Cool northerlies

We woke up early to a very different day - cloudy and mercifully cool thanks to northerly winds. By 0730 we were at the first lock and bridge praying that there would be a body to operate it at that early hour. That body responded promptly and in perfect English when we called on VHF. 

Off we went on an odyssey of northern Netherlands, amid intensely green fields and sleepy villages. We wound through wiggly river bits and straight canals, past windmills and numberless old barges sporting their lee boards like little wings (which do the job of a keel digging into the water, in these flat bottomed giants). See picture of one of the biggest in Groningen.

We lost count of the bridges...but looking at our bible of the 'Staande Mastroute' I reckon we have done forty bridges between Leeuwarden and Groningen, endless jilling around waiting for bridges to be prepared, red lights to turn green and the sudden charge forward as the bridge is raised or swung. (See pic)

At last we arrived in our target town of Groningen..earlier than expected and moored Sirena IV in the friendly Oosterhaven marina where she will lie snugly for a week as we fly to Scotland to be with Nic's mum. 

After washing the boat free of dead insects and washing our own clothes we sat in the sun on the breezy canal side to have a dinner of Dutch delicacies, washed down with beer and gin. 

Tomorrow is train and airport and hotel. A different world to our little nautical bubble.

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Many bridges almost too far

Greeted by a cacophony of birdsong when we arose at 0730. This included oyster catchers who were foraging on the lawn, which is pretty strange behaviour for a wader. After paying the least amount ever for a night  (€13) we powered off the mud into the canal and set to with the 11 bridges through Leeuwarden; at each bridge you have to stop and jill about waiting for it to open which could be 10 mins. There is no way of knowing. You might be with a bunch of other boats, which depending on their boat handling skills can get interesting.  Two hours later we were free and headed north-ish. 

Next was Dokkum, a very pretty town of 4 bridges. We didn't stop because we're on a Baltic mission. Pics are a typical bridge, a requisite windmill and a rural canal view.

The land is much less polder-like now; it is slightly higher than the canal rather than lower. We see cows now, and horses. Many Aberdeen Angus types are standing in the water no doubt to keep cool (pic); we feel like joining them. Wow it is hot, even as we loop north through Lauwesmeer quite near the coast. Now we have wound back down narrowing channels to Zoutkamp. 

We were headed to the Oude Binnenhaven (old harbour) when we went past Jachthaven Hunzegat that had empty pontoons just inside the entrance. The Book says it's shallow in there but we're old hands now at motoring across mud so in we went. It's delightful here, just the birds peewitting as the roaring sun finally eases towards the horizon. 

Polder Land

We left the yacht haven gingerly, reversing out of the dratted box mooring by pulling our stern lines in. There's an art to loosing them at the right moment that we haven't mastered. In fact there's an art to box mooring that we may never master because Sirena IV is not designed for it. However we have to get used to it because that's the only thing on offer in this part of the world.

The plan was to get to Sneek which is pronounced Snake, meandering through the wide sailing waters of the Ijsselmeer, then through locks, canals and bridges.  A moderate target for a hot windless day motoring through the flat green polders of northern Holland. But progress was good - we got into locks and under raised bridges faster than expected. Along the way we saw many wonderful classic Dutch boats. (See pic )

Now our target is Leeuwarden, a town with a rail station which could take us back to Amsterdam and the airport.

But hopefully we can get even farther north east by Tuesday when we must put Sirena IV in a berth for a week while we fly to Scotland. That's the good bit.

Now, the downsides of today. A Biblical plague of large greenish flies which swarmed across us and every bit of the boat. They flew in our ears and eyes and mouths, dangled from our cap- peaks and clustered on our trousers and shirts. A mob of them clung to the Ensign, that noble red flag which shows we are a British ship. They settled in the chartplotter, masquerading as green buoys. If you moved they rose in clouds. Eating a sandwich would have meant swallowing extra protein. After three hours or so most were dead and a baby wind blew them away.

The other hitch was in a kind of motorway roundabout at about 4pm when the Sunday boaters were all going home at once. Lesley spotted a slow rowing boat approaching and moved off to give it room. Hey presto, it was suddenly 0.3 metres under the keel so we had to do a quick 360 degree turn to avoid going aground while missing the startled rowers. All this in the Dutch marine equivalent of Spaghetti Junction. 

On we soldiered into the heart of Friesland (think Wales related to England) and the canals got narrower and shallower and ruraler ... with sheep. We reached Leeuwarden just after 7pm and were hugely thankful that the last little bridge still opened for us; they do close for the night. The marina has far less depth than claimed on the chart and so we are tied up, near the entrance, lightly aground on the mud. 

But it's been a good day. 

A Meer 28 miles

Surreal sighting at Amsterdam Marina: a Sinclair C5 which must be circa 1980?! It looked like a toy (which actually it was) as Nic loomed over it (pic). 

A very slow start as tired from 12 hours tramping around Amsterdam yday. Left marina at 1100 and motored through the absolute centre of the city. Past Centraal Station and got lucky with missing all the ferries that shuttle back and forth rather like water spiders. Followed and overtook a huge Dutch barge that sailed through the lot (pic).

Oranjesluis, the lock that separates the North Sea Canal from the Marker Meer, was rammed with yachts and motor boats. It is a Saturday. All very civilised though apart a German boat going too fast.

Once in open water we hoisted sail on a F3 NW - just right for a gentle beam reach and forecast to blow all day. As is the way of things, after 2 hours of lovely sailing the wind died so back with the good ole motor. Markermeer is a vast expanse of water roughly 200 square miles and the whole lot is between 3m and 4m deep ie v shallow. Not the place to be in a v strong wind apparently. 

After 3 hours we arrived at a small place called Lelystad which is on reclaimed land - there's a lot of that around here. Its claim to fame is a replica of Batavia, a seventeenth century East Indiaman (pic). Here we went through the Houtribsluis, a lock that separates the Marker Meer from the Ijsselmeer which is twice the size and equally shallow. This time only a couple of yachts for company. A few miles further on and we turned into Flevo Marina for the night. They didn't answer the phone or VHF, which is not untypical - their relaxed attitude is quite nice except that here they were not operating the green/red marker system that tells you which berths are free. 

We got vague advice from somebody on a boat as we passed, and now we're sitting here fretting slightly that this berth owner may turn up and turf us off. It's not trivial because these are the box moorings much beloved of the Baltic nations and they are damned tricky to get in and out. Last year in south Holland we only came across 2 in the whole trip. This time we're resigned to them being common. So, you might say, why not relish the practice? Well not now please, I've had my dinner and everything is switched off. 

Vaults and croquettes

Amsterdam is like an over-large ice cream. You can never consume enough of it in the time you're given. We had one day today in which we lunched and dined with two (unrelated)dear friends, visited the most decorative bank vault in the world and the biggest handbag museum, and watched fluffy ducklings zooming across canals. And we chugged back on the free ferry at 10 pm watching the bright lemon sky. This city still leaves you wanting more.

Lunch was the Dutch speciality of prawn croquettes with Lesley's old friend Peter. Dinner was steak with Nic's old friend Eric. And in between we visited the Amsterdam City Archive housed in a former bank where the vaults are an art deco riot of colour done out for the wealthy visiting their safety deposit boxes. It's a free and fascinating way to learn about the city.

Next came the Handbag and Purse museum and yes Nic and Eric lounged in chairs while Lesley raced through the 3 floors in half an hour to see the extraordinary collection. A dull grey Thatcher handbag, green Madonna bag and a glitzy Elizabeth Taylor were among the big draws but actually the best stuff were the handmade beaded bags from the 1920s.

Now back on the boat we can hear fireworks. It's been a perfect day and tomorrow we leave for the trip north through the Orangesluis and toward the Baltic.

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North Sea Canal

Late start today after 13 hours in bed. We deserved it. 

We didn't spend any time in Ijmuiden this time as there is nothing we need. We did have a false start due to a strange engine noise. We tied up again immediately because you don't keep going with strange noises! Figured out it was our new shaft seal and sorted it.

The first lock in Holland is the Kleinesluis (little lock) for private craft. It held no terrors this time around, and only us and 1 motor cruiser. Then a simple 13 mile motor up the North Sea Canal with only one near miss with a ferry that just pulled out in front of us. We did have 3 abreast towards us, see pic, a big tanker overtaking a small tanker and a big barge overtaking both of them. Bit cheeky.

Now we're in the Amsterdam Marina with its posh bathrooms  (we enjoyed) and expensive restaurant  (we eschewed). Very nice to have some down time, and tomorrow we'll see our friends Peter and Eric.

Across the North Sea

We arrived in Seaport Marina, Ijmuiden at 1700 UK time today, having left Shotley Marina, Harwich at 1630 yesterday. Our passage plan was a repeat of last year'sand it worked perfectly and with less stress. There was also, sadly, less sailing this year because the wind was just too light until the last 2 hours; we did sail right into Ijmuiden harbour as tankers were coming out. 

We could have sailed very very slowly, but in shipping lanes and fishing fleets and taking 3 days? Nah - slap the motor on, let's get on with it, the Baltic is calling. 

One very helpful difference from last year was that we had a good moon and clear skies, so even in the 4 hours of darkness we could still see the horizon. This helps when deciding whether strange lights are 5 miles away or 500 yards away. The sunrise pic here does not do its perfection justice. 

The marina is very different in June compared to August last year - it's half empty as the pic may show and at 1800 local time no-one was answering the VHF to acknowledge our arrival. It's very off-season for them. 

V tired now as the sleeping during a 2 hour off-watch is never very good. Food, wash, bed zzzz

Leaving the Medway

On Monday we said goodbye to the Medway as Sirena IV left Chatham in bouncy conditions to cross the Thames Estuary. After an uneventful ten hour crossing we arrived at Shotley marina in the shadow of the cranes of Lowestoft. Birdsong greeted us.  

We had looked back at our home port on the Medway realising that it might be 2 years or more before we return if the overwintering in the Baltic goes as planned. 

We had the luxury of a late start on Tuesday for our 24 hour slog across the North Sea to Ijmuiden. So we treated ourselves to cooked lunch at the Shotley pub the Shipwreck, while listening to xenophobic rants from elderly lunchers at a nearby table. The food did us good even if the company didn't. 

As we left the lock in Shotley to speed down the narrow channel to wider waters,  we again reflected that this was farewell - to Blighty- for our dear boat. Let's hope for fair winds and good company. This week seems like a perfect time to leave the country.

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In the Water suddenly

No, not falling off the pontoon. Last Friday the Yard boss suddenly said "we can put you in now" - there was a brief lull in the crazy wind. So that was a scramble to get ready and then do all the leak checks when floating. 

So now we're furiously shopping, packing and wondering what we have forgotten. We might be off tomorrow (Mon) if the wind abates in time. There's a weather window of 2-3 days to get over to the Netherlands (Ijmuiden) before it gets all blowy again by Thu/Fri.

Season 'plan'

Having had a good grump about the weather in the first post, let's describe what we laughingly call a plan for the season. Aspiration might be a better word.

Last autumn we conceived the idea of taking Sirena IV to the Baltic - indeed it had been in our minds for some time. With us working less (ha ha) and not getting any younger (uurgh) we should carpe diem while we can. So we bought lots of charts and some pilot books, and went to the CA 'Baltic Briefing' day, and made some 'plans'.

Intended passage map

A couple of events have appeared this summer which could have caused us to re-think the whole affair. First Nic's younger daughter, Rebecca/Becky/Bex, and fiancee Ross announce they are pregnant with a due date of 27 July. Then Nic's 90yo mum, Ilona, announces she is on a waiting list for heart valve replacement, possibly in June. Hmm. Both events are going to happen, yet the timing is uncertain by quite a few weeks.

So referring back to the second para above, we decided to keep to the 'plan' with some adjustments. The intention is to get the boat to the Baltic, which means the far end of the Kiel Canal, by mid July, then fly/train back to UK. We'll hang around Bristol like a bad smell until the baby is here and home with Bex, and we've had some admiring and holding. Then we'll fly/train or drive back to the boat, explore a bit of Denmark, and in Sep leave the boat in a warm shed (it's what they call it) in Germany for the winter. Of course we will return earlier or go back later as needed for Ilona's operation. (If the Scottish NHS could schedule it one week before Bex's unknown actual drop date that would be really helpful.)

The big idea is that Sirena IV will then already be in the Baltic ready for launch in May 2018 and a full season there - certainly Sweden, possibly Finland, and we aspire to Estonia. 

But first things first ... we have to get there. And family of course, both Nic's and Lesley's, always take top priority. So do watch this space for what could well be a logistically and financially challenging season; but we eat logistics for breakfast, and what little money we have is there to solve challenges like this. 

Storm-bound ... in the Yard!

Sirena IV lift-out

This is unusual. First blog of the season's cruising, and we're still in the Yard i.e. on the hard, out of the water, propped up, going nowhere.

Admittedly we were running late this year, in part due to Nic having a lot of University work (project management marking and new course development) and Lesley making a BBC R4 programme (on the fishing industry), and in part due to work being done on the boat by professionals - see the Sirena IV @ Medway blog.

The weather this spring had been kind - dry, sunny, perfectly clement.

Now it's June ... and the storms are upon us. The wind is howling and the rain is lashing down, all across the country. Specifically, the wind is too high (more than 25 knots) for lifting boats from the Yard into the water. We are in Chatham Marina, and booked to lift in tomorrow morning, Wed 7 June. But they haven't been able to lift since the w/e, and according to the forecast on xcweather they won't be able to lift until NEXT TUE, by which time there will be 20+ boats in front of us in the queue!!

So our hour-by-hour plan for this week, which should have seen us leaving the Medway for Harwich on Friday, is in tatters. We are somewhat deflated. Our friend Eric who lives in Holland is intending to come across to Harwich on the ferry and sail back with us to Amsterdam; we've had to put him 'on hold'. It really is most frustrating ... but that's sailing for you, and we have to roll with the weather and make the most of it.