Netherlands/Germany Trip - Amsterdam      26th May:

    As I drifted fitfully through mists of sleep in my cosy bunk, I became aware that the sea conditions had become noticeably bouncy by 2am. I arose at 3am, an hour before my watch was due to start, but I'd had sufficient sleep. Rex, who was on watch, kindly made me a cup of tea, which he stood inside the sink to stop it flying about. Within 20 seconds it had tipped over due to the boat's pitching, so he patiently made me another; a very hospitable captain!

Early Morning Light

    I ushered him below so that he could get some sleep; we had to hot bunk since Richard was fast asleep in the forward berth. As I settled down to my watch, a gloomy, steely grey light hung below the low ceiling of clouds. Endless rows of waves marched up behind us, each shaking Duonita like a bobbing cork. On our port side, a huge armada of ships patiently swung on their anchors, mainly oil tankers. To starboard a forest of spinning wind turbines belonging to the Luchterduinen wind farm quietly went about their lonely, enduring task of generating megawatts of electricity.
    Eventually a yellow ochre glow of light appeared in a fracture of the clouds on the eastern horizon, silhouetting another cluster of anchored vessels saluted by a solitary gas rig. And all the time the endless waves pursued us relentlessly.
    Playing cat and mouse with a trawler provided some light entertainment. Then a large tanker slowed up 400m to our portside before taking on board a pilot, and then accelerated past us as it headed to Ijmuiden. The overcast skies were much brighter now, and the Dutch coast emerged out of the mirk. Convoys of planes passed overhead on their invisible highways to Schiphol airport.

Cat and Mouse Trawler

    Rex and Richard emerged from their pits when we were 15 minutes out of Ijmuiden. Just as Rex popped his head up to observe the seething sea, a noisy VHF call came in with our name clearly recognisable. The skipper responded, but there was no reply. Looking around, we noticed the large DFDS ferry that operates between Newcastle and Ijmuiden emerging from the gloom, clearly on its way into Ijmuiden. We immediately knew its intentions, and bore away from our course to give it priority.
    Once it had overtaken us, we followed it into the outer harbour; a welcome respite from the buffeting waves. A couple of racing yachts nosed out of the marina, fully equipped with gorillas to handle the winches and ropes, and headed out to the North Sea.
    We proceeded immediately to the sea lock, and in no time at all we were dropping "down" to the lower level of the Noordzeekanaal (North Sea Canal). This was a familiar route to Rex and I. The closeness of Amsterdam soon became apparent on our way as two parallel convoys of planes glided down across the canal on their approach paths to parallel runways at Schiphol. It was a delightful cruise along the canal in bursts of sunshine. "Cabin boy" Richard starred again by making us all bacon and egg sandwiches for breakfast. As we munched in the cockpit, barges steamed by heavily laden with ballast, containers, fuel and scrap metal, many with the captain's car parked on the deck behind the bridge. "Does that job ever get boring?" we thought. As we neared Amsterdam, we were aware that more commercial buildings had sprung up along the banks since last year. Mile after mile of docks slipped by. Tall chimneys belched out white clouds of nauseous smoke, and a gigantic petrochemical plant nestled on the shore.

Noordzeekanaal (North Sea Canal)

    The Noordzeekanaal is a waterway in the Netherlands that extends in an east-west direction between Amsterdam and Ijmuiden on the North Sea coast. Its construction was first proposed in 1852; work started in 1865; and the canal opened in 1876. It has been enlarged several times. Navigable by 90,000-ton oceangoing vessels, the canal is 24km long, 15m deep, and 235m wide. It gave Amsterdam direct access to the North Sea, avoiding having to go out through the Zuider Zee and round Noord Holland province, and made it a major port. The sea locks at Ijmuiden were destroyed during World War II but were later rebuilt; the largest is now 400m long by 50m, wide. The canal ends at Amsterdam in the closed-off Ij bay, (the Ijmuiden name literally means "mouth of the Ij"), which in turn connects to the Amsterdam-Rhine Canal.

Amsterdam Marina

Rex, Mr. Clever Clogs

    Soon we were close to the large Amsterdam Marina. After courteously letting a barge pass, as if we had any option, we headed into the marina, swung Duonita around and moored onto a hammerhead pontoon. I took Richard with me up to reception, pointing out where all the facilities were on the way. A Dutch woman was lovingly polishing the side of her gleaming white yacht; the Dutch are obsessed with cleanliness. Once allocated a mooring, quite close to the clubhouse, we headed around to it.
    As we approached the berth, Rex expressed deep concern, "There's not enough room to get her in there!" I'm sure Nelson never whinged like that. "I informed the chap that we have 3.3m beam," was the only response I could give. The issue we faced was quite a strong wind which had a mind of its own, and was intent on trying to slam us into an adjacent boat. Rex bravely squeezed Duonita in on the second attempt, and there was a collective sigh of relief. As it turned out we had a metre width to spare.
    Richard kindly prepared lunch, his reputation as the ship's chef was becoming firmly established. After a nap to catch up on well needed sleep, followed by a delicious shower, we caught a ferry across the Ij to Pontsteiger Werf, and walked through a pleasant suburb in the direction of the city centre.

Cheers : Me, Rex and Richard

    The density of shops, cafes, bars and restaurants increased, as did the number of people, and of course Rex soon sniffed out a bar. Here we indulged in Heineken (Rex, the Heineken kid), Affigen (Richard who likes the strong stuff) and Browerij t'Ij (me who wanted a local brew) beers at a pavement table. As usual, we put the world to rights, but our deep, philosophical outpourings were disturbed by a crash of a glass being knocked over and pouring liquid. We immediately spun around, and instantly assessed the situation. A pedestrian had accidentally knocked a customer's glass off the adjacent table. The female offender had no qualms, and immediately went into the bar and bought the customer another beer.
    Rex exuded his normal charm, and interrogated the barmaid as to where we could get some good Dutch food. The chatty lady soon furnished us with details of a couple of restaurants. Rex was, as always, fluent in Dutch, and obtained her age: 52. Why he wanted to know that heaven knows.
    We undertook a lengthy hike to one of the recommended restaurants and arrived just as the heavens opened. There was a queue to get in, and we were hungry, so we opted for an Italian restaurant just a few doors along. It was warm, busy, and we were served tasty food by a good natured lad from Bangladesh. An excellent evening it was too.
    Richard and I manoeuvred a tipsy Rex back to the ferry in the pouring rain, and escorted him back to Duonita. Welcome to Holland!