Picking up the Havenweg just past the church, we strolled past a collection of recently built flats perched on the water front with their own pontoons. A large holiday complex and recreational centre stood opposite the flats. Our walk took us down a path between the flats and complex, and as we reached the end of the path, we were presented with a magnificent panorama of the Veerse Meer, with all manner of leisure craft travelling up and down its length. We had passed through here last year on our passage from Veere to Goes.
Young children were jumping into the Meer from a nearby platform, while others were racing each other on zip wires attached between the platform and the sandy shore, screaming with glee. Crabs scuttled in crystal clear waters beneath the pontoon we were standing on.
But alas, the dreaded time for Rex was approaching, and we headed back to the dentist on the main street. The surgery reception was serene, with pastel shaded walls and a totally glass roof allowing the brightest of sunlight to blaze an interior pattern. A scattering of plants and a whisper of soft background music completed the disarming setting. It was also air-conditioned, a welcome relief from the scorching heat outside. A couple of ladies were already patiently waiting, and when one spotted Rex's gold filling in his hand, she smiled and told us she had six in her mouth.
All the staff in the surgery wore the same powder blue uniform. The young female receptionist gave Rex a broad grin, displaying a set of dazzling teeth. I thought I saw the strong sunlight glinting off them as in those soppy cartoons when the hero smiles. She noted down his particulars, and in a short while a glamorous young woman, also dressed in powder blue with blinding white teeth, prised Rex off his seat and led him like a little schoolboy to the chamber of torture. He twitched nervously as he went; I don't know if that was due to the attractive young woman perhaps leading him astray, or the fear of what lay behind the ultra-white door. He whimpered and cast a meaningful look in my direction. "Don't be such a wimp!" I said and waved him on with my not so white smile. The receptionist gave me a mischievous grin.
Twenty minutes later he reappeared with a look of shock and concern, his mouth slightly numb. I wasn't sure if this was due to it being the start of a continuous week's worth of dental treatment, or he had been sent out for thumping the dentist. However, the lad soon composed himself and explained to me how he had not received an injection in his gum, but a pad had been squeezed against it which seemingly had the same numbing effect. The old filling site had been cleaned out, and a new permanent filling inserted.
Now for the real shocker. He expected to be charged a fortune for the work. He was staggered when he got the bill. The cost was a mere 22.50 euros. Crumbs, you could not even get a check-up for that back home. He thanked the receptionist profusely, extolling the virtues of such work being carried out at an excellent price.
The receptionist kindly organised a taxi to take us back to Colijnsplaat. We took what shade we could outside in the blistering temperature. Hordes of children poured out of an unseen school on their cycles. The heat was merciless.
Leaving Colijnsplaat with Zeeland Brugge in the Background
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Cormorant Watching Us Leave
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After an appreciable wait, a young, cheery cab driver picked us up. We discovered he had spent many years sailing. He then told us the story of how he and five of his pals had "borrowed" his dad's boat without telling him. Once his father discovered what he had done, he banished his son from ever using his boat again.
A short drive returned us to Colijnsplaat marina. We immediately checked in at the harbour master's office; we were well past the noon checkout time. A different official was in charge, but word had already got around about the Englishman with the lost filling. A kindly soul, he was not going to charge us for staying over the checkout time.
Zierikzee Sint-Lievens Monster Tower from the Oosterschelde
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We thanked the man, bade our farewells, and immediately headed across the Oosterschelde, closely hugging the Zeeland Brugge in the direction of Zierikzee.
The lead into Zierikzee was along a 2km long straight canal, the Havenkanaal. Huge civil engineering works were being carried out on the right hand bank, perhaps strengthening the seawall defences.
Once we reached a long pontoon on the left bank by the West Havendijk, we sought out the harbour master who instructed us as to which box we were to use. It had been a year since we last negotiated one of these continental mooring mechanisms, but in no time at all we were ensconced. Then by pure chance we bumped into Sean and Ian, chaps from the Westerly owner's club who we had met at the Roompot. They had spent three days at the Roompot, one of the days involving cycling to Goes and a few other places.
Sint-Lievens Monster Tower and Adjacent Church
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After a chin wag, Rex and I ventured into Zierikzee, passing through the old town walls as we entered the town proper. We weaved our way through quaint streets populated by old houses of typical Dutch gabled appearances. Now that we were away from the water, the temperature was oppressive, and huddles of people stuck to the shadows as they toured the streets.
Zierikzee is a small city, located on the former island of Schouwen in the province of Zeeland. The conurbation was granted city rights in 1248 and was an independent municipality until 1997. Since the early Middle Ages, Zierikzee was a rich trading city. Its wealth led to the construction of a beautiful port, city hall, mills, church and city walls and gates. The city was damaged by the catastrophic North Sea flood of 1953, and received help from the English town of Hatfield. Since then a friendship has developed between them, and now the two towns are twinned.
Our first port of call was the striking tall tower that could be seen miles away, the Sint-Lievensmonstertoren or Sint-Lievens Monster Tower, also popularly known as the Fat Tower. The construction of the tower began in 1454, and then being by the open sea, it was intended to build the highest tower of the Netherlands. During the early phases of its construction the money run out, and it was after a few years before they managed to build a top. The size of the tower is now 1/8 of its intended size. The tower is built with several million bricks, and was not attached to the church that stood beside it. We were too late to climb the tower.
Spire of the Stadhuismuseum
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On the grassy area by the tower, three young men were creating what appeared to be a large wooden box. I peered inside and struck up a conversation with them. The construction, made out of recycled wooden pallets, was meant to inspire folk. I made encouraging noises, but quite frankly I was far from inspired. The installation would be there until the end of August before being dismantled. I took a glance back as we left and saw the tilt of the construction. Wow, if UK Health and Safety saw that, it would be flattened.
Heading towards the town centre down Meelstraat we came across the Stadhuismuseum with its beautiful spire. Sadly it too was shut at this time of day.
Oude Haven
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Continuing on we came across small areas full of tempting eating establishments. Eventually we stumbled into the Kraanplein at the top of the Oude Haven. The latter was full of stunning old Dutch vessels with their typical curved upward bows and sterns, a delight to behold.
Zuidhavenpoort
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At the bottom of the Oude Haven, to the left stood the Noordhavenpoort, and to the right the imposing Zuidhavenpoort with a pair of pretty, white bridges.
By now, we had walked enough in the heat, and so we headed down Nieuwe Haven by the canal until we found a small canal side restaurant, where we tucked into a hearty meal. Rex was in ecstasies over the huge quantity of mussels he was presented with in a handsome enamelled pot. I noticed a woman two tables down eating a similar dish out of a bucket. "What has that lady got that you haven't?" I mused with Rex. He immediately retorted with ..... well I won't go there.
As we left the restaurant, we bumped into Sean and Ian again, a bit like old pennies these chaps, sitting outside the next restaurant. They too had eaten mussels, but by all accounts they had not been impressed with their meal. We left them to their desert, and sauntered back to
Duonita, whacked after the full day of activities and oppressive heat.
