Home is where the hearth is.

Back in Stillwater sitting at my dining table watching the dawn begin to disclose the details of the day, I can’t help but wonder where the future will take us.

It’s winter here now. I like the winter. 

I’ve just stoked the fire with fresh logs so that the house will be warm when Anna wakes up.

There is something very cosy and appealing about a warm house when it’s cold outside. My family in Christchurch have just had a heavy snowfall with the deep snow all around their house and it looks so welcoming and idyllic.

We left our boat in the south of Holland when the temperature there was in the low 30’s.

It is such a contrast in the space of a week to have been searching for shade in the hot afternoon sun wearing teeshirts and sun hats, to stoking the fire in a dark wintery morning.

I really liked the heat in Europe, it doesn’t seem to suck the life out of you and you don’t get burned by the sun either. There is no sign of the sunblock slap-on and after a long day in the sun you don’t get that hot crackly feeling on your skin at the end of the day. It just goes nicely brown.

It’s also conducive to conversation and relaxation with many small groups gathering under trees and large umbrellas enjoying company while the hottest hours of the day roll past.

You can see the sense in the siesta in hot mediterranean countries.

One of our garden Tuis. 
The one Anna calls "the Watcher" 
because he is always peering into our windows 
to see what we are up to. He is glad we are back.

So, how is it being back in New Zealand?

I have been asked this question many times in the last week and I’m not sure how to answer without offense.

Yes, this country has many good things going for it. 

The food is fresh and healthy, the air is clean and the water is sweet to drink straight off your roof.

It is a good place to feed your body, but in my case, not my soul.

My soul cries out for culture, for history and a sense of permanence, immutable perpetuity.

I need to feel like I am part of something much greater than here and now, something that visibly spans thousands of years, something that links me to a culture and civilisation that I can recognise and resonate to.

I encounter that when I walk the cobbled streets of any village in Europe and touch the sides of buildings that have been looked after by generations of families for hundreds of years. 

When I taste their food, see their art and hear their music, I am connecting with a depth of culture that permeates right into my soul.

How can I stay away from that?

The obvious answer to that question is that I can’t.

Next time take me!
Our little best friend, Izzy,
really glad to have us back in her life.

Last breakfast

Sitting in a strange dull silence eating digestive biscuits with the last of the Hazelnootpasta, trying to process the last eight weeks and the fact that we are leaving this new life and going back to our old one.

OK this was not breakfast.
Anna at the table in our boat.

We both had loads of dreams last night, vivid ones about moving the boat, going through locks and traveling.

We went out to dinner at a little restaurant in the town square last night, lovely food and the sun did that African orb thing in front of us as we walked back to the boatyard.

It was still light at 10pm as we sat out on the back deck drinking tea and the last can of Grolsch beer.

Sitting high and dry in the Het Steel boatyard
waiting for our return.

Sun setting across the water world at our marina.

The boat is all packed up, clothes stored in vacuum bags, solar panel inside propped up against the wheelhouse windows, mast and windscreen lying on the floor along with the eight fenders standing like Queen’s guards in the corner.

And did this work for us? Was it worth the time, money and commitment?

Will we be back for more?

Right now the answer to those questions is a loud resounding YES.

Experience of living in a country like Holland and becoming part of the community as opposed to just passing through.

The people we have met and the relationships that you can form when you know there is more to come.

Taking on the challenge of learning so many new skills to manage and handle a boat in the  busy commercial waterways of Holland.

Being together 24 hours a day fusing together as a couple.

Getting fit, flexible and healthy from all the work and clambering around that we have to do.

Having access to the rest of Europe. Germany is only 6km away from here, Belguim approximately 10 kms France maybe 50 kms. You can get on a train or in a rental car and be in another completely different country within minutes. That is seriously exciting.

Something for the future. We can plan our return because we now know that we can do this. It is not a pipe dream, but a reality.

It is possibly to turn dreams into reality, you just have to take the first step, then the next one and keep going.

We will keep going.

Some pictures of the town of Roermond last night when we wandered down to a restaurant.

Ladybird speed

You can almost see the ladybird circling around
preparing to land.

Traveling at the speed of a ladybird, which can land on you, take off, fly around then return to land again.

Overtaken by cyclists and joggers, this is the slow and mostly peaceful way to see Holland.

Misty early morning start on the canal.

Caught in the rear view mirror of life.
The tunnel of trees and Anna.

Long drawn out periods of slow contemplation punctuated by intense periods of activity when you reach a Sluis (or lock).

Driving in slow motion through a tunnel of green with a blue roof and silvery blue bottom.

The canopy of trees either side of the canal is usually a mix of oak and silver birch, backlit  yellow at the top, leading to dark green at the shaded part down on the raised river bank where yellow iris splash colour onto the waters edge.

There is very little noise in the canals other than birdsong. 

You can often see cars and trucks on roads, even motorways, in the distance hurtling towards their next destination, but you cannot hear them. 

It’s like watching a silent movie with quadraphonic, surround sound, birdsong.

In a tiny lock it is no problem to smile
while you are holding the ropes.

But this is what a large lock looks like on the way in,
and you are not smiling at this moment.

The locks can be a bit overwhelming especially the really large ones with tall slimy black walls and you are six or more metres down at the bottom with your lines around a small bollard set into the lock wall and the water comes racing in and you have to hold on tight to stop your boat slewing around and hitting the boats in front and behind you. 

And all of a sudden your rope is about to go under water unless you take it off the bollard and move it up a metre to the next one, without letting the boat go.

This is very tricky and I dropped my rope off the next bollard and the boat slewed out into the lock so I grabbed our cheap and nasty boathook and managed to hold on until I could get another line on.

We were jammed into a really large lock with two other launches and a huge barge whose prop wash was like the outflow from a power dam. 

And then there was the “mad Dutchman,” wearing what Americans call a “beater,” a white sleeveless vest, who came to take our bow line when we came into a small stopover place for the night.

The maneuvering was very tight for our long boat and for some crazy reason he tied our bow line to a pole at the entrance to where I needed to go.

Well you ain’t goin nowhere, when the front of your boat is tied to a post.

Fortunately, I had recently finished off a lovely cold bottle of Grolsch lager, it was 7.30, so I was pretty chilled and just let him rant away in Dutch until Anna could get off the boat and take the line to the end of the berth so we could move in.

He went back onto his boat but kept making huge hand gestures about something and panicked every time a barge went by and the surge from it’s wash came into the layby. 

We ended up with a small scrape in the paint on our bow.

All good challenging stuff and Anna said that as a result of this learning experience, she feels “empowered”.

So do I. 

Tied to a little wharf in the middle of nowhere for the night.
Very liberating.

It is important to put ourselves into challenging and rewarding situations otherwise we just go quietly stale, like a good head of garlic that gets forgotten in the corner of the pantry.

All that potential, wasted. 

So here we are, arrived at last in Roermond, south Holland, just a days easy sailing to Maastricht and the Belgium border and we have hauled out of the water after just 15 days, which must be something of a record for Holland.

Kiwis can fly.
But after only 15 days in the water
they thought we were crazy
to be hauling out again.

Today started in a solitary kind of way. We were the only boat on the Kanaal Wessem Nederweert between Nederweert, where we spent the night and Wessem where we re-joined the Maas river, until we reached the gigantic lock at Panheel.

We saw a barge called Emmanual, with an Australian flag and gave them a yell, they had just been through the lock and gave us an insight as to how scary it would be.

The lock dropped us about 15 metres and we only had one attachment point to rope on to as it descended.

We had to think really fast once we were in the lock and instead of our normal technique of Anna on the bow line up front and me on the stern line, we both converged simultaneously to the centre of the boat and worked both our lines from the same point.

This was brilliant and that is how we will approach locks from now on. Good way to learn, on the fly!

About to run down a bunch of geese,
which started loudly honking at us.

The beauty and tranquility of the Dutch countryside
is breathtaking.

We eventually made it to Roermond and found the marina that the boat will spend the next  12 months in and motored into the lift-out area.

The people here are very friendly and easy going, it feels like home to us already.

Anasofia was lifted out of the water and set into a cradle on the hardstand and that part of our adventure came to an end.

The sun setting over Roermond,
but not over our adventure.

Sitting on our aft deck with a glass of
French champagne at ten o'clock at night and it is
still light enough to read by.

But the next part is ready and waiting........... Through Belgium and down into France.

Can we do it?

You bet!

Adventure at last.

Anna, superb navigator and
master mariner extraordinaire.

At last we have broken free of the marina and felt our wings as we did what this lovely boat was designed to do.

For more than six weeks we have zig zagged between frantic work on the boat and retreating from the foul weather Holland has been dishing out day after day.

Everyone here keeps saying that this is the worst spring in living memory and believe me, that is no consolation to us, although we have actually enjoyed the whole process, even with the frustrations of bad weather.

The mad captain at the wheel.
He is happy, but with background anxiety!

We are finally motoring down the canal from our marina in Oostvoorne towards the river Maas with our hearts in our mouths, the lock at the end of the canal, huge, concrete, did we get the lights wrong? The lock keeper didn’t growl at us so we must be OK!

And then out into the Maas river, a huge commercial seaway with ships and gigantic barges (four barges rafted together being pushed by a tsunami creating machine that would make make wave world look like a duck pond) and lifting bridges the size of Auckland harbour bridge but the whole centre section lifts up to let huge ships pass underneath, and us!

See how this bridge on the Maas river lifts
to let ships through.
The Dutch are brilliant engineers.

We are constantly forced out to the side of the channel by the massive steamers thundering past and we wonder if there is enough water for us to motor through, but there is and we make it, time and time again, getting out of the way of these behemoths.

We pass factories, towns, windmills, nudists, holiday parks and couples kissing and old people sitting under beach umbrellas on the side of the river. 

The river is 200 metres or more wide and the current is 2 or 3 knots against us but the sturdy ship Anasofia keeps chugging along heading south.

We have to go through that tiny gap once the
harbour master has raised the bridge.
Don't know if we'll fit but Anna says, "give it a go."

When we finally arrive at Dordrecht, our first night stop, and contact the marina here, the harbour master opens the old cast iron road bridge and lets us in to the most beautiful old town basin sitting right under the cathedral with it’s bells chiming jaunty tunes that we can’t quite recognise.

We walk through the old town with classic barges and steam powered tugs lining the quays and five story brick buildings with shuttered windows and pullys for lifting cargo from the quays.

The local residents are sitting out in the sun wherever they can. There is even one woman on her roof on a settee enjoying the sun at last.

You can see her on a couch up on the roof.
Good on you lady.

The temperature difference here, inland in Holland is remarkably different to Rotterdam and its north sea coastline. It is very similar to Wellington in the way that the wind just can’t stop blowing.

Anna has definitely got the job of navigator on this trip, she is fantastic with the charts and the bouyage system. 
Good thing too, because I am colour blind and a red sign against a green background looks completely invisible to me. 

Unfortunately most of the signs are red against green, so I am tough out of luck but she has a handle on every bouy and channel marker and is cross referencing them all back to our text book on the European canal system.

The boat has been a dream come true. 
She seems to handle everything in her stride.

At one point Anna and I  looked at each other and we both knew what we were thinking, that nobody else in the world had any idea what we were feeling at that moment. 
A very private and special connection for only us to share. We were steaming down the Maars river in Holland alongside huge ships and barges in our own boat that we have worked so hard on, heading for the south of Holland and ultimately for France. 

This is making dreams come true.

Get out there now and have the adventure. Don’t wait.

Get right out of your comfort zone and you may surprise yourself. 

We certainly did today.

NZ flag, silver fern and Dutch flag flying on the
Maas river as we pass ships and barges.

1652.
What more needs to be said?
The town gates at Dordrecht.

Dordrecht street. Very tidy.

The town basin at Dordrecht, where we are moored,
in the shadow of the old cathedral.

Just beautiful, everywhere you look.
How can I come back to NZ when I feel so at home here?

Musing on the Meuse

We followed the Meuse river from France through Belgium, mainly to see the course we would be taking to get our boat from Holland to France.
It turned out to be one of the most beautiful drives we have had in Europe, through steep gorges, alpine villages, dense forests and beautiful towns lining the river.
Dinant with it's Church of our lady and characteristic pear shaped bell tower, Namur with the citadel overlooking the town and river.
Here are some photos grabbed along the way today.

Dinant with it's Church of our lady on the Meuse river.

Namur, Belgium from the citadel on the hillside overlooking the Meuse river.

The citadel on the left, above the town of Namur, Belgium.

Montherme, France where the Meuse river runs right around the town.

Boats departing the lock at Dinant, France heading downstream into Belgium.

Beautiful old buildings lining the banks of the Meuse.

Towering bluffs rising out of the river.
There are climbers on that face but they are so small you cannot see them. We instantly thought of Connie and Adam when we saw them clinging to the cliff face.

Namur town centre buzzing with festivity.

Our hotel, the Chateau de Namur near the citadel high on the hill overlooking the town and river Meuse.
And yes it was expensive and fantastic, but honestly, it was the only place left in Namur on Booking.com.

Back to France, at last.

A Whirlwind trip through Belgium and down the valley of the Somme.
We are about to hit the road and head back from Troyes in France to Namur in Belgium, 4.5 hours driving.

But Here are a few random reflections from La France.......

Walking into a cafe in the very first town across the border and feeling the difference. 

It's midday and the townsfolk are knocking off work for the next two and a half hours to eat, drink, talk and laugh with a lot of kissing and hugging.

We walked into the first cafe we found and ordered coffee and pizza and were welcomed in like locals. 

One man came to us and when he found we were from NZ, insisted on buying us drinks.

The buildings and the people in the north of France and the valley of the Somme carry the battle scars from the last couple of wars and there is a palpable feeling that the loss and the grief are still causing distress today. 

There are graveyards with white crosses as far as the eye can see and fresh flowers on the memorials to the young men lost from every town.

It is a long flat landscape and we are almost prepared to meet a platoon of bedraggled soldiers marching across the countryside to their next trench position on the battle front.

Wheat and rapeseed seem to be the crops that thrive on these  flatlands where so much blood has been spilled.

Despite the air of despair, France is still very beautiful this time of year with the amazing intensity of green that meets you around every corner.

Villages come and go, each with their disproportionately large sized church and hotel de ville, or town hall, and streets of stone cottages in various stages of repair, (or disrepair).

You definitely get the feeling that French people would much rather eat, drink and laugh a lot, than spend all their leisure time repairing and immaculately painting their houses, like the Dutch.

There is the definite impression that they are surrounded by their own crumbling history, but it is so very charming and their way of life is definitely the benchmark for the rest of civilization.

I literally ran into the very first boulangerie that I could find in France and bought a long baguette and tore it open to see if French bread really was as good as I remembered. 

People walking past smiled and called “bon appetite” when they saw the look on my face. 

Yes it is as good as it gets.

Why can we not make bread that is so crusty on the outside yet flexible and tasty on the inside?

The beautiful valley town of Pierrefonds in the Picardy region has a fantasy castle on the highest point of the land overlooking the town, built in 1393, that’s quite a long time ago, and it is visible from every part of the village.

We almost stumbled upon the town as we were driving from Noyon to Troye across the top of France and through the forest of the Compiegne. 

When we saw the castle above the town we just had to stop and spend a few hours mingling with the French families on their holidays visiting this incredible piece of history.

French people are incredibly helpful, gracious and friendly. When we almost ran out of petrol and were failing to make an automatic machine accept our credit cards, a French man nearby saw our problem and filled our tank on his card. When we gave him 50 Euro, he went to his car and came back with the change. They are so very decent.

We finally found the river Meuse and followed it north through the Ardennes region, full of forests and steep gorges with little alpine villages on either side.

This is the river that we will come down from Holland into Belgium and then to France.

The villages are well maintained and the river seems to dominate life around here, as it has for centuries.

The Meuse has been an important trading route and strategic military focal point for thousands of years and when you enter a town like Givet, through the fortified city gates you are very aware of this.

We followed the river into Belgium to the delightful town of Dinant where mansions line the river banks and canal barges meander their way through locks and the wide green waterways.

At the end of the day we are settling into a grande old chateaux set above the city of Namur, feeling almost like something out the Victorian era.

We were very lucky to find a room in a hotel here because there is a fortnight of festivities in this town.

We are sitting in an ancient castle drinking champagne from France, eating French bread, Dutch cheese, Italian olives, Spanish tomatoes and strawberries from Belgium.

This is the life.

Yeh, The French border at last.

Old Cathedral at Noyon still showing scars of bombardment from WW1.

Shabby Chic. You can tell you are in France!

Old buildings in Noyon, more WW1 battle scars.

Boulogne sur Mer, near Calais.

Boulogne sur Mer main street.

Spring flowers outside the Hotel de Ville, (town hall)

Monseigneur Resteaux

Frescoes in an old chapel

Chateau de Pierre Fond, Picardy region, France

Inside the Chateau de Pierre Fond

The village of Pierre Fond

The Hunting room inside the Chateau de Pierre Fond

Village lake, Pierre Fond