Day 5 — Makkum to Ossenzijl, in the wind and rain.

27 June 2007 in Netherlands, daily summary, ronde ijsselmeer

Greetings from Camping De Kluft, in Ossenzijl, right at the edge of the Weerribben national park, where Peter and I were happy to score lodgings in a Trekkershut — a teeny little private cabin with bunkbeds and even a little fridge and stove. Also there is a covered front porch, perfect for sheltering Pepé from the rain, and did I mention it’s warm and dry in here? After the day’s adventures, there’s pretty much nothing better. So. About those adventures.

We woke up at Pension Tabak in Makkum, to the sounds of rain. Eek. However, we packed the suitcases and reassembled the trailer in time for an 8 AM breakfast with the German tourists from the room next door, also biking the Zuiderzeeroute. Our goal for the day soon became: beat the Germans. But it was raining pretty hard, so we retreated to our room after breakfast and caught the 9 AM news, which confirmed that the weather for the day was indeed predicted to be terrible. Large chunks of Britain, for instance, were entirely flooded: there had even been two deaths by drowning. Eek. But at least the prevailing winds were in our favor, so we checked out with our hostess and rolled out of town.

We made Workum (the next town south) in record time, and record wetness. Head winds are Peter’s Kryptonite: wet and cold are mine. At least we had a tail wind, right? A few kilometers further, we took shelter in a bike tunnel under a big road and at Peter’s insistence, I changed into dry (if dirty) socks. We pondered an inland detour, away from the coast, where the winds were supposed to be worse (we’d been glad to be following a dike, which sheltered us from the worst of it) but then the Germans appeared in the distance and we had to move. Our next stop was in Hindeloopen, where the owner of Hotel-Café-Restaurant De Brabander actually opened her door to say that they were indeed open, but she’d battened down all the hatches on account of the fierce weather. We had coffee in the “bruin café” adjacent to the restaurant, and resisted her offer of a room despite the weather, which treated us to a spectacular display of rain while we sipped and waited it out inside. (Also, the Germans passed us during this time, but at least we had the satisfaction of being warm and dry when they weren’t.)

We overtook the Germans a few kilometers further, resolving to leave them in our wake (the weather made it feel like we were sailing, okay?) Then we planned an off-route shortcut past Stavoren to guarantee our lead. Maybe that’s cheating, but it saved us riding into the wind for about an hour, and did I mention we beat the Germans? Go Team! Stavoren, we will be back to see you some time when the weather isn’t quite so out to destroy us. We hear you’re on the Elfstedenroute, which follows the path taken by skaters on the Elfstedentocht race when Friesland freezes… it would be awesome (and incredibly hardcore) to ride that in a day some time. Anyway, speaking of Friesland, I’ve always tried to be careful about not saying “Holland” when I mean “the Netherlands” but this trip has revealed two things to me:

1. I need to be really attentive to those differences, because Friesland really is a different place from Holland (the provinces of Noord- and Zuid-Holland),

and:

2. I’m a Hollander. Friesland is okay, don’t get me wrong, but ever since crossing the Afsluitdijk it’s felt to me like the rest of the trip is just about going home.

Here’s Peter with more about the trials and tribulations of getting back to Holland.

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Peter here, so we decided not to head into the strongest headwind I’ve ever encountered and instead shortcut across the peninsula. This was a very very good choice. We continued with the winds at our side and sometimes ended up keeled over at dramatic angles. We continued to tack our way to the coast, where we put the wind at our backs and flew to our first possible ending place, Lemmer. Along the way, our bike developed a worrying twitch that happened every wheel revolution. Once every revolution, the handlebars would twitch left. We decided to visit a bike shop in Lemmer, who tightened some loose spokes on our front wheel and pronounced it okay. We were skeptical, but were unable to feel the twitch anymore.

Until we were heading out of town.

Then it was back with a vengeance. We would have been flying, but I was keeping us slow so as not to aggravate the problem. Then, the actual problem revealed itself when the rear wheel had a blowout. It turns out that the rear wheel was under-inflated, which had caused the rear tire to die, and the failed sidewalls failed to prevent the tube from exploding. This was manifesting itself as a weirdly compressing rear tire, which was causing the front to twitch like the end of a whip.

Crap.

So we are miles away from town on either end, and the light rain is coming sideways, and it’s time to change a tire and tube. Fortunately, we had a spare of both, and with a little cursing everything managed to be put back together in about 45 minutes. Those little tires are really hard to get on the wheel, especially when it’s cold and everyone is sopping wet. Many cars passed us by, and one stopped and asked if anything was wrong, which helped restore our faith in humanity.

So, now, sopping wet and cold from all the standing around, we head back into the wind and the rain for our day’s destination: cabins in Ossenzijl. Along the way, our rear tire starts making more noises, so we stop and pull out a half-inch piece of flint that had embedded itself in like a thorn. Dreading the consequences of this new flat (we were out of tubes, but did have a patch kit), I pulled out the stone.

And then a miracle happened: the tube was okay. This seems like a small thing writing about it the next day, but it felt like the best thing in the world at the time. We were out of tubes, and waiting around for a patch kit to set up was going to be hell, so it felt fantastic to dodge that bullet.

We then pulled into Ossenzijl around 5 PM and got into our hut, and Tracy collapsed for two hours while I went out and surveyed the area and bought some comfort food and laundry tokens. I brought the food and laundry tokens and laundry soap back to the hut, we ate them, and exchanged tasks. I collapsed for two hours while Tracy went out and did laundry. We then proceeded to sleep like logs.

Overall, we ended up pulling our trailer through extreme winds and driving rain for around 70 kilometers, which is probably the most hard-fought 70k of the trip. I will never forget being so far tilted over into the wind that the wind shadow from passing cars would force complicated maneuvers to prevent us from falling over. It was an epic day.