From Canal to Canal. We're in The Netherlands!

We stayed a total of 4 nights in Lake Borgstedt, enjoying the rain from the comfort of our orangery.

We were happy enough there but wouldn’t have stayed that long if it wasn’t for the weather forecast for the German Bight – the bit of the North Sea we’d be sailing over to get to The Netherlands.

Persistent strong west to south westerly winds.

Exactly what you don’t want when you’re trying to leave the River Elbe and head roughly south west around the Frisian Islands!

In 2015 we’d waited 9 nights in Cuxhaven for suitable weather in which to depart. There’s nothing wrong with Cuxhaven – it has a beach and a pleasant enough city centre – but we felt we knew it well enough already so weren’t keen to do the same this year!

With suggestions of winds verging on the possible, if not exactly ideal, in the German Bight in a few days’ time, we moved on to the Gieselau lock on 27^th July – a huge distance of, er, 16 miles! You’re only allowed to stay there 1 night, so the following day it was on to Brunsbuttel.

View of the Kiel Canal from our Lake Borgstedt berth

Boring picture? No! It's the world's longest bench. 575.75m long!

Our berth at the Gieselau Lock. It didn't stay like this. It got really busy!

And again. Nice view from the orangery

I wanna be like you hoo hoo...

Brunsbuttel. Compare and contrast big ship, small yachts!

Brunsbuttel is an ok place, remarkable only for the presence of the locks that all canal traffic has to pass through. It’s busy in season and rafting is pretty much inevitable – not an issue in itself depending, of course, on who you get rafted to you.

I was feeling pretty pleased with myself when I encouraged a young couple on a small boat to raft alongside us. No drunken hooligans as neighbours for us tonight then! Except that they left for Cuxhaven at about 2100.

All was quiet for the next hour and a half when we heard another boat approaching us. Manned by half a dozen young men, this wouldn’t have been my first choice but the bottom line is that you don’t get a choice! They seemed pleasant enough in any case and we had a friendly chat before we retired to bed and they retired to the bar…

All was still until 0400 when our neighbours returned, suitable “refreshed”. With all the coordination of men in ankle irons, they clambered and tripped across Cyclone’s decks for what seemed like an age until a modicum of peace returned.

The voices continued – at a daytime volume – until, once more, the patter of elephant’s feet was heard stomping across Cyclone’s decks. “What now!” thought I, with some other descriptive words thrown in for good measure.

The stomping continued until “Mr. Grumpy” became “Mr. Angry”!

Having pulled on a pair of trousers I was up on deck in time to witness the following scene: our neighbour’s boat at 90 degrees to ours and a single member of their crew on Cyclone’s deck. The latter had the unenviable task in his inebriated state of simultaneously trying to hang on to the line connecting the 2 boats, fend their bow off of Cyclone and climb over our guardrails to get aboard his own boat!

With some well-chosen, if not entirely polite, words I encouraged him to leave Cyclone whilst defending her from the departing boat. Fortunately peace was soon restored without damage to Cyclone. Unfortunately they didn’t hit the exit on their way out… (That’s the vindictive Mr. Angry speaking. Not the normal Mr Nice Guy!).

We left Brunsbuttel for Cuxhaven – silently I might add - at 0730, after a single night. There was no way I was going to risk a repeat of the previous night and I knew that Cuxhaven had finger pontoons, so rafting simply wouldn’t be an option.

Why so early when it was only 17 miles? Well, after 3 months in the non-tidal Baltic Sea, we were back in tidal country. With a bang, as it happens, as the tide/current combination in the River Elbe means you really have to go with the flow and not try to fight it.

A combination of strong winds and up to 4 knots of tide whisked us to Cuxhaven in the blink of an eye (ish!), such that we’d passed through Brunsbuttel’s lock – which we had to ourselves – and tied up in Cuxhaven by 1025. There we stayed until 1850 on 31^st July when, with forecasts of very little wind, we set off for Lauwersoog (or Norderney, or Borkum if we didn’t get that far).

Brunsbuttel lock. Just us then!

Our berth in Cuxhaven. Thunder and lightening again this year...

The view from our orangery

So what’s it like, undertaking one of these long (for us) overnight passages?

Well for a start I hate leaving late in the day (we had to because of the wind). This just gives me the whole day to fret about the forthcoming trip! I don’t know why I do that. It doesn’t matter how often I tell myself that I’ve got plenty of sailing experience and that we wouldn’t be leaving if we didn’t have a suitable forecast.

Maybe it’s a good thing as it means that I’m not gung ho about stuff. Whilst sailing isn’t statistically a dangerous activity, things can go wrong and, unlike in a car, you can’t just pull into the hard shoulder and call the AA! You can’t just stop if you don’t like it either! Ports of refuge can be many miles apart.

Then again, maybe I’m just a wimp!

So we tried to fill the time before departure by doing stuff like going for a walk or a bit of shopping to keep my mind off what’s to come. We tried getting a bit of kip in the afternoon too, but that didn’t work.

It’s generally a relief when departure time arrives and, in this case, we set off from Cuxhaven into the last of a foul tide for what would be a 120 mile, 23 hour trip.

We were actually the first of a small flotilla of boats to leave. Obviously others had been eyeing the short weather window between one set of strong westerly winds and the next too!

There was no wind to speak of and so Penny (Cyclone’s Volvo Penta engine) was supplying the motive power. Now Penny’s a grand lass. She’s never failed to leap into action when required, uses no oil to speak of and just gets on with her task without complaining. She sips at her drink too, consuming only 1.25 litres of diesel an hour.

But Penny’s a plodder, not a sprinter (civil servant rather than private sector!). With just 18hp fresh out of the factory 30 years ago, she’s never going to be first to the finish.

And so it was that we watched the following boats slowly reel us in and pass by. With the distance we had to travel, this was – just a little – depressing!

But then the wind came. Not a lot at first, but enough to make a huge difference to our speed. No longer were those upstarts coming past! And as darkness fell, they increased to the point where Penny could take a nap and let the sails take the strain.

This is also the point when Jo takes a nap. It’s not her fault, but Jo can’t do anything to help at night. Her night vision is rubbish anyway and since she dropped her glasses overboard in Tallinn(!) she's only had sunglasses to see through! Poor night vision, darkness and sunglasses? Hmmm…

Jo feels guilty about leaving me in the cockpit while she goes to sleep but there’s really no point in her staying awake all night too. I tell her I’ll call her if I’m struggling to keep focused, but otherwise she might just as well sleep so that one of us is fresh(ish) the following day.

I don’t really find it difficult staying awake through the night and actually quite enjoy it. Watching the sun set, threading our way through all the anchored ships in the dark (there are lots in the vicinity of the River Elbe), interpreting the lights of other moving vessels and then watching first the dawn and then the sunrise gives me plenty to do. With the hourly log entries and engine checks (if appropriate) I find that the time passes quickly.

Then it’s daylight and you feel you must be getting close – until you realise that you’re only about half way! It’s the late morning hours that drag for me and, if conditions are fairly static, that’s when I’ll maybe catch forty winks. On this trip I lay down for about an hour and slept for perhaps half of that.

On and on we sailed, motor-sailed, sailed and, finally, motored towards Lauwersoog. We passed our possible alternative ports in our determination to make it the whole way if possible.

We’d actually made really good time and were feeling very positive when, as so often seems to happen when nearing a destination, we started to slow down. A lot.

Why?

2 reasons.

One: The wind that had aided our progress for much of the way turned against us and increased. This created a bit of a chop and Penny started to struggle to move us through the water.

Two: The tide turned against us.

The combined effect of these 2 factors was to reduce our speed from 6+ knots to as little as 2 knots. Sometimes even a fraction under.

Arrghh!!

It’s just so frustrating when, with so little distance to cover before turning into Lauwersoog’s approach channel (and getting the benefit of both the wind and tide in the process) the time to the next waypoint increases and increases…

Anyway, around 1430 we turned into Lauwersoog’s channel and began once again to make good progress towards our destination – over 7 knots at times. It’s an interesting channel as its position changes regularly, meaning that the buoys marking it have to be moved. The chances of them being exactly where they appear on your chart are remote, so good visibility is a must.

At 1600, 21 hours after leaving Cuxhaven, we entered the lock at Lauwersoog. This took us into the Lauwersmeer – an inland lake separated from the sea by a dirty great big dam – which, in turn, would float us to the Dokkumer Djip which would eventually take us via the Willem Loresluis (a lock) towards, er, Dokkum and beyond.

The canal has a lot of places that you can tie up for free (we like free!) and, at 1740, we did just that at the first available spot.

Strangely, unlike when we arrived at Gotland from Estonia, I didn’t feel especially tired after this trip. A bit ratty, perhaps, but that passed once we were tied up and Jo had placed some “medicine” in front of me!  Cheers!

A celebratory steak dinner later and it was time for bed. Ahhh…

So that’s what a night passage is like – well, this one in any case. They’re all different.

Leaving Cuxhaven behind

Sun on its way down under

Sailing boats on the Lauwersmeer

Cyclone on her free overnight berth in the canal (just!)

We stayed 2 nights for free before moving on down the canal towards Leeuwarden. We’d intended to get to Leeuwarden that first day, but the weather soon dissuaded us.

Gusts of up to 38 knots (that’s over 40mph - in the canal!!) were having a fairly dramatic impact on our progress so we just pulled over to another free pontoon and stopped for the night. That’s the beauty of canals. You can do that!

Willem Loresluis

Dokkumer Grutdjip

Some confused sunflowers en route. "Anyone actually seen the sun lads?"

Passing through Dokkum

We probably took this back in 2015 and on the way north! Well, you have to!

Bridge keeper collecting his toll. Note fishing rod...

... with clog on it. The money goes in there. Crazy, a touch quaint, but it works perfectly!

Our second free stop. We were going nowhere in that wind

Look at the angle of the reeds and rushes! Jo reading in 30+ knots of wind

Mr Grumpy. What do you mean smile?

Like this? Bet you wish you hadn't asked now!

Some crazy locals who dived in from "our" pontoon and swam to Dokkum!

We finally made it to Leeuwarden on 4^th August and that’s where we are as I write. There’s no wifi at the boat so I’ll have to take my laptop for a walk to publish this post.

Yet another picture perfect Dutch scene

You like Hydrangeas then?

Rather comical boat in the shape of an upside down London cab

Our berth in Leeuwarden

Leeuwarden’s a nice town with a wonky cathedral tower (they never built the rest!) and a canal in the middle of the high street. Most importantly for us after 4 days without one, it has showers! It also has a launderette, which was something of a relief as stocks of clean clothes were at an all-time low!

Leeuwarden's wonky cathedral tower

Leeuwarden's attractive high street...

..and again

... and one final shot!

Naturally Leeuwarden's a busy place as there’s plenty to see and it’s August, so rafting up is a distinct possibility. I noticed a Westerly Merlin pass us on a couple of occasions looking for a suitable spot to moor and invited the skipper to come alongside us. He’d already given us a cheery wave having recognised that our boat was of the same marque and seemed like the right sort!

I’m not always positive about rafting up having had some bad experiences (see above!) but, those aside, it’s usually a good way to meet some nice people. This occasion was no exception, and I enjoyed a beer on Ruud’s boat (Elina) before he joined us on Cyclone for another. 

Then, later on, Ruud called over from Elina and presented us with his ANWB Wateratlas of the Staande Mastroute – a really useful publication which provides all the detail needed to make it as far as Willemstad. Ruud had written his name and address, together with his telephone number, inside the book so we could post it back to him on our return to England. How kind!

Anyway, it’s time to see if I can upload this lot now.

Thanks for reading!