Like a Bridge over not so troubled waters

During a night of the most spectacular storm, where houses apparently burned down in Amsterdam after being struck by lightning; we congratulated ourselves on making the right decision, and not camping. I think though, that Mr V was relieved at not having to endure what would have undoubtedly been an unhappy camper! I have to say that I revelled in the luxury of a coffee maker, bathrobe and hair dryer following a blissful night snuggled in a comfy bed. We shared a lovely breakfast with our host Nelly then bid her adieu to tackle the much anticipated sea bridge.

Our welcome lodgings and the lovely Nelly

When Mr V briefed me that our route that would take us over a 35km sea bridge, in my mind this was a traditional bridge. The kind with stantions and girders; I was looking forward to the exhilarating exposure of cycling suspended over the sea. The reality, no less of an engineering feat, is a 35km land bridge.  We were fortunate that this was a very calm day, but even so the cycle path is for the main, below the level of the road and therefore has some leeward protection. Those parts where it travels along the top did not feel nearly as exposed as you would presume. Though admittedly, this may not be the case on a day with the wind howling and rain lashing down.

We took a breather at Checkpoint Charlie, a watering hole on an island halfway across and relaxed with a very welcome cold beverage, before completing the home stretch.


Once we reached the far side of the bridge we took some time to view the sea lock and take in some of the ships around the maritime museum and harbour, where a wedding was taking place officiated by Jesus on the Ark (I think there may be a timeline error there!). We were though puzzled by the large sculpture of the squatting man.


Much of today has been traveling alongside some major roads, which has not been the most pleasing of vistas, and given that it was a hot and sticky day, offered little by way of shady relief. We had bought the victuals for lunch, but it was about 2.30pm before we found a spot that was suitable to picnic. By this time we were almost running on empty and scoffed it down; never has bread ham and cheese tasted so good. We indulged in a rather long stop, dozing in the warm sunshine, replete.

Legs or hotdogs shot

All things must end though, and onward we went to our intended destination. Today was the day where there were no ferries. But there were bridges.

For the most, we relied upon technology very little today, but when we have had to use it, it has been vital. As with previous days, we find that the rural routes are straightforward, but when you hit the towns it is not always so easy to stay on track, so we have referred to the Lone Ranger on these occasions. Though not infallible; erroneously thinking that one cycle track met another at a straightforward junction, meant that Talula had the indignity of being man-handled down steps to get back on track. But we made it, our route planning system held up for the most part

We camp tonight, in a small quiet site where the other occupants (glamping in their caravans) are all silver haired, before venturing to Arnhem tomorrow.

Today’s well used route plan

As we are traveling with minimal baggage and personal effects, I knew it would be necessary to wash clothes. Mr V shared with me tonight his patented camping clothes washing method; whilst having a shower put clothes underfoot and stamp around on them with the soap lather. I also find that the not inexpensive cinnamon solid Lush shampoo that I had purchased is used on all parts of Mr V. He is incredulous at the fact that I take more than one product into the shower. Heigh ho.

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