August 6, 2015
Valthermond, Holland: Rest day blues
IN the Tour de France, they go for a ride on their day off. It eases their legs and keeps them in the mood.
I should have done that yesterday. But I didn't and this morning my ambition to ride into Germany died in the first half hour. I felt better as the morning went on but never did I fancy a long day just to spend the night in Germany.
And to be honest, I'm getting tired of being in Holland. I feel at home here and sometimes I think I should have been born here. Holland hasn't done me any harm; the people have been friendly and we've laughed at the same things. And apart from that one wet day, the weather has been kind. But the more I ride, the more I think I've seen it already.
To really get off even middling quiet roads, you need far larger maps: walkers' maps. The everyday Michelin doesn't do it. I'd need a library of walkers' maps, though, and not only the weight but the cost makes them out of the question.
And some of the really tiny roads are forest tracks. I tried a couple of those the other day and turned back as my wheels bogged down.
It has been better today, though. Up here in the north - and suddenly I'm seeing signs for Groningen and Leeuwarden - the population is the country's sparsest. And that shows in quieter roads. The snelwegen are as frantic as ever but they take a greater percentage of the traffic and spread calm elsewhere.
So I rode past goats and sleepy cows with poet's eyes, and nervous sparrows with their black-hatted heads, and through crows which broke off from squabbling on the road to let me pass.
They forecast 30 degrees today, which is going some for Holland, and the thermometer was heading that way as I rode into Zweelo - or Zweel', as they pronounce it locally.
I was there for a brush with the arts. Because here in Zweelo, Vincent van Gogh sat down outside a church and sketched it. It was November of 1883 and he took the liberty of adding a shepherd with a flock.
The church has been there since 1252 and it's changed a bit since then. It's changed since Vince sketched it, too. Windows have appeared each side of the door and there are now four windows at the side rather than three. But otherwise it's much as it was when van Gogh sat there with his pencil tucked behind his ear.
These days it's at the edge of town. Back then it was in the country, which gave him the right to add sheep.
Tonight I'm on a large campground with its own lake. I was sitting in the doorway of my tent when I was interrupted by a man pretending to be a chicken. I quite reasonably expressed my confusion.
"It's a game for the children," he explained. "They have to find all the people making animal noises. I was a cat last year. I've been promoted."
We talked about the ride and I referred to "Holland". They're more sensitive about that up here, as far from the western provinces as you can get, and he told me the country was the Netherlands, not Holland.
I protested with a laugh. "You've got the tourist office against you," I said. "They call it Holland."
"Yes," he said, joining the spirit of the conversation. "And so do trucking companies, even here in the Netherlands. They paint 'Holland' on their awnings. And you know why?"
I said I didn't.
"It's because they have to pay by the letter, so 'Holland' is cheaper than 'the Netherlands'."
We both laughed. It was a very Dutch solution. I told him of a rhyme that a long gone British trade minister had written of his countrymen.
In matters of commerce
The fault of the Dutch
Is giving too little
And asking too much
He laughed and said he'd write it down.
Then he asked which region of Holland I knew best. I said Noord-Brabant, down in the south.
"Ah," he sighed with mock sadness. "We call the people there Reserve Belgians..."
Today's ride: 66 km (41 miles)
Total: 3,320 km (2,062 miles)
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