As we gilled about waiting for the Grote Beer bridge to open, I cast my eyes over the vast steel works alongside us. Mountains of scrap metal waited their fate in the huge furnaces inside, while long billets of reprocessed metal were loaded at the far end. The scene very much reminded me of the days when I first left school and worked in a steelworks near where I lived. I recounted that phase of my life to my shipmates. We came across more steelworks as we headed down the Noord in the direction of Rotterdam.
Gouda's Lage Gouwe Canal
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We glided past a large open stretch of lush, green fields and woodland on our port side; very peaceful and idyllic. The utopian moment was suddenly spoiled by a very loud siren going off, and it lasted for some time. Were alarms being tested at some chemical plant, or at a prison? We'll never know.
We passed by the entrance to the Lek where we were yesterday, and were confronted with a magnificent view of Rotterdam in the distance.
Stadhuis Gouda
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I am always impressed by the colossal enclosed floating docks the size of aircraft hangers that belong to IHC Offshore & Marine BV. Close to them a large red ship, with an equally large helicopter pad, towered above us. The gleaming ship was registered in Douglas, Isle of Man, and functioned to serve the oil field industry. Also moored on the same quay was another towering vessel that contained a drilling platform, all gleaming yellow in its fresh livery. I just love all this big engineering, a bit beyond men and their toys.
Passing close to the small marina where we had stayed in 2011 when Rex, Alan and I were on our Baltic trip, we turned off and started to follow the same route we had taken then up the Hollandsche Ijssel. We motored along through a mixture of small industrial areas, farmland and small villages. Quite a few of the houses overlooking the waterway had boats moored up alongside them, or suspended by small cranes. As expected, all the gardens were manicured. There was much less commercial traffic on this waterway, and the barges were smaller.
Within 2.5 hours we were on the outskirts of Gouda, and rounding a lone sentinel wind turbine madly waving its arms about, we entered the Nieuwe Gouwe. Fifty metres in and we turned right into the Kromme Gouwe, which we followed all the way down into a marina, a small establishment buried within an industrial area and retail park complex.
We had no sooner tied up to the registration pontoon when the harbour master turned up, a sturdy, ruddy complexioned chap wearing a crimson T-shirt. "Box tien," he shouted, and off we went to find box ten. The harbour master and one of his cronies were already waiting there to help us in. It was a tight fit!
Once safely ensconced, I went up to pay him for the night. His office was a desk in a fairly large, empty clubhouse. He explained he had no licence to do anything else inside the room. The man helpfully provided directions for walking to the town, and loaded me with forests of tourist information. The marina was functional, but the one toilet cubicle plus one shower per sex let it down a bit.
Gouda Weeshuis
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We marched off into Gouda, passing through a residential area containing a mixture of houses, some possessing well-kept gardens backed by "picturesque" front window dressing, and a few not so well kept dwellings. The chap from Poole we had met in Dordrecht referred to this residential area as "dodgy", though I was not perturbed by it at all.
Myriads of waterways laced the area, curiously reminding me of the Venice, just up the coast from LAX airport in Los Angeles, that was founded by tobacco tycoon Abbot Kinney. An increase in the number of tourist shops indicated we were homing in on the city centre. As with a lot of Dutch towns and cities, the heart of the city sat on an island surrounded by canals, and everything we wanted to see resided upon this island.
We strolled down the Lange Groenendaal, a narrow street, full of kids on bikes texting on phones as they sped along oblivious to the hazards of pedestrians in the street. It was not just the young who kept you on your toes in the narrow streets, the elderly on their motorised scooters also terrorised folk on foot. At the end of the street we popped out into a large square, the Markt. The centre of the cheese-wedge shaped square was dominated by the Stadhuis Gouda. During the summer of 1438, a devastating fire reduced the then town of Gouda virtually to ashes, and the town hall suffered heavy damage. The town council decided that the new town hall should be freestanding. It chose a new location on the market field, which was little more than a sodden peat bog at the time. Today the town hall contains the mayor's office and council chamber, plus a magnificent wedding room. On the right facing wall stands a carillon with mechanical puppets, which were added in 1961. The leading figure in the carillon is Floris V, who granted Gouda its town charter in 1272. Every 2 minutes on the half hour, the carillon and mechanical dolls come to life and treat you to a nice spectacle.
Just beyond the Markt stood the Sint Janskerk, allegedly the longest church in the Netherlands. At the northern end of the square the lay the Waag, the Zalm Hotel, once the oldest hotel in the Netherlands, and the Arti Legi, a building dating from 1855, designed by the architect Willem Cornelis van Goor, and now a venue for weddings. Sadly by this time of the day these buildings were closed.
Along two sides of the square, truck loads of sand had been shipped in to create a number of temporary sand filled volley ball courts. I guessed this was a spin off from the Tour de France which had passed through Gouda the previous day.
Meal at NEO Restaurant
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Wandering around the back of the church, we passed the Gouda Museum with its charming garden. We came to Spieringstraat where we came across the Weeshuis (orphanage). In 1586 a chaplain room was set up here, which was charged with the care of the poor in the city. In 1599 it was commissioned as the Chaplains orphanage. In 1642 the adjacent six homes of the chaplain were purchased and a new orphanage built. In 1812, the two orphanages were merged, probably because the difference between citizen and non-citizen was allowed to lapse. Many boys had to serve in the French army. In 1939 a group of forty Jewish children, who had fled from Germany, were placed in the orphanage. During World War II, some Gouda schools used classrooms within the building. In 1948 the orphanage was closed. Left of the orphanage is the Jerusalem Chapel which was built around 1500. After 1572 the chapel came into the possession of the city.
We stumbled across the secluded NEO restaurant near the church, where Rex delighted us with his jokes in Dutch, well at least the waitress laughed as he told them. It served up excellent food.
On our way back to our floating home, we stopped to take in the volleyball competitions that were taking place. Haphazardly arranged teams of young men and women, some clearly drunk, endeavoured to play their matches. It was all good fun, though some did try to take it seriously. A large Dutch chap stood close to me with his wife, supporting one of the teams extremely vocally. Perhaps his son or daughter was on the team. He cheered like billy-o each time the team scored. For a little mirth, I shouted to him, "Offside," as his team scored yet another point, not having a clue whether there was an offside rule or not. "No way," he screamed back in perfect English. It was all good fun.
We made our mind up to spend another day exploring the city properly when it was open.
