Camping, canoeing & cycling in Vierhuizen

Our weekend plans are somewhat disrupted when Marcel discovers metres of carpet waiting to be laid in Zwolle, some 130 km’s from Vierhuizen!

Then Simon lets us know that a potential buyer wants to kick his tyres early on Saturday morning, so they won’t be able to make it both nights. 

Quite bizarrely, some 240 days ago, we closed off the outdoor season just as Simon and Mikki had taken delivery of their Renault Scenic. Boy, what a difference a few months can make. Not only have they settled in to living on Dutch soil very well, but the Landy bug has zapped them as voraciously as a mosquito on sticky summer blood.

Marcel finishes work on Friday in time to see me yanking at bamboo runners that have run amock and tuts at me until I’m ready to go. Fortunately our camping stuff is stowed in our Harry Potter room (you know the place under the stairs) so it’s quick and easy to pack and go. Some two hundred kilometres away, Ina and Andries are well settled in. It doesn’t take us too long and 8pm sees us cracking a beer and lighting a little fire.

We love spending time with our cuzzies and enjoy the evening together. Later we turn our little camp fridge back on to drown out the chain saw eminating from the two-man tent next door. We wake up at first light to get ready in time, do a double take on the watch … 4:15! Argh! Roll over and go back to sleep. Then we enjoy a cuppa and Mos leaves just before 7am for his long trek to Zwolle. I finish my tea and enjoy the bird song interrupting my mag reading. The leaves casting camoflauge shadows on our soft green tent. Prrrr.

Ina, Andries and I enjoy some tea and cereal for breakfast and then head off on our bicycles. It’s been forever since I’ve done any distance on my bike, and am wondering if I still know how … Yes. I do. Cool.

There’s a nice route we follow from the camp site, through the army base and woods to the dike at Lauwersoog ferry terminal. Some parts of the route are a little … exciting. Between the bicycle paths, there are sandy roads probably for the tanks to practice on, that we need to traverse. What a challenge to get across without falling over. It’s like, “Yes man! We did it!” and giggles when we don’t.

We ride along the dike. I’ve not seen the tide this high. With all the green grass on the top, it’s weird seeing sheep lying on concrete. Maybe it’s warmer?!? With their woollies? Got me puzzled, it has.

Simon and Mikki phone to say they’ll be there in an hour or two, so we head back to camp; having racked up 30 kms in 2 and a quarter hours. Not bad!! Their new Quecha is muuuuch easier to set up than their “suitable for weeks-on-end” tent. We drive to Wehe Den Hoorn and hire some canoes.

I check up with Marcel who’s slaving away in the summer heat, and feel awful asking him to swing past the shops to buy food, beers and charcoal for dinner. When you’re sitting in a remote village, not much is open on a Saturday afternoon, let alone wanting to leave meat and perishables in an overheated car.

Neeka looks adorable in her baby life jacket. Khiana dons a jacket and my canoeing-buddy, Jaidinn, gets the grown up treatment of not needing one. Full of courage, adventure and good spirits we head out on the 12,5 km circuit, which supposedly takes about 3 hours.

There are points of interest enroute where we can leisurely moor the canoe and take a break. That is of course, if you’ve got the whole day to enjoy the experience.

About halfway, we get out at the De Maarn Edifice and are welcomed with a rendition of Edelweiss performed by local kids. I can just hear Marcel sighing with relief to have missed this one. We walk around the magnificent gardens, and sit on the lawn to enjoy the reflections on the moat and listen to the orchestra.

Feeling refreshed, we tackle that damned head-wind again, which drags us back faster than we can say cheese. Yes, we enjoy a tail-wind … for about thirty seconds, before realising we’d taken a right instead of a left. Each exhausting stroke bleeding our spirits and energy one drop at a time. Riding into the reeds is no longer funny. 

I laugh almost deliriously when I hear Simon demanding his crew to take their feet and dragging oars out the water. I feel your pain!!

Each bridge looks promising, only to slash our hopes of that being the last corner. The last half hour is tortuous. But then we see it. The last bridge and all-too-welcome jetty. Our 4-hour journey gets rewarded with the finest cornettos you’ve ever tasted.

We phone Marcel again, who’s made it back to camp and is watching the rugby online (wifi, how luxurous?) with a cold brewski. When we return, we enjoy an even colder one at the camp site terrace. And then another. The plates of food wafting past are more tempting than sirens to a sailor. But we resist to enjoy our beloved bbq and settle in for the night. Fabulous!

For the first time, we actually take our morning at extreme leisure. Breakfast at a snail’s pace and pack up around 12-ish. Magic just chatting and discussing all sorts of things … like our new Landies and the adventures we’re going to partake in.

Heaven’s knows we’re up for it. We’ve been canoeing in a head-wind!