Beside the Seaside

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In Which I Manage To Miss Europe's Largest Port

August 3, 2007 by Mike

Domburg

Route: Den Haag - Monster (yes!) - Hoek van Holland - Maasslius - Oostvoorne - Goede - Serooskerke - Oostkapelle - Domburg

Just look at the route I took today. If you're running short of 'o's for yr important business report or the first draft of yr novel, feel free to borrow some of mine. Oostvoorne, indeed.

And while I'm on the subject, have you noticed how similar the rhythms and cadences of English and Dutch are? I'm constantly turning my head to spot who's talking English, especially as the standard greetings here are Hi or Hello, only to discover more Dutchmen and women. I shouldn't be surprised, I guess - even when it turns out the Dutch speak better English than I do.

--

Stopping at the town of Monster only to send postcards (didn't yrs arrive? I wasn't *100%* sure I got yr postcode right..) and the Hook of Holland only to see what the port looks like in sunshine rather than rain, I also scoot quickly across the mouth of the Nieuwe Waterweg by the Maasslius ferry. This is the canal linking Rotterdam to the North Sea. That's Rotterdam, the largest port in Europe.. and yes, by taking the ferry instead of riding into the centre of town I've just ridden straight past it. What is it with me and big cities? Hamburg.. Amsterdam.. could someone PLEASE stop me when I get to Barcelona?

Anyway, riding past Rotterdam is no mean feat. I enter a scorched post-Millenial landscape of warehouses, railway sidings, cranes, windfarms, motorways and... ships. There are canals and channels all over the place here, quayside loading and unloading, so look in any direction and it seems you're facing the sea. (I quite like that thought.)

Some of the ships are passenger ferries. You may well have been here.

Head further to the west, though, and the countryside reasserts itself.

First scrubland and heath, then arable land: no space here for farm animals. The sun is shining. Harvest is just beginning. It must be glorious as its most golden. There are small farms and villages scattered across the landscape. I skirt the coast before rejoining the main road -- the N57 -- south into Zeeland, the island province at the south-west tip of the country. (I could have stuck to the mainland, but that seems to miss the point in such a maritime country and besides, that would involve travelling through much more of Belgium. 'Nuff said.)

There's lots of traffic heading out to the islands today. Plenty of bikes - and most of those are shiny Harleys. That's a lot of accountants and lawyers taking Friday afternoon off. We hop from island to island via bridge and dyke and dam, passing one massive lake rammed full of windsurfers, another dedicated to small yachts, over waterways in which massive motorboat monsters gently sway. This is Holidayland.

And my destination (plucked at random, with a little help from a couple of Den Haagers and my GoogleEarth correspondent back home) is Holidayland Central: Domburg.

What do you mean you've never heard of it?

Aaaah, that's because you're not Dutch or German? Easy mistake - but if you were Dutch or German, you were probably here this weekend. It's so full of holidaymakers the queue for the one small 'Kammer frij' ('Room available') in town was spilling onto the street, threatening at one stage to block a cyclepath. That's newsworthy round here. There's a brass band in town that serenades us with Eurovision hits. I want to leave town Very Much.

The campsite was full too. Shame, as it's called "Camping Westhove" and I was in west Hove only a week ago. Worse, all the 'Mini Campings' are full too. No facilities to speak of, bar a tap or two and a loo (without paper - I learned to my cost). Persistence pays off, though, and a sense of humour: the Westerhoeve minicamping people consent to my hanging the hammock between a hedge and a children's swing. No other trees available.. anywhere in Zeeland. Still, people with ordinary tents are being turned away late into the evening, so I can't complain. (Until the cockeral fires up at 0530 hrs the next morning, that is..)

And so to the beach. Fight for a spot between hordes of sunworshippers. A quick check: no Da Vinci Codes in sight.

Aaaaaaaand relax.

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