 Dave on Tiller Heading up the Canal |
Our main priority this morning was getting our passports stamped by immigration control. All the phone numbers advertised on the internet and on the clubhouse noticeboard just came up as "not in service". Rex tracked down in some documentation a number for the Rotterdam Seaport Police, who gave me a number for Rotterdam airport, who gave me a number for the Rotterdam Marechaussee (military police), who finally gave me a number for the immigration control associated with the Vlissingen area. They were extremely helpful and said they would send a couple of people along to our marina, VVW Schelde. There was still no sign of the harbourmaster.
True to their word, after 45 minutes a young man and woman turned up on the pontoon where we were berthed. After the usual courtesy introductions, we invited them on board, but they preferred to stay on the pontoon. The young women seemed to be in charge. We learned that they had driven 50km from Hoogerheide, but are accustomed to such distances since their remit covers a vast area. I mentioned that the phone numbers on the internet and noticeboards all came up as "not in service". "Yes, we have not yet completely organised ourselves for the Brexit implications," replied the young woman. "All our numbers start with 188, which are not yet reflected elsewhere." We discussed our plans with them, and they seemed satisfied, so the young man stamped our passports. Curiously we observed that officialdom referred to the port as Vlissingen, but locals and the shipping fraternity referred to it as Flushing. But, they had to be off elsewhere for more duties, so after several "Tot ziens," they were gone.
While Rex had a shower, I tracked down Thomas, the harbourmaster. I don't know why I presumed he would be an old sea salt. Instead he was a lanky, 20 something. He gladly took our fees, and took note of the new phone numbers he should attach to the clubhouse noticeboards for immigration control.
Then we were gilling by the Keersluisbrug with two other vessels, patiently waiting for it to open. Once through we convoyed up the canal in the direction of Middleburg. An initial cluster of industrial wharves handling scrap metal gave way to a delightful canal journey, trains on one side, and trees on the other. A cycle path hugged the canal with myriads of folk dressed in multi-coloured attire cycling up and down.
 Heading Up Canal to Middelburg |
 Dutch Boat on the Veerse Meer |
We then had a delightful two hours cruising down the Veerse Meer, accompanied by numerous other craft and the occasional dreaded jet ski. Rex gave a fond wave to Kortgene as we passed by. In 2015, when we were berthed in Colijnsplaat, we had to get a cab to Kortgene in order for Rex to have some emergency dental work carried out.
At the Zandkreeksluis we dropped down to the tidal Oosterschelde, connected to the North Sea at the Roompot at the western extremity of this Schelde. In the lock, the German boat made it clear he wanted to leave the lock before us, as always; a national trait perhaps. We took heed of the Luger pistol. Then it was a straightforward run up the Oosterschelde, taking care not to run aground on the huge mud banks. It was still warm and sunny with a fair wind whistling down from the north, right on the nose again, so not good for a sail. We were keen to make good speed to reach Zierikzee. White horses flew across the waves; a tad bumpy for the poor boat.
 Mud Banks on the Oosterschelde |
 Bridge Open on the Zeelandbrug |
 Partial View of the Zeelandbrug |
A fellow sailor came out to help, which is just as well since Rex was experiencing great difficulty swinging Duonita's bow towards the berth using the bow thruster. His fluent curses in Dutch and Swahili must have amused the Dutchman. The problem was a strong tidal flow sluicing down the canal, which was in turn pushing the bow out. But between the four of us we managed to get onto the berth.
Later we had a very pleasant chat with the Dutch sailor and his wife. "We know your home waters very well," they said. "We have sailed many times from the Roompot across to Harwich. We were thinking about returning to the UK again this year, but the amount of bureaucracy we have to go through just to enter the UK territorial waters is putting us off. Then we have to go through a whole set of procedures when we reach your 12 mile limit." I felt for them, having had to go through a minefield in order to get into Holland.
The conversation moved on to the thorny topic of the Covid pandemic. "Covid is now on the increase here in the Netherlands because people are getting out more now and are going to lots of festivals. Currently we have 600 hospital cases. We are now predicting a lockdown in August. The ownership of boats has dramatically increased due to the pandemic, increasing the prices too. Every waterway is now becoming busy." I enquired as to when the tourist season peaked. "Schools in the middle of Holland break up on the 9th of July, in the north on the 18th, and the south on the 23rd, replied the couple." We had come across this concept before in Holland. The philosophy is to avoid one large tourist peak in the season, and distribute it over three smaller peaks. Perfect logic!
We briefly touched on the events unrolling in the Ukraine and that war's impact upon Holland. The Netherlands was taking in large numbers of refugees, but at the moment they were all being housed in tents. The couple were not aware of a long term plan.
But time was pressing on, we were tired and hungry, so we bade our farewells and walked along the canal to the town. Memories from when we were last here in 2015 were soon jostled into focus. We weaved our way along the canal side, passing quaint side streets populated by old houses of typical Dutch gabled appearances.
 Quaint Zierikzee Side Streets |
 Zuidhavenpoort |
We decided not to delve into the city centre; we had seen the Sint-Lievensmonstertoren before, and it would be too late to visit the Stadhuismuseum with its beautiful spire. Eventually we stumbled into the Oude Haven, full of stunning old Dutch vessels with their typical curved upward bows and sterns, a delight to behold. 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, we needed food and drink, so we headed back down to Nieuwe Haven by the canal and found a small canal side restaurant, where we tucked into a hearty meal.
 My Evening Meal, Three Sliptongs |