“Have the machine thoroughly well oiled,” said Briggs, “carry one or two lemons with you, don’t tear yourself to death the first day, and sit upright. Never lose control of the machine, and always sound the bell on every possible opportunity. You mind those things, and nothing very much can’t happen to you, Hoopdriver — you take my word.”
- Uit: The Wheels of Chance: A Bicycling Idyll by H.C. Wells.
Advice from Mr Briggs, a colleague of Mr Hoopdriver, who had never been on a bicycle before.
Home. Along with dozens of cyclists, we got off the boat at Hoek van Holland at 8 am this morning. We noticed that we heard only English, no Dutch. What brings them to the Netherlands by bicycle? Could it be the many separate cycle paths? The bicycle-friendly infrastructure? The lack of climbing? I could have asked, of course. There was plenty of time for that in the queue for customs between the smelly exhaust gas of cars and motorbikes. I didn't. Instead, I listened to all the stories they told each other. Where they had all cycled, what gear they had with them. Or what especially not. I noticed that they were mostly bikepackers: mountain bikers with minimal luggage. We had the most luggage with our four back paniers, two front panniers and a tent. After all, we had counted on three weeks of cold and rain…
At home at the beach, where neighbour dog Bo came to us wagging his tail.
Rain clothing
We both carried extra long trousers (no, not extra long, but extra trousers, long trousers...), an extra jumper and even gloves. None of it was used as we generally had beautiful weather. Out of the three weeks, we had 1 day of rain in each week and a few times a single drizzle in the second week. And yet something was missing from our bags: rain gear for Remy. Forgotten... We swear by Vaude's rain ponchos. As soon as it rains, you have them on in no time, you don't sweat in them because it's open, and your upper body, down to the thighs, stays dry and warm. You fasten them in such a way that they can't blow up. Remy has an orange one, I have a red one, and we have another spare one, also orange.
Remy had packed our panniers at home - that's his speciality - and I saw an orange poncho lying around later. We always have a lot lying around. ‘Ah, the spare poncho, I'll just tidy it up’, I thought and tidied it up properly. So we set off, armed against cold and rain.
At day three, rain was predicted! But then, however, we found out that we only had one poncho with us. My red one. And since Remy doesn't have a waterproof jacket either, he was in for a very wet fate, were it not for the fact that apart from a red poncho, I also had a waterproof jacket and, for the first time in fourteen years, rain trousers with me. I had bought them in Norway last September, on special offer. Yes, on sale, because they were very expensive. But also a very good pair. Admittedly hiking rain trousers, but still one of the best, from Haglöf. I thought England was an excellent country to try out such trousers on a cycling holiday.
And so it was in the bag, and fortunately we had some rain gear to share. Remy didn't want to wear my old-pink jacket and so - once it started raining - he wore the red rain poncho and I wore my own jacket plus the rain trousers. Luckily for me, it didn't rain much, as my waterproof jacket was not waterproof, and the rain trousers were even wetter inside than out. But from sweat. Conclusion: we'll stick with the rain ponchos! The expensive rain trousers are fine for walks and short bike rides.
Strolling
The last few days were mainly spent strolling... first two days in London, along the Thames and then a day and a half through the streets of Harwich. In London, we stayed in a very nice Airbnb, overlooking London Bridge. Initially we wanted to cycle, but walking turned out very well. A total of no less than thirty kilometres! Ten on day one, and twenty on day two. Among other things, we visited St. Paul Cathedral and museum Tate Modern. The latter was our second time and I think I could go there every year.
View from our fantastic Airbnb in Londen:
We almost regretted not staying another day in London. We had to spend a day and a half in Harwich and when we arrived there on Friday afternoon and went for a walk, we were done with strolling by the end of the afternoon. And especially with Harwich.
Luckily, it was Saturday the next day and we love history! Harwich has a number of small museums, run by volunteers, and are open on weekends. We visited them all and ended up having a nice day in Harwich after all.
Very special: both Harwich and Hook of Holland have a monument to the so-called Kindertransport. From 1938, thousands of Jewish children were put on boats to England, where they could grow up safely (see text on the photo). In the Harwich Redoubt Fort is an extensive and impressive exhibition about the ‘Kinder’ and in the harbour is the monument. And today, we cycled past the other monument, in Hook of Holland.
The first picture was taken on Saturday in Harwich, the third one today in Hook of Holland:
At Beacon Hill Fortress in Harwich, our bikes were heavily secured:
Choosing
Not planning a cycling holiday, and just going, has advantages and disadvantages. Not planning gives a lot of freedom and flexibility and that does suit us. And yet, these holidays we always felt we were making wrong choices. It became a different route than we had planned anyway. Only at the last minute did we decide to cycle it. Sometimes I felt a bit sorry. Wasn't the coast even more beautiful? Or at least more comfortable? Because apart from being beautiful, it was also a tough ride. People sometimes grumble and complain about ‘my’ Gudbrandsdalsleden (St. Olav's Way) in Norway: that there is so much climbing to do and that the road surface is not always easy. Well, compared to this route, The Olav Trail is surely easier and more comfortable. We have never cycled (or walked) so much over paths with loose stones, tree roots, holes and potholes in the road and... incredibly many fellow road users. Hikers (with dogs) on the smaller paths, and cars, lots of cars, on the bigger roads. In addition, there are gradients of 15 - 25%, with even an occasional spike to 30%. We have not experienced this even in Japan or South Korea.
And wouldn't we have preferred to cycle the moors in Cornwall? And wouldn't we have wanted to stay longer in Cornwall anyway? And wouldn't we have... etc. Still, we decided not to ‘whine’ about that and just enjoy the choice we made. And that worked out quite well because we ended up having a fantastic holiday!
Nota Bene
NB 1. The story of the Walking Women in newsletter 2 turned out to be a bit too cryptic for some readers. I have since updated the story and accompanying photos.
NB 2. In three weeks time, I leave for three months to Norway and Sweden for “road work”. In other words, researching and checking new and existing routes. More on this soon.
Excerpt from The Wheels of Chance: A Bicycling Idyll by H.C. Wells:
He is back. To-morrow, the early rising, the dusting, and drudgery, begin again — but with a difference, with wonderful memories and still more wonderful desires and ambitions replacing those discrepant dreams.
He turns out of the High Street at the corner, dismounts with a sigh, and pushes his machine through the gates of the Antrobus stable yard, as the apprentice with the high collar holds them open. There are words of greeting. “South Coast,” you hear; and “splendid weather—splendid.” He sighs. “Yes—swapped him off for a couple of sovs. It’s a juiced good machine.”
The gate closes upon him with a slam, and he vanishes from our ken.
London. Where you have to pay £45 (€53) for a bunch of flowers, and where you need seven train tickets for two adults and two bicycles (bicycles are free on the train):
Harwich:
