others who can’t sleep.
Debarking we wound our way to Max’s cousins. Their home sitting above a lake in Nova Scotia offers a farm haven. With clucking chickens, gobbling turkeys, buzzing bees, lush vegetable patches, and exuberant flowers decorating the house it was a wonderful contrast to the drizzly campground we had left the day before.
John, Alison,
their daughter Bella
and Giorgia, a young English woman participating in WOOFER, inhabited this lovely home. A quiet young man, Austin, appeared with Giorgia throughout the days, helping with daily tasks including raking some blueberries and picking a bucket full of plump blackberries.
Plus, a little dog, named Tivvy, frolicked around our feet. A veritable, Wizard-of-Oz Toto this pup makes friends quickly. I have no doubt Alison wouldn’t be wrong to check every exiting visitor’s luggage in case they just happened to kidnap Tivvy. I know I was tempted.
For two sunny days we enjoyed being amidst the warmth that can’t help but spring from this hive of activity as chickens were fed,
turkeys shooed into their pens,
a spider removed from the bee hives,
squash patch weeded,
and lively discussions shared at meals.
Yet, in spite of all that was occurring, I always felt enveloped by a peace.
What a wonderful family, and what a wonderful way to end our Canadian adventure :)
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Having gone bow-in through silty mud to rest at our mooring in Hindeloopen we now were backing out without the least bit of noticeable resistance (possibly our keel plowed a trench on the way in?). In this Disney-movie-set-of-a-town we had savored our time spent biking, walking, training (as in locomotives), and being with friends while meeting new ones.
Craving one last anchorage before we headed to Enkhuizen, we opted for a cove off a nature reserve, one our friend Thijs had suggested. We crossed the IJselmeer watching the depth as most of this large lake averages between 10-12 feet, a bit disconcerting when JUANONA draws six-and-a-half feet.
Our approach to our anchoring spot took us through three fleets of racing boats. We managed to snap some photos on the downwind leg of the race with colorful spinnakers puffed out like rounded bellies as the boats screamed through the water.
Later we discovered we had landed next door to a Regatta Center hosting the World Championship of the “29er” class of boats. [If you want more info on those, please google as I’m completely ignorant of them except to know it takes two people–typically young and very fit (du-uh)–to sail one boat… the boats aren’t huge… they are fast… and, I’d love to be on one, as a passenger….]
As we entered the cove we slowly inched our way forward passing red-buoy markers, touching bottom once, until reaching a comfortable depth for anchoring. Here we breathed a sigh of contentment as we gazed around, mentally sending thanks to Thijs for his recommendation of this pastoral anchorage.
For four days we stayed on the hook, rowing into the public dock for walks into town, scrubbing and waxing JUANONA’s hull and deck, and simply relishing being our own little island surrounded by nature. We even enjoyed hearing the thunder booms from an incoming storm, one of the few we’ve experienced this entire summer.
Yesterday we pulled up anchor to sail the 10 miles to Enkhuizen where JUANONA will stay while we head home for a bit.
Our 2016 summer cruising may be coming to an abbreviated end, but with so many rich memories. Being in more populated regions than last summer, we saw numerous museums and other really fascinating cultural sites; and, of course, the wildness of Norway’s coastline and islands and the tamed beauty of the Netherlands captivated us.
Yet, the most memorable times involved the wonderful folk with whom we’ve had the pleasure of sharing time, even if only for a little while.
I’m not religious but I do appreciate what the universe may provide, and for all the human reasons above, we definitely feel ‘blessed’.
Thank you to all who made our 2016 summer aboard JUANONA so absolutely special.
FYI: The reason we’re stopping our cruising so early is due to a visa regulation. As non-residents we are juggling two restrictions dictated by the EU and Schengen, the latter being a treaty signed by the EU and Scandinavia.
In the UK US citizens are allowed to visit up to six months at a time. To reset the visa, you can do so by simply exiting the UK and then returning. This six-month visa allowance (and the ease to reset it) was one of the primary reasons for our staying in England these past two winters.
All Schengen countries (Scandinavia and all EU countries with the exception of the UK) restrict visitors to a total of three months out of six. Once you’ve spent a cumulative 90 days you must leave the Schengen area for three months before you can return for another three months (90 cumulative days). For long-term visitors, such as cruisers, the three-month restriction doesn’t allow a lot of time for slow traveling by boat, or for finding a place to winter aboard. However, it’s not as if the good ole’ US of A makes it easy for visitors either, so fair is fair.
On the other hand, JUANONA isn’t affected by the Schengen treaty. And, she can stay for up to 18 months in the EU without paying the value-added-tax (V.A.T.). That V.A.T. exclusion can be reset by simply documenting entering the waters of a non-EU country. Thankfully, Norway isn’t in the EU, which is why these past two summers made it extremely easy to reset the tax exclusion. (Brexit will add an interesting twist to how non-UK cruisers and boats will be treated.)
Anyhow, that’s what we juggle when determining where, when, and how long we cruise in certain areas over here. Now that I’ve tangled your mind up with that bureaucratic rope, I’ll stop nattering on.
We were back in familiar territory when we landed on Vlieland, one of the five Friesian Islands with the North Sea on one side and the Wadderzee on the other. We found a berth at the marina immediately, which was against all odds considering most summer boaters anchor outside the entrance, sometimes for several days, in hopes of replacing an exiting boat. The usual drill of cleaning bodies, boat, and clothes occurred along with a walk into the one-street town and a chance to sit on a wide open beach.
Another reason we were lucky to get in was finding ourselves with two friendly neighbors, port- and starboard-side-to. We struck up a conversation with Nick, a Dutch sailor awaiting his family’s arrival; and, over the several days we stayed in the marina we had a pleasant time discussing boating and life in general.
Wanting to anchor out again, we left on Monday to head just to the west of the marina entrance. Calm waters and warm temperatures made for a smooth transition from berth to anchoring. Noticing that some boats used the sign of a black buoy raised at their bow to indicate they were anchored during the day (at night we use our anchor light locate atop our mast), we improvised with my sacrificing a black t’shirt over a round fender. It made for a humorous ‘buoy’.
yet, it worked like a charm :)
Over the next few days we caught up on some tasks and watched boats come and go. With Max reading the RIDDLE OF THE SAND based on this area of shoals created by wind and tide, we dinghyed close to one sandbar where the boats on the horizon appeared to be sitting on that sandbar.
Wednesday we awoke to a forecasted wind of 20 knots causing us to now and then check our position relative to other boats and the channel. With high winds against the strong current flowing around this island, our chart plotter drew a picture of our twirling around.
Thursday morning we set off on a rising tide to make the 20-mile trek across the Wadderzee and through the dyke to Hindeloopen, a small town on the east side of the Ijsselmeer, Netherlands’ large lake, which use to be the Zuiderzee (South Sea). The North Sea pushing itself over sandy land barriers caused this Zuiderzee to form, and after a major flood in 1916, the dream of reclaiming land and stopping the devastating floods became more of a reality. Between 1927 and 1932 the Zuiderzee was sealed off by the Afsluitdijk (Barrier Dyke) which allowed land to be reclaimed.
It was this dyke we had exited in mid-June and now we retraced our steps only to screech to a halt once we saw the line-up of boats. To enter the IJsselmeer requires first a bridge opening then transiting through a lock, each with their own waiting area. What a zoo! It was quite something to jockey for position, either rafting alongside a fellow boater who had arrived earlier or freewheeling around in the waiting area.
Good practice, though, for how to spot an optimal rafting opportunity (which we did waiting for the bridge to open) and how to mill around while avoiding other milling-around boats (which is what we did waiting for the lock to open). Finally, our turn came for squeezing into the lock where you instantly make acquaintances as everyone holds onto everyone else’s boat to help out.
In speaking with other boaters they said the crowds are primarily due to it being close to turn-over time for charters as well as being high season for summer vacations. A nice tidbit to stash away for planning future cruising.
Pulling into Hindeloopen we were greeted by Danielle and Henk, a Dutch couple who had heard about an American boat coming into a slip next to them. When we started to slowly move into the slip Danielle all of a sudden said ‘you’ll need to gun it to get in’. Rightly so as we plowed through soft, silty mud the last ten feet coming to an easy stop. One of the easiest and calmest docking experiences we’ve had this summer. Nothing like planning on going gently aground.
And, what a treat to be here! Not only due to feeling we were sitting in the epitome of a quaint Dutch town, a perfect movie set for a Disney film,
but also because we were hoping to have a reunion with our friends whom we had met last May when moored along side Hoorn’s town wall: Thijs, Deborah, and Tika.
And, we happily did! Resulting in taking a biking trip to the next town north, Warkum (Workum). With perfect cycling weather, the five of us met at the marina office to pick up bikes. It’s also where I took a snapshot of Tika’s marvelous silver sneakers:
Then we were off for the day, led by our Dutch friends who took us along the route through polders (reclaimed land now farmed) and past old markers indicating town lines no doubt established many centuries ago. And, how we enjoyed being out and about! I think the smiles are an accurate reflection of our spirtis :)
A lovely cafe along the canal made for the perfect al fresco lunch
included a much-needed lesson in how to pronounce some Dutch words thanks to Tika’s prompting.
This was followed by a designated stop at the Jopie Huisman Museum, a local artist born in this Friesian town.
Jopie Huisman (1922-2000) isn’t an artist I had heard of, but that’s not surprising considering my lack of background in art. What is surprising, though, is not having heard of this particular artist. What a wonderful gift Deborah, a talented artist herself, Thijs, and Tika gave us by bringing us to this museum. Eleven, small gallery rooms encapsulated the life of this Friesian artist, and by room two I couldn’t help but smile and wish I had had a chance to know such a human being.
Both Max and I were really moved by this artist’s art and philosophy. Reputedly he never sold any of his painting but gave some away to those he felt deserved them. He made enough of income from collecting and selling rags and metal to support his painting. By gazing at his work, though, one feels he so easily could have sold them. Just look at this amazingly detailed replicas of the Frisian ‘uniform’ of striped-blue overalls (1975).
Jopie believed the tools and dress of one’s daily life become imbued with that person’s spirit; and in his paintings, he tenderly depicted the most mundane items with care and dignity. One was a pair of women’s wool undershirt and stockings (1983). Out of respect for this women’s knitting, he counted each stitch to ensure he accurately reflected the amount of work required to produce these garments.
Interestingly, the museum also held and displayed many of the actual items Jopie painted, this woman’s undergarments being one of them.
Some would call these still life paintings, but for Jopie, they were anything but ‘still’ life. And, as we wandered through this small museum, beautifully laid out, we were seduced by the artist’s skill and devotion to the person who wore those overalls or held that doll (1976).
(Just a side note, Deborah, who herself is a very talented artist, told us her grandmother had had a similar doll, one made during the depression resulting in stones used for heads. On Sundays Deborah was allowed to play with it and now she has the very same doll for Tika.)
Jopie would always credit the individual whose items he was painting by including the owner’s name in each work’s title. He felt most at home with the hard-working locals, those described as ‘without status’ by our audio guides.
Jopie didn’t only paint man-made items. Some of his earlier and later works depict the landscapes in wonderful colors and simple lines such as this one from 1993.
as well as portraits. This is one of his father painted in 1951 right after Jopie’s mother died, a woman loved dearly by both men. Jopie later recounted that this was the exact way his father stood for many minutes, trying to come to terms with the loss of his wife.
At the end of our tour I was left with the feeling of how I wish I could have sat in the presence of this man, watching him work or just listening to his conversations.
Back on our bikes we headed for a beverage break in the main square, followed by a grocery stop, and the sighting of some unusual tents
before returning home to Hindeloopen. A wonderful day spent with wonderful friends.
With biking in our system Max and I decided to do another day of touring on Sunday. Deciding on a counterclockwise route we followed the dyke south to Stavoren, the tip of a peninsula, then cut east to Mirns and north back to Hindeloopen. More opportunities presented themselves for ‘here-we-are-in-Holland’ shots, with Max managing to capture a perfect illustration of just how it looks along these canals.
With a 1-km walk to the train station (really a platform, shelter and ticket machine), we hopped the train for a 45-minute ride to Leeuwarden, the capital of the Friesian province we’ve been wandering through.
Now a large city with modern buildings there was an area featuring historical structures, one being the Oldehove, a tower built in 1529. After 30-feet of construction the building started a very noticeble tilt. They decided to continue building in spite of the leaning, finishing it off at roughly 130 feet in1533.
Two museums interested us, one being just across this plaza from the leaning tower of Leeuwarden. The Kerimiekmuseum Princesshof (Princesshof National Museum of Ceramics) was housed in the small palace of Marie Louis, dowager Princess of Orange, who purchased her home in 1731.
Much beloved during her life, Marie Louise, called Marijke Meu or Aunt Mary, began collecting ceramics, which later became the foundation of this museum. Now, it includes an impressive array of eastern and western vases, pots, cups and saucers, platters and sculpted figures.
We couldn’t help but think of our ceramist friend Rebecca Esty wondering what she would think of this historical perspective. She also could have enlightened us on the importance of various glazes, etc., which would have enriched our viewing.
The next museum, the Fries Museum, a modern structure opened in 2013, required two days of touring (multiple visits is one of the benefits of holding a Museumkaart), which we realized after finding the exhibits much more interesting than originally anticipated.
What was so appealing about the curating was the use of over 100 artifacts to tell the story of the area’s history. For instance, there was a large room with four different display areas, each one holding 15-30 items with detailed explanations available in a self-guided tour booklet.
At first glance both of us thought ‘ho-hum, here we go…’ only to be drawn into the individual stories per artifact.
For instance…
They believe they found proof of honor killing when a knife with a silver coins attached was discovered: revenge was exacted in the biblical sense, including a murder-for-a-murder; if revenge occurred, the weapon would be left at the scene along with some silver coins to compensate for taking revenge.
Another artifact showcased pages from a book written by a minister, Francis Haverschmidt (1835-1894), in the mid-1800s. Wanting to teach the fundamentalists that the Bible shouldn’t be taken literally, Haverschmidt penned a make-believe story about Frisian culture. The book was supposed to be discovered as an ancient text, so he aged the paper and fabricated an ‘ancient’ Frisian language involving runic script.
He planned for the tale to reveal itself as a practical joke while being read, using this as a lesson for his parishioners not to take everything literally. However, Haverschmidt was such a good writer just the opposite happened: it was taken as genuine after attracting a lot of attention. Since the joke had gone too far, Hamerschmidt felt it was best to remain silent, and it wasn’t until 2004 that a researcher reconstructed the chain of events and uncovered the truth.
History told through regional artifacts made for a fascinating walk through this room, which easily took us almost two hours. So, we ended up returning on Thursday to view the WWII exhibit. Another exhibit was a brief glimpse of a local’s life: Gertrud Margarete Zelle, better known as “Sun” in Malaysian or Mata Hari, the seductress who was shot for treason during WWI.
I also couldn’t help but take a photo of an exhibit featuring the history of knitting, with some interesting lanterns dangling over one of the wide staircases. Made me think of Irene whom we met in Bergen this summer and her lovely book, WORD BY WORD, ROW BY ROW.
But, before we returned to our second day of touring the Fries Museum we took the morning train to Frankeker (Frenjentsjer), a small Frisian town, where the world’s oldest working planetarium exits.
The genius who created this planetarium and the beauty in which he did so means you don’t need to know astronomy or even be interested in that science to appreciate his work.
Named for the man who constructed it, this planetarium was carefully and exactingly created by Eise Eisinga (1744 – 1828), a woolcomber by trade and a mathematician by hobby.
Beginning in 1774 and completed seven years later, Eisinga transformed his living room (and sleeping area as can be seen by the curtained, cupboard bed chamber) into a solar system. For over 235 years visitors have been coming come to gaze at this work, mesmerized, as were we, by the slowly ticking of the dials as planets accurately revolved around the sun and the sun and moon phases kept actual time with nature. Even Kings were impressed by this humble tradesman’s work: after King Wilhelm I’s visit in 1817, he later purchased and donated it to the country.
Eisinga left a detailed handbook explaining how it all operated; and, above the living room we saw the behind-the-scences mechanisms controlling the wonder below. 10,000 hand-made nails formed the cogs…
What I also enjoyed was the reason why he created his planetarium: it was to counter the 1774 doomsday prediction caused by planets colliding. And, that was the impetus for this marvelous work of art. Furthermore, very few adjustments need to be made it is that perfectly tuned to the universe. Hard to imagine in this day of planned obsolescence.
Another stop in Leeuwarden and the Fries Museum ended our day of touring.
The next morning we left Hindeloopen to cross back to the other side of the Ijsselmeer where we’d be ending our summer cruise. But, before I leave this blog, I want to let you know, once again, the best reasons for traveling are the wonderful folk we’ve been meeting.
In addition to our friends Thijs, Deborah and Tkia, we met Kitty & Paul with whom we had several wonderful conversations covering topics as diverse as the widow of the Shah of Iran to artificial intelligence and singularity; and, Lena and Henk who spent over an hour with us identifying highlights of cruising in Denmark and Sweden (augmented by some amazing photos Lena had taken). We only wish we had had more time with all of the above. Fortunately, they all reside in the Netherlands, which means reunions could take place.
AND, two more lovely reminders of just how much we enjoyed are stay in Friesland:
Deborah’s drawing of Hindeloopen
when perched just above where JUANONA was moored (riding a little high in the silty mud),
and Tika’s excellent instruction to aid my trying to speak Dutch.
Now, to practice. Just wish I had my teachers to correct me :)
Next… an early end to summer cruising.
