Boaters take a canal trip through the Netherlands
We knew this trip would be different. The idea to charter a boat and cruise the Friesland region of the Netherlands had been inspired years earlier by a Travel and Leisure magazine article. Enthralled by the idea of meandering through the canals and waterways to view the historic and scenic villages along the way, we vowed that someday we would make that voyage.
The preparation
The time was right to begin our dream trip, so we browsed boating magazines and the internet for chartering opportunities in the Netherlands. Eventually, we discovered Hatenboer Yachts. Their website was friendly and their boats were adequate. We chose a route that would take us through the “green heart of Holland.” We could manage the distance in a week easily, though our boat would travel only about 6 mph.
We would begin in Nieuwegein and then travel to Gouda, Amsterdam and Utrecht before heading back to the homeport. Friesland, in the northern part of that small country, would have to wait.
The boat we chose was 10 meters (about 35 feet) in length and had a steel hull, single engine, bow thruster, two staterooms and one head. Dual controls made it possible to steer from below and above. From the pictures, the interior looked basic but adequate for our needs. We determined the height of the boat was low enough to clear the many bridges we would encounter.
We reserved the boat online, received the documentation via UPS and finalized the deal. Hatenboer sent us charts for our route, which we avidly studied. After booking our airline reservations and automobile rental, we were ready to go. We each packed only one small bag, slightly bigger than a carry-on, as we were determined to travel light. It was one of the best decisions we’ve ever made. Luggage is heavy, cumbersome and takes up space. I often reminded myself I was not having tea with the queen; I didn’t need to take everything in my closet.
Our arrival
When we landed at Schiphol Airport outside Amsterdam, we picked up our rental car and began our journey to Nieuwegein. Unfortunately, I—the trusted navigator and trip planner deluxe—had misread the name, many times. Instead of guiding my faithful and patient driver, David, to Nieuwegein, I directed him toward Nijmegen, a considerable distance away. After more than an hour and a half of driving, I realized my error and corrected our route, and we circled back.
By then, rush hour traffic had begun, and the small roads we thought would be shortcuts were blocked with construction projects. We were caught in long lines of cars with impatient drivers. David, to my amazement, never uttered an angry word. I was awed by his forbearance. I knew he was tired and stressed from the long overseas journey and was looking forward to quickly reaching our destination.
After reaching Nieuwegein, we easily found the marina and our waiting boat. We went through the preliminaries with Hans, a brusque, humorless, highly efficient man, who assumed we were skilled boaters and would be able to read the Dutch-language guides, which gave valuable information about the locks, water levels, marinas and docking areas.
We were delighted to find our boat was outfitted with more than the necessities we would require for our trip. There were pots and pans, a coffee maker, dishes and even boiled egg cups. The bed in the master stateroom was small, hard and covered in plastic. The head was a combination toilet and shower. The tiny forward V-berth proved perfect for storing our empty suitcases. The boat lacked the comfort and spaciousness of our boat in Fort Worth, but we were in the Netherlands, and we had unlimited vistas and waterways to explore. We were happy.
David took a short course in steering the boat from an affable fellow who gave us good information about preferred marinas and time schedules for drawbridges and locks.
David was quickly certified to pilot the boat, and we left the marina to go into Nieuwegein for supplies and dinner. We spent considerable time in the small grocery store, reading labels and marveling over the different items. We ate dinner at La Barca, a lovely Italian seafood restaurant facing the canal leading from the marina. For the first time, we ate tong, a trout-like fish that was served lightly battered and crispy with a distinctive saltiness.
Sated after a delicious dinner and a bottle of wine, we returned to the marina ready to rest at last. Unfortunately, we found the gate was locked. We had not been told the gate would be closed after a certain time, and we did not have the entry code. Determined not to let this little problem ruin our beautiful evening, David made a daring decision to scale the gate. Landing safely on the other side, he helped me manage a side entry by jumping over a barrier. All of this was surely caught on surveillance camera, but no alarms sounded. We left our car outside the gate to be retrieved in the morning.
We spent our first night on the boat in the quiet harbor surrounded by other rental boats. We were exhausted after our long flight, the trip from Amsterdam and the provisioning; however, we were too excited to sleep. Despite the hard mattress and the plastic covering that prevented the sheets from staying in place, we were comfortable, delighted to be finally starting our journey.
I informed him we were competent boaters but had no knowledge of Dutch and had never seen the two-volume guides that he told us would be our bibles for the week of our cruise. He thrust them at me and stated I could translate them. I immediately knew, as a navigator, I was in over my head.
Day one: Nieuwegein to Montfoort
Our first day began overcast. Armed with several charts and a guidebook with bridge and lock information, I pulled my deck chair next to the pilot station on the bridge, poised to navigate through Holland. Casting off from Hatenboer harbor and turning starboard into the canal leading through the edge of Nieuwegein was exhilarating. Early risers strolled alongside and some waved happily to us.
At the end of the canal, we were confronted with a major decision. We wanted to go to Gouda, but no signs pointed in that direction. In fact, there were no signs at all. Looking at our chart, I stated, with all the confidence I could manage, we should turn port. The entrance to the narrow canal on our left gave no indication that it led anywhere promising. I am a strong believer in charts; therefore, we turned port.
The narrow entry soon led us to a lovely canal bordered by a street lined with trees and stately homes. On the opposite side, we passed a picturesque old water mill that was no longer in use. We saw our first drawbridge ahead. David had studied drawbridge etiquette and knew that the vessel coming through the bridge upstream had priority. The light facing us from the bridge was red. We had to wait. There was considerable traffic, and the bridge was teeming with bicycles and pedestrians. When the light finally turned green, the bridge lifted. The boat from the opposite side came through, and we shifted gears and went forward with a triumphant feeling. We could do this! We were ready to continue onward.
A light rain began, but we raised our hoods, covered our charts and books, and stayed on the bridge. There was so much to see and we were having so much fun that we could not bear to steer from the cabin below. By the time we traveled the short distance to IJsselstein, the rain had stopped, and we saw, lining the canal, neat rows of small houses with tidy yards filled with pots and beds of blooming flowers.
The journey past IJsselstein went through dairy lands, miles of verdant pastures containing hundreds of large, fat, beautiful Holstein cattle. The vivid contrast of black and white cattle against the lush green countryside reminded me of a Rosa Bonheur painting. We saw Guernsey cattle, sheep and ducks as we cruised from one farm to another. Before reaching Montfoort, we passed a small, immaculate camping park filled with rows of small, well-maintained trailer homes. Some appeared to be temporary but others, obviously permanent, were surrounded by decking and individual yards, each beautifully landscaped. The Dutch constantly exhibit neatness and order, and we saw few violations of this national commitment during our stay in this small, beautiful country.
Montfoort was a treat with its imposing city hall, stately church spires and lovely brick streets leading to the canal. The drawbridge near the town center was briefly closed, so we had time to walk along the bank and gaze into the store windows. It was here that we first encountered a drawbridge operator who extended a wooden shoe tied with a length of rope to a pole as we passed his station. From our guidebooks we knew that this was his way of collecting tips. We had our euros ready and dropped them into the shoe with a smile and a happy “dank je.”
After Montfoort, the canal widened, and we encountered more boats. Like the houses, the boats had lace curtains on the windows, and some carried pots of blooming flowers on their decks and bridges. Magnificent hydrangeas with blooms as large as dinner plates filled the yards and gardens along the canal. Pear and apple trees were common, as were charming, thatched-roof cottages. Newly built, spacious two-story homes and large, modern barns soon appeared on the dairy farms along our route.
As we approached Oudewater, we found a classical music radio station, and, to a magnificent aria by
Pavarotti, we made our entry into this lovely little city with its medieval-style bridges and homes. The narrow brick streets were filled with Saturday pedestrians and cyclists.
Caravans of small boats, which appeared to be privately owned, lined up at the drawbridge. To stay in place, David had to constantly forward and reverse our single engine and use the bow thruster. He soon began to love the bow thruster. It made maneuvers possible that would have been difficult otherwise.
The weather markedly improved, and we saw glimpses of blue sky. With light wind and no rain, it was jacket-and-cap weather. We docked near a small park, tied to convenient steel rings placed there for such a purpose and had lunch on the deck. At Haastrecht, we learned the bridge operator would not return from his lunch for another 30 minutes. Again, we joined the caravan of boats waiting their turn to advance. Since the wait was long, we tied off and walked along the canal, enjoying the exquisitely landscaped yards and admiring the other boats.
Promptly on schedule, we saw a young man riding his bicycle toward us, dismount, switch the lights and open the bridge. Following accepted rules, the boats advanced, each one waving to him and placing coins in his wooden shoe. No one complained about the wait. Life was not to be hurried. The bridge would eventually open, and we would all eventually reach our destinations. We were making good time and staying well within the strictly enforced speed requirements.
David’s instructor at Hatenboer had advised us if we wanted to visit Gouda, we had to be through the lock and drawbridge before it closed at 6 p.m. on Saturday because it would not reopen until Monday morning. We decided to stop in Gouda for a long rest and to explore the city and learn about its culture and history.
The Mallegatsluis provided entrance from the Hollandse IJssel river to the center of Gouda. This was our first time docking in a lock, and David and I were especially fearful as other boats joined us in the narrow space. We held tightly to the lines as we watched the water rise, hoping that we could exit without colliding with other vessels. When the sluice opened, we waved to the lockkeeper, and, like
ducklings following their mother, cruised behind the other boats into the city. We had reached another milestone in our journey, and now we were even more confident that we could successfully complete
this trip. Passing under the drawbridge, we saw the lovely park where we planned to dock ahead.
The Netherlands is hospitable to boaters. There are abundant mooring areas and ample sources for electricity and water. We found a perfect place to dock next to a stretch of green space with many old trees. The other side of the canal was lined with brick apartment buildings and small shops. It was attractive, quiet and convenient to the city.
Eager to see the area, we locked the boat and took our ancient bicycles from their racks. They had little paint on the frames and no gears, and the seats were worn and hard. We took our chains and locks but couldn’t imagine anyone being tempted to steal such junk.
Balancing precariously, we wheeled into the narrow lanes leading to the magnificent Stadhuis, a Gothic
delight with its pointed spires. We were surprised to find market day was still in progress, and we wandered through the stalls, admiring the local produce and the display of bright yellow wooden shoes. David, who likes to “dine, not just eat,” perused the menu cards posted outside the restaurants and made his selection for the evening.
We returned to the boat, changed for dinner, and then rode our bicycles to Sheeps, a small seafood restaurant, painted in blue and yellow with lovely prints of sailing ships adorning the walls. The fish was fresh, the apple tarts delicious. We capped off the wonderful day with glasses of wine on deck and enjoyed the lovely weather and peaceful, quiet ambiance.
Day two: Gouda
Determined to see as much as possible while in Gouda, we rose early, dressed for church and biked the short distance to Sint Janskerk. Its stodgy exterior gave no hint of the magnificence within. Boasting the longest apse in Holland, Sint Janskerk has 70 stained glass windows, many dating from the 15th century, and an elegantly simple interior with antique brass chandeliers and polished wooden pews. The Dutch-language service was two hours long. The people were gracious and welcoming, the organ music was beautiful, and we felt blessed to be part of, if only for a short while, a congregation that had existed for hundreds of years.
Following a light lunch, we visited the Museum Gouda, housed in a former hospital. The extensive collection of artifacts, depicting life in Gouda through the centuries, was meticulously and ingeniously installed throughout this ancient building with its thick walls and polished wooden doors and floors.
Afterward, we returned to the boat, changed into casual clothes, and spent the remainder of the day bicycling through the quiet streets of Gouda and admiring the beautiful flowers, stately buildings and charming homes with lace curtains in every window.
READ THE CONCLUSION OF “HEART OF HOLLAND” IN THE WINTER 2027 ISSUE OF THE ENSIGN.
