A morning walk by the Marne

This last post for July comes to you from the Crumbly Cottage Mk II where we arrived last Sunday on a blessedly cooler day. Since then, temperatures have soared again and yesterday it reached 38º, although I must say it's not humid the way it is in the Netherlands, which makes these high temperatures much more bearable. In fact, I rather enjoy them. 

Zoe, on the other hand, does not, an issue I've mentioned before. She suffers from heat stress quite quickly, so we take ourselves out early in the morning when it's still cool and fresh. First call each day is down to the river, or what's left of it. If you remember, back in March, I showed photos of the Marne at the highest and most turbulent I've ever seen it. Well now, it's the other extreme. If you look at the photo below, you can see Zoe is paddling in extremely shallow water. I could quite easily walk across to the other side and not even have wet ankles. 

The rocks that make up the bed of the river are protruding and the footings of the bridge pier are completely dry. If you then look at the photo below this one, you'll see how high it was in March. The difference is quite dramatic, isn't it? I couldn't even get close to the beginning of the bridge, let alone its second pier then (the first one is invisible in both photos, but I can walk round it on dry ground now.)

For the farmers, this shortage of water is bad news. According to one report I read, Haute-Marne has had 55% less rain this year than usual. Considering the deluges of the first quarter of the year, it goes without saying that the lack of rain since then has brought the department into serious drought conditions. Everywhere I look I see pastures that should be green are dried up and yellow. Cattle in the fields are being fed with hay that should be being kept for the winter. 

For us, it is sad once again that the canal is closed, just as it was last summer. What water there is must be kept for agriculture, not for pleasure boaters. That said, the canal here is also a commercial route, which means transport of goods is affected too.

Note how close Zoe is standing to that bridge pier

This was the same spot in March. See the bridge pier in view?
That is the one in the photo above where Zoe is standing close to it.

I stood on the river bed to take this photo, and no, my feet didn't get wet.
Normally, I'd have to stand on the bridge to achieve this angle.

Another section of the river as it is now.

Not exactly the same spot but very close in March

On the upside, we have had some lovely walks along the canal, and it's always a pleasure to see a train crossing the waterway. I like to make a wish when I see one. I think it was my grandmother who taught me to do that when I was a child, but to this day, I've never registered whether those wishes (usually quite modest ones, I admit) have ever come true.

One of the other sights I enjoy in the morning is seeing cows together with their young, something we rarely see in the Netherlands. The small herd in the picture below is a particularly beautiful one. Their creamy-coloured skin is gorgeous and the youngsters look so 'new'.

Yet another charming sight is one I spotted this morning. An elderly man and his wife were driving through the village with a trailer, on which was a large plastic tank of water with watering cans hanging to its sides. I saw them stop next to a large planter with colourful blooms, so I asked him if the water was intended for those plants. 

"Oui," he replied. "There is no tap for the commune to use in the village, so we water all the plants in the street like this."

It made me smile because he and his wife must have been in their eighties at least, and yet they were still engaged in working for their community.

Cows kept together with their young–always a lovely sight

And then there are the swallows. Oh my,  I could spend hours watching them swoop, circle and dive in the street near the CC. They are common around these parts, but I've never seen as many as I have since we've been here this year. They fill the sky in the evenings with their glorious aerobatic displays of flying skill, ducking below, above and around the telephone lines that criss-cross the road. Such magic on wings. I love them. Sadly, I have no photo of them as it would be impossible to capture. If I can manage to film them, though, I'll post a clip next time.

So that's it for this month allemaal. We are blessed that we're nowhere near any of the terrible fires afflicting France, but vigilance is always necessary. Keep cool, or warm, wherever you are, and I'll be back next month for more news from the wine lands of the Champagne region.
 

The Leopold Canal – a forgotten treasure

Before I get on to the title of this post, I am pleased to say we've had a change in the weather at last! The two photos below are of the moody skies I saw during my walk with Zoe yesterday morning. Sadly, what looked like rain clouds proved feeble in the extreme and we had a smattering of drips at the most, not even enough to wet the leaves of my hydrangeas, but at least it's cooler, a blessing I never thought I would be relishing.

Spot the flying geese!

By the afternoon, the clouds had blown themselves into oblivion and the sun made a reappearance but thankfully lacking the intensity we've been becoming accustomed to. Without the energy sapping heat to contend with, and with a smidgin of ambition restored, Koos and I (with Zoe, of course) took a short drive over the Flemish border to a place called Boekhoute where we arrived at the beginning of the Leopold canal.

This tiny chapel marks the place where the canal begins.
The sign says "need seeks comfort"

Zoe looking ready to head off along the towpath

This canal is little known as it is not navigable, not these days anyway. It was constructed in the 1840s as a means of draining the Flemish polder lands. Prior to Belgium's independence in 1830, the polders in Flanders drained into the Western Scheldt, but the Dutch were not pleased with losing 30% of their territory to this new country and they closed of the drainage channels, leaving large areas of land swampy and even malarial. The solution Belgium's new government decided on was to construct a canal along the border with the Netherlands, with its mouth at Zeebrugge on the North Sea. It was to be named Leopold after the country's first king, disregarding its real champion, Jozef Andries, who was a member of Belgian's National Congress but was also a parish priest from Middelburg in Zeeland. It was he who initiated and pressed ahead with the plans for the canal.

However, all did not go exactly to plan. The original intention was to connect the North Zea with the great Gent-Terneuzen ship canal at Zelzate, but when in a rare moment of accord, the Dutch and Belgian authorities signed an agreement to allow drainage into the Western Scheldt once more, the last stretch between Boekhoute and Zelzate was abandoned and the Isabella canal was dug in 1920. It crossed the Dutch border into Zeeuws Vlaanderen with its drainage water exiting into the estuary at Braakman, a wide water course that was largely dammed in 1952, although the drainage system remains. 

What we have left is a rather beautiful and very peaceful tree-lined waterway that appears to start randomly in the middle of the Flemish countryside and which runs approximately 45 kilometres almost parallel with the Dutch border until its end between Zeebrugge and Knokke-Heist at the coast. 

That said, the towpath is popular with walkers and I wouldn't mind having a go at hiking its entire length one of these days. I'll probably have to take a little cart for Zoe, though. She's made it quite clear she doesn't do more than around seven kilometres a day and even that's stretching it.

There is a footpath the other side too

The Isabella canal, that side branch leading to the Westerschelde.
Ahead, you can see a pumping station

Wikipedia also tells us that "during WWI, the German occupiers assigned a military role to the canal. Specifically, it played a part in the Hollandstelling, (a German defence line) which, however, never served any military purpose. The last time the canal fulfilled a military function was at the end of WWII.  During the month of October 1944, several Canadian and British divisions fought heavy battles around the canal against the German occupiers in Operation Switchback, who were determined to hold the Scheldt estuary." Sorry for quoting directly from the internet, but their explanation was much better than any paraphrasing I could come up with, and the links are tempting rabbit holes :)

This wasn't the first time we've been to the canal, but we'd never been to its beginning before, so it was quite inspiring to start at the source, so to speak. When the weather's cooler, I might well plan a few long walks and see if I can fulfil that ambition. After all, 45 km is not all that far... is it?

Enjoy the rest of your week, allemaal. Next time I write, I might well be in France!

A few magical maintenance moments

One of the upsides of these heatwaves we are having this summer is that it forces me out of bed much earlier in the morning. Working on the boat is only possible in the fresher hours between 6:00 and 11:00, so shipmate Jodie and I have dragged ourselves up and out so we could do just that. The only alternative would be to wait until the hot weather is over, but then, of course, it will probably rain. Murphy and his law rule here, unfortunately.

So why do I say it's an upside? Well, the tranquillity of the harbour before most people are up has been magical. There's been very little wind and with the still calm of a day not yet begun, it's been quite lovely.

I think the photo below of Jo rowing our little boat around to Vereeniging's offshore side is a true image of this captivating morning peace. 

Shipmate enjoying the stillness of the morning
on the water

Panel painting from our little boat
rightly names 'Little Pal'

The only downside yesterday was that we didn't want to disturb anyone, especially the campers parked on the ground next to the harbour, so we deliberately avoided using power tools and focused on things we could do by hand. Yesterday's job, for instance, was painting all the panels on Vereeniging's port side as we haven't replaced those yet.

There was much hilarity and laughter because we kept forgetting things we needed and I had to clamber back on board to fetch certain tools, only to find I'd forgotten something else – you know, you have the screwdriver but not the bit; or your pocket is full of screws but they're all the wrong size. Of course, the more you try to avoid making a noise, the more noise you make, which just makes the giggles worse.

Two shipmates enjoying a minute's maintenance
on Vereeniging

Other mornings, it's been Hennie Ha's turn, and there I have to keep the noise down even more. So many people stay on their boats in this harbour it's like a floating dormitory. And let's not forget the houses nearby (see the photo below). But there, I have no one to giggle with, so I just enjoy the wonderful peace of the surroundings while I potter about, still forgetting things, still clambering in and out, but loving the quietude of being on the water as the wash from passing barges and ships rocks the boat in a gentle rhythm.

The vibrant colours here in HH's harbour are so cheerful

Taking time to give some TLC to Hennie H
aka The Shoe, also early in the morning

The better side to work on, being in the shade

And a nice grassy bank to sit on too!

Back at the crumbly cottage, we've been looking for ways to combat the heat. Being a hundred years old, the little house is not well insulated and, being brick, it tends to trap the warmth in its walls. However, what we can do is stop the sun shining straight in to the interior. 

There are many products on the market for blackout and deflective window coverings, but like the current run on mobile aircos, there has also been a run on these. My interim solution was to cut a roll of foil-covered bubble-wrap insulation to the size of the window panes and stick them on. It certainly helps to keep the worst out even though it means we're living a rather gloomy existence indoors at the moment. The exterior of the cottage looks... err... quite dazzling these days – sorry! :)

My temporary solution to the heat:
bubble-wrap insulation foil, which helps significantly!

All being well, we are planning to go to France to the CCMk2* before the end of the month, but exactly when will depend on the temperatures dropping a little. There's not point in going if we have to stay inside most of the day, so we wait...

Enjoy your weekend, allemaal, and I hope the coming week will be kind to you wherever you are!

*For anyone new to my blog the CCMk2 is the second crumbly cottage. It is also old, in need of repair and lacking in mod cons.

Dogs, Delft and a dad's birthday

This past week has once again been dominated by the heatwave here, which is probably no news for anyone in Europe now. Suffice to say, it's been pretty intense here in our corner of Zeeland, but compared to France and Germany, we have been much better off.  Their temperatures have been beyond belief. That said, the nights here have been the hardest part as they didn't cool down and the temperature in our living room never dipped below 27º with a correspondingly high humidity; the bedroom was still over 30º. Needless to say, I sought the lowest point in the house and slept in our sunroom, which, with the sliding doors open, was marginally cooler. The downside came in the squadrons of mosquitos that flew in en masse to snack upon my recumbent form. Unfortunately, the itching has lingered longer than the heatwave, which broke in somewhat noisy style on Sunday night with a thunderstorm that caused havoc elsewhere in the country, but was merely a sleep disturbance here.

Thankfully, it is now cooler and more pleasant, so we and the dogs are much happier. Zoe has been particularly stressed by the heat and has been making much use of her cooling mats. Here she is in the garden with her best friend, Lucy.

But in other news, last Thursday I went to Delft – you know, that Dutch town famous for its lovely blue and white porcelain? I haven't been there for many years and I'd forgotten how heartbreakingly pretty it is with its myriad canals, charming bridges, gorgeous old houses, beautiful city hall, bustling market and everything you'd expect from a traditional Dutch town. The reason for my visit on one of the hottest days of the week was quite special. An author friend, Simon Michael Prior, whose books (both memoirs and fiction) I've enjoyed hugely, was visiting the Netherlands with his daughter. We agreed to meet in Delft where he had last been at the age of 11.

I drove half the way to Bergen op Zoom and from there took the train to Delft, a pretty efficient way of doing the 170 km journey although it was determined more by the closure of the railway line from Goes to Bergen due to work on the tracks than to my personal choice. At the station, I wrapped the car up in a white sheet leaving it shrouded and in as much shade as I could find to await my return.

I've often had mixed feelings about air conditioning, but for once I relished the wonderfully cool carriage in the train that sped me the rest of the way to Delft. Walking from the station to the Market Square where I met Simon and daughter Candi was a fairytale meander through cobbled streets, and over delicate arched bridges crossing the town's network of picturesque canals. 

We wasted little time in finding an ideal waterside café with shaded tables where we had lunch and chatted about all manner of subjects. Simon is one of those people I am quickly convinced I've known forever and felt so at ease with that I may just have asked some unforgivably nosey questions. Simon, if you read this, I apologise, but, oh my, you've led such an interesting life and have travelled so much! I had no idea! Candi, his daughter, was a real sweetheart and I'm sure Simon and his wife are very proud of her. I'm sure she will go far in life with her lovely personality.

Anyway, the time passed much too quickly and before we knew it we'd walked a circuitous route back to the station, where we said our farewells and I made my way back to my mummified car in Bergen op Zoom. The drive home was like being slowly grilled, but I made it before I was reduced to charred remains. Okay, slight exaggeration, but my little Fiat is a basic model and open windows  only serve to circulate the hot outside air rather than offering anything refreshing. I was very glad Zoe wasn't with me.

Here are a few of the snaps I took in Delft. Isn't it gorgeous?

Boats can be restaurants too.

A classic view of Delft

Boats and bridges on a Delft canal

A canal, a bridge, bicycles, flowers and trees.
What more could you wish for?

And here is the obligatory meet-up photo with Simon. Don't you love his sunglasses? They are just so cool!

Me with Simon on one of Delft's pretty bridges

Back home again, I spent the next couple of days trying to avoid being fried. My favourite time of day was early evening when I could sit in the garden and enjoy my chaotic corner of flowering shrubs. The buddleia bush has brought special rewards. The butterflies and bees love it and it's been enchanting to watch the red admirals and peacocks dancing over the florets or landing on my hair. These were moments of relief after the gruelling afternoon temperatures. 

My chaotic corner of my little garden

The problem here in the Netherlands is that our homes are designed to retain heat, not dispel it, and we don't have air conditioning, so when summer temperatures like those of the past two weeks hit, there's little escape. Note to self: maybe a mobile airco would come in handy for such spells in the future?

And that brings us to today, the last day of June. This also happens to be Koos's birthday, which we celebrated with his son and daughter-in-law, together with my daughter, at a local restaurant. I think I can honestly say the meal was enjoyed by all and the birthday boy was warmed by his son's visit. Given that they'd only returned from their holiday in Greece yesterday, it was lovely of them to make the trip down to see Koos. Thank you, Sanne and Marije!

Menus printed like old newspapers need careful
reading

The birthday boy :)

So that's it for this week and for June, allemaal. Tomorrow we begin the month of summer holidays, so let's see what July and August bring. For now, enjoy the rest of the week wherever you are, and I'll be back soon with more news and views from our world.

 

Heat waves and harbour ways

Most of my readers here know that I lived in South Africa for nigh on twenty years and also that I loved the climate there. It might surprise you, then, to read this admission: the heat of a European summer can be hard to endure. The thing is, South Africa, or specifically Johannesburg, had a very stable climate; it was cold, dry and sunny in the winter with practically no rain, and hot, dry and sunny in the summer. Winter was often frosty but rarely snowy, while summer days were generally punctuated by an afternoon thunderstorm around 4 p.m., following which the sun would return and everything dried up leaving a freshness that invigorated us all. And yes, it really was that predictable most of the time. I'm not sure about these days as the climate patterns have undoubtedly changed, but the stability and regularity of the weather is something I remember with fondness. For me, it was the best climate I'd ever experienced.

Here in the Netherlands, things are much less certain. April, typically known for showers, was, this year, cold but dry and bright. May, which I'd mostly regard as being the lead-in to summer, was plain miserable until late in the month, when things changed dramatically. Since then, we've had two very hot, extremely humid spells and, like most of the region, we're experiencing one now. And surprisingly, at 30+ºC it's hotter and considerably more humid here than it generally was in Johannesburg, where the average summer temperature used to be around 26ºC; hence the hard to endure remark.

I love summer weather, but I have to confess I'd rather it stayed outside and didn't make the house or the boat so stifling. Zoe suffers too, which is even more of an issue.

Anyway, what else is new? Well, last Sunday we went to Middelburg, the Zeeland provincial capital to see what their harbour festival had to offer. Middelburg is an enchanting town with beautiful traditional Dutch houses and gorgeous back streets that look like something from a fairytale.

The harbour was busy with boats of all types and ages, but I was slightly disappointed there weren't more historic ships and barges. I think perhaps we'd missed the best of those on the Saturday. All the same, it was fun, lively and a popular event judging by the crowds of people attending. Here's a short video I made of the harbour: 

And here are some other photos I took around the backstreets of Middelburg. It is, I feel, a place where people live very graciously. It's totally unpretentious, but in many ways, the town exudes the confidence of a population sure of its place and history:

Beautiful Dutch town houses all in a row, row, row!

Along a sidearm to the main canal

A wonderful view of the city's church

I love the random way in which plants are 
allowed to simply grow wherever they may.

Bicycles and hollyhocks growing through
the paving.
How Dutch can you get?

Three lovely tjalks in a row, row, row.

Looking down the route from or to Vlissingen

A former neighbour from our own harbour

Lots of lovely old saling fishing boats.

At the end of the festival harbour

Another lovely collection of potted plants
adorning the street

The door of a stunning art nouveau building
hidden in the backstreets of Middelburg

Higher up this lovely Art Nouveau building

No garden? We'll do pots then!

I hope you enjoy these images from our lovely capital, allemaal,  and when the temperature drops a bit, and I have more energy, I'll fill you in with the rest of my doings. For now, enjoy your week and wishing you temperate temperature wherever you are!

Village Vending and Vintage vehicles

Life isn't all about boats down here in Zeeland, although you'd be forgiven for believing that's mostly what I think about, which is proabably true.

Anyway, I'm pleased to say that there are subjects which will distract me from them on occasions and one of these is our annual village festival. The Dyke Party, as I will call it, starts on Friday evening and goes  on until Sunday afternoon. During this time, we have a garage sale, a vintage car tour, an art fair and live music performed by local bands specialising in covers of popular rock music. And, of course, there's a beer tent and food provided by our local Spar.

It's very jolly and always well attended. Those participating in the Garage Sale set tables up outside their houses and display all the second-hand goods they hope to dispose of for a few euros. We pay €5 to be on the official garage sale route so that interested shoppers can get a map showing all the participating houses. Ours was the last one in the village, but that didn't stop us from having a steady stream of interested purchasers. It's always good for clearing out the cupboards, but some items are definitely more popular than others. Vinyl LPs, for instance, are hot sellers. We managed to sell almost all of ours. It was pretty hard to see them go but we realised we haven't played records in years. In fact, we don't even have a turntable. So, like everything we don't use anymore, it seemed pointless to keep them even though many of the older albums were part of our history. 

Cameras, however, don't sell at all.  Between Koos and I, we have quite a collection of old but excellent digital cameras that we'd love to find homes for, but no one showed any interest in them. I even have two lovely little analogue Olympus Trip 35mm cameras that you'd think someone might want for a collection, but not one person gave them even a passing glance. There's no accounting, is there?

Also on the vending front, but of a higher and newer quality was the art fair. I was a proud mum when I saw daughter #1's display of paintings she had put together. As a themed set inspired by her trips to the Isle of Skye in Scotland, they were captivating and she not only sold four of them but also generated tremendous interest with her evident passion for Scotland and its scenery

Across the aisle from Jo's table was one displaying equally beautiful ceramic work. It was crafted by a lovely lady in the village who I first met when I went to the optician for some new glasses a couple of years ago. I didn't know then that she was such a talented potter, or that she had her own kiln at home. If you look to the left of the photo below, you might see bowl at the back of the table that looks like an upturned mushroom with a green glaze. I loved it so much I bought it and am so pleased I could support someone local as well as have a piece of ceramic art that I  can cherish.

As you can see from the photo below, though, the work on display was extensive and most of it was high quality. Our village has an unusually high proportion of artists among its residents, and many of them were represented at the fair, although there were others from elsewhere too.

My other favourite attraction was the vintage car collection, which is always impressive. However, I have to admit I got stuck gazing at these two beauties and the 2CV below them. Karmann Ghias and VW Beetles are my absolute favourite cars and these two were really stunningly restored.

As for this little Citroën duckling, its colours are something else and probably not original, but isn't it lovely? Thanks to Koos for the photo, which is lovely too.

I didn't go to the live music, given my general aversion to crowds. I'd already had my fill of mingling for one day, but we could hear the band from some distance away and they were giving a pretty convincing rendition of some good classic rock and roll.

By Sunday night, our village streets had resumed their usual quiet where the noisiest occupants were the jackdaws, pigeons and blackbirds. The annual festival is great but I'll take the peace any day, as well as the opportunity to sit by the Kreek (creek) and watch the ducks like daughter Jo here below.

 Enjoy the rest of your week allemaal and I'll hopefully be back with more boaty progress next time – that's if the rain decides to give us a break!