Amsterdam snow daze

Two heavy snowfalls in three days and the city is covered with the stuff. But this does not deter the Amsterdammers from riding their bikes. In fact, you get the sense that some of them relish it, defying the elements. The paths have been cleared, though they're still rather slushy and look hazardous to me--I'm not quite ready to attempt them.  But I have been walking in the snow, admiring the scene.

Grebbelinieroute Zuid

Now on the Sprinter to Rhenen, east of Utrecht. Again the weather forecast seems unreliable: showers and wind predicted but it's a gorgeous clear, sunny day.

Later on, I find myself in the town of Veenendaal (veen = peat) at a singularly uninspiring spot: an empty playground amidst bleak beige brick homes and apartment buildings. Late-model cars drift past like the wind. The sun waits behind fluffy clouds, occasionally irradiating the scene. Middle-aged couples out for a stroll.

Speuldroute

This starts in Ermelo, east of Amersfoort, and loops through some old forests, the Speulderbos and the Sprielderbos.

This is not Speuld.

Starts out prosaically enough, skirting the road down to Drie, which means "three" (I know not why). Autumn has arrived, and it is pretty cool. Yahoo Weather says it might break 50. It's "partly cloudy," meaning the sun breaks through intermittently and it feels nice, otherwise overcast with a chilly breeze. My perception is that it's busy: cars streaming by, lots of cyclists, people out in groups walking dogs. I sit on an elaborately tiled bench at the entrance to the Ermelosche Heide, apparently a mecca for nature walkers.

Rondje Salland en Vechtdal - Day 3

Can't seem to get the name of this town into my head. It's Nijverdal, but it comes out of my head garbled into Narvidal or Nimajay or something. Don't know why. I had no trouble with Olst and Dalfsen. More phonological-sociolinguistic research is needed.

English breakfast in Nijverdal

Mevrouw Olthuis pulled out all the stops and made me an "English breakfast" - that is, the usual breads and cheeses and fruit plus a greasy omelet with bacon. She sat with me and had her toast and tea. She is such a vital woman, doesn't miss a thing.

One of the things Jos Coenen had said: "I am from the south but I prefer the people up here." He was referring to the people of Overijssel, who were perhaps more Germanic than Limburg's inhabitants. "Here they leave you alone. If you want to make contact with them, you can reach out. If you'd rather not, they'll leave you be. In Limburg, you don't have that choice; you're unavoidably tangled in the web."

Rondje Salland en Vechtdal - Day 2

At breakfast I conversed more with Jos Coenen. He is originally from Limburg, now runs a consulting business to put people back in the workforce after a long hiatus. His girlfriend is a consultant for an American firm that manufactures prosthetic hips and shoulders.

Jos Coenen brought me breakfast. The obligatory boiled egg in a cup, bread slices with cheese, paté, bacon, an apple, orange juice, coffee and buttermilk. I discussed my own career hiatus with him but found no revelations.

Now heading further east along the Vecht basin. Cool and overcast. The initial part of the route passes farmsteads and cornfields, along old country roads lined with alders. Here I sit by a canal strewn with lily pads, green-headed ducks floating on the surface. Church bells gonging melodiously up the road.

Rondje Salland en Vechtdal - Day 1

This being blogged *on the trail* from a public library in Bathmen, just east of Deventer. What's next? Twitter tweeting? The library is in the little town center, with a cafe and some closed shops. It's Monday afternoon.

For this trip to Overijssel, in the Netherlands' eastern heartland, I got a new notebook: a pseudo-Moleskin. Now I can be a pseudo-Hemingway or, probably more accurate, like the Spider character played by Ralph Fiennes in that David Cronenberg film. Always feverishly scribbling matters of great importance in his little notebook.

Nevertheless, I am genuinely excited to embark on another korte fietsvakantie, the Rondje Salland en Vechtdal in the Overijssel region.

Breda

Street party parking

Now on the Ginnekineweg, the last day of the Zomerfest, and more perfect weather would not be possible. One sees how closely knit are families, as I sit at a café enjoying a plate of poffertjes, to me the ultimate Dutch food, tiny eggy silver dollar-sized pancakes that are gooey inside, all sprinkled with confectioner's sugar. Some tables are occupied by big extended families, from little girls with ponytails to sixtyish matrons with wrinkled necks. It's a kermesse, a block party, and everyone's out on this perfect late summer's day.

Aa of Weerijs-route

Late summer afternoon in Breda

Gorgeous day so I opt for the Aa of Weerijs-route, west of Breda, but due to much hesitation, I get a late start. Here I am in the Mastbos, the forest south of town. The trail to point 5 is a broad sandy path through the forest which deposits me at a clearing by a small lake where in the bright afternoon sun, it actually feels hot. I remember that feeling. I sit at a picnic table and put together a mayonnaise-heavy tuna salad sandwich garnished with olives. Suddenly I find I'm joined by an old man, then his granddaughter; then a whole crowd of people congregate round the table, taking pictures. But just as quickly they disperse and I'm alone in the sun.

Brabantse Land-route, Day 3

Modern consumers in Goirle

Nice little town, Goirle, the southern bit of Tilburg, which is a prosperous industrial town but unlike Breda has no pedigree. Goirle has a modern shopping zone in the center with cafes on a plaza. Spent the night at the home of Christine and Victor, she a sort of middle-aged earth mother, he an eco-architect of Indonesian origin. They have two adorable sons. The older one, Gulliver, just greeted me from his bicycle as I sit here on the plaza after chomping a very fresh herring. Last night I slept in an old camper/RV at the rear of their long yard, which is strewn with a tree house, brick ring swimming pool, trampoline and other family recreational options. Nice to have hosts I could actually converse with.

Brabantse Land-route - Day 2

Perfect late summer morning, great start. Excellent coffee provided by Gre (short for Margaret) Van Doorn in the northeast corner of Kaatsheuvel. Gre is more of a walker than a cyclist. She told me she had walked 500 km from the North Sea, clocking about 40 km per day. She lives alone in a large house with a pretty garden.

Heather on the dunes

It was easy to get going. Using the sun as my compass, I headed south, then east, past the Efteling, a huge amusement park that attracts people from all over the Netherlands, says Gre, though it is "not as sweet" as Disneyland. The fietspad took a woodsy path beside the dormant roller coasters. Then over the highway and into a national park, the Loonse en Drunense Duinen, whose claim to fame is the largest dunes area, of some kind, in Europe. On a clear, windless morning it's a delight to traverse, the path threading through woods of pine and oak, patches of purple heather on sand dunes. I like to move very slowly through the still woods, spying a red squirrel, hearing the intermittent cheeping of some rare bird. There are people too but not many: mostly old folks on bicycles or golf carts though a quartet of blonde girls just passed me. I'm heading east, beyond Tilburg, then looping around to the south.

Brabantse Land-route - Day 1

Inner Rotterdam

The weather is supposed to be nice in the next few days, so I decided to go ahead with my plans for a Noord Brabant tour. (I was just reading in the newspaper that this August has been one of the worst in the past century, weather-wise, with an enormous amount of rain.) But today, Labor Day, it's overcast, and people on the train platforms are wearing jackets and sweaters. There is an autumnal feeling about the day. The modern Sprinter - more like a metro car than a train - glides south along Holland's industrial corridor - Haarlem, Leiden, Den Haag - between the factories revealing the usual flat fields full of cows and canals with wooden bridges.

Rondom het Grootslag Route

Arrival in Enkhuizen

I was planning to embark on a three-day journey through Brabant province today. But the forecast calls for heavy rain and strong winds tomorrow and rain through the weekend. My general policy has been to ignore the weather forecast when planning these trips since the weather in Holland is so changeable; it might always rain and it might always be sunny. But it seemed so unequivocally bad this time I decided to make an exception.

Instead I chose a klassiek fietsrondje that is not too far from Amsterdam, the Rondom het Grootslag route. It starts off from the harbor of Enkhuizen, on the east end of a peninsula that juts into the IJsselmeer, across from Friesland. I'm getting a late start - sitting in Centraal Station waiting for the 1:38 to Enkhuizen. But it's a mere 37 km, which now seems manageable after last week's journey to Friesland, where I did five days straight of 50 km rides.

Alternatieve Elfstedentocht - Day 6

Leeuwarden: truly delightful town. Quite unexpected combination of style, gritty back alleys, cafe-lined canals, historic houses and urban renewal. By night the canal tunnels are illuminated purple. I'm sitting by the Waag, the old weighing house, with a broad cobble-stoned plaza in front. I'm finding it difficult to tear myself away. Maybe one more coffee.

Nieuwestad, Leeuwarden

Not surprisingly, it's a bit more diverse than the rest of Friesland. I've seen North Africans and blacks on the streets. No one seems to work on a Monday except for those in the clothing shops. Here in the Nieuwestad, middle aged women and their daughters gawk at the windows of V&D, Vodaphone, H&M, Pearle Opticians and Hema, while a continuous flow of cyclists ride happily along the broad paths that flank the canal: a young man in jeans jacket and jeans, a pair of black youths, a teenage girl in jeans and tank top does a 180, a shaved headed man in his 60s rides with his grandson in the back seat behind the saddle. No cars. My macchiato arrives with a pair of small almond cookies and a glass of water. Sporadic sunshine. Perfect people-watching locale. Can't tear myself away.

Alternatieve Elfstedentocht - Day 5

Café t' Hoekje, Ferwerd

At the Café t' Hoekje, in the town of Ferwerd, actually the starting point for the Day 5 route, though I didn't stay there because all the vrienden were booked for last night. Instead, I stayed in Hallum, about an hour ride from here against a stiff headwind.

Coffee and apple pie with whipped cream, mmm. A quaint "brown café" with a hint of its past grunge in the form of rugs for tablecloths, plank floors (now polished), heavy paisley curtains and oompah music on the radio. A kern (county seat, I guess), Ferwerd is about the size of Hallum, a village of maybe 1000 people yet, like other communities around here, it seems dead.

Alternatieve Elfstedentocht - Day 4

Harlingen harbor

Day 4 of my Friesland trek looks to be a beauty. The town of Harlingen is quite picturesque - long canal/marina chock full of yachts. The town is the departure point for ferries to the isle of Terschelling and on this Saturday morning the terminal was packed with families, which made me glad I'm going along the remote northern coast of Friesland.

Last night stayed in the fabulous home of Tinake (the "ke" being an affectionate suffix, just like the Spanish "ito"), with a deck built out over a canal. My room was a dormer at the top of the house approached by steep narrow steps.

Alternatieve Elfstedentocht - Day 3

At northern edge of cute harbor Stavoren, where I ate some herring and bought a lensatic compass. Many sailing craft on the waters here, very busy at the marina. The greenish waters have a gentle chop. I have 50 km to go and it's noon. The day is outstanding.

Idyllic spot en route to Bolsward.

By a lazily moving canal, eolic windmills in the background. I just had my lunch in a village called Parregea (Parrega in Dutch), but this spot, en route to point 5 and Bolsward, is better - a solitary bench alongside the canal, shaded by gnarly trees, a thin thread of pavement for a fietspad, a little drawbridge down the way. A few pleasure craft pass by occasionally, the random cyclist. 

I feel a bit of pressure to cover all those kilometers before dusk: more than 50, actually, since I started at Laaxum, about 6 km before Stavoren, the day's official starting point.

Alternatieve Elfstedendtocht - Day 2

I spent most of the morning shopping in Sneek: got my front tire's tube replaced, got a sweater (needed one this morning, no longer), some dried fruits, nuts and chocolate.

Now I am at a picnic table southeast of Sneek at or near a place called Twellingea (or in Dutch, Uitwellingerga). The fietspad was paralleling the highway for a while and momentarily deviated from it here. Altje, my vriend last night, told me this bit of the road was not too interesting but I'm just enjoying the ride.

"11 Cities Route" -  Day 2 (ANWB map)

Alternatieve Elfstedentocht - Day 1

The landscape west of Leeuwarden

From the train, truth be told, all of Holland looks pretty similar - at least what I've seen so far. Flat fields, cows, insignificant attached pale brick houses, lakes and marinas, little old churches with black spires, rows of identical elders lining canals, the scent of cow dung. It's only when I'm out on the bike that I can appreciate the rustic beauty of the place.

Plateauroute: Day 2

Outside Gulpen, Monday morning

I've just set out from Gulpen after a nice big breakfast prepared by the zaftig Tina, who runs the J Ploum household. The Ploums are relative newcomers to the vrienden scene. Joseph told me they had all this room upstairs going unoccupied and a friend had told Tina that all the cyclists and hikers that stayed over at her place were nice, friendly people.

So far I have not had to climb much heading west out of Gulpen. It would be difficult to imagine a more tranquil spot than the one I've chosen to write this, at the bottom end of a meadow along a pebbly lane underneath spreading elms. A mist lingers over the scene and a cool breeze carries the fragrance of cow dung. The fietspad to Maastricht stretches out before me.

Plateauroute - Day 1

Van Tienhoven windmill near Wolfshuis

Morning in this suburban subdivision in Velden. Not sure if Mevrouw Kusters is going to bring up my breakfast or if I need to go downstairs. The ceiling is inclined, following the shape of the tiled roof and the rear window faces the rear of other tiled roof houses. It's quite overcast but it appears that the rain has stopped.

On the Plateau route. Nice so far though there's way too much traffic. I hope the ANWB* has some more tranquil sections in store for me. I'm now taking a break at point 68, the van Tienhoven windmill (1855).  There's a patch of grass at the base and a couple of rustic split-log benches, perfect place to have my roast beef sandwich, grapes, chocolate. It's around 4:30 pm. This being a plateau, it took some work to get up here. Heading east out of Maastricht you take the Old Akerweg, go under a great tunnel, through some 'burbs, then out in the country -- cornfields, pear orchard, horses. There's a steep climb before 't Rooth (and that's the t'ruth), so I dismounted and hoofed it. 'T Rooth is a former mining village where they excavated for marl (a kind of limestone). Now it looks like a cluster of weekend retreats fronted by fields.

Maasvalleiroute - Day 2

De Borggraaf castle, Lottum

The trail from Lottum to Broekhuizen

Beautiful morning, bad start. After taking my breakfast at the Van der Brandt residence - toast, cheese, ham, hard-boiled eggs, two cups of coffee, yogurt and orange juice - I lit out. First I went looking for the Borggraaf castle mentioned in my fiets guide. I found it, I think, a low, thick-walled brick structure surrounded by a moat. Then I went looking for point 90, but this time I somehow missed the turnoff and kept going toward Horst. I went back into town. But the sign for 90 pointed in the same direction. Maybe I hadn't gone far enough? Turned around again, went further this time. I knew I had not seen a John Deere outlet or crossed railroad tracks yesterday. This was frustrating. I rode back, perhaps 2km, found a map and realized I should have turned (right coming from town) on the Hombergerweg, then I was back at the dung-scented turnoff, back on the dirt road to the Schuitwater. This time I turned right, toward point 56. Before long, I was riding along a brick surface trail through the woods. I've just reached a picnic table by a big cornfield, where the Haasendonkerweg meets the Rodevennenweg. Many people are out riding, mostly old folks.

Maasvalleiroute - Day 1

I'm finally off on a "serious" bike journey, namely the Maasvalleiroute. Since there are so many options, I just picked one out of a hat, and now I'm headed for the province of Limburg. Interestingly, I've yet to venture so far from Amsterdam, even though it's a journey of just two hours. But now that I've made the move, I feel I should take a longer journey. I was only planning to take the weekend but I have no immediate need to return to Amsterdam, and I should take advantage of that.

So I'm going to the town of Blerick, in northern Limburg. I'm on the train to Eindhoven, where I'll need to change for a train to Venlo. I paid the full fare, including the €6.50 to put my bike on the train, though they never check it seems.

The train has already passed Utrecht. I notice a flat field of black blotched cows, a highway off to the south paralleling these tracks, greenhouses, an ivy-covered little brick house. I see that the clouds, so gray and thick over Amsterdam, are here parting a bit to reveal some patches of blue. An agglomeration of houses, perhaps the start of a village, the train slowing down, factories, a church spire. A lumber yard, its corrugated metal buildings covered in graffiti. Arriving in 's-Hertogenbosch at 10 to 2. Seems like a prosperous town: modern brick buildings.

I notice the small Asian woman across the aisle periodically talking into her cel phone. She's browsing through a thick, battered notebook, not unlike this one. The train whistle blows, we're off.

Easy connection at Eindhoven, now heading further east toward Venlo. More table-flat lands, functional pale brick homes. Helmond. Mostly clipped hedges, attached homes, McDonald's. The sky is again overcast but it's warm and summery.

Arrived in Blerick, which is really just a sister city to Venlo on the other side of the Maas (French version: Meuse). I knew I needed to go to Grubbenvorst but unsure how to get there. In the station parking lot, I saw a big group of tough-looking white boys firing up a spliff. Instead of asking them, I asked a handsome black man sitting on the curb a short distance from the boys. He had no idea where Grubbenvorst was. So I just got on the bike and looked for the river to get oriented. I could see the spires and smokestacks of Venlo, then a bike sign pointing to Grubbenvorst and point 6. I headed that way, finding myself on a street through a suburban neighborhood, then alongside warehouses. I asked a  middle-aged man on a bike if it was the way to Grubbenvorst and he cheerfully assented. Before long I was going up a country road shaded by stout trees. There were plenty of folks out for a ride and the occasional car or motorcycle. I realized that Lottum, my destination, was just 7km away so I had to kill some time before reaching my vrienden.*

* The Vrienden op de Fiets (Cycling Friends) is an amazing network of 3700 B&Bs for cyclists in the Netherlands as well as Belgium, Germany, France and a few other European countries. There's a nominal membership fee.

I'm now sitting across from what appears to be a Christmas tree farm, by the entrance to a path through the woods, the Sint Jan Sleutelbergbos. On the other side of the xmas tree farm is a track where single-car light rail trains zoom past. In Holland, I often feel as if I've entered a portal to a more environmentally aware future.

One problem I've been having cycling lately is that my right ankle and foot continue to throb and ache. The toes on my right foot seem to stiffen, as if rigor mortis has set in.

Rose bush fields outside Lottum

Lottum. It's true that the place is surrounded by rose bush fields and greenhouses full of rosebush seedlings. The Rose Festival is held Aug 6-9. There is some kind of rose house that is probably a tourist attraction. The town center is comprised of quaint low brick houses.

I am at a bend in the road pointing to knooppunt 90**, and it smells like cow dung. At this point, the path turns to packed gravel. A pack of racing bikers, with their helmets and lycra suits, just whipped around the bend. A tractor roared up the road toward the greenhouses. I'm wondering who cuts all these roses. I don't see any immigrants.

** The Dutch bicycle network is connected by a series of numbered points. Signs lead you to the next point in your route.

Knooppunt markers

A shower and strong wind soak me momentarily. The gravel road to knoopunt 90 was lovely and tranquil, going by untended fields, along a still creek full of lily pads. Instead of going on to Horst, I decide to take a walk around the Schuitwater, a little nature park. A path takes me to a large fallow field, and lots of rabbits dart across the path. Also got a brief glimpse of a deer. I returned along the same path, then found a more interesting trail through the woods to the other side of that lily-laden creek. Later I realized that the two linked up and I could've made a nice loop.

Back in the village of Lottum I went looking for the fort described in the fiets guide but found only a mock wooden fort that appears to be the stage of rose festival events. In fact, the village's main esplanade where I now sit is full of covered pavilions, still dormant. Compared to a Mexican village of a similar size, it's dead. But there is an absolute calm about it, and I'm glad I chose Lottum as a place to stay.

I've just had dinner at the Eethuis 't Pumpke, a little joint run by two adorable Asian women - mother and daughter. I guess they're closing now. They've just rolled up the retractable awning, and water spilled off of it like rain. I had the Bami Especial - spaghetti with a fried egg, a slice of lunch ham and three satés on skewers covered in a rich peanut sauce - and it was lovely to sit out on the terrace in the perfect evening air, facing the dormant pavilions on the esplanade. The stillness is only interrupted by the occasional car tearing along at breakneck speed, or kid on a bicycle stopping to pick up a carry-out order. I had two Heinekens. There's another slightly more formal place on the church end of the plaza but I found it unappealing because a group of surly drunks had occupied it since my arrival, and as I came back down into town they were making a stupendous racket.

Lily pads outside Lottum

There's just something extraordinarily pleasant about being at this particular vriend this evening. I've got my own little cottage (later a small family arrived), now sitting outside in front. The air is the most perfect temperature imaginable, just slightly cool with the faintest of breezes. The cottage is beside a pleasingly unruly garden. Beyond that is a small campground where some RVs are stationed. An occasional door closing, a remote car or the distant barking of dogs are the only sounds.

All this, for just €18.50! My hosts are very nice, Johann and Jenni. He speaks a bit of English, she speaks none so we were conversing in Dutch, sort of, me summoning what I could from my meager vocabulary. I like how each of these housing situations is unique in its way. This one has a semi-hostel feel. I have access to a kitchen where I can make my own coffee and breakfast in the morning or grab a beer or glass of wine (€1).