Day 17 – The Metheringham Files

Awakening to the new dawn of 2023, we got our year off to the right start with a wander through the impressive grounds of Pembroke College, now having the luxury to appreciate our surroundings in the daylight. After readying ourselves for the day (including a shower with bizarre single-use, paper bath mats provided to guests as standard), we set out northwards, on a route to Lincolnshire which would naturally take us past more windmills than you could poke a stick at! First cab off the rank for the new year was the post mill at Madingley, moved in its entirety to its current site from Ellington in 1936, and appearing more or less in the same nick as on my last visit in 2015. The large gate was sadly shut, meaning I couldn’t view it in close quarters on this occasion!

The quadrangle at Pembroke – quintessential!

The somewhat lesser known ‘Bin Quad’ just outside our wing

The impressive and varied architecture of Pembroke College

Madingley Windmill, the first of 2023!

Following breakfast courtesy of Costa Coffee at Caxton, with the luxury of the hire car it was off to see a few mills which had proven slightly more elusive being off the beaten track, viz. the open trestle post mills at Bourn and Great Gransden. There was not a sail to be had between the two, with both in the throes of restoration (Editor’s note: both were refitted with sails within weeks of one another in April 2022), but it was still most interesting to see them at long last. It wasn’t possible to get too close to Bourn as the site was cordoned off, but a nice close look at the trestle was possible at Great Gransden. Kirsty sadly fell foul of the local landowner next to Bourn – one would have thought you could park in a quiet spot just off the road in the middle of the countryside for ten minutes on a quiet New Year’s Day Sunday morning at 10am without issue, but would you believe a bloody horse float turned up! They’re a different breed, and not the horses…

Bourn, awaiting new sails

Great Gransden, also nearing the end of its restoration

The house converted smock mill at Sawtry

Onwards thence to the remains of the tower mill at Spaldwick and the house-converted smock mill at Sawtry, before glimpsing the mill tower at Castor from the A1. An excited (but naïve) 8-year-old Thomas had spotted the windmill on the Spaldwick village sign as we drove by in 2004, but Dad & I were sadly unable to locate the mill after looking around town – with time running short we had to press on, and the mill remained a mystery. As it happens, we would have had our work cut out for us, as the ‘mill’ is in fact a ruinous one-storey stump, a kilometre north of town on the other side of a freeway from the village itself!

Small Thomas in 2004 with the Spaldwick village sign

All that’s left of Spaldwick windmill!

With that long-standing wrong righted, I set to resolve another, as small Thomas had also been reluctant to see the mill at Barnack, with its vaguely derelict appearance wearing the remains of its last working sails. Fast-forward 18 years, and this was in fact a mill I was particularly keen to see! I’m told Barnack is an amazing mill inside, mothballed as though the last miller simply left and closed the door behind him all those years ago. It was great to see it in its picturesque setting, and I snapped away merrily between sun showers, testing as many vantage points as I could. A closer visit is most assuredly in order when I have a full day free in future…

The classic view of the timeless Barnack windmill

The sun even obliged on a few occasions!

A bit of a windmill drought ensued (probably for the best, as we were 50 miles from our starting point after 2 and a half hours!), until we passed Coddington Mill in Nottinghamshire, now house converted. Our route to Lincoln took us past the former ‘Pride of Lincoln’ pub quite by chance, now styled ‘Windmill Farm’ and built around a large central tower designed to resemble a windmill. This was denied planning permission to be fitted with a cap and sails when constructed in the 90s – possibly for the best, as they would have needed to be colossal to remain in proportion with the rest of it! We arrived in town at lunchtime, and parked in the shadow of the castle and cathedral which made an immediate impression on first-time visitor Kirsty.

Coddington Mill (power lines removed courtesy of Photoshop!)

Windmill Farm, formerly the Pride of Lincoln. Huge!

The castle was shut being New Year’s Day, though the Cathedral was fortunately open to walk around inside. In the absence of vergers there was no entry charge, and we enjoyed a nice look around which had not been possible on my last visit, and it was great to be able to observe the very impressive Father Willis organ at close quarters. A surprise find was a memorial to Joseph Banks, the botanist who had accompanied James Cook on his first expedition to Australia in 1770, in doing so becoming the first naturalist to document many of Australia’s native species, including the Banksia which bears his name. It turns out that he spent much of his life in Lincolnshire! After enjoying the impressive interior of the cathedral we decided to go for lunch, wandering down the (extremely steep) hill into town. Here, we were very surprised to stumble upon, of all things, an Australian themed pub!

Welcome to Lincoln!

The Cathedral’s highly impressive interior

Hard to take a bad photo of the town centre!

The Father Willis Organ

Alas, the connection to Australia was in décor only (and its vaguely problematic name ‘Walkabout’), so naturally I opted for the obligatory pint of Fosters (a drink I’ve rarely seen and certainly never drunk in Aus) and a mediocre chicken melt wrap of some description. And what more Aussie pursuit is there over lunch than watching Tottenham play Aston Villa?(!) Not a fortnight after facing one another in the World Cup Final, it was an interesting matchup between goalkeepers Lloris and Martinez, with the Argentinian again coming out on top, on this occasion beating the Spurs 2-0 at home. The indignity! We then walked about Lincoln ourselves, Kirsty champing at the bit to visit the enormous Primark and both of us in search of a fridge magnet, which had become something of a theme for the trip. Sadly we were not to find one in Lincoln with most local shops shut!

Ahh yes, feels just like home…

Steeeeeep hill

After surviving the bored local kids terrorising the town on their bicycles, we set back up the world’s longest and steepest hill to the cathedral, before walking the short distance to see Ellis Mill. It was sadly looking decidedly ropey, a significant step backwards from its condition on my last visit. It is an extremely poor reflection on Lincolnshire County Council that this mill, located in the heart of Lincoln, is shut, with the fantail tied off, shutters removed and paint peeling. Maintenance has been sorely lacking, and far more substantial issues with other mills in the county seem to point unanimously towards either apathy, ignorance or wilful neglect of the county owned windmills, or a combination of all three. The apparent inability of millwrights to share knowledge or work together seems to compound the issue, with everyone having to reinvent the wheel for themselves and very little collaboration or cooperation. I believe three millwrights have been involved at Ellis Mill in recent years, and in spite of this it is closed to the public and in an appalling state! You can draw your own conclusions…

Ellis Mill left a lot to be desired

In a very poor state

With light failing it was off to our accommodation for the night in Metheringham, a small town some 9 miles southeast of Lincoln. We were hoping to scope out the quaint village located rather off the main tourist circuit, and had arranged an Airbnb for the night in order to immerse ourselves in the offerings of ‘Meg’, as it is fondly known by the locals. This turned out to be the most memorable night of the trip! With our host out of town for the weekend (let’s call her Meg, in order to protect the innocent), we had been given instructions on how to let ourselves in. We arrived at our lodgings as dusk was encroaching to be greeted by three cats (and a dilapidated garden windmill) outside the front door, unremarkable in itself… Upon crossing the threshold, we simultaneously clocked the scratching post knocked over in the hallway, and the faint but unmistakable scent of cat urine pervading the air. While the first impression wasn’t particularly hopeful, we ventured on!

Alarm bells rapidly started to ring upon discovering a trail of feathers leading down the hallway, at which point we started to question whether staying in Metheringham was such a good idea after all. We discovered that the trail led to our room, like some macabre appropriation of Hansel & Gretel’s breadcrumbs… The door ajar, the source of the carnage became apparent – having clearly fallen foul of one of Meg’s cats, a hapless, former bird of some description had been deconstructed and carefully placed in the middle of the bed as a welcome offering to the guests, a gruesome scene indeed. This, understandably, was the final straw, and we left almost without a word, closing the door behind us and setting off in the car for dinner while we messaged our host and awaited word on a solution. The only other accommodation available at 5pm on a public holiday Sunday in Metheringham was the pub, which we arrived to find apparently shut, despite the lights being on and people clearly being inside. A very brief and vaguely curt phone call soon established that neither food nor a room was to be had, so we were left rather short of options as the last hints of light disappeared. With no better alternative evident, we set back off in the direction of Lincoln hoping for a solution to appear!

First impressions not hopeful…

You don’t want to see the original!

Salvation in the form of Burton Waters

Frantically googling while Kirsty drove onwards to nowhere in particular, I discovered a place called Burton Waters just northwest of Lincoln. They had a nice looking inn as well as a hotel, so we decided to make our way there for dinner in the first instance, and potentially to stay the night depending upon what solution materialised to the Meg debacle. As it happens we received a phone call on our way, apologising profusely for the whole sorry saga and offering a refund – as the other guest room had been used the previous night, there was no alternative option. We duly booked our night at Burton Waters, and arrived to find a charming but thoroughly offbeat complex of houses and moorings built around a large, man-made lake connected to the Foss Dyke. Where else would one expect to find a huge marina than 35 miles inland(!) After all the evening’s excitement we unwound at Woodcocks pub over a fantastic feast of bangers & mash and a roast dinner before retiring to our massive, very comfortable room. Quiet a stark juxtaposition to our other prospective accommodation, and in hindsight perhaps a fortuitous happenstance… What a start to 2023!

Day 16 – Scholars for a night

It was an early and rushed start to the final day of 2022, racing to the early train to Newark, Stevenage and thence Cambridge in order to save a considerable amount on the normal anytime return fare (albeit still costing £33.60 each!) Leaving it to the absolute last minute to depart in typical fashion, we found ourselves hauling, or rather being hauled by our luggage down the many flights of stairs at the EasyHotel, before madly rushing through the empty halls of a shopping centre and on to the station before the sun made its token appearance for the day. After narrowly making it, I was delighted to discover that our ride would be one of the new Class 800 ‘Azuma’ trains being operated by LNER on the East Coast Main Line, and we found ourselves being whisked at considerable speed towards the Midlands. We enjoyed breakfast ‘on the road’ at Newark Northgate by way of the café on Platforms 2/3, being served coffee and bacon butties by a quintessentially Nottinghamshire old love who referred to all and sundry only as “Duck”!

We boarded another Azuma for the run to Stevenage, and all was well until this inexplicably stopped dead mere minutes from our destination, steadfastly refusing to move for what seemed like an eternity. Our hopes of making what was already a tight change ebbed away as we stood at a signal somewhere on the outskirts of town, and as we made our final approach to the platform we inevitably crossed our intended train heading in the opposite direction… A rather indignant, extended wait followed for the next train to Cambridge, Googling whether missed connections were covered on Advance Single tickets, or whether it was a case of bad luck and an exorbitant ticket for the final leg! In any event I refused in principle to buy another, resolving I would instead explain both my situation and my thoughts on the management of the British railway network to whatever unfortunate ticket inspector decided to push the point. Sadly (fortunately?), my chance never came as our tickets weren’t checked when our train finally arrived.

Unimpressed at Stevenage

Barrington seen from the train

The last leg to Cambridge was most enjoyable in the end, passing through familiar territory and the remains of the windmills at Barrington and Harston, as well as the charming little windpump at Foxton, currently under restoration (Werrington had sadly evaded the camera earlier). Upon arrival in the University City we wisely opted to take the taxi to the Europcar depot, rather than endure the 1.5 mile walk with suitcases and threatening skies. With several rounds of rail strikes planned for the duration of our stay in England (and Kirsty making plans to travel to London during what turned out to be a total rail shutdown), combined with exorbitant rail fares, the decision was more or less made for us that we would need to hire a car – something of a novelty given I had been too young to do so on my previous trips!

The remains of the mill at Harston

“Vauxhall Corsa or similar” – free upgrade!

At Europcar we were treated to a wait of what must have been 45 minutes while the hapless attendants tried to navigate the phone queues of their own helpline, trying to sort out card details for customers who had clearly arrived some time before us. I took the opportunity to organise the logistics of our accommodation, and we were  e v e n t u a l l y  shown to our wheels. We were delighted to discover that our “Vauxhall Corsa (or similar)” had in fact been upgraded to a Vauxhall Crossland SUV, rather roomier inside for both us and our luggage! With my Australian license set to expire before the end of the hire period (oops…), Kirsty drew the short straw in the driving sweepstakes, and after stalling some 3 metres into our road trip, we were soon on our merry way.

With few tourist destinations open on New Year’s Eve, we naturally made a beeline to visit the wonderful Wicken windmill, which was milling merrily under the capable charge of Dan Carrick, one of the consortium who run and maintain the mill in excellent working order. It was great to meet Dan at last, having not done so on my previous visit to the mill, and he gave us both the grand tour including their new workshop and the balance of the Foxton windpump being restored therein! Between the two of us, Dan & I somehow convinced Kirsty to not only come up the treacherous ladder into the cap, but out onto the fanstage for the full experience! To her credit, she stifled the genuine fear for her life well enough to pose for a photo – certainly not a visit she’ll be forgetting in a hurry! Having been introduced to British windmills by means of Holgate and Wicken, I had to explain to Kirsty that she’d been rather spoilt, these being two of the best volunteer run and managed mills in the country and in no way reflective of the overall condition of the UK’s mills…

Wicken – a proper working mill!

Up in the cap

Kirsty was initially somewhat tentative…

Looking a bit more at home!

After bidding our fond farewells we continued on to Ely, glimpsing the Wicken Fen windpump from the road (poor weather sadly precluding a walk around the reserve itself, as had been the plan), pausing to photograph the house converted mill at Stretham (sadly denuded of its sails since my last visit way back in 2004), and taking a detour via Haddenham. Naturally this was in aid of seeing a windmill, Great Mill, which had eluded me all these years due to its relatively inaccessible location by means other than car! Sadly it has suffered greatly over the last decade and a half, and far from its restoration in the late 90s it is now in very poor external shape sans sails and fantail, crying out for some TLC although still a most impressive sight in spite of its condition. One can only hope the money materialises before the elements do too much damage…

Stretham, sans sails

Great Mill, Haddenham – an impressive if somewhat sorry sight

Wicken Fen from a distance through the drizzle

The next stop was Ely, where we enjoyed a scenic walk around town and of course its impressive cathedral. We were tempted to go inside, however discovering that Evensong was taking place at 5:30pm we resolved to come back for the proper experience (sans entry charge!) Instead we enjoyed a leisurely walk around the cathedral grounds, baked goods in hand courtesy of Caffè Nero, taking in the imposing building and quaint setting of the town itself, gloomy though it was under thick cloud and intermittent rain. It was then off to see some more mills to fill in the time until Evensong, at which point the heavens duly opened, sadly making photography of Northfield Mill at Soham all but impossible! We had more luck at Downfield Mill just up the road, though it sadly appeared still to be out of action after suffering damage at the hands of Storm Ciara in 2020, another mill worryingly standing inoperable despite a significant amount of money spent on its restoration in the far-too-recent past.

Ely Cathedral – Evensong wasn’t to be!

Wandering the historic streets of Ely

Impressive even in the gloom

Soham Downfield, under a literal and figurative cloud…

The situation was more positive in Burwell, where Stevens’ Mill was looking shiny with a very fresh coat of tar, even in the absence of sunlight! I’ve seen this mill on many occasions, but still not managed to time it on a day when the adjoining museum is open to view the inside – one day… Thence on to Swaffham Prior in rapidly failing light, where two windmills are once again turning to wind together – the only place in the UK where this can be currently seen. The Smock Mill, house converted, had recently had its fantail reinstalled and is approaching the end of a very impressive rebuild, which should see it generating electricity with new sails to be fitted in the coming months. Foster’s Mill, meanwhile, is still in excellent shape and being run privately by Jon Cook as the core of the Prior’s Flour business. Sadly, unlike my memorable previous visit, our schedule precluded a more thorough look around, however a return will certainly be in order when two sets of sails are turning over the town!

Stevens’ Mill, Burwell

Smock Mill, Swaffham Prior – getting close now!

Foster’s Mill, Swaffham Prior – impressive as always

Returning to Cambridge as darkness encroached, navigating the narrow back streets of the University proved no mean feat, but we eventually arrived at Pembroke College where accommodation had been arranged courtesy of Campbell, a close mate from USyd and Pembroke alum (ironically out of town, travelling to the Netherlands for New Year’s!) We checked in and found our way to our palatial room in one of the quiet wings of the beautiful college, before setting back out to Ely for Evensong. Having managed to swing a staff parking spot while college was quiet over the break, we then had to figure out how to get let out of the back gate, which proved to be something of an exercise… Alas, we only made it far as Waterbeach due to a police incident at Chittering which had closed the A10, and with insufficient time to take another route we reluctantly had to cut our losses and retreat for Cambridge from whence we had just came. The obvious Plan B was to go for a pint, combined with a bit of sightseeing in and around the college! I was delighted to stumble quite by accident upon the Corpus Clock, a wonderfully eccentric timepiece-cum-art installation taking the idea of a grasshopper catchment to its very literal extreme, and another highlight was the chapel of Pembroke College, a wonderfully contemplative space in the evening with the organ (over which the renowned Anna Lapwood regularly presides as Head of Music) impressively lit.

The Corpus Clock – an impressive beast

The organ of Pembroke College Chapel

We imbibed at the Eagle, a storied inn where Francis Crick first announced the discovery of the double helix structure of DNA. Only in Cambridge! For my part I enjoyed a local ale, but alas there was no food to be had, so after enjoying the cozy atmosphere we tried our luck at Zizzi, where we were able to obtain some of the most delicious takeaway pasta I’ve ever eaten! We duly enjoyed this in our college room, after failing the IQ test that was the college front door… Having just done this routine at the back gate with the car, I pressed the intercom buzzer and gave the spiel as to who we were etc… “Just push the door – it’s open” came the reply (in fairness, it had no handle…) – some of the great minds of our generation reside at Pembroke College… and then there was us. The Porter must surely have been thinking “oh, those dimwit Australians again, can’t they leave us in peace for ten minutes?!” After enjoying our delicious feed, Kirsty was soon sound asleep – I was determined to see in the new year, and all was looking positive until I promptly fell asleep at 11:45pm. Thus 2022 came to a close!

Enjoying a pint at the Eagle

Our palatial lodgings at Pembroke!

Day 15 – Northern Hospitality

We headed off with an early start from Leeds bound for York, where a full itinerary awaited us. Breakfast was had on the road courtesy of McDonalds at Leeds Station, where we were to learn that the breakfast menu differed substantially from the offerings to which we were both accustomed Down Under. For my part I indulged in the local delicacies by way of a breakfast roll with brown (HP) sauce accompanied by a surprisingly nice caramel latte, and was delighted to discover that Maccas hash browns in England were garnished with onion powder, which it must be said takes them to another level!

The imposing windmill tower at Appleton Roebuck glimpsed from the train, house converted since my last visit…

York Station is always an impressive sight!

Upon arrival in York we naturally set off for Holgate Windmill, visible from the station and in theory a shortish walk up the hill. In practise it proved to be anything but, as we found ourselves being shepherded in the wrong direction by miles of Heras fencing and signs proclaiming “path closed”. Stupidly we decided to trust said signs, expecting to be led along an alternate route before they simply dried up, and upon reaching the National Railway Museum we figured we must have missed a turn! We doubled back and found another way back to the path which was not, in fact, closed, with only the first 100m or so inaccessible due to carpark redevelopments. The Brits love posting signs everywhere up to the line where it becomes someone else’s job apparently(!) After a rather longer wander than we had anticipated we eventually climbed the hill up Acomb Rd to the mill, a most welcome sight after many years’ absence!

Hello old friend!

Richie Green with his outstanding model of Holgate Windmill

Here we were enthusiastically met by Richie Green and Steve Potts, current and former chairs of the Holgate Windmill Preservation Society, who had kindly agreed to open the mill up especially for us. It was great to catch up with these guys, who along with the rest of the HWPS had been so accommodating on my previous visit and long term pen pals for years prior to this! The mill itself had changed little, having been continuously maintained in excellent working order and enjoying quite an active trade in flour during the height of the COVID pandemic. Kirsty enjoyed the tour up until reaching the stone floor, when she was called away by her aunt Janie who was also coming into town from Leeds for the day. I meanwhile stayed on to enjoy some stimulating conversation with Steve & Richie about the general state and outlook for the future of mill preservation in Britain, as well as the gory technical details of the rest of the mill tour. Sadly it was not possible to get the mill running, however the opportunity to have a look out the storm hatch with the mill stationary proved too much to resist!

York Minster visible in the distance…

Obstructing the view!

Hard to get it all in one shot facing this direction…

After renewing my membership of the HWPS and bidding a fond farewell to the guys I set off to join Kirsty in town, enjoying the view from the front seats on the top level of the double decker bus back into the city centre. From here I navigated the Shambles (said to have been the inspiration behind Diagon Alley in Harry Potter, and certainly making a roaring trade from this) to the Cosy Club where we indulged in some proper ales and lovely conversation with Janie and Barry, the latter a proper card-holding Yorkshireman. This was epitomised in their fondness for camembert cheese and fruitcake, which it must be said is not a terrible combination, albeit still something of an acquired taste! Planning to rejoin Janie & Barry for dinner, we set off to continue our tour of York, with the next stop being a toilet, which proved surprisingly difficult to find in the CBD… Our searching took us to Marks & Spencer, where we found no loos but did discover some Percy Pigs, which Kirsty was horrified to learn I had not ever tried before. This was soon put right – delicious!

You can see how the Shambles could be mistaken for Diagon Alley

My first Percy Pig!

From here we walked past the impressive York Minster, where I had previously enjoyed evensong, and ascended the city walls to enjoy a short loop around part of the city, the ancient ramparts being an impressive sight in themselves. The Minster loomed constantly on the skyline, and our wandering was only cut short by drizzle which made the stone walls a treacherous walk and forced us back into town. We enjoyed wandering in and out of several shops, passing again by the Minster which by this point was catching glorious late afternoon light, before arriving in the York Museum Gardens on the banks of the River Ouse. These lovely botanic gardens contained several historic buildings, including the remains of a Roman fort, ruins of the medieval St. Mary’s Abbey in addition to its picturesque Hospitium, now restored, and the remains of St. Leonard’s Hospital Chapel, the largest in England during the Middle Ages.

Up on the city walls

The Minster is always looming on the skyline!

Descending the gate back to ground level

The Minster enjoying glorious late afternoon light!

The Multangular tower, part of the Roman remains

The impressive remains of St. Mary’s Abbey

The gardens were absolutely teeming with squirrels, much to Kirsty’s delight, and we enjoyed a nice walk around as the sun set behind the clouds over the Ouse. An unexpected highlight, which I sadly neglected to photograph, was another temporary fence (albeit this one a tasteful wattle affair) – this time with a closed gate blocking the path. The gate, quite visibly shut, was in quintessential British style adorned with a sign proclaiming “This Gate is Closed” – really top notch stuff. Onwards we walked in the early evening, across the lovely Lendal Bridge where we endeavoured not to interrupt some sort of Instagram photoshoot, and back up onto the city walls near the railway station for a scenic evening stroll. We enjoyed the silhouette of Holgate Windmill on the horizon before alighting the wall and chancing upon, much to my delight, the Windmill Inn! I had previously enjoyed a lovely dinner here with the HWPS, though the absence of windmill paraphernalia on the walls was something of a disappointment…

Hey buddy!

One last walk on the city walls

The gorgeous Hospitium in the Museum Gardens seen from across the Ouse

Mickelgate looking decidedly festive!

Where else but The Windmill?!

Cosy pint before our return to Leeds

It was here where our evening took a turn for the interesting, with the arches of the railway station clearly visible from the pub, literally less than 200m away. None too keen on following the long road overpass to the main entrance, I decided to take the low road and attempt to navigate through the carpark to the station. We were however soon met with a large and seemingly unnecessary gate blocking off entrance to the main carpark. Unwisely deciding to commit to this approach, we wandered further and further into the bowels of the railway compound until we found the back entrance, similarly gated. Serious contemplation was given to simply jumping it, however with Kirsty less enthusiastic to do so than I, we were forced to beat a long and somewhat nervous retreat via some decidedly sketchy derelict buildings in the darkness, until we rejoined the overpass and proceeded via the logical route.

York as seen from the city walls in the encroaching gloom

Something very British about this shot!

After training back to Leeds we walked to Aagrah Indian restaurant for dinner with Janie & Barry, who as it turned out had been frequenting the establishment for many years. With good reason too – the service was outstanding for what were clearly very valued regular customers, and the menu was as large and varied as it was delicious – to the best of my recollection, I believe I indulged in a Hydrabadi Biryani, which was surely the most delicious Indian I have ever eaten. If you ever find yourself in Leeds, you simply must dine at Aagrah! After a most enjoyable dinner and conversation we returned to the comparatively Spartan EasyHotel room, complete with ensuite bathroom featuring a tasteful, completely see-through glass door. They do things differently oop i’ t’ North!

Days 13 and 14 – ‘Mon the Killie

After one last night at our home-away-from-home CityHub Rotterdam, we set off on the train for Schipol to commence the UK leg of our odyssey. Unlike myself (having been too stingy to fly on previous trips), this wasn’t Kirsty’s first rodeo with intra-European flights, thus we opted for the time-honoured cheapest available option in EasyJet. As I was to discover, this entailed almost impressive levels of compromise on comfort of any kind in the terminal, our gate inexplicably having no seats and being packed with standing passengers well before departure (the infamous one-way doors ensuring no return to the relative comfort of the terminal). A giant aerial photo of the windmills of the Zaanse Schans on the wall was a nice touch though… Seeing this unfold from the mezzanine corridor above, we fortunately had the foresight to seat ourselves there until the absolute last moment, ensuring minimal wait as everyone filed through the gates, across the tarmac and onto the plane bound for Glasgow.

Goodbye Holland…

…and Hello Scotland!

High above the Channel I enjoyed the culinary delights of the €9.95 combo, viz. a chorizo breakfast roll and mysterious Milka choco biscuits. We had been forewarned that our authentic (not-so-Great?) British experience would begin immediately upon arrival, with sweeping airline industry strikes threatening hours-long delays. As it happens we needn’t have worried, as we waltzed straight through the very cursory (read: non-existent) unstaffed border control at Glasgow, and had soon boarded the double-decker shuttle bus for an inordinately long wait before heading into town. Naturally it was pouring with rain upon our alighting from the bus at Glasgow Central, but in spite of this we braved a trip to Tesco Express for Kirsty to splurge on her first £3.90 meal deal of the trip, cause for much excitement. This consisted of a bacon and egg sandwich and pickled onion flavoured Monster Munch (whatever that is), washed down with that quintessentially Scottish soft drink, Irn Bru. I rather enjoyed a taste of the latter, which would prove to be the first of many!

“What do you mean you’ve never had an Irn Bru before?!”

The impressive frontage of Glasgow Central papers over the dysfunction inside…

We walked through the impressive façade of Glasgow Central station to discover that it was just that, entering the giant concourse and instantly being reminded of the British rail system’s many regrettable idiosyncrasies. Quite why they can’t ascertain which platform a train will be routed into until minutes before its arrival may forever remain a mystery to me, and the tidal wave of passengers surging to a platform when its number came  up on the board was an experience I had not missed. During the first of many such waits standing in the concourse, the litany of proclamations coming over the speakers announcing various delays and cancellations served as a constant reminder that we were no longer in the Netherlands…

Nonetheless our diesel railcar did eventually arrive, whereupon we had our tickets checked almost immediately before enjoying the rather nice scenery on our drizzly journey to our destination, Kilmarnock. We were met at the bitterly cold station by the Kerrs, family friends of Kirsty’s late father’s, who were to take us to our accommodation. Poor Carol wound up walking home in the pouring rain, as suitcases and travellers could not all fit in the car! We checked into Dean Park B&B, where we were treated to a palatial, well-appointed room in a wonderful old guest house. We hardly had time to soak it in though, as we were soon embarking on a driving tour of the sights of ‘Killie’ with the Kerrs, visiting, among other highlights, the famed Dick Institute (I’m still not sure quite what it is that they do there). The tour took us to many of the places which Kirsty’s dad had frequented in his youth, an interesting insight into the far-removed world that was 1960s Scotland. This tour would have been more informative were it not for the sheets of rain running down the car windows, compounded by fogging up on the inside of the car, but with limited time in Scotland we had to make do…

Welcome to Kilmarnock!

The wonderful Dean Park B&B

Following this we began the run-up to the big ticket event – as luck would have it*, Killie FC had a home game against Aberdeen the night we were in town! The sun setting prior to 4pm(!), we joined the Kerrs at their place for enlightening conversation and a good many beers before the game, before heading to The Duke for a proper pre-match feed, memorably including a side of delightful fried haggis bon bons, which paired well with a nice red! We made our way to Rugby Park and bade our farewell to the Kerrs as they ventured to the season ticket holders area, while we joined the plebs in the Frank Beattie stand, with its improbably inconvenient pillars which seemingly moved throughout the game so as to always be in the way of the action… This was not before visiting the Killie Superstore however, where we duly indulged in a Killie FC scarf, beanie and a cap bearing the pattern of the third kit (of all things), plus bumper stickers emblazoned Don’t Follow Me, Follow Killie!

* – the itinerary may or may not have been tweaked to ensure this was the case…

Kilmarnock came in as rank outsiders, hovering in 10th place just above the relegation zone, and having won only one of their last 29(!) encounters with Aberdeen. The latter were sitting pretty in 3rd place with twice as many wins, albeit suffering a poor run of form on a three-game losing streak. Killie dominated the chances from the outset, in spite of Aberdeen out-possessing them throughout. The home crowd briefly thought captain Ash Talyor had headed Kilmarnock ahead in the 15th minute from a smart set piece, but the attempt sailed just left of the post. Rory McKenzie forced a smart save from close range in the 24th minute, and it seemed only a matter of time before Kilmarnock scored. The Killie breakthrough finally came in the 31st minute, when a poor defensive touch in the box gifted Scott Robinson an opportunity to put the home side ahead, much to the delight of the boisterous crowd!

Kelle Roos saves well from Rory McKenzie

The Frank Beattie Stand in all of its rustic charm…

Scott Robinson puts the hosts ahead in the 31st minute!

Anticipating the half-time rush, Kirsty had gotten in early to treat us to the traditional ‘Killie Pie’ and Bovril, which to the rest of the world is a steak and gravy pie accompanied by a coffee cup full of hot beef stock. An authentic football feast (if not overly nutritious), and one which I’ll be delighted to find an opportunity to indulge in again in future! The feast was made all the more enjoyable by Kilmarnock’s second goal, scored only 11 minutes after the first thanks to an excellent cross-goal header from right back Joe Wright, met with an equally enthusiastic reception and sending the hosts into the break well in control. Chances were fewer and further between in a more tightly contested second half as the beers flowed, with Killie’s Daniel Armstrong spraying an excellent chance across goal in the 54th minute, before Aberdeen’s Matthew Kennedy scored an absolute blinder of a free kick in the first minute of stoppage time, absolutely top bins in the upper left hand corner. A nervy five minutes ensued for the home fans, but it proved too little, too late for Aberdeen, with Killie coming away 2-1 victors in a great upset and thoroughly entertaining match.

Killie Pie and Bovril in hand, bedecked with merch!

Joe Wright puts it (almost) beyond doubt for Killie

After all the excitement, and with the prospect of disgruntled Aberdonians rendering the pub a none-too-attractive option, we opted to retire to our excellent lodgings at Dean Park. Here we were treated to a smorgasboard the following morning, a good old-fashioned breakfast served with fancy cutlery in the dining room alongside fellow travellers, with wonderful service and an equally fantastic feast. Coffee, juice, toast and yoghurt were all sampled, as well as a massive Scottish brekkie fry-up comprising the usual bacon, eggs, toast, tomato, mushrooms and baked beans in addition to square sausage and tatty (potato) scones, an absolutely delightful buffet! 

Kirsty enjoyed a wander around town before we walked to the Kerrs’ to drop off some Christmas presents and return an umbrella we had appropriated the previous night. This proved something of a challenge as they were both out of town and out of range, and we had some job remembering our way to their place on foot without an address! Armed only with my hit-and-miss sense of direction (and aided in no way by Kirsty’s absence thereof), we did eventually manage our way there with only a handful of wrong turns… We returned to town sans umbrella (during a merciful break in the near-constant Scottish drizzle) to rendezvous with Fiona, a cousin of Kirsty’s father’s, for another tour of reminiscence around Kilmarnock and a visit to great aunt Dorothy’s for morning tea and bikkies. Here I was delighted to discover that her husband had been a pattern maker at the Caledonia Works of Andrew Barclay Sons & Co., famous locomotive manufacturers of whose work several examples survive in Australia. Excellent conversation ensued, and I was even gifted a works blueprint of a standard 16” dia. cylinder as a memento!

A veritable Scottish breakfast feast!

A proper Kilmarnock souvenir – original Barclay factory blueprint

Our all too brief time in Scotland nearing its end, we hitched a ride back to the railway station to catch the train to Leeds, at a cost of some £102.80 for a pair of one way tickets! Expecting the Orient Express to pull in and whisk us away in opulence for that price, we felt more than a little short-changed to discover that it was just a two-car Class 156 diesel railcar, and left wondering quite what the exorbitant fare was paying for… After waving as we passed great aunt Dorothy’s house on our way out of Kilmarnock, we enjoyed the lovely scenery on the two-hour ride across the English border to Carlisle, before a half-hour wait (sitting on our suitcases for want of seats) in what can only be described as a quintessentially grim waiting room. From here we caught another railcar to Leeds, traversing the spectacular Carlisle-Settle route (familiar to me from years of misspent youth on Microsoft Train Simulator) though sadly in darkness on this occasion, unlike my memorable previous trip behind Flying Scotsman.

This is what £102.80 gets you…

If only it were light enough to appreciate the scenery!

Upon arrival in Leeds we made the seemingly endless uphill trudge to the EasyHotel, notable for its exceptionally cheap rates and not much else. Immediate warning bells rung upon seeing a police van standing outside on our arrival, which proved something of an apt foreshadowing of the prison-like rooms, with their tiny, high windows and lacking creature comforts of almost any kind (though in fairness a more than adequate place to rest one’s head for a night). After their ballpoint pen exploded on my gloves while checking in, we were less than delighted to be informed that the lift was out of service, and that the only available room was on the top floor(!) Not all bad though, as the exercise afforded by hauling our bodyweight in suitcases up four flights of stairs was probably needed by this point after weeks of drinking beer and eating out… Another rather offbeat dinner ensued, that might be generously described as an English crossover/caricature/misappropriation of Mexican street food, in Kirsty’s case consisting of nested burrito, itself containing pigs in blankets – we’re certainly broadening our culinary horizons on this trip!

Dagen 11 en 12 – De Laatste Hoera

Disclaimer: The more astute reader will probably have noticed the long hiatus between posts, and that the events chronicled below now happened some time ago! Of course upon returning to Australia life and work soon got in the way, and only now am I getting a chance to sit down and continue writing about our adventures. Hopefully I will make it to the end of the trip before I forget what happened!

Boxing Day, like Christmas, was a fairly low-key affair, with the morning’s highlight being enjoying another outstanding breakfast from Katerina at the Gasthuislaan B&B while finalising logistics and booking a hire car for the following week in the UK, necessitating significant changes to the forward itinerary. Following this we set off for Rotterdam, disturbing any remaining post-Christmas peace in Delft with the racket of our suitcases rumbling over the cobblestones once again! After checking in again to CityHub we took stock, and finding the day half over decided to spend the balance of it in town enjoying the Boxing Day sales.

The first step was to find lunch, where I finally reacquainted myself with the ‘Friekandel Speciaal’ at a shady local kebab joint – this mystery deep fried sausage served with raw onion, mayonnaise and curry sauce is a local specialty which I took to on my last visit. I was somewhat perplexed by the question of whether I would like it with bread, as I assumed that ‘hot dog’ format was the norm. How wrong I was! Stopping for a second one about five minutes later at a kiosk in the city, I was rather miffed to be presented with a small plastic tray containing the sausage and garnishes, with some sort of toothpick to deconstruct and eat it (with great difficulty!) Duly noted, from this point on I need to specify a Friekandel Speciaal met broodje…

Doing my best to hide the disappointment…

Modelling the new acquisition!

My primary objective for the sales was to continue the search for my ‘forever coat’, which inevitably led us into almost every single one of the multitude of clothing outlets in the city centre, which fortunately didn’t seem to faze Kirsty. There truly is no better place to go coat shopping than Europe in the winter, and the selection was outstanding. Unfortunately my extremely strict criteria were not fulfilled despite exhaustive searching, however an unexpected and most welcome find in Mango was a wonderful double-breasted tan coat which fit so well that I couldn’t leave it hanging there! If I had any lingering doubts as to its merit, they were soon allayed by a mother and son who, upon coming up the stairs and seeing me trying it on, immediately started rifling through the hangers to find another like it. Sold!

The next item of business then was surely to model the new acquisition to send pictures back home, and with Kirsty keen for a walk we set off to the Kralingse Plas for a picturesque late evening walk around the lake, which just so happened to take us past a couple of very interesting windmills! De Ster and De Lelie are a lovely pair of former ‘snuifmolens’ (tobacco mills), which are still active grinding spices. I had spent a most enjoyable day there on my previous trip (see here), though on that occasion I regrettably had to leave the cinnamon I received from De Lelie in the UK, as I was worried that it would not make it through customs! The mills were closed in the late evening but looked lovely in the day’s final rays, and the parklands surrounding the lake were a perfect spot for a peaceful walk before encroaching darkness and rumbling stomachs saw us return to the Rotterdam city centre.

The Snuifmolens made a fine sight on the Kralingse Plas

De Ster (L) and De Lelie (R) catch the day’s final rays

In desperate need of a feed, we were surprised to stumble across a Taco Bell in the city, of all things! Having acquainted ourselves with this chain in Orange we gladly indulged in a burrito, before making the fateful mistake of following it up with dessert at KFC. This proved to be a deeply harrowing experience, as our agonisingly protracted wait for barely warm popcorn chicken and criminally undersauced speculaas ice cream (the idea sadly being much nicer than the reality), being prepared in slow motion, was punctuated by a young lad falling unconscious in front of the counter. The staff, only feet away, simply stared on in horror with little apparent intent to assist, until one of them decided to break the extended silence with the announcement of our popcorn chicken(!) The manager, with honourable intent but questionable execution, decided to make things right by attempting to force feed him a chicken burger and medium coke while he phased in and out of consciousness. While unconventional, this did seem to do the trick – perhaps he knew something that we didn’t…

We awoke the next morning with a big ticket item on the agenda for our last full day in the Netherlands – Kinderdijk. This UNESCO World Heritage Listed complex of 19 windmills is a must-see for anybody visiting the Netherlands, and of course we would be no exception! It is a surprisingly long trek from Rotterdam on public transport in the ‘off season’, despite the major tourist attraction being only 24km from the city centre. First a metro to the Kralingse Zoom (where we spotted some funny little park shuttle self-driving people movers – think mini road going trams – which I sadly neglected to photograph), then a long bus to Kinderdijk via Alblasserdam. Upon our arrival I made a beeline for the most important part of the complex – the gift shop!

Ahh Kinderdijk – it’s good to be back

Like a kid in a candy shop!

After scoping out the purchases to follow later in the day, we started our visit at the old Wisboom steam pumping station, which housed an impressive interactive exhibit illustrating the history and operation of the complex, with particular emphasis on the hard work from the millers that went into effectively managing the water with the windmills in times gone by. The highlight was the original centrifugal pumps which superseded the windmills, and subsequently re-powered with electric motors – I was pleased to discover that one is in the process of restoration for tourist demonstration. Foregoing the movie in the adjoining rebuilt De Fabriek pumping station which was mid-screening, we set off down the pathway along the Nederwaard to appreciate the mills against the moody winter sky, before heading to Nederwaard Nr. 2, the museum mill. It was a surprise to see how few of the windmills were turning, with only two of the nineteen running upon our late-morning arrival, and only four going by the time of our departure.

One of the centrifugal pumps, once steam driven, which replaced the windmills

Nederwaard Nr. 2 – the museum mill!

The winter sun provided plenty of moody photo ops

The classic shot from Nederwaard Nr. 2

I was no stranger to Nederwaard Nr. 2, having visited it both in 2004 and on my previous visit to the Netherlands in 2015/16 (see here and here), but it was great to see inside once again as it ticked over merrily in the gusty breeze with four full sails set. It was a challenge to obtain good photos without tourists lurking nearby (an impossibility in the summer), but with the sun and wind both cooperating the stakeout proved worthwhile! It was almost beyond comprehension to imagine how miller Cees Hoek lived there with his wife and 13(!) children just over a century ago, in a relatively small windmill with rudimentary facilities and moving parts all around. It was a hard existence, particularly in the winter, which was really brought to life by the photos and displays in the mill.

The light and wind were in just the right combination!

Getting up close & personal with Nederwaard Nr. 2

Space is at a premium!

Looking up into the cap of the museum mill

We then wandered on down the Nederwaard until we reached De Blokker, notable among the 19 mills at Kinderdijk in being both the oldest, and the only (hollow) post mill, or wipmolen. Rebuilt substantially after a serious fire in July 1997, this interesting mill now serves as a second museum mill, boasting even more cramped quarters than the others! It is in a nice, seemingly original setting (including a quaint garden featuring a miniature wipmolen), and a cafe occupying a small outbuilding is an excellent point to break up the walk and enjoy a ‘warme chocomel met slagroom’ – which is precisely what we did! I had been fortunate to see upstairs in this mill on my last visit, a luxury not afforded on this occasion with the miller nowhere to be seen. The guides in the cafe seemed keen to gloss over the fire to maintain the ‘oldest mill’ image, but it’s an interesting chapter in the history of the mill and the complex.

The Blokweerse Wip, the oldest of the Kinderdijk’s mills

Don’t talk to me or my son ever again

Couldn’t come to Kinderdijk and not take this famous shot

“Ok, one last time. These are small, but the ones out there are far away…”

With clouds setting in, and needing to return to Schiedam before day’s end to pick up some gifts for our hosts in the UK, we opted not to continue the walk down past the final Nederwaard mills. We turned back instead for the gift shop, and after raiding it of windmill paraphernalia narrowly made the bus back to Rotterdam (after getting distracted in another tourist shop!), and thence the metro to Schiedam. Walking along the usual route past the towering mills we ran into Matthieu at De Nieuwe Palmboom, who advised us to name drop him at musuem mill De Walvisch to obtain flour from the otherwise closed shop. Our requests were kindly obliged, and we picked up several packets of cake and similar mixes as gifts for the rest of our trip (including a speculaas mix with a windmill cookie cutter to take back to Aus!) The flour been ground by Theo at De Vrijheid, before packing and mixing with the other necessary ingredients by volunteers in De Walvisch. It’s often that you can bake with flour which has been processed in not one, but two windmills!

De Walvisch, awaiting its new sails.

Molen De Nolet, too far to walk with little light remaining… Next time!

On our walk back to the metro station, we noticed De Drie Koornbloemen slowly turning, complete with illuminated Christmas star! Closer inspection revealed that it was in the process of being removed by miller Sam van Voorthuizen and millwright Bas Batenburg. With the festivities over, De Kameel’s had been taken down earlier in the day, with De Vrijheid and De Nieuwe Palmboom having been denuded before we arrived – things don’t stand still for long in Schiedam… Having not yet caught up with Sam on this trip it seemed remiss not to drop him a message, and before long we found ourselves inside the mill. Sam has an enviable arrangement, living in the mill and running it in the afternoons, as well as a day of commercial milling each week with Theo at De Vrijheid when he’s not teaching. It was great to catch up with Sam and his girlfriend Kelly who gave us a pragmatic rundown on the state of the nation and of our respective professions, and it was certainly invaluable to hear things from the perspective of insiders. After a very enjoyable hour of conversation (in perfect English – Sam speaks English better than the majority of native speakers that I know!), with the mill slowly turning above us, we set back off for Rotterdam.

Removing the Christmas star from De Drie Koornbloemen

Bas hauling the sails around in the absence of wind

Molen De Noord, the last Kerstster remaining!

Having just missed one metro we had to kill some 15 minutes before the next, taking a free seat on the ‘wrong’ side of the platform to bide our time until it came. Upon the arrival of the next metro to De Akkers I confidently led us on – only once we were in motion did I stop to question whether or not this was the correct decision, and no sooner had I realised the error in my ways than the correct one passed us going in the opposite direction… After a rather cold, hungry and indignant wait at the next stop, and another 15 minutes(!), we eventually caught the metro back to Rotterdam, and after a fantastic pizza at Cafe Stalles featuring absolutely delicious beers courtesy of ROTT. Brouwers, settled in for our final night in the Netherlands.

Here’s a few more gratuitous Kinderdijk shots, because why not!? With so many mills, a new vista seems to open up every ten steps or so. I explored many during the course of the day, making it a very leisurely walk indeed!

Dagen 8 tot 10 – Fijne Feestdag!

Our next Dutch adventure was to Haarlem, necessitating a long train ride from Rotterdam on a drizzly, foggy morning. Having discovered the Cruquius pumping station by coincidence at Molen De Valk in Leiden two days earlier, this seemed a good place to start our adventure, and armed with the knowledge of a 10am opening time thanks to Google Maps we made our way directly there upon our arrival. Having hardly covered ourselves in glory during our first Dutch bus ride from Breda to Oosterhout, we were determined to have more success on this occasion. This was not to be, as we were caught by surprise when the Cruquiusweg bus stop (which had been announced as something else entirely) crept up on us – we alighted hurriedly, only to find ourselves nowhere near our destination! Alas, we were not to know that several bus stops had recently been renamed (probably to avoid precisely this confusion), but the sign we had seen was yet to be updated. A damp and somewhat indignant 10-minute walk ensued, compounded by the fact that we found the museum closed on our arrival. Not a good start!

We nevertheless took the opportunity to survey what we could see of the imposing pumping station from the outside, featuring 8 impressive beam driven pumps radiating out from a central circular engine house. Also on display was part of the foundations of a steam pumping engine from the Blijdorp polder in Rotterdam, one of the earliest steam engines built in the Netherlands. Our curiosity piqued, we learned that opening time was in fact after lunch, so set back off to town to improvise new program. With not much else open at 10am, I took the liberty of suggesting a walk along the River Spaarne, which would take us past an old favourite of mine. Kirsty, fortunately, was up for the adventure!

The Cruquius pumping station on the first attempt…

This machine means business!

Molen De Eenhoorn (The Unicorn) is one of the Netherlands’ five surviving Paltrok mills, an early and unusual design of wind sawmill. Predating the advent of the tower mill with its movable cap, the Paltrok was developed from the post mill, in which the whole body of the mill had to be turned to face the wind about a central post. In the Paltrok’s case, this was aided by placing the entire mill on a roller race atop a small brick base, not dissimilar to the curb found at the top of a tower mill. The real revolution of the design though, as it were, was the crankshaft which allowed the rotary motion of the sails to be translated into reciprocal motion of the sawblades, allowing the Dutch to automate the production of large sawn timbers which had previously slow going with two men in a pit. It is in no small part due to the Paltrok windmills that the Dutch rose to become such a naval power in the 17th Century. The distinctive shape of the Paltrok comes from the sawing floor at the bottom and its petticoat roof, which lend the mill the appearance of the traditional skirt from which its name is derived.

I have been fascinated with the Paltrok from an early age, and De Eenhoorn was the first such mill which I saw in operation one memorable day in October 2004. I was fortunate to revisit in 2016 and get the grand tour with miller Jos van Schooten (see here), at which point the mill was out of action with major repairs being undertaken to the foundations, with underpinning work underway on the ‘penant’, the pedestal on which the weight of the main ‘koningsstijl’ post stands. In spite of this work having been successfully carried out since my last visit we were saddened to find mill standing still once again, and a chance conversation with a neighbour walking his dog revealed the cause to be the 55-year-old steel stocks, which are now in need of replacement. Like many mills, the finances and lead times involved with ordering new stocks mean that the mill may be out of action for some time, however it is fortunate that the milling team were both alert to discovering rust, and cautious in deciding not to run the mill until replacements are fitted. It is hoped that De Eenhoorn will be back in action sooner rather than later!

Molen De Eenhoorn, complete with Christmas star!

A lovely peaceful spot shrouded in the mist

2004 – this photo never gets old!

We continued making our merry way along the Spaarne in the thick, quiet morning fog, enjoying the ambience and admiring gorgeous properties along the waterfront. Our faith in Google Maps’ walking routes clearly misplaced, we enjoyed an unplanned back alley tour of the local sporting complex before circumnavigating a few fences and escaping to find a bus back to town! The natural gravitational centre of Haarlem is the colossal Sint-Bavokerk, which we soon found ourselves outside. Innocently wandering in, we found the place absolutely heaving inside – much of the crowd seemed unusually youthful for a church service, even on Christmas Eve Eve, and after much confusion it occurred to us that we must have managed to sneak into some kind of school function, so we duly made our leave! We eventually discovered that the church was opening after lunch, so set off for the next natural destination in Haarlem – Molen De Adriaan.

De Adriaan has an interesting story, with the current mill effectively new built in 2002 on the original base, after the original was destroyed by fire in 1932. It has cemented itself as another staple of my Dutch trips, having first visited the mill in almost brand new condition in 2004, then again in 2016 (see here). While perhaps not an exact replica of the original mill, De Adriaan is located in a fantastic and very visible spot, and houses a windmill museum featuring several exquisite models built by Jos, miller from De Eenhoorn. An interesting movie inside featuring long-time Haarlem residents underscored the social importance of the mill to the identity and streetscape of Haarlem, and through this lens one can only admire the ambitious undertaking of rebuilding a windmill from the ground up in the centre of a major city in the 21st Century. With the rain setting in and no other visitors, Kirsty and I enjoyed a private tour of the mill with Auke Herrema, a volunteer miller in training. A sure highlight was the hand quern, with which we both had a go at producing our own flour! It was also fantastic to be able to peer into the cap, a luxury which I had not been afforded on previous visits.

Molen De Adriaan is always a welcome stopover

A scenic location in the heart of Haarlem

As always, we spent far too long in the mill and found ourselves leaving behind schedule! We decided to make a flying return visit to the Bavokerk, which was now open. You could easily spend an entire day inside this incredible building, and 10 minutes was nowhere near enough! It would, however, have been a gross oversight not to take at least some time to admire the Müller organ, built in 1738 and indisputably one of the finest organs on earth. Reputedly played by both Handel and a young Mozart, I was struck by the beauty of this incredible instrument on my last visit, but am still yet to hear it. The scale and grandeur of the church itself match those of the organ, and it truly is an awe inspiring space to stand in and appreciate. We vowed to return with more time to appreciate the space fully, and of course hear the organ in action – but for now it was back to the Cruquius pumping station!

The Sint Bavokerk is an impressive feature on the skyline

A pilgrimage for any organist – the Bavokerk organ, one of the very finest

The spectacular Muller organ is a central feature of the gorgeous interior

As it turns out we needn’t have curtailed our visit to rush to the bus, which sailed straight through our stop, much to the chagrin of the assembled passengers. Another frustrating 10 minutes passed until the next one arrived, time which would gladly have been spent at either our previous or next waypoints… Nevertheless we soon found our way heading back along a familiar route to the Cruquius museum, taking care to alight at the correct stop this time! It was interesting to appreciate the historical context behind the complex, which entered service in 1850 as one of a series of three such pumping stations built to drain the Haarlemmermeer, an enormous inland lake of around 180 sq. km which at the time was expanding rapidly in size and threatening to flood Amsterdam, necessitating an ambitious scheme to drain the lake of some 800 million tonnes of water. It is fascinating to think how different the Netherlands would have been prior to the reclamation of such areas, with a massive inland sea on which naval battles were fought against the Spanish. It was surprising to consider that the connection to the North Sea was only closed 90 years ago!

The initial proposal for draining this vast lake was the construction of 150 windmills to drain the lake over a period of three years – a lovely idea in my view, but one which unsurprisingly proved impractical and too expensive. Instead King William I had the foresight to invest in the then-fledgling technology of steam pumping engines, with three enormous examples successfully performing the same work of the windmills over the same duration. The engines were imported from the Harvey & Co. of Cornwall, England, where they had perfected the design for de-watering the Cornish tin and copper mines. The largest of these was installed in the Cruquius pumping station, and is one of the largest steam engines ever built. It possess a single compound cylinder with concentric high and low pressure stages, the inner, high pressure cylinder being 7ft in diameter and the outer, low pressure cylinder a staggering 12ft in outside diameter. The pistons act in tandem, effectively giving a single cylinder of 12ft diameter and 10ft stroke, a staggering 32 cubic metres in swept volume. When I walked through the door into the engine house my jaw just about hit the floor – it truly is hard to describe just how BIG this engine is!

The engine is so large that it’s difficult to take a picture that does it justice!

Makers plate attached to the 80 ton(!) couterweight

A useful interactive diagram showing the engine’s operation

The boilers have sadly long since gone, however the engine is retained in operable condition and can be powered hydraulically to run two of the pumps for demonstration. It was amazing to see this behemoth in action, with the 8 rocking beams working in tandem, each operating a pump of 73″ diameter and 15ft stroke. The engine could raise over 200,000L of water operating at five strokes per minute. This truly is engineering on an absolutely incredible scale, and it was a privilege to see in operation. Anybody who has an appreciation for engineering simply must visit the Cruquius – it was perhaps an unexpected highlight for a windmill enthusiast, but I cannot recommend it highly enough! It was also a wonderful opportunity to appreciate the subsequent continuation of the important work started by the windmills in the drainage of the Netherlands. The adjoining museum was equally fascinating, containing several fantastic engines and some amazing models – again, we could have spent the entire day there, and there is no doubt that a return visit will be forthcoming!

After staying until being ‘shoo’ed out at closing time, we made our way back into town for a most interesting dinner. One of the guides at De Adriaan had mentioned a ‘beer church’, and that in itself was more than enough to warrant further investigation. We found our destination in the ‘Jopenkerk’ – the former Protestant Jacobskerk now transformed into a brewery and restaurant. The Jopen beer was fantastic, and we enjoyed working our way through a generous selection accompanied by a hearty burger. The various dark beers were sublime, and Kirsty even indulged in the ‘Adriaan Wit’, appropriately enough a wheat beer named after the local windmill. The ambience was fantastic, and after a lengthy stay sampling rather too much of the board we made our merry way back to Rotterdam!

The second best church in Haarlem!

Inside the awesome Jopenkerk

Saturday was Christmas Eve, and having stayed in Rotterdam for so long we decided that it might be nice to explore a bit before leaving! Our advice from the locals during the World Cup final was to visit the Oude Haven, the historic port area of the city. A leisurely morning was spent ambling around, and the foreshore was nicely presented with a variety of industrial relics, an impressive array of cranes and even a small diesel locomotive! It was a nice change of pace just to walk around with no particular agenda, and we eventually made our way back to our accommodation to pack up our wordly possessions before embarking on a little Christmas getaway.

Rotterdam’s Oude Haven has been turned into a nice feature

And a diesel shunter for good measure!

A selection of the Oude Haven’s many cranes

The Rotterdam CityHub was a great little spot to stay, and is a quintessentially European idea – basically an alternative to a Youth Hostel, the various floors contain small ‘pods’ arranged in an over-and-under fashion to provide cheap and compact budget accommodation. Space is at a premium, but this is of little concern when you are out and about all day – there were also well appointed bathrooms on each level, and for a couple of stingy students-at-heart it was just the ticket. Our pod contained a spacious double bed, and complete with wifi, plenty of charging ports and a Bluetooth audio system – we were not left wanting for much!

Exterior view of the pod (Kirsty for scale)

Plenty of room!

After packing our suitcases we made for Delft, where we enjoyed a scenic walk along the cobbled streets (albeit noisy with our suitcases in tow!) We had booked the Gasthuis 288 B&B on the Gasthuislaan as a treat for a little Christmas getaway, and were warmly greeted by our host Katerina who quickly made us at home and equipped us with some local advice. The B&B is in a lovely quiet spot with a view of the canal just over the cobbled street, with a cosy nook containing the bed and a gas fire which kept the room nice and toasty – simply idyllic! It was hard to drag ourselves back outside, but with the Christmas markets still in full swing we decided to go and immerse ourselves in Delft for the afternoon. Our mission was to source snacks, after we disappointingly discovered that the King Pepermunts I had brought from Australia to consume in their country of origin tasted rather like soap, perhaps understantable given that their best before date was a full decade prior… We perused the local markets, and a sure highlight was the discovery of absolutely delicious ‘appelbollen’, which is effectively the oliebol version of an apple strudel – an invention the world most assuredly needed! Walking between Delft’s two spectacular churches to see what was on for Christmas we were disappointed to find the Oude Kerk shut, but resolved to attend the 10pm ‘Kerstnachtdienst’ Christmas Eve service at the Nieuwe Kerk.

The Nieuwe Kerk, preparing for the evening’s events

If there’s a more scenic town in the Netherlands then I don’t know it!

A quiet evening in ensued, punctuated by sampling the local dark ale, Leffe Brune, which we had gifted Theo the day prior – well paired with paprika chips! We set an alarm and indulged in a nap before waking up and taking the short, chilly walk to church for the Christmas Eve service. This was well worth the trek, with the place absolutely packed to the rafters, to the extent that we got some of the last free pews! The atmosphere was lovely, and the hymn tunes very familiar – it was great to hear the David Willcocks’ last verses for the Dutch versions of Hark the Herald Angels Sing and O Come All Ye Faithful – the crunchy harmonies transcend language! The impressive Bätz organ of 1839 comfortably led the proceedings, though with such a full house there was scope to give it a bit more stick in the final verses… With full hearts we left shortly before midnight, and saw in Christmas Day before drifting back to sleep.

10pm Kerstnachtdienst at the Nieuwe Kerk

The Nieuwe Kerk’s fine organ

Christmas Day itself was a quiet affair, a chilly day spent mostly in the warmth and comfort of our cute B&B. Katerina kindly prepared an epic homemade breakfast for us, featuring traditional Czech Christmas bread! After FaceTiming our respective families we ventured out to a cafe for a warming coffee and some cheesecake for lunch, before spending the afternoon planning our upcoming sojourn to England, a somewhat stressful affair upon realising that rail strikes were to wreak havoc on our plans… We punctuated our furious logistical juggling with another walk into town for Christmas dinner, a delicious if somewhat offbeat meal of American style wings accompanied by Dutch beer. A largely uneventful day perhaps, but certainly a memorable Christmas in our cosy room in Delft which we shan’t forget in a hurry!

Delft’s Oude Kerk has quite a lean to it!

Our lovely little slice of paradise in Delft!

(An interesting footnote of the trip to the Netherlands has been the discovery of several species of ridiculous cars – Delft, Haarlem and Rotterdam all delivered on this front!)

The Canta – a product of the 1990s in its hometown of Delft

Another example in Haarlem – technically a mobility aid, so no registration or license required!

The Opel Rocks-e, a thoroughly ridiculous electric car boasting a 75km(!) range

Dagen 6 en 7 – Molens, Orgels en Jenever

Wednesday’s adventure was to Leiden, a place unfamiliar to Kirsty but one I had visited on both of my previous sojourns to the Netherlands (see here). As usual we had no set agenda, so after our pleasant train journey in the morning sun we simply set off to explore the city and see what we could find! Naturally there was a windmill or two to see, and our first waypoint became clear immediately upon arrival at the station. Molen De Put will forever claim the distinction of being the first operating windmill I visited, and I vividly recall my visit there in 2004, seeing inside a windmill in motion for the first time! On a midweek morning it was predictably closed, but it nevertheless made a fine sight enjoying the morning rays next to the Rembrandt Bridge on the Galgewater, and I couldn’t resist getting a happy snap with another sentimental favourite!

The view upon alighting the train!

Molen De Put as seen from Park De Put

Looking fine in the morning rays!

A view along the Galgewater

Immediately across said bridge is the Rembrandtplein, a cute little park into which Kirsty ventured in search of a bin. We were not to realise until after the fact that she had her back to the birthplace of Rembrandt at this moment! We spent a lovely morning making our leisurely way along the implausibly Dutch backstreets and canals of Leiden, where each turn seemed to reveal a scene more picturesque than the last. Our wanderings in turn brought us to the town centre, where at Kirsty’s encouragement we indulged in a spot of shopping. At Zara we began what would become something of a quest to find my ‘forever jacket’ – in this we were unsuccessful, though Kirsty fortunately had more success.

A classic Dutch house on the Galgewater in Leiden

A view typical of the many canal bridges in Leiden, sublime!

The next landmark we encountered was the Hartebrugkerk Catholic church, and its open doors tempted us inside. In one life’s serendipitous moments, no sooner had we set foot across the threshold than the organ started to play! Stood beneath the gallery and with the gates into the main body of the church closed we could not see the instrument above us, but it was lovely to listen in on the organist’s pre-Christmas practise for five minutes or so – it was a joy to hear a distinctively European sounding organ ‘in the flesh’ again after so long! Our wanderings continued through the town centre, where we came across a small cart selling traditional Dutch ‘stroopwaffels’ – essentially a pair of thin, crispy wafer discs glued together by caramel sauce. I had deliberately been resisting the temptation of having one from the supermarket to ensure my first bite was the authentic experience, and it was well worth the wait! Still warm and absolutely delicious, this was a new Dutch delicacy ticked off the list and one which I will most definitely be indulging in again!

Leiden’s Hartebrugkerk

Inside the Hartebrugkerk

Trying my first stroopwaffel!

Resuming our wandering through Leiden’s lovely back streets, the next conspicuous landmark we encountered was the Hooglandse Kerk. Emanating through the walls this huge building could clearly be heard the sound of a massive organ, and we soon identified a thrilling postlude on ‘Hark the Herald Angels Sing’. Keen to hear more, we completed a lap of the building but could not find an obvious entrance, and were fortunately invited in on the second passing of an inconspicuous door! We were treated to a tour of the building, which contained no fewer than three organs. The most visually spectacular of these was situated high in the west end, dating originally from 1565 and largely rebuilt in 1637 by the van Hagerbeer firm. Beneath it was a small cabinet organ of unknown lineage, which had been purchased by the nearby orphanage in 1866. The organ we head heard however was neither of these, located in the north transept near the crossing. It was, of all things, a Father Willis, moved from England and installed in 2015!

The gorgeous de Swaart/ van Hagerbeer organ in the west end

Cabinet organ of unknown origin

A Father Willis, in Leiden of all places!

We were fortunate to meet the organist Willeke Smits, who as it turns out had just finished practicing for an informal Christmas concert to be given that afternoon. In this knowledge we resolved to return for said concert, and set off to see some more of Leiden in the intervening few hours! Quite nearby to the church was a rather conspicuous hill (quite a rarity in the Netherlands), which on further investigation turned out to be the Burcht van Leiden, an ancient fort constructed in 1060 and offering wonderful views of Leiden from the stone rampart. We enjoyed surveying the area from such an unusually high vantage point, and spied the sails of Molen De Valk turning on the horizon – so of course we duly set off to inspect the mill in our remaining time!

The Burcht van Leiden, accessed by a very steep set of stairs!

Inside the Burcht van Leiden

The Hooglandse Kerk as seen from the rampart

De Valk (The Falcon) is an impressive stellingmolen, not quite the same size as those seen in Schiedam the previous day, but not too far from it! It has been a museum for many years, and a calling point on both of my previous trips to the Netherlands – why stop now? Upon our arrival in the plaza outside the mill we were treated to a brief glimpse of sunshine, and we climbed the tower to appreciate the largely original internal machinery and information on Leiden’s former mills, as well as many impressive models of the various types of Dutch windmills. A short video on Dutch mills proved quite interesting, and brought two fascinating machines to my attention which will require further investigation – the Cruquius steam drainage engine in Haarlem, and a ‘rosmolen’ (horse mill) in Zeddam. Emboldened by yesterday’s adventures in Schiedam, Kirsty was slightly less tentative in venturing out onto the reefing stage to appreciate the view!

Molen De Valk stands commandingly over Leiden

The foundation stone of De Valk

The internal machinery clearly has some age to it!

By the time we left De Valk we were naturally running behind schedule(!), so hightailed it back to the Hooglandse Kerk to enjoy the Christmas concert. Alas we had missed Willeke’s organ program, but did get to enjoy a quartet singing various English carols such as Holst’s ‘In the Bleak Midwinter’, Pearsall’s ‘In Dulci Jubilo’, and ‘The First Nowell’. It turns out that the Hooglandse Kerk gives Evensong services in the English tradition, and viewed through this lens the decision to install such a quintessentially English organ becomes a natural choice. We then enjoyed two varied half-hour programs on the Willis sandwiching a repeat of the carols, including an impressive improvisation on ‘O Come, O Come Emmanuel’ and an arrangement of ‘In Dulci Jubilo’. It was a very casual affair, and we took some time to wander around the church and appreciate both the building and acoustic. By the time the final chords from the organ faded away it was 5pm (and well & truly dark outside!)

The Hooglandse Kerk’s impressive interior

The Willis sounded grand, if not particularly Dutch!

We then made our leisurely way back into town, and the temptation of the Guinness sign outside Scott’s Tavern proved too much to resist! After enjoying a pint of said nectar in the cosy ambience we realised that food was calling, and set off wandering for the Beestenmarkt to see what took our fancy, enjoying the gorgeous Christmas lights which gave a whole new feel to the lovely town. We opted for Pannenkoekhuis De Schaapsbel, to try some more Dutch pancakes after our good experience a few days prior. The results were simply amazing – my ‘Boerderij’ pancake with bacon, mushrooms, ham, salami, onion, tomato and parsley was a veritable feast – 10/10 would pancake again! With full stomachs and Christmassy spirits we set off back for Rotterdam and slept soundly.

Getting into the Christmas spirit at the Hooglandse Kerk

Proper Christmas lights those!

Thursday was earmarked for an adventure to Delft, after the World Cup final upset our plans the Sunday prior! We couldn’t make it to the ‘midwintermalen’ at Molen De Roos (The Rose), an annual affair with Christmas markets around the local windmill under the (usually) turning sails, so decided to rectify this with a visit. Breakfast was had at the Douwe Egberts cafe near Rotterdam Centraal station, where I learned to my detriment that a large latte truly is large – the mug must have been 8 inches tall! Here we indulged in a ‘tostie’ (toasted sandwiches have really cemented themselves into the Dutch cuisine), and boarded the train for Delft in a thoroughly caffeinated state!

Miller Jan Spruit had kindly shown me around De Roos on my previous visit (see here), and again was most accommodating – upon our arrival we discovered him tinkering with an electric hurst frame, which was being pressed into service. The windmill has recently been out of action following the discovery of cracks in the steel ‘roeden’ or stocks, which form the main structural beams upon which each pair of opposing sails are built. This of course is a serious repair, and funds are currently being raised for the replacement of both roeden – it is hoped that the mill will be back in full service by mid-2023. We were introduced to Andre van der Kraan, another of De Roos’ milling team, who kindly took Kirsty & myself up into the mill.

Molen De Roos, currently out of action

The red brick was added to level the tower, showing how dramatic a lean the base is on!

I had quite forgotten that entering the octagonal base of De Roos was like setting foot onto a ship, as due to historic subsidence the floors are all on a most disconcerting lean – apparently double that of the nearby Nieuwe Kerk tower, which would put the floor at a slightly-steeper-than-1-in-40 gradient! This is rectified by some added brickwork just below reefing gallery level, so that the bulk of the tower, and critically the curb, are level. There is at least a 10-course difference in the height of this added brickwork from one side of the mill base to the other! We enjoyed the sunrise view from the reefing stage, which on a cold, clear morning was absolutely spectacular over the town. I was invited to climb the sails to get an even better view, and didn’t need to be told twice! With Kirsty now becoming increasingly comfortable venturing out onto the reefing stage of each successive mill, the next step was to convince her to give the sails a go…

In search of a better view…

A perspective of De Roos I’d not seen before!

Look out below!

On the stroke of 10 we ventured back down to the cafe in the visitors centre for induction into the daily coffee ritual. There was a great band of staff at the mill packing flour and helping in the adjacent bakery, and interesting conversation ensued. They don’t do things by halves at De Roos with their coffee, and a strong black brew soon had us bouncing back up the tower! It was great to see the onsite bakery which is an impressive, compact setup, and the fruits of their labours in the form of a cinnamon scroll certainly proved they were onto a good thing! On resumption of our mill tour, we found a recently commissioned set of blue stones added since my last visit which, incredibly, had been dug up from adjacent to the mill during recent earthworks and promptly re-dressed for service, none the worse for their lengthy subterranean slumber.

The well appointed onsite bakery at De Roos

The blue stones (left) are a new addition!

Our tour continued up to the top of the mill, where I took the opportunity to look out the storm hatch to appreciate the fantastic view of the winter sun sitting low over the town. From here the suspect welds in the steel stocks could be seen, which had been ground back for inspection and testing. Steel stocks have been increasingly probematic in the Netherlands over the past decade as welded steel stocks from the 70s and 80s start to reach their fatigue limits, compounded by a change to the design standards in 2011 to permit stocks with a bolted join in the centre, which was subsequently found to cause unacceptable localised stresses and forced all mills so equipped to cease work until replacements could be manufactured. As such, the manufacturing of new steel stocks is now being given close attention, and is becoming a big business for those with the design and construction capacity and risk appetite.

Overlooking the town of Delft, with welds visible on the steel stock

Now there’s a view!

That’s the spirit!

Another interesting feature at De Roos was a small optical sensor on the great spur wheel measuring the rotational velocity, which was fitted by Andre. His website http://www.draaiendemolens.nl/ is still in its infancy, but displays the speed of turning mills in real-time which are fitted with this sensor. A particularly novel feature is that you can buy a model mill to hook up to this data, which will reflect the real speed of your favourite mill at that instant! Having previously been saved by the coffee bell, our return to the stone floor signalled Kirsty’s turn to venture out, and onto the sails. While not quite as enthusiastic to climb up so high, she did quite well to leave solid ground after some persuasion!

After returning safely to ground level, raiding the gift shop and thanking our hosts, we ventured into town to inspect the Christmas markets and purchase the obligatory fridge magnet (during which process Kirsty discovered to her detriment that delftware is not known for its dropworthiness…) The town square was bustling, complete with another street organ! After surveying the square and bidding a temporary farewell to Delft we made for Schiedam, to complete the tour and ‘molen crawl’ started two days prior. We ambled past the mills we had visited earlier, continuing along to Molen De Walvisch (the Whale), now the museum mill. Here we were reunited with Matthieu, who had kindly shown us around De Nieuwe Palmboom. De Walvisch was bereft of sailframes, wearing only bare stocks, with a new set currently under construction for installation during January.

Theo was hard at work in De Vrijheid

De Walvisch, currently sans sails

We took our time to survey the De Walvisch, including the impressive model of De Nieuwe Palmboom formerly housed in the museum there, and were given free rein to look around. By the time we reached the cap, the two rather large doses of caffeine from earlier in the day had caught up with me and I was feeling rather unwell! Kirsty bravely ventured to stick her head out the hatch at the rear of the cap, and was treated to the impressive vista from right atop one of the world’s tallest mills. Having not forgotten almost falling foul of this hatch’s sliding door during my previous visit in 2016, I’m afraid I decided that discretion was indeed the better part of valour, and opted not to do the same with a caffeine headspin!

The brakewheel of De Walvisch, complete with short windshaft

Kirsty bravely inspecting the vista from the very top!

After De Walvisch we continued to the nearby Jenever museum, which is partnered with the mill museum to tell the story of Schiedam’s most famous industry. Jenever is a spirit which was born in the Netherlands and exported throughout the world, and which I was surprised to learn is in fact the direct ancestor of gin, which was developed from Jenever in Britain. While I was very familiar with Schiedam’s windmills and aware of their link to the Jenever industry (having been built to crush grain for use in the distillation of malt wine, with shares in the mills bought by various distilleries), it was enlightening to understand the broader story behind Jenever and its social significance to the history of Schiedam, as well as the stories of several of the distilleries – some of which such as Nolet and De Kuyper are even names recognised in Aus.

The Jenever Museum was an excellent companion to De Walvisch

Model of a Jenever distillery

Of course, in order to fully appreciate the story of Jenever, one couldn’t possibly visit the museum and not sample some of the Schiedamse specialty! Unfortunately by the time of our visit it was getting late, so we only had time for a whistle-stop crash course tour of the distillery itself (quite fascinating, and which will definitely necessitate a return visit) before indulging in a tasting platter of various Jenevers. It was interesting to compare the Old Schiedam base malt wine spirit with various ‘proofs’ of the final product, then appreciate the effects of introducing various flavours into the process. An aniseed example was particularly tasty, but the highlight for me was ‘Grand Prestige’, incorporating Hertog Jan beer! The conversation flowed almost as freely as the Jenever during the tasting session, and after enjoying a couple of extras thrown in gratis, we made our rather wobbly way back to Rotterdam in the rain, and were sound asleep soon after!

Dagen 4 en 5 – Op Het Dak van de Wereld!

Following a thorough, Heineken-induced sleep after the excitement of the World Cup final, our destination on Monday morning was The Hague, to explore a part of the Netherlands which I had not yet seen. Unfortunately my old regular Rotterdam breakfast haunt, Doppio Espresso on the Kruisplein, closed in 2019 when the owners moved to Utrecht to start up a new cafe, so we instead visited the Doppio Espresso near Erasmus University before boarding our train to Den Haag. A mild case of culture shock was encountered upon arrival, when I rediscovered that public toilets in the Netherlands generally charge an ‘admission fee’ – more planning required in future! With only a nebulous agenda planned, we decided to walk around and see what we could find – naturally the first must-see destination was Den Haag McDonalds! Sadly, we were soon to realise that the Dutch are yet to discover the joy that is Maccas hash browns for breakfast, so we instead opted for the local specialty of BLT McMuffins!

With full stomachs we set off for the Vredespaleis, home of the International Court of Justice. In no particular rush, our ambling route took us past the colossal Ministry of General Affairs, whose building, idyllically situated on the Hofvijverlake, is orders of magnitude more impressive than its name would have you believe! The next point of interest was the Grote or Sint-Jacobskerk, which most assuredly does what it says on the tin – it was difficult to get far enough away to fit it in a single photo! Many Dutch churches are absolutely immense in their scale and this particularly impressive example was no exception, though sadly it was not open to permit inspection of the interior. We then enjoyed an stroll through the Paleistuin park, immediately adjacent to the impressive Paleis Noordeinde, the official workplace of Dutch King Willem-Alexander. It turns out that what we were looking at was only the rear frontage, which was impressive enough in itself!

The Ministry of General Affairs – more impressive than it sounds!

Den Haag’s Grote Kerk certainly lives up to it’s name

Obligatory Dutch tourist snap!

Paleis Noordeinde – not a bad office…

At length our wandering brought us to the Vredespaleis (Peace Palace), a towering Neo-Renaissance structure set in equally impressive grounds to the north of the main CBD. It was also closed to visitors (not much seems to happen on a Monday in the tourist off-season in the Netherlands), but it was well worth the walk to appreciate from the outside. After a tram ride back into town we were just in time to be at the Mauritshuis gallery for opening time, which was just as well considering the amount there was to see! The temporary exhibition was ‘Manhattan Masters’, a selection of 10 paintings on display from the Frick Collection in New York. Of these the sure highlight was a Rembrandt self-portrait from 1658, a colossal piece billed as the most impressive of 40+ such works painted by the Dutch master.

The UN Flag flies outside the Vredespaleis

The impressive front entry to the Vredespaleis

Rembrandt’s colossal and well-travelled self portrait!

We then spent the remainder of our five hours there taking in the permanent Mauritshuis collection, a wonderful selection of Dutch and Flemish works, primarily from the Dutch Golden age of the 17^th century and with the earliest dating from ca.1460. The highlights are almost too numerous to list, but worthy of special mention are Rembrandt’s The Anatomy Lesson of Dr Nicolaes Tulp, Clara Peeters’ Still Life with Cheeses, Almonds and Pretzels, Paulus Potter’s enormous The Bull, and of course Johannes Vermeer’s Girl with a Pearl Earring. The latter is the most famous painting in the collection and clearly a work of particular pride to the Dutch, and we enjoyed the chance to appreciate it in detail when the gallery was quiet right at the end of the day.

Still Life with Cheeses, Almonds and Pretzels possesses incredible details

The Bull – photo does not do justice to its immense size!

Girl with a Pearl Earring, the most famous work in the Mauritshuis collection

After standing and admiring the paintings for so long (with only a brief afternoon tea of coffee and bitterballen for respite), it was perhaps unsurprising that we should both leave with rather sore backs! We made our way back to the station while enjoying the lovely Christmas lights, and despite the aches and tiredness couldn’t resist a brief visit to the picturesque Christmas markets. Still not having quite recovered from the jetlag, I was asleep on the train home before we reached Rotterdam!

Authentic Dutch fayre at the Mauritshuis

The Christmas lights in Den Haag were lovely

On Tuesday morning we decided to set off for Schiedam, home to the tallest windmills in the world and a compulsory stop for any trip to the Netherlands! We started the day with a delicious breakfast at Baker&Moore, home of 2018’s best Dutch sandwich and located just near our accommodation. The food was simply divine, though the €41 bill perhaps precluded it from becoming a daily indulgence! The plan for Schiedam was to take in all the mills in one day, however as always one thing led to another, and we only managed three by the time of our departure! Walking past Molen De Vrijheid (The Freedom) and seeing the sails turning, I tried my luck knocking on the door to be greeted by miller Theo de Rooij. The mill was turning ‘for the prince’ (with no sailcloths set or stones engaged), as everyone’s attentions were focussed on loading a truck at the door with last minute pre-Christmas consignments!

Breakfast at Baker&Moore was absolutely divine

All action at De Vrijheid!

De Vrijheid is the only of Schiedam’s 7 windmills still producing flour, and continues to do so on a commercial basis with impressive scale. The mill retains three wind driven pairs of stones, one of which can also be driven electrically during periods of low wind. This is in addition to a separate pair of electric stones on a hurst frame, which saw recent use during a prolonged and uncharacteristic spell of low winds. The Scheidamse Molen foundation own a truck in which they make flour deliveries, both to the museum mill De Walvisch (The Whale) for packaging and domestic sale, and also to local bakeries in bulk consignments, the latter of which was being loaded at the time of our arrival. With Theo busily shifting flour, he kindly left us to our devices to explore the mill.

I was familiar with De Vrijheid from my last visit to the Netherlands in 2016 (see here, here and here), however this was Kirsty’s first experience in a windmill, an impressive place to start! De Vrijheid is not quite the world’s tallest windmill – that title belongs to De Noord (The North), just 175m down the road – but it is a close second by a mere 10cm. It’s therefore no understatement to say that she was starting at the top! Lacking my appetite for heights it can’t be said that she was right at home, however she did very admirably considering, particularly given that the mill was turning at the time! A particular highlight was venturing out on to the ‘stelling’ or reefing stage, with the ‘Fokwiek’ sails whistling around under no load – very quickly allowing Kirsty to grasp the scale of the mill, which all of a sudden seemed rather larger than it did at street level! I treated her to a tour in excruciating detail from the cap right down the eight floors to ground level, and it was fortunate to have such an exemplar mill to explain the workings of. De Vrijheid is an impressive operation and a wonderful example of a genuine commercial windmill still operating quite successfully in the 21^st Century.

Appreciating the Spoorwiel

Would you believe they look even bigger once you’re up there!

By the time we had returned to the ground floor the truck had departed, and we enjoyed a coffee and long chat with Theo and assistant miller Jacomine de Graaf in the process. Mill enthusiasts can be assured of a warm welcome at De Vrijheid (as long as the hectic production schedule permits), and I was pleased to discover the walls and ceiling miller’s room still papered with windmill postcards from around the world – I only wished I had remembered to bring one myself! We met the two new ‘molenkatten’ in training, and exchanged updates – I was surprised to find that one of Schiedam’s own millwrights had a trip planned to Australia next year to undertake some work at The Lily. Theo kindly called around the other millers and set up visits to some of the other mills in town, so we set off for a look around Schiedam’s newest windmill while Theo prepared to put the mill to work.

We met miller Ernst Richel at De Kameel (The Camel), who kindly took the time out of his busy work schedule to show us around. De Kameel was completed in 2010, and represents a previously lost type of Schiedam windmill, being slightly shorter and more slender than the other surviving examples. Like the others it is set on the bank of the Schiedamse Schie river, but uniquely De Kameel is designed with boat access to the ground floor (albeit sealed off from the watercourse by a glass window). A replica boat has been built by millwright Erik Batenburg, and is displayed below the glass ground floor. The mill has a single pair of stones with provision for a second, and the lower floors are used as offices, including for the Schiedamse Molen foundation.

De Kameel is the newest of Schiedam’s windmills

An interesting feature is the boat loading access to the ground floor from the adjacent river!

Detail of the ‘Engels kruiwerk’ at De Kameel – the tower sits below rollers, and the cap rests above

Ernst decided to take the opportunity of our visit to set the mill running, and turned the mill to face the wind while we were sat on the dust floor observing from inside. It was interesting to see the ‘kruiwerk’ in operation, of the so-called ‘Engels’ design, in spite of it being an uncommon sight in England (known there as a shot curb). It was immediately obvious to appreciate how the rollers between the tower and cap allow the cap to turn very easily, as the roller race revolves relative to the tower and the cap in turn relative to the rollers, enabling the cap to turn twice as quickly relative to the tower in comparison to a live or dead curb. We were soon joined in the cap by miller Matthieu Zuiderwijk, who had come to assist with troubleshooting the brake before the mill was put to work.

The culprit preventing the brake from being released proved to be the ‘kneppel’, a safety lever designed to ensure that the brake stays on unless the miller lifts it. It was fouling on the ‘hangereel’ hangers suspending the brake assembly from the cap, and after adjustments to its pin the brake was soon releasing correctly and the mill was at work. Matthieu informed us that we were very fortunate to see the kruiwerk and brake in operation, as in his 40 years he had only seen it a handful of times himself – the miller of course is always either down on the ground or reefing stage to operate the mill, so never gets to see this operation in close quarters! After inspecting the impressive workmanship in the machinery of this new mill we set back off for De Vrijheid, which was being set to work grinding flour.

This was a wonderful opportunity for Kirsty to see a windmill properly at work, and under Theo’s expert supervision De Vrijheid was soon at work producing flour. This was not before he kindly permitted me to attempt setting the sails – the particulars of which I had well and truly forgotten since my last go at running a windmill in 2017, requiring much re-schooling! With the stones singing and the smell of freshly ground flour in the air, we concluded a memorable visit and set off for Matthieu’s mill just down the road, after receiving an invite while we were at De Kameel. The first stop however was for lunch, which in all the excitement I had rather forgotten, however my hungry travelling partner had not!

Setting the sails under Theo’s watchful eye

This one makes it look like I did it much easier than in reality!

De Nieuwe Palmboom (The New Palm Tree) was largely constructed in 1992 from the surviving three-storey stump of the original ‘De Palmboom’ dating from 1781, the better part of a century after the first mill was destroyed by fire in 1901. For many years this mill was the ‘Museummolen’ in Schiedam, before the baton was passed in 2018 to De Walvisch, being situated in a more convenient location. Matthieu had shown me around on my previous visit in 2016, and indeed may well also have done on my very first trip to Holland in 2004! De Nieuwe Palmboom thus became the first mill which I had been into on each of my visits to the Netherlands through the years.

De Nieuwe Palmboom, a sentimental favourite

The stelling of De Nieuwe Palmboom offers a fantastic vista of Schiedam’s other mills!

The former museum space is now rented out to various small companies, with the milling machinery all retained and operable above. This mill is a sentimental favourite and to my eye the most attractive of Schiedam’s mills, and it was a joy once again to take it all in. Kirsty by this stage had gotten the hang of it too, becoming progressively bolder when stepping out onto the reefing stage of each successive mill! It was a great thrill to once again stand up through the hatch in the top of the cap with the mill turning, being all but as high as it’s possible to get in a windmill anywhere in the world! I recalled tentatively poking my head out of the very the same hatch as an 8-year-old, though I could not convince Kirsty to do the same – one step at a time I suppose! After a trip to the local Albert Heijn to pick up some Christmas beer as a thankyou to Theo, we made our way back on the metro to Rotterdam for another early night!

On top of the world!

It’s a long way down…

De Kameel makes an impressive in the twilight

And one last photo of De Noord, the tallest windmill in the world. What a day!

Dagen 2 en 3 – De eerste molen, pannenkoeken en de Wereldkampioenschap

After a jetlag-induced sleep in we were delighted to awake to a white morning in Oosterhout! A heavy frost, the remnants of which we had seen hanging around the previous day, had returned along with an apparent dusting of the finest snow, which continued to barely visibly fall during the morning. The neighbouring polder looked impossibly picturesque, and we soon rugged up to brave the cold for a walk around the block with the cat! This was followed by a cozy morning inside, which seemed the ideal opportunity to indulge in a shower. This turned out to be a more stressful process than anticipated, by virtue of the confounded Dutch system of pressure and temperature dials, rather than hot + cold or mixer taps. I had long since forgotten how to operate these, and through my indiscriminate button pressing managed instead to activate the ‘Sunshower’ heatlamps, which promptly transformed the small cubicle into the seventh circle of hell. At length I managed to reverse engineer the taps and turn the water on, however by this stage had rather lost the appetite for a hot shower!

Een wittemorgen!

The polder had taken on an otherworldy air since the previous afternoon

After all of this excitement, we set off for Den Hout to enjoy a pancake lunch. As luck would have it, our route naturally took us past the local windmill, which we duly stopped to inspect. Sadly an extended spell of calm weather meant that it was not open nor running on this particular Saturday, so we had to make do with a walk around the outside. In doing so we managed to incur the ire of the new neighbours, who were not impressed by our inadvertently walking into what we subsequently discovered was their parking lot in order to take a few photos! Finding the gate leading to the mill unlocked, we had no issues in gaining access to inspect it at close quarters.

‘De Hoop’ (The Hope) is a fine example of a ‘bergmolen’ or ‘beltmolen’, characterised by the mound upon which the mill stands. This particular example is a ‘ronde steen’ tower mill rather than a wooden smock mill and is a relative youngster, dating from 1836. The mill tower extends down into the mound, making it a full storey taller than it appears, and large doors in the side provide vehicular access for deliveries and collections of grain and flour respectively. The purpose of the mound is to provide access for the miller to set the sails of the mill, without the need for a reefing stage or gallery as seen on ‘stellingmolens’. The beltmolen is particularly prevalent in the south of the country, and like De Hoop they are most prevalent today in the province of Noord-Brabant. Having not had the chance to inspect a beltmolen at close quarters in previous trips to the Netherlands, this was a welcome first for me!

In my element at last!

This was followed by ‘pannenkoeken’ at the wonderfully eccentric ‘Koeckers’ – a fairytale themed pancake house featuring extensive playgrounds, recreational activities, mini golf and a labyrinthine network of underground caves to explore! While presumably aimed to allow parents to dine in peace while the kids explore, it seemed only right that we should take it upon ourselves to indulge in the full Koeckers experience, flying fox and all! Nobody does pancakes quite like the Dutch, and I thoroughly enjoyed my dinner-plate sized ‘Holland’ pancake featuring ham, cheese, capsicum and, yes, pineapple. This paired rather too nicely with a coffee laced with whipped cream and Baileys – the Dutch sure do know how to keep warm in winter!

Pannenkoeken!

An underground labyrinth in a pancake house? Only in Holland!

Following this we set off to explore the delights of the Oosterhout town centre on foot. It was typically gorgeous, featuring cobbled streets, plenty of Christmas lights and all manner of shops which we enjoyed perusing. A particular highlight was a small street organ set up on the footpath, playing a selection of Christmas favourites. A close second was the ‘kaaswinkel’ – setting foot inside a Dutch cheese shop is an olfactory experience not to be missed! Upon walking through one of the parks, the temptation of a frozen pond proved too much for Christien and Kirsty who, seeing some kids having fun on the ice, decided to venture out themselves. This they did to a chorus of helpful advice as the children, sensing their nervousness, helpfully advised as to the best techniques. Sadly I did not get the opportunity to join them, as no sooner had they gotten out there than an ominous C R A C K sent everyone scurrying for solid ground!

Christmas in Oosterhout

An organ on the streets of Oosterhout!

Pictures you can smell…

Not one to be outdone, I did eventually find an opportunity to venture onto the ice myself!

Upon returning home, the evening’s entertainment was provided by a protracted stakeout and battle of wits with a ‘muis in de huis’ – having wondered why her cats seemed distracted during dinner, Christien pulled back the curtains in the corner of the room to discover a tiny mouse, which promptly jettisoned into the hair of a screaming Kirsty before running for cover! Fancying my reflexes, I took it upon myself to attempt to trap the offending rodent in a box as the girls shepherded it across floor – needless to say this proved repeatedly unsuccessful, and it was particularly sobering on one occasion to be nutmegged by the wee bastard on the eve of the World Cup final! Anybody observing the ensuing 90 minutes would have borne witness to a tiny mouse thoroughly outwitting two cats and three humans, and after turning half the house upside down we eventually gave up and deferred to the feline experts. Without our less-than-helpful interventions one of the cats soon caught the offending rodent, which in turn was rescued by Christien and released outside.

After sleeping off the ignominy, we set off the following morning for Breda for a spot of ice skating before making for Rotterdam. Having spotted an ice rink the previous day which looked suitably beginner friendly, we duly returned to try our skills. Having finally started to get the hang of it on my last attempt (in February 2017…) I was determined not to be entirely inept, with Kirsty just setting her sights on escaping the process uninjured. With Christien there to advise on technique we both soon started to get the hang of it, in spite of the youths quite literally running rings around us – skating is to the Dutch as swimming is to Australians! Gaining confidence much more quickly than my rate of improvement should have warranted, when we paused for a breather I unwisely opted for a Glühwein rather than a coffee. Of course, I returned to the ice full of *ahem* Dutch courage, and promptly landed on my ass within not 10 seconds. Not to be deterred, and certainly not to take the hint and slow down, I managed to hit the deck twice more before the session had ended, though fortunately the only serious injury was to my ego!

It’s no coincidence that this photo made the cut, as it’s just about
the only one in which I look like I know what I’m doing!

We then caught the train back to Rotterdam, during which I caught my first glimpse of a ‘draaiende molen’ on this trip – appropriately enough it was Molen de Lelie in Puttershoek, the mill that inspired ‘The Lily’ Dutch Windmill in Western Australia which features heavily in the very first blogs on this page! It was turning with full sails in the stiff winter breeze, and made a fine sight. Upon arrival in Rotterdam we checked into our ‘Cityhub’ accommodation (more on this later), and made a beeline for the nearest pub to watch the final of the World Cup! The local sports bar just around the corner was predictably bursting at the seams, so we opted for a cosy little pub just off the main drag, by the name of the Tapperij De Vijgeboom. With two half-pints of Heineken in hand (rest assured this was a translation error) and a plate of bitterballen being passed around, we settled in to enjoy the spectacle.

Molen De Lelie draait!

What ensued, of course, will surely go down in history as one of the most entertaining World Cup finals! We soon ascertained that the local crowd were barracking heavily in favour of the French, which must surely at least in part have been attributable to the Netherlands’ own defeat at the hands of the Argentinians a week or so prior. It is a great shame that the ‘Oranje’ didn’t make it to the final, as witnessing the Dutch in a final in the Netherlands would really have been something to remember! With the Argentines 2-0 up at the 80-minute mark we’d just about made plans to head to Delft for the evening, before Mbappe put on an unforgettable show for Les Bleus and upset our plans by scoring two rapid-fire goals to send the match into extra time!

By this point the game had the attention of all in the room, and it seemed almost inevitable that Messi should score in extra time, and Mbappe should complete his hat trick in the dying minutes of the half hour to send the match to a penalty shootout. It was a tense affair in the pub, with the lone Argentinian supporter ultimately being shouted a round as Messi and his mates emerged triumphant, thanks in no small part to the performance of Emiliano Martinez in goal for Argentina. With our nerves frayed and any hope of an evening in Delft well & truly dashed, we enjoyed a few more Heinekens and the refreshingly honest conversation of the locals before closing the day  by indulging in that quintessential Dutch cuisine, Vietnamese Pho!

A World Cup final to remember!

Messi & Co proved too good in spite of Mbappe’s best efforts

Dag 1 – ‘Het Ongewone Leven’ keert terug!

 

The Unusual Life is back! After what feels like an age since COVID put a stopper in international everyone’s travel plans, like many others the notion of flying abroad had become an entirely foreign concept to me, something of a distant memory and certainly not a live option. Nevertheless, with life now having returned more or less to normal, it seemed inevitable that sooner or later I would gravitate back to the Netherlands and England, and duly exhume the trusty blog to keep friends and family in the loop back in Aus!

The current trip will span some six weeks, starting with 12 days in the Netherlands before a four week stint in the UK, starting in Scotland and winding southwards through some old stomping ground as well as plenty of new destinations. A significant departure from previous iterations is a travel companion in the form of girlfriend Kirsty, herself a Scot and also, happily, a fellow Hollandophile! This trip is set to follow a rather more civilised agenda, ever so slightly less saturated with windmills and perhaps also featuring marginally less of my signature misadventure, though at this stage that remains very much to be seen…

The goal is not going on a holiday per se, but rather a scoping out trip to ascertain what possibilities might exist in both countries in terms of work and lifestyle, with a potential view to a move in the coming years. How this will pan out is anyone’s guess, but there’s no better way to find out than to jump right in!

After a genuinely impressive amount of procrastination in booking flights and the now seemingly obligatory cancellations and renegotiations, we set off from Kingsford Smith airport on the morning of 15th December with Asiana, bound for Seoul Incheon. After two of our original KLM connections were cancelled, we regrettably opted not to take up Aunt Betty on their miraculous new offer of flights landing in Amsterdam 3 hours prior to departure from Sydney, on account the connection time of minus 17.5 hours in Seoul seeming a tad tight(!) Unfortunately, the subsequent rebooking did mean that the outbound flights became a 32-hour marathon, with 11 and 14 hour legs separated by a 6 hour layover, further delayed by rerouting to avoid certain areas of eastern Europe…

With the company of my veteran iPod nano, an email backlog, Cars 3, assorted footballing documentaries and even a spot of Angry Birds, the flights passed relatively painlessly (alas in a figurative sense only, as my back and posterior made a point of reminding me that I am no longer in the same youthful shape as at the time of my last international travel!) A notable highlight was the shuttle train at Incheon Airport which, lacking rails, I had initially thought would be my first experience on a Maglev! I was perplexed by its bumpiness and speed (or lack thereof), and upon further reading it turns out that these trains are in fact APMs (Automated People Movers). These are effectively a glorified bus/train hybrid, four-car, rubber tired trains running on a guideway between the two terminals and interposed concourse. A first nevertheless!

The view from Seoul Incheon’s shuttle train

When is a train, not a train?

A chilly connection in Seoul!

Upon arrival in the Netherlands we were processed quite quickly, and in a stroke of luck my bag was 7th off the conveyor, with Kirsty’s not far behind! The customs officers in the Netherlands thankfully didn’t look twice at my sketchy box of sharp, metal windmill ornaments which had thoughtfully been individually wrapped in suspicious looking, small bubble wrapped packages. The same unfortunately could not be said for their Australian or Korean counterparts, and these in hindsight may have been better left for the hold luggage… The other notable and suspicious item in my baggage was a truly suspicious envelope absolutely bursting at the seams with wads of cash bound by rubber bands, in the form of Philippine Pisos. These followed me through the entire flight and attracted some funny looks before finally being cashed in at the Travelex in Schipol, amounting to an eye-watering €52.30(!)

Welkom in Nederland!

The windmill spotting begins…

We then made for Breda, via the Intercity train to Rotterdam Centraal. This route was familiar to me, the middle portion of which was saturated with windmills in and around Hoogmade, proiding my first glimpse of a real windmill in more than five years! A significant improvement on the last Netherlands trip is a new camera, which was soon put into heavy service in the glorious early morning light. In Breda we reacquainted ourselves with Starbucks (I’m pleased to report that the caramel latte tastes exactly as I remember), before wrestling suitcases up the stairs to the bus terminal and setting off for Oosterhout (literally the Dutch Eastwood) where we were staying with Christien, a friend of Kirsty’s from exchange, and her partner Luka.

De Hoogmadesche Molen, Hoogmade

Molen De Haas, Benthuizen

About halfway there my thoughts were interrupted by an angry volley of words from the bus driver, who to my horror I found staring at me in the mirror! It turns out that rubbernecking in the pram seats with several large suitcases in tow is a fraught exercise, as I had inadvertently pressed the stop button while moving around to see the view. Sadly I never got the chance to attempt smoothing things over in broken Dutch, as we soon arrived in Oosterhout and were met by Luka. We arrived more or less at the agreed hour, though sadly not on the agreed day – parties unnamed (but who, I hasten to add, were not me) had arranged the rendezvous for approximately half an hour later than our departure from Sydney in local time! After arriving at our base and settling in I discovered by some miracle that my old EE sim card from 2017 still worked, and after a bit of down time Kirsty & I enjoyed a brisk walk around the local polder.

In the evening we set off for the Christmas markets in Antwerp, about an hour’s drive away over the border in Belgium. It was a wonderful atmosphere, and a far cry from the Australian summer of 48 hours ago! We all indulged in some Glühwein (mulled wine) and smoutebollen (Belgian olieballen – think solid spherical doughnuts), which warmed the cockles of our collective hearts. The town square was bedecked in lights, and the cozy cobbled streets and grand architecture gave a wonderful reminder of just how picturesque Christmas in Europe is. A particular highlight was Het Steen, an impressive fortress dating from the early part of the 13th Century and looking like a scene from Frozen with all the Christmas lights! After surveying the markets we set off home around 9:30pm, and I can’t have lasted more than 20 minutes into the drive before falling soundly asleep – no surprise after such a full program!

Antwerp City Hall bedecked with lights

Out on the town in Antwerp!

The Kathedraal formed a focal point for the markets