|
After the AGM, I took the night ferry back with Joachim and his Hon Sec Barent, to the Hook of Holland, and there (after leaving Barent) began a Michael Palin type journey on Dutch Railways, through darkest Friesland to the edge of the known world at Harlingen. After fortification with some more beer, we took the ferry across the grey and misty Waddenzee to the island of Terschelling. There, after buying the necessary victuals, we joined Ragamuffin, almost alone in a vast yacht harbour. The Taylor diesel heater, after warming the cabin nicely, started to blow out. “It’s just the way we are lying to the wind”, Joachim explained. “Bullsh*t”, I thought, “That wind is getting stronger!” Synoptic forecasts had been indicating a lot of wind on the way, serious even for mid January. But we continued to feed waypoints into the GPS of all the numerous twists and bends of the channels in the Waddenzee across to Kornwernerzand, at the entrance to the Ijsselmeer.  Early next morning we set off into the grey gloom being driven in by the rising Sou’wester. We aimed to reach the Meep, the deep channel running westwards at near low water, before taking the young flood south coming through Zeegat van Terschelling. Two reefed main and motor, the seas were lumpy, and there was some consternation and checking of courses as we could not see the channel marks in the Meep. But I remembered it was a very sharp turn the last time I had taken Maryll out there in September. We sailed towards Vieland before making our southing, hoping to get a lee off the big banks between that island and the mainland. All was going well, and we were on course despite the poor visibility. Normally yachts take the deep water channel to Harlingen, then go westwards along the land to the Ijsselmeer. But there is a narrow half tide channel which a few fishermen and charter barges take, called the Zuidoostrak. With only 6ft of tide range this was always going to be tight for us that day, but then a weather report came through with winds rising to 7 and the tide a foot lower than predicted. With the waves and less water likely, we abandoned the passage plan, and retraced our steps at vast speed (about 7 Knots over tide and ground!) to the turn off point for the Harlingen Channel. Beam wind it was a fast trip, but with commercial shipping having to crab their way through the channel with high cross wind and tide, the Dutch might have made the channel wider! Lowering sail was done inside the harbour just after we entered. There did not seem a lot of life at the harbour bridge, so we went to the lock at the north of the town and entered the inland waterways system. Just after entering we turned starboard very sharp into a sheltered creek in which there was a small sailing club at the back of the town. The cabin heater was fired up, a joint of Island lamb was consumed and a hostelry sought in town, where we tried to dry out our sodden gear. The next morning it was blowing a full gale in the wrong direction to reach Kornwernerzand, so Joachim phoned the water authorities to see if the inland route to Stavoren was possible with a standing mast. Although there is commercial traffic all year round, sometimes the lift bridges for sailing craft do not open without prior arrangement. Yes, it was possible, so we set off down the canal after refuelling from a barge. The first bridge opened as if waiting for us, then called us up on the VHF. Apparently a lift bridge the other side of Leewarden was under construction, and construction pontoons would have to be moved for us to pass. Could we phone them to tell them our ETA? The next bridge along, the bridge keeper came to the bank to ask us if we had got the message, such service! Obviously manoeuvring a yacht in such winds is difficult, but the system was being set up so everything could open as we arrived, the progress of this lone little sailing vessel being telegraphed from bridge to bridge. The gale to Leewarden was in our favour, so we set the staysail. The speed limit is six knots, this was exceeded considerably at times, great fun swishing past the Friesian countryside. Unfortunately they could not hold up the Dutch Railways for Ragamuffin, so we had to stop at Leewarden for a few minutes. It was hellish mooring up, I had to jump ashore into the mud and try and snatch a turn on some posts, but I ended up hold both bow and stern rope and was gradually being stretched apart. With my natural beam certainly not needing any further increase, Joachim leapt ashore as well. At one time we thought Ragamuffin might sail off without us!  Head to wind, motoring full ahead would only give us three knots. The spray from the waves was lashing us, the boat was heeling to the gunwhales at times. It was painful even to look into the wind and hail. Eventually we reached the junction with Princes Margaret Canal, the main commercial canal through Friesland to Germany. On the bank were two guys in a van. The construction pontoons had moved ready for us, but they wanted to know if we needed the bridge opening, as there was nearly 10 metres clearance. Yes said Joachim, he needed twelve for Ragamuffin, so off they drove. We came in sight of the Jachtenbrug, and we could see why they were asking. A big motorway bridge was under construction, and there were no lowering barriers for the traffic. So the workmen had to lay bollards across the road to stop the traffic on this vital road artery, then raise the bridge bascule while this little yacht battled her way through! It was cold, it was wet and it was very windy as we turned towards the Sneekemeer. On the train-bridge before the bridge keeper had called us to say that whilst the wind might go down slightly this evening, it was going blow something terrible soon and we should find shelter. The cowshit was already blowing off the dykes, if it wasn’t washing off, so we decided to stop at Sneek, a market town to the south of the meer. The trouble was the channel was not lit and it was pitch dark. Joachim had not been before, and his foreign crew had only been up there in Deva four years ago, in the fog, navigating off a road map. But we found our way somehow, and worked our way into the town. The chart was a bit uncertain on the whereabouts of the visitor harbour- we did see some pontoons, but Joachim thought they belonged to a prison. We carried on until the channel became very narrow and tied up by a little bridge near the centre, sheltered enough for the heater to work. It was chicken for tea, and afterwards Joachim asked his foreign crew where the pubs were. The crew’s internal pub guidance system went into archive memory and we ended in a square with two “Brown” pubs facing us. Was it left pub or right pub? Joachim chose left and yes, it was the bar I had left involuntarily four years ago. I even pointed to where I had sat at the bar. When we returned rather late, Joachim decided to swing the ship in the calm before the storm, so the bowsprit was pointing the right way for what might be a difficult exit in high winds at daybreak. Yes the winds were high, very high indeed, even in our sheltered spot. We just kept on sleeping, as it had been a very late night. In the afternoon we visited the museum, which was very interesting, especially on the skating, and visited the right hand pub, which was heaving with many people finishing work. Yes I had been there as well, hence yesterday’s indecision. Then it was back for a meal before returning to the left hand pub. During this time we heard just how bad the wind had been. All the bridges were closed, the railway system had shut down. Reports of damage everywhere, people being killed. Whereas the wind had kept the water away from the Waddenzee when we crossed, the low pressure centre caused a surge of 3.2 metres above predicted levels, and the army was put on standby with sandbags etc to protect the sea dykes. The next day was just an ordinary gale. We were able to get away from Sneek, but Joachim was having doubts about cross the Ijsselmeer from Stavoren, our next port of call. Was it going to be fish at Stavoren or Spare Ribs at the Dikke Mik? After a short passage down the Princess Margaret Canal we turned off for Heeg. While we slowed for the first bridge, Joachim phoned up to see if there was a route through the North East Polder, which would have taken us round the back of Urk Island, then into the Randmeer, skirting round the south of the Ijsselmeer. There was doubt about the entry lock at Lemmer, but the worst thing was a fixed bridge not capable of passing Ragamuffin’s mast. So we carried on to Heeg and Stavoren. Some guys repairing a roof on the canal side shouted at me “ You crazy sailors!” How did they know I was English? A rather long bowel movement gave me an opportunity to stay in the cabin whilst Joachim helmed across the Heegemeer, a five mile lake where the waves had built up to sea-like proportions. I felt guilty as the continual spray sheeted across him! As we left the lake I noticed our speed over ground was two knots higher than through the water. Seeing a buoy tilting to windward in the current, we realised that we were in something of a mill-race, not nice with wind over tide, not easy to aim through gaps at bridges. Why there was so much water rushing out of Friesland was a mystery- they are used to rain over there! Maybe with the extreme tides preventing water from draining out to sea? Eventually we reached Stavoren, where we moored in the shelter of the houses and took stock. The wind was meant to moderate to force 6 and draw round to the West for a few hours, which would give us a slant to sail southwards to Enkhuizen. But it wasn’t showing much sign of that. It was sh*t or bust! We waited an hour then set off for the lock in some trepidation. Plan B was to skirt the coast and nip into the old harbour, where at least there was a railway station! Our trepidation was not helped by the bridge over the lock failing to open, some problem with the mechanism. But eventually that was sorted out and we locked out into the Ijsselmeer. The onshore waves, always bad at Stavoren with the offshore banks causing disturbance, were bigger than we had ever seen on the Ijsselmeer, 6-8 feet high. But my funny tummy immediately felt better as Ragamuffin really rose to the occasion, punching her way through the crests. Nice proper dollops of water hitting the cockpit, rather than just stinging spray! Once clear of the banks, we were able to set the staysail and reach south to Enkhuizen. It was easy sailing despite the waves, Ragamuffin is a sea boat. I was on the point of hinting to Joachim a scrap of mainsail might be nice, but experience on Ragamuffin has taught me that he doesn't do scraps on that mainsail, so I kept quiet! As night fall approached we entered Enkhuizen harbour, and moored astern in one of the boxes. I was surprised at the height of the water- normally I can’t reach the jetty even at summer level, but our transome was at the same height. That level access facilitated easy access ashore and a quick walk to the Dikke Mik, and met up with our friend Bas and his new girl Hilda. The waitress didn’t have to ask what we wanted to eat. 3 o’clock the next morning and several beers and Irish Coffees later we returned to Ragamuffin. Slightly worse for wear, we arose from our slumbers later that day. Yet another gale. I went to check Maryll in Oosterhaven, while Joachim tidied up ship. We said our goodbyes to Ragamuffin, and to two other OGA boats in the harbour, Firecrest and Prawner, and took the train to Amsterdam. It had been a nice break despite the weather. Nice company, lots of fun, lots of excitement. You can’t beat a short sailing break in January! Jon Wainwright |