Friday 11th September 2015

Wednesday

As you can see now, this trip to Holland was panned as one of celebration. For me, it was the end of 25 months of hard work, for others it was even longer, so to have achieved this was really quite something. And the main day of celebrating was the Wednesday, in which we, well, as you will see, we lived the life of Reilly. It was something we could all get used to.

We had bailed on the idea of finding a local bar the night before, so we all rose bright-eyed and bushy tailed, ready for for what the day had to throw at us. A few of us met for breakfast, the usual Dutch thing, and whilst in Holland, I had buttered rolls with sprinkles. You have to have sprinkles when in Holland. So I did.

We did all meet outside the hotel at half eight ready for the drive to IJmuiden, on paper a 20 minute trip or so, but after the chaos of yesterday, anything was possible. In the event, we had a trouble-free trip. Or was much of it being trouble free as it could be with all of Holland on the roads at the same time, jams seemed to be everywhere, but we managed to get through, and soon enough we were travelling along beside the canal into IJmuiden. But for a change from the norm, we were leaving from the marina in front of the Holiday Inn rather than the quay beside the offices we worked from. All we had to do was find which yacht was to take us out and contactt he master.

And thanks to mobile phone and with broken English we did, and soon we were let onto the pontoon on our way to to a fine trimaran yacht, our steed for the day. Waiting in the lounge was sugar cake and coffee, we were briefed. Outside the sun shone down from a clear blue sky, and a gentle breeze blew: it was a perfect day.

The mate cast off. I say mate, she was a woman, so it that a matess? I don't know. But with the engine chugging away, we moved out of the marina, into the main channel out of the harbour, between the lighthouses at the end of each arm of the sea defences and so out to sea. We cruised along, just enjoying being out on the sea, sipping coffee and sitting out on the deck soaking up the rays of the still warm sunshine. We did have to tell the master which of the windfarms to head towards, as there were three, but once we had been put right, we all settled down and waited for us to travel to the windfarm.

As we drew near, a couple of bottles of champagne were opened, and foaming glasses passed around, we toasted our success and each other and the farm and us again. Not being on a workboat meant we could not sail into the windfarm, so we cruised around, taking our time. The mate brought up plates of food for us to feast upon, told us there was beer in the fridge. We feasted.

As we turned for IJmuiden, we headed into the breeze that had begun to blow, making the yacht jump out of the water at time, Even more so once the sails and spinaker were set, so we set along at nearly six knots, powered just by the wind. Just like the windfarm. Some of the team were looking a little green, and I have to say the smell of the fish from lunch wasn't pleasant even for me. It took two hours to get back, but once we entered through the lighthouses, the breeze dropped, and all was smooth once again.

And just like, it was all over. I suppose I could have gone into great detail, but for the most part, we stood or sat, looking at the sea, the receding coastline or the approaching turbines. It was just bloody good, sitting on a yacht, drinking champagne, getting paid for it. These days happen very rarely.

We climb off the yacht and bid the crew, both of them, farewell. It had been a fine way to spend the day. We drove back into Amsterdam, little trouble with traffic this time, and with 90 minutes before wheels for another meal, I thought there little point in me going out exploring. So, retired to my room to freshen up and look at the shots I had taken.

We all met again at quarter to seven, where three more taxis were waiting for us, this time to take us to the very centre of the city, to where we were told they served the very best steak in the city. Lead on, McDuff.

The convoy headed off along broad roads, initially, then down narrow streets, dodging trams and other cars, over humped back bridges leaping over canals, sharp turns to the left and right. It seemed to take half an hour, but finally we were a few yards away from the sexiness of Dam Square. I can confirm, Rob, that we did flash past many of the fine churches I know you would love to have seen. I saw them flashing by, so now know how grand and wonderful they were. But they would have to wait another day.

The restaurant was called CAU, and part of a chain I have now found out, it is quite expensive, and getting a reservation for 12 is very hard. But they had our table, and a selection of fine strong beers. I order a 400g steak marinated in chorizo, paprika and garlic. Of course we have starters too, the sea life gave us fine appetites. THe beer flows, the food arrives in plates and dishes. Other also have deserts to follow their 1Kg steaks. I bail on those, and have a liqueur coffee, and as the other males look for a bar to retire to, I go with the director and a couple of the others into Dam Square where we negotiate with a taxi driver for the fare back to the hotel. I have to be out of it and on the road to the airport by half eight, so no extra beers for me.

We speed through the near empty streets of the city, running red lights and playing chicken with trams back towards the south part of the city where I would find safety back in my hotel room. Phew.