Summer seems set to stay

I'm slacking again. It's nearly two weeks since my last post. I've had my weekend away in Limburg with my daughter and been back for so long it barely feels as if we went away at all. I should really write about what we did, but I'll save that for next time when I've had a chance to go through all my photos and decide on which ones are worth keeping.

For the time being, I'm just enjoying the fact that summer seems to have arrived at last and looks set to stay with us for (at least) another week. After that? Well, who knows? This is Holland, after all, so even forty-eight hours ahead is never certain.

Koos has been busy cleaning out the Hennie H's fuel tank, which is now completely empty and devoid of all nasties (we trust). We have hopes of salvaging some of the fuel as much of it looks clear and clean. I bought a diesel bug testing kit from a supplier in the UK, which we're going to use in the jerry cans that look suspect. On that note, I was a bit horrified by the cost of shipping from the UK now. The test kit itself was €10,50, but with shipping, tax and all the other costs that seem to have come with the dreaded 'B' word, the total amount was €32. We have to live with it, I know, but I'm afraid it's undoubtedly a deterrent to buying other goods from the UK now. I wanted to buy a composting loo for the HH from England too, but since the additional costs amount to nearly as much as the loo itself, I have decided to look elsewhere. Say no more. 

As for me, I'm busy with finalising my end of year courses. It seems to be taking up far too much time in this glorious weather. I'd much rather be outside working on the boat, but let's hope we get more of the same during the holiday period. I can but dream, can't I? Meanwhile, I'm enjoying doing my local trips by bike again and appreciating the beauty of the scenery in its lavish June glory. These photos are all taken with my phone, which has a truly horrible camera, but nothing can diminish the loveliness of great clusters of poppies and an avenue of oak trees with the sun-dappled cycle path. On that note, the poppies are absolutely stunning this year. The banks along the highways are completely smothered with them and they're breathtaking. It always makes me wonder why some years, the blossom and wild flowers are so much more prolific and beautiful than others.

The barges are looking lovely too. I think other people are having more luck with painting than I am, because the three beauties below are vivid with bright paintwork. I never get tired of seeing these gorgeous old craft.

 

Tomorrow, I'll be back in Rotterdam for a few days. It will be lovely to be on my Vereeniging once again, and the Oude Haven is a wonderful place in the summer. But now the cafés and terraces are open again, the noise levels will rise dramatically. Remember what I said a few weeks ago about a possible new mooring? It's beginning to look even more attractive. 

On that note, I'll wish you all a wonderful week, allemaal and next time I'll tell you all about the castles, art in the park and houses in the rocks that I saw during my lovely weekend in Valkenburg. That's a promise.

Time and Tide wait for no one – especially not me

Well, here I am again after more than two weeks. I am always disappointed when I can't blog every week, but it's been quite a challenge to keep up with everything lately. Even now, I'll keep it brief because I have a heap of work to do before I leave. Leave? I hear you say.... for where?.

Well, this weekend I'm having some daughter days, and my youngest and I are off into the wilds with her caravan, so I won't be taking my laptop with me. Koos is bravely staying at home to man the drawbridge (gangplank) and keep the marauders out, and other daughter is bravely staying at home to finish writing her master's thesis.

In other news (and hence the title of this post), the wifi has broken down in our harbour and I have to rely on my phone as a hotspot. This is itself is fine, but because we have quite a significant tidal range, my phone signal often drops off when the tide is out and we sit low in the harbour; result – no (or painfully slow) internet until it rises again. All fun and games and part of life aboard a barge, but it does mean quite a disruption to my work life. Since it won't wait for me to finish what I have to do, retreating to Zeeland is the only other option.

And in even more news, we have a new delay with starting the Hennie H's new engine. We have discovered a significant amount of dirt in our diesel tank, which looks suspiciously like diesel bug. The sample we took is also somewhat milky in colour, so we started draining the tank – a big job as there was around 300 litres of diesel in it. Ho hum. We are going to try and find somewhere to test the sample, but we don't want to put contaminated diesel in our new engine...and so we shall wait and see, but it's just adding to the time before we can get going again. Better news on that front in the next blog – hopefully!

In the meantime, a few photos might brighten up this post. Here are some boaty photos for all those who enjoy them. They were all taken in and around the Oude Haven.

Have a good weekend allemaal and I'll be back in proper form soon – I hope – time and internet permitting!

Come, what May?

The merry month of May, it is. Or is it? I’ve enjoyed playing with words for this post title more than the the month itself. I usually love May as it's when the weather warms up and we can spend more time outside, doing gardening, painting and boat work. Well, we've had one warm day so far, and that was followed by a humdinger of a thunderstorm, but I have to say that these first twelve days of the month have just been plain cold.

Luckily, the trees and flowers don't seem to shrivel up the way I do, although I have a feeling the full leaf effect of the spring is a bit meagre this year. I took the photos below on a recent bike ride near the Hennie H's harbour, along the sea canal that I love, and I think you'll agree the trees could be doing better.

The buttercups, on the other hand, are gorgeous this year, and since we had the tree in the garden trimmed (or rather amputated), I've just let all the wild flowers do their thing and I'm not weeding at all. It's so liberating, I must say. My excuse is that it's for the bees, but I'm rather enjoying that sense of  release from worrying about the meadow taking over. The only things I'm pulling up are the nettles, which would just swamp everything else, given the chance.

 Meanwhile, Koos has been busy with the engine installation on the HH, and he's nearly ready to call the expert to check things over before we turn the key and get it all going. It's getting 'spannend' as the Dutch call the feeling, which is not so much exciting as... well ... exciting with a dash of tension. He's done an amazing job yet again and I cannot even claim to have held the spanners because I've been busy working most of the time he's been beavering away.  

Anyway, having written and published my book about our last travels, it's time we got going again to give me more fuel for my writing hobby. I have no idea where or how far we can go at the moment, but we'll definitely be going somewhere. 

As for the situation here, our curfew is over, and the cafés are open again to customers, but only outside. However, they still have to close at 6 p.m. so our evenings in the Oude Haven remain peaceful (there are some blessings). Here are a few photos taken from my Vereeniging of the busy terraces last weekend.

Wishing you a good week and weekend allemaal. And hopefully the next post will speak of warmer, brighter climes.

Late but not lacking

 I'm tardy again, I know. It's been two weeks since I posted a blog, so it had better be a good one! Well, there's plenty of news which, in a way, explains why I'm late. It's been hectic here in the Flatlands.

Firstly, and so I can get it out of the way, I've just published a new book. It's a sequel to my boating travelogue Faring to France on a Shoe. This one is about our travels through Belgium and into France on the Upper Sambre river in 2018. Despite being a summer notable for its intense and prolonged heat, we had the most wonderful journey on our Hennie H (referred to as Hennie Ha in the book because that's how it's pronounced). The 'faring', the people, the scenery and the history of the towns and villages we passed through made it an incredibly rich experience. If you're interested in boating travels, the link to the book is here, but do be aware, there are a lot of locks to go through before reaching Nirvana ... sorry, France.

The other most important news also involves the Hennie H, and this is both a sad and a happy tale. A month or so ago, we started testing the Peugeot Indenor engine Koos installed last year in the hopes that all would be well for this summer's faring adventures. If you recall, we went to the yard at the end of October last year (see my post here) for a lift out, the main purpose being to clean our outboard cooling system. 

We'd noticed that while the engine ran fine at low revs and tick over, it overheated when revved up to full power. One of our diesel mechanic friends suggested the Blokland cooler, which sits in a well in the hull, might have got choked with weed—a good theory and quite a possibility. Sadly, this was not the case, but we went to and from the yard without any mishaps, albeit it at slow speeds. Further enquiry suggested that the cooling system needed some alterations (I won't go into detail), so Koos did them, but as it was so late in the year, we did not do any test runs.

Well, this year, when Koos first started the engine, he did so with some optimism. A revised system, a clean cooler, what more could we ask? Good question. The first indicator that something was wrong was the oil pressure alarm refusing to go off. The end result was more alarming than the alarm itself. The oil was contaminated with cooling liquid. Disaster, as anyone who knows about oily bits can tell you.

After gasps, tears and numerous conversations with a wonderful knowledgeable friend (Barrie Grant, you were fantastic!), fast forward to a new expert (the former one was unwilling) who came, dismantled the Peugeot and diagnosed a terminal condition (a cracked cylinder head). Yours truly went into total meltdown but not before she'd looked up alternative possibilities and found a company selling Chinese marine engines here in the Netherlands. 

Surprised (and encouraged) at the reasonable price, and with the expert's diagnosis burning a hole in our hearts, we decided to go for broke and buy a new engine. Yes. Again. It's not red; it's (yawn) grey. But it's shiny, new and never been used. Here it is. Thank heavens we didn't dispose of K's wonderful home-built crane. The story of the purchase is too long to go into here, but that was quite stressful in itself and almost resulted in a second meltdown—I won't say whose.

Anyway, all's well that end's well as they say (and I hope). With all the experience Koos has now had in installing engines, I think he could set himself up in business. He's done an amazing job (yet again) and it's almost ready to go, but ... we won't even turn the key until our expert is present and has checked everything over. Although relatively inexpensive, this was quite an investment and we want to be sure of our guarantees.

As far as everything else is concerned, work goes on and it's still very cold, but just as a teaser, these photos below are of a potential new mooring; for which boat, you might ask. Well, I'm not saying just yet, but it's filled us with quite some excitement. I do love change, and this one might bring some fantastic benefits. Since foreign travel might be denied us this year, we are looking at other options.

Enjoy the rest of the weekend and the week to come allemaal.

Four seasons in one week (plus a little bit of local history)

This past week has been both bizarre and typical in terms of April weather. I well remember when I first arrived in the Oude Haven that on one particular day we had all four seasons within twelve hours. Well, this last week has been the same and particularly last Sunday. I took the photo below on Saturday as I was walking along the river in Rotterdam. Despite being quite cold, it was a lovely day with big, clumpy clouds and not hint of what was to come.

On Sunday morning, the world had changed. I awoke on Vereeniging to rain beating a fast tattoo on the hatches. When I looked outside, though, it had morphed into hail, which was then followed by quite heavy snow. I was due to head south again and as I'd left my car outside the city limits to save parking fees, I could see I was in for a frigid walk to the tram stop a kilometre from the boat. It was just my luck that due to work on the tracks, our usual tram wasn't running. The slightly skew photo below shows how it was beginning to settle on the cars and streets. However, by the time I'd driven over the Maas and onto the southern highways, the skies had cleared and the sun was shining with intent. But it didn't last. 

For the remainder of my journey through Zeeland, I was dodging swarms of angry hail showers. Although I managed to do much of the drive in dry, sunny conditions, I saw clouds heavy with hail and snow all around me and the wind was both biting and strong.

The rest of the week has been dry, but still very cold for most of the day. I did manage an afternoon's painting on the Hennie H and smartened up her derrière. I have yet to see if my paintwork has survived the below freezing nights though as I had to return to Rotterdam for work again on Thursday. Tomorrow will tell! Some of you might have noticed Koos's crane on the rear deck. For more on that and why it's there, next week's post will reveal all ...

In my ongoing attempt to beat the Covid blues, I've been doing my daily walks. They also stop my joints rusting up and seizing, something of a danger for me when it's cold unless I keep them moving. One of my favourite rambles is around the old canal arms in Sas van Gent where the HH is moored.  The waterside walls in the photo above are, in fact, one of the old locks or sas from which the town gets its name; the settlement developed around the first sas built here in 1551. 

I was standing at the closed-off end of the lock when I took this photo. These days it's only used as a free swimming pool for the local children and a place where dogs like to nip in for a dip, but I'm glad it's still there and has been preserved. The town's original 16th and later 17th century locks have long been filled in. 

And of course, this photo is of the modern canal with one of the massive sea-going ships being towed from Terneuzen to Ghent. This one was accompanied by three muscular tugs. I stood and watched them until they'd passed ... a wonderful way to waste time.

Here's a map to put all the old arms in context. It's interesting to see how the canal has grown over the years and following the path around the old cuts makes a lovely walk. In fact the modern course is also wider and deeper than it was in the 19th century. It was expanded to its current size in the 1960s and of course there are no longer any locks at Sas. They are all in Terneuzen now.

I like the fact that the history of Sas is so tied up to Ghent's and one interesting titbit I've learnt is that originally, the canal from Ghent stopped at (approximately) what is now Sas because the Gentenaars weren't allowed to dig through a dike that crossed the waterway. It was only under Charles V (he of the Holy Roman Empire) that permission was granted to build a lock through the dike so that shipping didn't have to be carried over it and transferred to boats on the other side before completing their journey to Terneuzen. This transfer was known as 'Overslag' and today, there is still a village of that name that straddles the border. 

Finding out the exact course of the earliest canal is not something I've managed to do yet, but suffice to say, the Hennie Ha's home port owes existence to my favourite of all Belgian cities.

That's it for this week allemaal. Next week's post is going to be an interesting one so watch this space!

Rambling around Rotterdam

Last week, we had spring with a real bounce. On Tuesday and Wednesday, the temperatures were in the mid-twenties and we were shedding coats and jumpers with gay abandon. It was a short-lived joy, though. By Friday, the mercury had fallen to the early teens and overnight, we were down to low single figures. Even so, we had a lovely Easter weekend in Rotterdam as the photos below will, I hope, depict. I took them all when we decided to do a 'tour' of the harbours. The afternoon sun lacked warmth, but the cool temperature didn't stop people getting out and about to simply enjoy the bright day and the fresh air. 

Indeed, some even went so far as to have some watery fun. There's no accounting, is there? Well, at least the water they were sitting in was warm, but it must have been pretty chilly all the same.

Even when the temperatures are in single figures, there's
no stopping some people.

This little floating house here is one of two holiday apartments called Wikkelboat, and I noticed they have been fully occupied too over the Easter holiday. I think 'tiny houses' are incredibly cute, especially as these are tiny houseboats as well. I've added the link to their website to the name.

A tiny floating holiday home nestled among the boats
in the harbour, called the Wikkelboat

Our walk took us along the inner harbours of the city, which is where we often do our spuddles in the rowing boat and also on the Vereeniging. It's a never failing delight to see what is moored up along the quays of the Wijnhaven, whose name is derived from its former main trade, but that was in pre-war days.

The Wijnhaven, so called because wine was the mainstay of
the trade in this quarter of Rotterdam.

And at the end of the Wijnhaven is the largest of the floating museum collection in the Leuvehaven, quiet now because of the restrictions, but there are still plenty of people walking around and looking at the old craft from the quays.

Leuvehaven

As offshoots from the Leuvehaven, there are two other short harbours by the name of Bierhaven and Rederijhaven. In times gone by, the Bierhaven was also home to the companies trading in that all too popular beverage (beer), while its neighbour, the Rederijhaven was for the shipping companies (rederij meaning 'shipping'). The last harbour on our round is the Scheepmakershaven (literally ship makers) and this one leads us all the way back to the Oude Haven. I'm so pleased they've kept their original names and despite the modern high-rise flats, these harbours, which are now home to a collection of historic barges, still retain that feeling of the businesses they used to serve.

Bierhaven

Bierhaven

The Rederijhaven, also taking its name from its main function
which was home to the shipping companies (rederij)

Rederijhaven

For anyone who'd like to see where we were, here's a screenshot of the map showing the three harbours  we walked around.

Wijnhaven (at the top), Bierhaven,
Rederijhaven and Scheepmakershaven

And here it is in the context of the entire museum harbour complex. The Oude Haven is in the centre of the image.

On our way back to the Vereeniging, it was becoming quite cold, and I spotted this contented kitty sitting in the wheelhouse of one of the barges. She or he looks very happy and was probably conscious of the fact it was a much better place to be than outside.

Contented kitty

One of the big advantages about the curfew from my perspective (which is a very selfish one) is that there is no noise at night in our Oude Haven. What bliss it has been to be there at a weekend and sleep peacefully. Nevertheless, I hope sincerely that the situation improves soon and that the cafés and restaurants can get back to business again. For their sakes, I could handle a bit of noise now.

Enjoy the rest of your week, allemaal, and I hope the sun is shining on you wherever you are. We have snow, hail, showers and sunshine today, and that's for starters. It's blowing a gale as well. Happy days!! 

 

My podcast: for the record :)

 If anyone's interested, I did a podcast a little while back with Alan Parks on his show A Cup of Tea with Alan. The host, Alan Parks, lives in Andalucia, Spain and he does all these interviews from his home, which is completely off-grid. All the podcasts are with authors and he's done several other interviews with some great and very interesting writers, some of whom readers here might find interesting too. 

The connection on mine wasn't the best: an off-grid farm to a barge in Rotterdam doesn't always make for the clearest reception, but it adds a bit of interest! 

The link to the podcast is here: https://buzzsprout.com/1588849/8024785

Serious surgery of an arborial kind

My poor lime tree at the crumbly cottage has been surgically scythed, seriously sectioned and significantly sawn. Why? And was it really necessary? Well, given its proximity to the back of the house, and the fact it had grown substantially since we've been here, I felt it was time it had a trim. However, I didn't expect the cut to be quite so dramatic. 

In actual fact, it's taken more than a year to arrange it. I first made the enquiry to the tree surgeon in November 2019. The company concerned is Belgian and I think they work with quite a small team, so at first it was pretty difficult for them to find time to come and give me advice. We had a number of storms over the winter of 2019/2020 and they were very busy dealing with the (literal) fallout and then, of course, the pandemic threw everything for a loop. Eventually, we managed a visit in May last year in between lockdowns and a very nice man, one of the partners of the business, came and discussed the trimming with us. 

He said the tree was healthy and not likely to fall down, but he understood my concerns and agreed to come back in the autumn to do the job. We discussed methods and he drew us a diagram which gave us the idea that the tree would retain quite an elegant candelabra shape. He also told us it probably wouldn't flower for a couple of years, which would be sad for the bees as they love the blossom on the tree. I almost hesitated at that, but I hope I can provide them with more flowers in the garden instead. We talked about building them a bee hotel, but as the man said "it's not a hotel they need, it's a restaurant!" which made us laugh. In any event, they enjoyed a prolonged feast last May, for which I am thankful.

Anyway, the autumn came and went and we saw no sign of our tree man, so eventually I wrote and asked when they might come. Well, it seemed they were busy with storm damage again (we have a lot of those – storms, that is), so the job was once more put off until this year. Then, yes, you've guessed it, lockdown hit again, so I'd more or less resigned myself to having to wait another year when much to my surprise an email came.  Our man asked if they could come on March the 9th, and did we also want them to bring a shredder (hakselaar in Dutch) to chop up all the pieces? Yes and yes, I said, with some alacrity.

Well, they came, but it was two different men and they made short work of lopping all the branches off the tree to a much more severe extent than I was expecting. I even wondered if they knew about the candelabra plan, but by that time it was too late. Be that as it may, it was fascinating to watch. The tools the two men brought were scarily sharp and 90% of the cutting was done with small hand saws, which seemed to go through quite thick limbs like butter. The main man only used a chain saw to cut the top off where it was thickest, and even that was just a small, battery operated machine. Professional tools are deceptively and jaw-droppingly good.

 

While the one chap was up the tree, chucking the sawn-off branches into the garden, the other was carting them off to the shredder, another astonishingly powerful piece of equipment. It actually made wood chips of everything, which it spat out to form a huge pile in our passage. We still haven't managed to distribute them all yet, but quite a lot of them are now filling in a dip in front of the garden fence at the bottom of the dyke. I have a feeling the rest will find their way into the flower beds, but at the moment, they're tidied away in one of those big white bags.

And that's about half of them.

The tree now looks awful, but I know it will come back and I fully expect it to have at least some leaves on it by the middle of the summer. It is a prolific shooter so I'm not too worried about it, but I keep apologising to it as well as to the pigeons that have used it for their nests for the past several years.

As you can see from the photos above, the day was overcast and gloomy, so below are some sunnier photos of one of my walks last week.

Have a good week allemaal and keep well!