Holland 2008

We knew we were going to be early. We’re early for just about everything. However, leaving East London and arriving in Harwich at 6:30 for an 11:45 crossing is very, very early, even for us.

We visited the Morrison’s supermarket just at the entrance to the port complex, bought a few bits of food, and had our tea in the car park. Even so, we were in the queue for check-in by around 7:30, but we weren’t the first. We always reckon that sitting waiting in your motorhome is far better than being in some godforsaken queue at Gatwick (or waiting for your luggage at Terminal 5 perhaps?) We chill and read and I go for a stroll and talk to other MH’ers and hey presto it’s time to move on. Only an hour later, the check-in booths opened, and we were guided through to the front of one of the waiting lanes.

I think we must be spoilt by the speed and efficiency of Dover – Calais crossings. We watched the small lady with the walkie-talkie letting a group of cars through, then closing off the lane and shutting the gates to the dockyard. This must have happened around a dozen times. Once, we got waved forward, and we were excited, only to find that the reason we were being moved was so that a 4X4 and trailer behind us could get out and be waved through, only for the gates to be shut again.

We thought we might be being persecuted, as an enormous coach in the lane to the side of us got through, with a gaggle of other high vehicles. Low-profile motorhomes, it seems, and panel vans behind us, were to wait.

Just as we were starting to think about getting frustrated, she waved us forward, and we queued some more by the giant mouth at the bow of the boat. Not too long after, we drove forward, and pitched up behind the coach that we’d last seen an hour before.

Our cabin was actually rather nice. Small, as all cross-channel cabins are, but recently fitted-out, and comfortable. We cracked open the bottle of fizzy Rosé wine we’d bought in Morrisons, and supped and chatted until my eyelids started to close.

Annie was first awake, and we’d slept well, although I’d woken up a few times in the night. Note to self and fellow overnighters – don’t forget to take shower gel and shampoo with you, because you don’t get it on the boat. You can, however, take drink on board, but don’t forget the glasses or mugs or a bucket.

After a healthy cereal breakfast (I got a ‘dream on’ look when they announced the full English breakfast in a different cafeteria), we read for a while, and then made our way back to the van, ready to disembark.

Now used to waiting on these ferries, the half hour sat in the van staring at the rear end of a huge German coach passed like it were mere moments. But then we were off, and setting tyre onto Dutch soil for the first time. The TomTom was already programmed for our first overnight stop – a small CL-type campsite in Lisse, which is a short cycle ride away from the Keukenhof gardens.

I had driven in Holland before, but always at a break-neck speed, trying to make an almost impossible appointments schedule set by my boss, and I’d never had time to appreciate the environment. First impressions were of countryside with space, an interesting line in modern architecture, clear road signs and markings, and cleanliness. Like Belgium, the Dutch design their buildings with panache and flair, and if they want a wall with a square hole in it, then by God that’s what they’ll build. There was a centre for design which had a huge body sculpture which made one end of the 4 storey building. Absolutely impressive, and a shame we didn’t get a picture.

The TomTom got us there, exactly, although we didn’t really believe it. There was no sign for camping amongst the group of business signs at the side of the road, although the address matched that of the entry in the Caravan Club “Caravan Europe 2” book, which is pretty much our bible when we travel in Europe. The entry did warn of an unmade track, so we turned in.

The track was good tarmac, although narrow, and we got to the end (about 200 metres from the road) and again, not a sign for the campsite. Annie got out, documents in hand, to find that we were at the correct location, but that they were fully booked. So much for my “it’s not the season yet, we’ll find places easy” remark of a couple of weeks ago. I was a shame as the site looked lovely.

Although the nice man (perhaps the only person in Holland who didn’t speak English) told us where a campsite was, we pored over the book and prodded the TomTom, and headed for a campsite listed as a POI (Point Of Interest). We headed back up the track, along the road, up the motorway a bit, down the road, and found the campsite. It was a site of static caravans and bungalows. No sign of touring pitches, nor at the next one along the road. Time for a rethink.

We went back to the book, and found a couple at Noordwijkerhout, which was near the coast, and not too far from Keukenhof. Back up the road, back along the motorway, off the motorway and around a few bends, and again we found a site full of bungalows. However, there was another one 100 metres down the road, with touring caravans and motorhomes, so we dived in. I wasn’t in the mood for driving round and round trying to find a campsite.

The rather perfunctory lady on reception relieved us of 57euros for 2 nights’ stay, which was a bit expensive, but the site looked nice. We pitched up, had some lunch (a lovely mix of cheese and salad and pickle brought from Brighton) and then got the bikes out.

The aforementioned receptionist had told us the way to the Keukenhof, and had remarked that it wasn’t far by bike.

We cycled, and we cycled, and we stopped at a map outside a youth hostel (Stayokay), and I saw that this wasn’t really the right way at all. We made it as far as a roadside bulb stall, and Annie managed to buy a few Amyrillis bulbs, and we headed back, mindful of the dark clouds floating around.

We took a detour up a track towards the beach and across some beautiful sand dunes, and were rewarded for our efforts with an amazing view of the North Sea and a lovely sandy beach, but the strong winds put paid to a walk and we cycled back.

We had a couple of surprisingly cheap drinks at the onsite bar / restaurant, and retired back to the van. We’d frozen a few meals in anticipation of this trip, and we enjoyed a home made quiche with potatoes and carrots. And some beer and wine.

I did some jiggery-pokery with the laptop which enabled us to lift some music I’d backed up from the computer at home and put it onto iPod, which we then listened to via the el cheapo Logic3 speaker system. Excellent!

Heavy rain in the night, although again we both slept well.

The campsite showers scored 9.75 from Annie, and a 9 from me. Very clean, very modern, and with lots of hot water but at the right temperature, and no extra fee. Plenty of room for clothes behind the wall, so they kept dry.

Annie made sandwiches for the day, and after a breakfast of toast and jam, we hit the road on our bikes again. This time, I’d used the TomTom in cycle mode to plot a route to Keukenhof, which seemed to make sense.

Much of the journey was along the side of the canal, which was beautiful and relaxing, apart from the teams of cyclists out for their Sunday training, mopeds and cars all using the very narrow track. Many of the canalside houses were beautiful, with well-tended gardens, and some had horses, sheep or goats. Occasional prods at the TomTom showed us how far we had come, and how far it was to go (and, of course, verified that we were on the right route).

At the main road, we turned, and followed a group of cyclists to the entrance to the Keukenhof, which was closed, because it wasn’t the right entrance. D’oh! The cyclists carried on along the road, and we turned around to ride to the front, and main, entrance, which we couldn’t have missed had we ridden on another hundred yards along the main road.

We were guided forward to the cycle racks, which were immediately opposite the entrance to the park. The Dutch take their cycling seriously. A short bit of queuing, and thirty euros later, we had two entrance tickets and a park guide.

Unfortunately, one of the first things you come to in the park is a gift shop, which called us to it. We bought an enormous ginger cake (from a sample on a plate), and various other bits of Dutch-ery.

The Keukenhof can’t really be described in words (sadly, for me). Suffice it to say, there are a huge number of flowering plants on display in a wonderful, large, and carefully laid-out parkland setting. We visited on a Sunday, so although it was very busy, we never felt as though we were crowded at all. I climbed up the windmill and took photos, we watched the marching band, we took photos of amazing coloured flowers and beautifully arranged gardens, gazed at the orchid displays, and bought more Dutch stuff. We ate our sandwiches on a bench and watched the world pass by (a favourite hobby of Annie’s) in amazing surroundings. The Spring is a wonderful time to tour this part of Holland as it’s Tulip Time. The fields are fabulous patterns of vibrant colour of mainly tulips but other flowering bulbs and plants too. Cycling past a field of rows of blues and purples to pinks and almost overcome by the sweet scent of hyacinths in bloom is powerful stuff.

All in all, we spent around 3 hours in there, and enjoyed every minute. The cycle back to the campsite was cold and tiring, and we were very glad to arrive back before it rained.

We showered, emptied things on the van that needed emptying, filled things that needed filling, and set out for Dordrecht. At some point in the last few days, the voice on the TomTom had become enabled, so we gave her a chance to impress us as we navigated our way around the Rotterdam ring road. Kate has been our voice for a while, although she prattles on a bit too much for my liking. She will religiously read out all the road numbers on your route, but her efforts at pronunciation always amuse. She judiciously refused to attempt most of the towns we passed, and “Rotterdam” had us foxed for a while, so oblique was her rendition of it.

The way in to Camping ‘t Vissertje is narrow, and passes along a single track (although tarmac) along the top of a dyke. The TomTom was unwavering, and we saw the site down an even narrower track, so I opted to park in the car park whilst we checked availability. Everything was fine, so I trotted back and fetched the van, which was okay apart from the bit where I scraped the awning cover along a road sign. Well, I was backing into an entrance, to give me more room to swing around to get to the track, and my mirror didn’t quite cover the area at risk. Still, no damage (or at least, not much damage) done.

The campsite is quite small – only 30 touring pitches, with the usual mix of wooden shacks and touring-caravans-made-static that we saw a lot of in Italy. The manager was very friendly and helpful, and gave us probably the only hardstanding pitch, which was good considering the very soft nature of the ground.

We were also the first subscribers to the WiFi on the site, although the owner knew little about it, but at a euro an hour (time only being counted when you were actually online), it was worth a punt.

After lunch, and a funny half-chat to our neighbour in a wooden shack no bigger than our beach hut (who said we had a “very beautiful car”, and seemed to spend his afternoon with a couple of mates alternating between drinking, smoking, and sleeping), we donned our bike gear again, and headed into the town.

Dordricht is a very interesting town, a blend of very old and precariously-tilted houses from the seventeenth century (and before) and new and stylish apartments. Much of the town was shut on Monday, but there were a good selection of museums and galleries to whet our appetite for tomorrow when we spend a little more time here.

We followed a ‘guided walk’ from the Lonely Plant guide, which was very good and interesting, although towards the end, it got a bit confusing, and we were sure that there was a mistake in either the text or the map – nothing from the book at that stage matched what we were seeing on the ground. There was a huge amount of heavy water traffic on the Oude Maas (Old Meuse) river that passes by.

The history of Dordrecht is fascinating, even for a history duffer like me, and the excellent local city guide makes very interesting and worthwhile reading.

The ride back from the city was cold, and with rain threatening at any moment, we were glad to get back to the van, where the skies cleared, and Annie attempted to get two local ducks to paddle in a bucket of water by the side of the van.

The day began with an icy sheet covering the water in the bucket – not that any of the ducks or birds had shown any inclination to dive in, but the ducks still needed to be fed. At least, that’s what they tried to tell us.

It was a beautiful morning, with a clear, blue sky from horizon to horizon.

We weren’t sure how to score the showers here. They needed a 50c coin to operate them, which normally marks them down, but since we were only paying €16 a night to stay here, we didn’t mind an extra half a euro each. But the showers were lovely and clean, and very hot water (although the shower block itself wasn’t heated), so I suppose a 9 would be fair.

We had thought of cycling to Kinderdijk, some 15 kilometres distant, but the thought of all those kilometres just to see a few windmills wasn’t terribly exciting for me (although the Lonely Planet guide says it’s a site to behold). We may try to ‘pop in’ on the way to Delft, if it’s not too difficult.

Anyway, back to Plan B (or was it A?), and we cycled back to Dordrecht for a slightly more relaxed look-see. We visited a World War II museum (small in size, but crammed full of memorabilia), and it was an interesting insight into what it must have been like to live through the occupation. One of the proprietors followed us around, telling us stories about some of the exhibits in his rusty but helpful English. Both Annie and I have felt rather shame-faced at our lack of any Dutch at all. We have school-remembered French and I speak German (the result of a three month apprentice exchange years ago) but Dutch is a mystery to us both. The Dutch people put us to shame with their linguistic skills. Anyway the exhibition was interesting and well worth a visit.

As we strolled around the town, we looked in shops that were empty of customers, or just plain empty. You really begin to wonder how some people can make a living from the retail trade. We began looking for somewhere to have a bite to eat, but we were unused to the habits of smoking in confined places, and we rejected a couple of likely eateries for this reason. The café we did find was nice, although once we were seated with drinks and orders for food in, people lit up around us. How spoilt we are in the UK.

After lunch, we strolled around some more, but the clouds which had started to appear made us think about heading back. Pausing briefly at a tiny shop for some tomatoes and chocolate (bought from a shopkeeper who supported Manchester United, and assumed that because we were from London, we supported Arsenal), we cycled gently back to the van, and were greeted by very warm and pleasant sunshine, and several indignant ducks who had been waiting (so they said) for several hours for their bread.

We spent a few hours reading in the sun, on the internet a bit, and generally making sure the local wildlife didn’t go hungry. Indeed, one duck kept returning with a different ‘mate’ stringing along, presumably having been told about the copious amounts of free bread available at the big white van.

Annie performed splendidly in the kitchen for tea, making gnocci (kept frozen from home until today in our lovely freezer), with a sauce made from griddled courgettes and onion, with red wine and tomatoes. We invested a hefty 20c in hot water to wash up the copious amount of dishes in the campsite washing area – much better than trying to struggle with the little sink in the van.

Sometime during the evening, our €4 investment in WiFi ran out, although the faintly amusing “U bent uitgelogt” message was some compensation.

Another very bright and crispy morning greeted us. At one point, we had six ducks waddling around by the van, although they seemed to get bored waiting for us to actually get their bread ready (it was in the freezer).

We were packed and ready to leave at 10 o’clock, and I carefully drove the van across the wet, slippery field, fortunately without incident, and waved to the campsite owners as we left.

Within a hundred metres, we found the local food shops we’d been searching for (but obviously in all of the wrong directions), but we trundled on across the top of the dykes, and made the main road without knocking down any cyclists (although the temptation was there).

We were heading for Delft, home of the much-imitated and over-hyped, blue and white crockery. It was on our itinerary, and the Lonely Planet Guide said there was a market on a Thursday, so we needed no further reason.

On the way, we passed a sign for Kinderdijk (Google for “windmills Holland” and you’ll get the significance, so we ducked off the motorway, re-programmed the TomTom, and followed Kate’s dulcet tones.

We got to Kinderdijk, and indeed, there were a huge number of windmills which was a fantastic sight. Not worth staying there for a night, I think, but worth seeing anyway. Much more interesting (to me) was watching the huge amount of barge traffic heading in each direction along the Lek River. Anyway, Dutch tide and time wait for no man, so we redirected the TomTom at Delft.

We had decided to stay at the expensive site at Delftse Hout (24 Euros per day plus electric plus tax gave us a total bill of just under 60 euros for 2 nights), so we programmed the TomTom accordingly. Without drama, we arrived at the site, and were booked in very quickly and efficiently.

The pitches were a little short, and although we fitted on it fine, I’d have preferred to have the van’s nose a little further from the track. The back of the pitch was hedging, and I fought with it to get the bikes off the back. Once they were off, and the van reversed onto ramps to level it off, there was no getting to the rear locker, and the chairs and table had to come out from under the bed.

We cycled into Delft centre, and wandered around a little before selecting a small café for something to eat. We had a lovely, and cheap, lunch, before wandering off again. The guide book stated that there was a small shop and workshop where they made genuine Delft pottery (rather then the cheap, tacky, imported stuff for the tourists). We found it, although no one was working at the time, and the prices in the shop were frightening, so we made a hasty exit.

Just out of the main square, there were a lot of lovely and interesting shops, and we had to buy (apparently) a couple of scarves and some other bits and pieces. Also, there was a hair salon or hairdressers, and since it had been a good many weeks since I last had mine cut, we made an appointment.

Freshly-coiffeured, we ambled around the canals and bridges, and came across a Vermeer museum, and for a few euros each, we discovered a lot about the local artist. The written commentaries by each (reproduction) painting seemed to ask more questions than it answered, and sometimes I felt the writer was looking to messages in the paintings that Vermeer hadn’t actually created.

Early evening, and perhaps time for a pleasant drink at the campsite bar? Despite having been open for an hour, it was empty, and devoid of all life and atmosphere. We walked down the road to the local bar / restaurant – same story. There was a wedding party going on in a back room and on the patio that looked to be fun, but I doubt we’d been invited.

So we walked into town, trying to select a suitable place to spend our Euros. I couldn’t resist a place called “Billy Beer”, and although we had a drink there, I began to suspect that the “Beer” bit wasn’t beer, but “Bear”, as the place was chock full of stuffed Teddy Bears, and was what could be described as a ‘family restaurant’. Annie remarked that it was like going to Pizza Hut for a drink, and I couldn’t help feeling she might have been right.

Another bar off the main square called out to us, especially as Annie had seen that there were blankets provided for those seated outside, to keep the chill off. We had a couple of drinks, a plate of Nachos, and then we couldn’t resist the lure of chips and mayonnaise from a small outlet around the corner, and we munched our way back to camp.

Another beautiful yet frosty day. Market day in Delft – we like a market!

Having said that, the market was okay, but nothing special. The usual fare of cheese, meat, bric-a-brac, clothing, although we were tempted by some lovely plant pots for €2.50 each, so we had to buy two. And then go back for another, bigger one, for €5. By which time we needed a coffee.

I had to try the local apple cake, which came with cream and an artistic squirt of chocolate sauce, all of which were very nice. And eventually we remembered that the male lead in “Gone With The Wind” was Clark Gable. Long story.

Weighed down by plant pots and pie, we cycled slowly back to the campsite, and read for a while, before cycling urges got the better of us, and we went for a jolly around the local Delfteshout nature reserve area.

We were happy to see another UK-registered Chausson (a Welcome 75) parked next to us when we got back. They’d even bought it from the same dealer as us (picked theirs up the month after we’d got ours), but they’d had problems with one ring of their Smev hob, which had yet to be fixed to their satisfaction. We were happy to report to them that ours worked very well indeed, and I’m sure they were very happy in that knowledge.

Time to move on again, heading this time for Gouda. We’d had reports of bad campsites and overnight facilities, so once again we tried the campsites loaded onto the TomTom. On the way through Gouda, TomTom took us on a lively shortcut, straight through the centre of Gouda. I wouldn’t mind, and in some ways, it’s nice to get up close and personal with a new town, but the narrow cobbled streets with cars parked one side, and a very deep and cold-looking canal on the other, made the detour interesting. We eventually came out on the road we started on, I think, and we followed her voice due East of the town.

We got to the campsite, which didn’t look too appealing, and the lady apparently lost no time in telling Annie there was no space. We weren’t too disappointed. But where to now?

We continued along the road, and pulled into a little village called Heersch-something-or-other. A lovely village, actually with a small supermarket!

To campers brought up on the UK and French models of touring, you kind of get used to seeing huge out of town supermarkets and retail shopping centres, where you can stop off and fill up your fridge and freezer with food. Not so in Holland, it seems. I don’t know whether it’s local planning that stops the building of these retail parks, but we didn’t see one on our travels, and although we had brought quite a bit of food with us (hurrah for the separate freezer), there were things we’d have liked to buy. However, we managed with the small town shops so far, and we’d delighted in some cheese we’d bought with cumin in it. Very tasty.

There was no local information that we could see, so we asked Kate again if there was another campsite near. There was, just a few kilometres down the road, so we set sail.

It wasn’t quite where Kate said it was, but it was signposted nonetheless, and we pulled into a small site with a number of static caravans on it. A moment behind us, a Dutch caravan pulled in too, who called the phone number in the window of the house. The owners appeared, and said that yes, they had a spot for us.

It is actually quite a nice, peaceful site, Templehof. It backs onto a canal, and all of the statics on site were well-kept. It maybe is a little close to the main road, and as I type this, we are about 100m from the road, and there is some road noise, but nothing too bad. The toilet block was basic, with plumbing that looked like it hadn’t changed in the last 40 years. The block was unheated, but it was clean, although we thought the €20 a night we were charged was a little steep, especially as we needed 50 cents for the showers. I think something less than €15 would have been nearer the mark, but we were happy to be parked up. We did ask for the male part of the management team to remove some dog turds that had been deposited on our pitch. The dog responsible (probably) was a lovely black Labrador, who sat at our feet, and enjoyed the small (and last) piece of ginger cake that Annie fed to him.

After a nice cup of tea (how British!) we got the bikes out, and cycled into Gouda.

The ride was quite pleasant, passing through mainly open countryside, and is an easy 30 minute bike ride away (something like 8km). We parked our bikes in the main square, and set out to explore.

The Lonely Planet guide recommended the restaurant “Zlim”, so we had to try it. Annie had some dark brown bread sandwich, and I had a salad with warm goats cheese and pine nuts. Both were lovely.

The LP Guide also recommends a cheese shop, which took a little bit of finding, but find it we did, and bought some cumin and some pepper cheese. Then it was back to the van for some reading in the sun, and a little doze. I cycled back to the supermarket in whatever-it-was local village, to stock up on bread and milk. Very friendly staff there helped me find what it was I needed. I didn’t know I needed “Murphy’s Genuine Red Ale”, but there it was, in my basket. Strange how these things happen.

For once, it wasn’t bright and clear and frosty when we woke up. It was grey, overcast, and it had rained in the night.

Breakfast was toasted sweet bread with jam. I didn’t know it was sweet bread when I bought it – to me, it looked like olive bread, but the lack of Dutch made purchasing something like this a bit of a lottery. As it turned out, it was a good decision, particularly for Annie who is a sucker for anything sugary.

We had decided that showering in the van was a better idea than 50 cents’ worth of dubious water from the arctic shower / toilet block, so I put on the boiler to heat our water. We sat and read and had more toasted sweet bread to finish off the loaf.

Suddenly, there was a small bang, a hissing sound, and the water pump turned on. The sound was coming from under the bed, so I turned off the pump, lifted the bed, and steam / smoke rose from underneath. This could be a problem but I played it cool as Annie had already concluded that the sky had fallen in and all would be reduced to molten rubble in seconds.

After the steam had cleared, I could see that the hot water take-off pipe had come off the boiler, and allowed a small amount of hot water to be pumped onto the floor. The only question was: had the pressure built up too much and forced it off (although there is a pipe disappearing into the floor which I presume is an overflow of sorts), or had it just simply been not put on properly in the first place or worked its way loose? I had run off a bit of hot water to wash the dishes, which may have softened the pipe. The clip holding it on was some fancy twisted thing, so when we get home, I’ll replace that with a good old-fashioned Jubilee Clip.

I replaced the pipe, and we both had our showers without further incident although Annie seemed wary for a while.

The rest of the day was very quiet. Annie spent the day reading, although I braved the strong winds to cycle up the road, and bought a ‘few bits and pieces’ from the supermarket, and took a few photos on the way back.

Time to go home. Up, showered (without mishap) and breakfasted, and we were off before 10 am for our 2.30pm sailing from the Hook of Holland.

On the way, we filled up with (relatively) cheap diesel, and Annie bought a lovely orchid from the petrol station as a momento.

Our early arriving gets worse, and we were at the port 3 hours early (and first in the non-existent queue). We were snug in the van, and read and had lunch. We were first to check in, and first non-commercial onto the boat, which happened to mean we were right at the pointy end, and all set for an early departure from the boat later on.

The crossing was very comfortable (having booked a cabin again), and we snoozed and relaxed and read the crossing away.

We were pretty much first off the boat, and first to endure the awful roads south from Harwich, which were a shock after the pleasant and well-maintained roads of the Netherlands.

In summary:

Best things about the trip:
Lovely scenery
‘Exploring’ for campsites
Lots of cycling
Fortunate with good weather

Worst things about the trip:
Not speaking any Dutch (at all)
One cold day

What we (I) endeavour to do before the next trip:
Fix table slide out (not now a problem – it’s not broken!)
Add shelves to lockers (look for shelves at Newbury show)
Extra mains sockets (yes, I will do this, honest)
Contact Fiat re: recalls
Clean and paint(?) exhaust pipe (rust spots)
Secure hot water pipe (now have ‘proper’ Jubilee clip)