We left Ijmuiden and got about 5 nm out when I spotted a ‘water-issue’ in the aft cabin. When I say ‘water-issue’ I mean there were gallons of water coming in from somewhere. The skipper and I got to and started bailing as the others turned the boat around. We must have done at least 10 full bucket loads and we got back to the marina on the sea side of the lock. After confirming that there wasn’t a fatal leak (we decided it was a build-up of rainwater from the last week) we headed back to sea again, but the winds of 30kn and F6-7 made the crossing a little uncomfortable.
More rain. We dropped the ladies off right by the station in Amsterdam who bottled the crossing back to the UK. The forecast was anything up to a Force 7 so it was hardly surprising they took the easy route back, but that’s not what sailing is all about! Instead the rest of us waited in Ijmuiden for the bad weather to pass. De ja vu from a year ago!
Rain, rain and rain. Thunderstorms and lightning. This appears to be the weather for this trip. Enkhuizen boasts a fascinating museum and model village. Unfortunately all the museum plaques are in Dutch but the village is amazing. When I say model village I don’t mean Legoland. Each building is genuinely ancient, moved from a random location across the Netherlands to … Read More
I came up with a great theory today. If you’ve ever noticed the Dutch are a very tall race. This is because they cycle big bikes, which stretch their legs. Also because they live below sea level they are always having to stretch themselves to see over the dykes. That’s why they’re so tall. All that stretching.
After fuelling up we picked up a strong northerly on the Ijsselmeer with winds of well over 20kn. This gave us a beam reach with a speed of over 7knots, enabling us to overtake pretty much every sailing vessel in our path. We toasted this achievement in the evening with a fantastic dinner in Hoorn, served by a beautiful waitress. Puns on the name of the town have been withheld.
After leaving our yachthaven in Aalsmeer, not forgetting to give the middle finger to the hairy, cigar-chomping Dutch twat who told the skipper off for borrowing a hose (that wasn’t even his), we headed towards Amsterdam. Of course this involved negotiating a number of bridges which meant either approaching very slowly and hovering backwards and forwards until the bridge opened, or, more sensibly, tying up to the posts provided on the side of the canal.