LELYSTAD TO AMSTERDAM
We agreed to meet outside the hotel
at 9.00 next morning for a group foray down the dijk, to meet
up with Marten and any other friends he might have talked in to
coming along! This report is getting difficult now. There are
only three days left to describe. I didn't want it to finish
then, and I don't want it to finish now!
Ina and Peng arrived at 9.30 as Peng
had had a flat tyre not far from home. Ina had predicted a foggy
morning followed by a clear day, and that's exactly what we got.
The weather was perfect for riding down the dijk. Ina is an
amateur birdwatcher, like thousands of her countrymen, and had
heard that some spoonbills had been sighted in the Oostvaarders
Plassen, which is a large wetland to the left of the dijk as you
travel south. It is the largest refuge for water birds in Europe.
We didn't find any spoonbills unfortunately, but we did hear
some more cuckoos, and this time I managed to record them.
We had travelled about 30 of the
35k between Lelystad and Muiderberg before we met up with Marten
and Co. Marten had brought along his friends Minko (EB and
touring mailing list participant) and Yvonne, who
will stay overnight with us when she visits Australia in July/August
this year. We made a jolly group as we cycled in to Muiderberg,
to offload Denis' and my panniers at the "Nooit Gedacht"
hotel, and to plan the afternoon's activities.
EB meeting at Muiderslot: Dennis, Lenore, Ina, Peng, Minko, Marten, Yvonne
We took a leisurely ride through
the countryside from Muiderberg to Muiden, with Muider Slot (castle)
in the background. We lunched at an outdoor cafe right beside
the River Vecht in Muiden. Denis could have stayed there for
at least a week - it was fascinating watching the traditional
timber boats float past towards the lock, then the bells would
ring, the bridge would swing around, parallel with the river,
and the boats would slide on through.
After lunch we rode down the Vecht
to Weesp. The countryside in this part of Holland (and I use
the word advisedly) is just what a visitor dreams of - quiet waterways,
grazing cows, green grass, houseboats, and windmills. I was
really sorry that time was running out so rapidly.
 Weesp |
Marten, Ina, Peng, Denis and I then took a leisurely ride back to Muiderberg, and had coffee with Marten's parents. It was a lovely ending to a perfect day - good weather, good cycling, good friends. (And I can keep in touch with their biking activities via their Melige Krekkers web site!)
At 21.00 I was still in my T-shirt as we reluctantly said goodbye to Ina and Peng, who
were returning to Lelystad, and to Marten, who was returning to
Hengelo. I really admired their stamina in choosing to ride so
many kilometres in the dark - I found out later that Marten cycled
to the nearest railway station for his "ride" home ;-)
I must warn you here that three kisses on the cheek is the normal
Dutch farewell. Ina, Peng and Marten got their full complement,
but I still owe one to Minko, and two to Yvonne ;-)
We left Muiderberg early the next
morning, as we wanted to visit Muiderslot before heading off
to Zwanenburg via the outskirts of Amsterdam. We retraced our
path from the day before, following the dijk to Muiden, with Muiderslot
across the fields in the distance. When we reached the Slot
we were lucky to discover that the tour guide had spent a number
of years in Papua New Guinea, and had many friends in Australia,
so she gave the tour in both Dutch and English. Muiderslot is
one of the best preserved castles in the Netherlands, and it is
furnished mostly in the fashion of the 17th century. Some reconstruction
has been done, but you can't tell from the inside - it all looks
completely genuine, even down to the worn, red-tiled floor.
After Muiden we rode to Weesp, then
on to Abcoude, where we stopped for lunch. The path between Weesp
and Abcoude is idyllic, as it utilises a quiet road running either
side of the Gein, passing by farms and under large shady trees,
with green fields in the middle distance stretching to meet the
haze of Amsterdam on the horizon.
After Abcoude we followed the Winkel
and Waver paths to Nes a/d Amstel, then turned west through the
Bovenkerker polder. Once we reached the T-junction we just followed
the signs to Haarlem and Schiphol, as our overnight stop, Zwanenburg,
was out in that direction. As we passed Schiphol we noticed
a lot of disruption due to roadworks, so we determined to ride
in next day and organise our bikes for the trip home, rather than
leave it until Sunday morning. By the time we reached the Tivotel
at Zwanenburg we had done 75k, so we had a couple of well earned
beers before exploring the town. And it was only 16.00 ;-)
Now, the Tivotel at Zwanenburg is a special place. If you have ever watched "Fawlty Towers" then you will have some idea of how it is run. We arrived at 14.00 to find that none of the rooms had as yet been made up - no sheets on the beds, no towels in the ensuite, and little piles of soiled linen in the corridor outside each room. The housemaid and her offsider were busy downstairs having afternoon tea.
It was comforting to see from the linen trolley list that our room was the next to be made up, but after spending half an hour at the bar in our cycling clothes, we just had to suggest to the manager that it was time the maid got back to work. He seemed quite reluctant to direct her to do anything!
Next morning we cleaned our bikes
thoroughly before riding (baggageless) to Schiphol airport. When
travelling to Australia it is important to have a clean bike as
the quarantine people can impound anything they believe could
transfer exotic diseases to Australia, and this includes dirt
from farm roads in Europe (or New Zealand, or anywhere else)
It took Denis some time to discover
where to buy the KLM bike boxes (30 guilders each), but he finally
appeared, and we struggled down to the "Left luggage"
area to package the bikes. The KLM boxes are very large, so although
my front wheel had to come off, Denis' didn't, so it didn't take
us too long to achieve our purpose. The overnight fee of 16 guilders
(8 guilders per box) was a reasonable price to pay for peace of
mind. No more bicycling 'til we returned home!
After a bite of lunch at the airport
we headed in to Amsterdam for a quick look around. The reconstruction
work meant that the trains weren't running, so after some confusion
we caught a bus going in the general direction of the city. Unfortunately
the bus only took us as far as a train/tram transfer station,
so we had to ask directions from a couple of orange-overalled
young men. They were quite aghast that we hadn't paid any fare
for the bus, and directed us straight to the ticket booth, where
we were sold a Strippenkaart. I wonder who invented these ridiculous
things? You need at least a 2-hour lesson on how to use them
before being let loose on the Amsterdam public transport system.
In the train we struck up a conversation
with the fellow sitting next to me. He was sleepy, and slightly
drunk, but insisted that we should not go all the way to Central
Station if we wanted to pick up a canal trip around Amsterdam.
He knew a better place. When he lurched out of his seat at some
unknown station, saying "Follow me!", I thought, "Oh
no" but Denis nodded and followed him, so I scuttled after
them both.
He told us his brother lived and
worked in Australia, so he was pleased to be able to be of service
to some Australians visiting Amsterdam. His genuine concern for
our welfare was quite touching, given the state he was in. I
pinned my last kangaroo souvenir to his jumper, and I swear there
were tears in his eyes.
He led us from tram to tram until
we finally emerged at the Leidseplein, where he showed us the
canal bus stop before turning back home towards Amstelveen. The
canal bus is quite a good vehicle for touring the canals of Amsterdam.
They run a green line and a red line with overlapping stops,
and you can get on and off all day. So for the one ticket you
can cruise round all day, or get off at this museum or that, then
get back on and sail down to the next. There is a basic taped
commentary in English, French, German, and Italian, so you pick
up some information along the way. We happened to be on the bus
when it was rammed by a private boat coming out of a side canal,
so that added a bit of excitement to the trip as well!
Bikes galore outside Amsterdam Central Station
After visiting the Flea market we
were feeling a bit tired, so we headed up to Central Station to
work out how to get back to Zwanenburg. We had to catch the train
to Sloterdijk, then catch a bus to Z'burg. Denis just bent the
Strippenkaart over and shoved it in the franking machine - he
didn't bother counting sections, or anything technical like that,
so when the train conductor came along to check the tickets he
was thoroughly confused. He ticked us off for not doing it properly,
but obviously saw the lecture was useless, so passed on with a
warning to do it right next time. I hope the system has changed
by the time we get back!
The bus driver was much more understanding
- we just handed him the kaart and asked if there was enough left
on it to get us to Zwanenburg. There was enough for one, but
when we pointed out it was for both of us he just took the ticket
and nodded. When we got off the bus we gave him the remains of
a bag of Dutch salt licorice that we had tried, but couldn't appreciate.
The cleaning staff back at the hotel were running true to form. It was 18.00, the beds were made, but there were no towels to be seen. Denis jumped in the shower and sent me downstairs for some towels, "Oh, sorry madam, they've just been washed. They're all in the dryer. Oh, your husband's in the shower, is he? Perhaps we can find one here at the back of the cupboard...Will this one do? It's all stained, but it's clean. I'll have someone bring up some more towels when they're dry."
An hour later I still hadn't joined Denis at the bar, as I was still up in our room waiting for a towel! I thought it must be a very slow dryer, but no, the manager had forgotten all about it!.
We ate dinner in the hotel restaurant that night - our final fling! Next morning, waiting for our taxi to Schiphol I couldn't help thinking of that song: "I'm leaving on a jetplane, Don't know when I'll be back again.." I really hated to go.