Borkum, Germany

Last night, just as we were finishing a game of backgammon and then getting ready for bed, another sailboat came into the harbor, and Peter had to go on deck to help her get moored to us, which took about half an hour with the wind and current. Peter reported back that we were not the only ones making awkward docking maneuvers. 

Although the island of Borkum's economy is supported by fishing and fish processing, as our noses revealed to us when we came into port, the main source of income for the island is tourism. A ten minute walk from the visitors' wharf where we are docked are the ferry docks, which come and go from the mainland cities of Emden, Germany and Eemshaven in the Netherlands several times a day. There are trains comprised of colorful cars and little red locomotives that transport ferry passengers the 7.5 kilometers between the dock and the center of the town of Borkum. We went to the ferry dock, not realizing that the train was really only for ferry passengers and was included in their fares, but a man who ocassionally works on the ferries told us we could ride for free because there are no conductors on the trains. So we did!

The immaculately clean train was filled with families and couples from the mainland with their rolling suitcases and daypacks. Slowly and steadily, the train passed through open land until it reached the middle of town. On disembarking, we discovered that the cobble and brick streets before us were lined with shops selling souvenirs, beach paraphernalia, ice cream and other things that we are used to seeing at beach towns on the mid-east coast of the United States.

We stopped in a Lutheran church, lovely and much less richly decorated than the Anglican churches in London and Catholic churches in London and in Belgium we have visited this year. There is no ostentatious show of gold, silver, marble, elaborate carvings, tapestries, memorials, and art work on display. The sanctuary is modest, simple in design and tranquil. 

Lutheran Church in Borkum

We walked past the New Lighthouse, which sits in a small park in the middle of town. When fire destroyed the old lighthouse in 1879, the New Lighthouse was built in record time between May and September to ensure the safety of passing ships. Still considered one of the most important sea lights on the North Sea coast, at 197 feet (60 meters), it is the twenty-fourth tallest traditional lighthouse (building purposely built by authorities as aids to navigation) in the world as well as the third tallest brick lighthouse. It serves as a day marker and a light at night; on clear nights, the light is visible for up to 45 kilometers.

New Lighthouse and gray skies

From the lighthouse (which can be climbed but did not seem worth the effort on this changeable weather day), we strolled past hotels, not yet in full use by summer vacationers, to reach the large promenade and wide beach. In shallow water inside a sandbar, kite surfers and windsurfers were enjoying speeding along the surface of the sea with brisk winds. It was starting to rain, but it was only a drizzle, so we walked along the promenade for a bit and then turned back in towards the downtown area. 

Kite surfers and a windsurfer and two people on the beach

Borkum beach and the lower level of the promenade

We were thinking about lunch when a sudden downpour made us quickly decide to pop into the nearest cafe. The menu was in German only, and the servers spoke no English, so we had to use AI to translate the menu. There were no enticing vegetarian options, so I chose apple kuchen from the display of pastries and Peter opted for an open-faced sandwich with avocado, smoked salmon and rocket. 

Passing more tourist shops, we found an ATM, where we tried to get euros. However, Peter's debit card had expired at the end of May, so it was not possible. (I did not have mine with me.) It matters little since we use credit cards for almost everything. 

Locomotive and train cars in downtown Borkum

Our timing was fortunate; the train was leaving for the ferry dock just about the same time we were ready to return to our boat. On the previous train ride, the windows were open and people were standing outside on the ends of the cars to enjoy the nice weather. However, this day, sunlight has been rare, appearing for 15 minutes to half and hour, to be replaced by gray skies and intermittent rain, sometimes quite heavy and once with thunder. Passengers were inside for the ride to the ferry, most of us with damp jackets and clothing, so the windows fogged up and dampness hung in the air.

The wind has been blowing a lot of the day at about 20-25 knots with gusts up to 40. The boat is rocking all the time, and we are closed in from the cold and humidity. The little heater is running right now to take off the chill. Still, I sit here in fleece and a warm hat, far from being toasty warm.

Tomorrow we leave the dock at 5:30 a.m. to sail for Helgoland, a German island northeast from here toward the coast of Denmark. Unfortunately for them, we will have to rouse the crew on the next boat to let us out.

Vlieland, the Netherlands, to Borkum, Germany

Sherri and Peter with layers, ready to sail from Ameland

It was a bright day with partly cloudy skies and a nip in the air, and the wind was blowing from the southwest at 20 knots when we cast off at 9:40 this morning from the dock in Ameland in the West Frisian Islands to travel to Borkum, and island in the East Frisian Islands in Germany. After about an hour of making our way through the winding channel to the open sea, we were able to turn of the engine and sail on a deep broad reach, cruising along at an average of 8.3 knots. Throughout the day, we tacked and changed our point of sail, varying between a broad reach and dead down wind with the sails set wing and wing. 

Peter at the wheel 

The north side of Vlieland from the boat

We started out enjoying good sailing, but the deteriorating weather was not up-lifting. Over the course of the day, the cloud covered changed in percentage from 25 to 90 in an hour and then decreased to 50 then 40 then 30 before going the other way around 3 p.m. and becoming 70 by 4:30 and 100 by 5 p.m. The sky was a ominous gray and the water was steel gray with a slight green tinge. My mood steadily dropped as the day grew darker and chillier. We wore our foulie jackets, hats and life jackets the whole time. Toward the end, I was feeling like the day's travel was becoming interminable. 

Around 5 p.m., the wind speed fell to 12-14 from the southwest, and, with the current not in our favor, we were forced to use the engine for the rest of the day, even when the when picked up again. Uncertain about where and how to dock, having been unable to contact the harbormaster by phone or VHF radio, we followed the green and red marks into the yacht haven on Borkum. We decided to dock in one place, but a man who had been showering naked on an adjacent finger pier told us that we needed to dock on the other side of the wharf. Various sailboats, all smaller than Mantra, were rafted up two by two. We decided to try to dock at the outer end of the wharf. A couple of men from other boats came to help with lines. Peter was at the wheel and I was told to throw the bowline to a man on the dock. I failed to reach him with two attempts. On the third time, it worked, but the wind was blowing the boat away from the wharf and the stern swung to starboard so that Mantra was almost perpendicular to the wharf. By then, two more men had arrived. The men, who were very strong and more experienced than I am, managed to pull her around steadily once I tossed them a spring line. Eventually, with Peter thinking that the lines should be released for a fresh attempt and the men determined to make it work, our boat was parallel to the wharf and securely tied. It was the worse, most embarrassing docking experience ever!

The wind is still blowing around 20 knots and anticipated rain has started and is expected to last through the night and all day tomorrow, so we may be docked here for two nights. Borkum does not look as pretty at the West Frisian Islands, but we will try to do a bit of exploring tomorrow.

Ameland, West Frisian Islands, the Netherlands

We pulled up anchor at 1:30 yesterday (Monday, June 1) and made our way past the island of Terschilling to reach Ameland. To leave the anchorage of Oost-Vlieland, we had to follow the marks out the channel and then head west for a few kilometers along the North Sea side before exiting the area of shifting shoals and finally turning east. We had good wind for sailing on the open water for a couple hours, and then we had to start the engine. We followed the twists and turns of the marked channel past the west end of Ameland to reach the harbor at Nes, halfway along the south side of the island. We were unable to get a response by phone or e-mail about dockage in the yacht haven, but there was plenty of space and we tied up along the first long dock. All the other boats are local, with some being old and lovingly maintained. Many have wooden leeboards. The Wadden Sea is shallow, so boats have to have short keels to be able to sail in it. 

Local recreational sailboats in the marina

After arriving at 8:30 p.m., we spent the evening on board. This morning, having the privilege of sleeping late again, we skipped breakfast on the boat and went ashore. The ferry from the mainland docks nearby, and there is a place for renting bikes of all kinds by the entrance to the ferry dock. We rented two manual bikes. The rental shops on these islands offer electric bikes, but with the flat terrain, there would seem to be no need. Four young women were renting two bicycles built for two, but we decided not to go that route. The bikes have comfortable seats and seven gears and were delightful to ride. The streets and paths are all cobbled and well-maintained. Unlike Vlieland, visitors can bring cars here, but there were very few on the roads. 

First we stopped in the village of Nes for something to eat. Rain was predicted for the afternoon, so we wanted to spend as much time exploring on wheels as possible. We bought breakfast food from a bakery and ate it on a bench outside. Then we peddled away with no real destination in mind. The residential areas are tidy and attractive, with colorful gardens. After a few blocks, we were out of the village and surrounded by open fields and meadows. 

Peter in Nes

Peter admiring pastries

When we came to a windmill, we stopped for a look. Although it was not running at the time, the Mill de Phenix is still operational and is used for grinding Ameland rye (rogg) into flour used to make traditional rye bread and to process rapeseed for oil. Mills have stood on the site since 1629. The current smock mill (a type of windmill that consists of a sloping, horizontally weatherboarded, thatched, or shingled tower, usually with six or eight sides), built in 1880, has a low brick base, is winded by tailpole and winch, and uses Common sails which are spread over a lattice framework and can be reefed. The smock and cap de Phenix are thatched, with the date of construction and a coat of arms cut into the thick dried vegetation. It is listed as a Rijksmonument (national heritage site) by the Dutch government. 

Peter at Mill de Phenix

Detail of Mill de Phenix

The date "1880" in the thatched smock of the windmill

Underneath the windmill is a shop and the refurbished and working grinding and stamp mills used for producing flour and oil from agricultural products grown on Ameland.

Nearly 200 types of birds can be seen on Ameland throughout the year. Bird song accompanied us throughout our ride through the countryside. The fields were spotted with wildflowers, and many birds could be seen. In our casual birding today, we got a new lifer, the black-tailed godwit! We also saw an abundance of common redshanks and a few northern lapwings with their babies. Many more birds we could identify by their sound but could not spot them.

Male common redshank near the village of Buren

Female common redshanks on a post with sheep on the dyke

Northern lapwing and two babies

A brief spattering of rain came as we were headed back to the village of Nes, but luckily heavier rain waited until we were safely onboard Mantra. Just a bit earlier, the rain was bouncing off the decks as the wind gusted up to 25 knots. 

Tomorrow morning we wind our way out through the channels to the North Sea and head for the island of Borkum across the border in Germany. 

Vlieland, Part 2

Interesting algae formations by the dinghy dock

Yesterday (Sunday, May 31) around 3 p.m., we dinghied to the yacht haven, disposed of our trash and recycling, and walked to the only town on the island, Oost-Vlieland. There used to be another town, West-Vlieland, but it was lost to the sea in 1736. We had lunch in the village; Peter's chicken dish was colorful and beautifully presented while my two cylindrical vegetarian croquettes sat on two fat pieces of white bread. The filling seemed to be mostly pureed mushrooms. Oh, well, at least there was a vegetarian option. To make up for the lack of protein in my meal, we stopped for ice cream afterwards. (For those of you who have been to the Scottish Highlands Creamery in Oxford, Maryland, you will understand when we say we have not found anything to compare in our travels so far.) 

Peter on the main street in Oost-Vlieland

We walked west from the village partway along the southern shore of the island, where there were a few fields with horses. We spotted just two and then a whole gaggle of barnacle geese in the pastures. This is a species we had not observed before.

Pasture land west of Oost-Vlieland

Barnacle geese

Including the walk from and back to the marina, we traversed about five miles on our walk, mostly through forest with views of large meadows with bogs, some of which still have spring flowers blooming. It was a gentle, slow walk on well-maintained trails. Once we left the shore of the Wadden Sea, we encountered only one other person on the path. We enjoyed the tranquility while listening to bird songs and calls. Peter first noticed the distinctive call of a cuckoo. We followed it and waited patiently for ten minutes or more for a view of it, but, like the other birds such as the Eurasian blackbird, the meadow pipit, and the common chaffinch, it was well-camouflaged among the large-coned tall pines and deciduous trees. We did spot a lot of butterflies, however.

Red admiral alit on black cherry blossoms

We happened upon a lily pond just off the path as we were heading east toward the marina, with the lilies and irises providing a contrast to the shades of green of the forest. We spotted some black and white goats near the lighthouse, which is situated on the island's highest point at 42 meters (138 ft.).

Water lilies

Billy goat

Irises by the lily pond

Vlieland's lighthouse

Although it may not have been necessary, we wore our hiking boots instead of our sandals for our excursion, and my feet were tired of being confined by the time we arrived back at the marina. My flip-flops were a welcome relief!

On the boat, after a dinner of leftovers, Peter worked on charting routes while I read. Sunset came around 10 p.m., and Peter pulled out the conch hour to greet the night (which, in these latitudes, does not actually occur until a couple hours later). Then we went to bed. We sleep so well with the gentle rocking of boat. 

Peter greeting the sunset over Vlieland

This morning, a trawler passed close by us. As it gathered its catch while motoring in parallel lines, the crew cleaned it, which resulted in a following of a couple hundred gulls, squawking loudly.

Trawler and gulls

We are ready to head for Ameland, our next destination in the West Frisian Islands. 

Vlieland

We are back to slow-paced cruising lifestyle, with no long lists of sites to see. We sleep as long as we want and are feeling very relaxed.

Around 5 p.m. yesterday (Sat., May 30), after the dinghy engine was taken apart, cleaned and re-assembled (which took several hours) Peter and I went in to the yacht harbor. We followed a old tall ship into the narrow channel, which took some maneuvering by the captain as he had backing away from it at full throttle to turn toward the approach at an angle so that the current would help sweep him in on a direct line. There are many tall ships moored just inside the entrance to marina, which was pretty packed with smaller boats from the Netherlands and Germany. 

Tall ship entering the marina

Tall ships moored together

Tying up the dinghy, we began to explore the island, walking along sandy paths through low forests and  meadows full of dense brush and gorgeous flowers, and across high dunes to reach the north side. It was a calm and sunny day, and the North Sea lapped gently at the shoreline, where hundreds of thousands of shells, mostly from clams, were scattered. The beach is quite wide and stretches the entire 12 kilometers of the east-west axis of the island. There were few people and several dogs on the beach, spread out over distances. We prefer the natural setting of the Frisian Islands to the beaches along the coast of Belgium, where high-rise vacation rentals line the coast.

View from high dune above the beach

Diurnal cinnabar moth

Peter on the beach

Bird's foot trefoil

Pink roses on one side of a path, white on the other 

The Frisian Islands are an archipelago separating the North Sea from the Wadden Sea, stretching from the Netherlands to southwest Denmark. The Wadden Sea is the largest unbroken stretch of intertidal sand flats and mudflat in the world. It stretches over 300 miles, with a total area of 4,000 square miles. The islands themselves feature beautiful beaches, dunes, forests, polders and Pleistocene glacier sand deposits. The mudflats support a diversity of life forms, including seals, worms, flatfish, crabs, mussels and oysters as well as 34 species of birds, some permanent residents and some passing through on their migration routes. 

During the last ice age, which ended approximately 12,000 years ago, sea level was about 60 meters (200 ft) lower than it is now, and part of what is now the North Sea was dry land. With the melting of the ice caps, the sea level rose, reaching the current coast line around the beginning of the Holocene era, approximately 7,000 years ago. Tidal action transported large quantities of sand to form a line of dunes extending over 500 kilometres (310 mi) from the Netherlands to the mouth of the Elbe River in Germany. The sea broke through the dunes in many places to form the Frisian Islands, with the low-lying country behind becoming the tidal Wadden Sea. 

The current configuration of land and sea developed as a result of storm tides in the 10th to 14th centuries. These tides carried away former peat land behind coastal dunes which are now the islands. Some of the islands, such as Vlieland and Ameland, have moved eastwards through the centuries.

Yesterday, after enjoying some of the natural landscape of eastern Vlieland, Peter and I had a delicious dinner al fresco at a restaurant by the marina before returning to the boat. Once again, it was difficult to imagine it was time for sleep because the sun sets around 10 p.m. and the twilight lasts for a couple hours. Without the natural light being blocked by the dinghy, which is on the foredeck over our large deck hatch during passages and when we are in marinas for a long time, the sun, which rose around 5:15 a.m., woke me up. It did not prevent me from rolling over and promptly going back to sleep.

This morning I did two loads of laundry because we needed clean sheets and clothes and it was sunny with a light breeze (although clouds have moved in now). After lunch, we will do some hiking on land. No worries, no rush!

Vlieland, the Netherlands

We are now anchored off the southeast end of the island of Vlieland, and the sun is shining and the boat is rocking gently in the current and wind. Peter is getting the dinghy ready to launch so we can go to the island. We slept very well last night in this peaceful place. There was only one other boat anchored nearby. There is a marina, but it is filled with local sailboats, and the entrance is quite tight. We did not go there mainly because we could not reach anyone on the radio who could speak English. It was all Dutch or German. 

White sand beach on the North Sea side of Vlieland

Under a cloudless sky, with 11 knots of wind from the east, we cast off our lines from the Royal North Sea Yacht Club in Oostende just after noon on Thursday, May 28, and set off for this place, traveling overnight in view of the coast, passing many large wind farms. The amount of ship traffic was amazing, particularly near Rotterdam, the largest seaport in Europe and the largest in the world outside of Asia. The port stretches over 40 km along the North Sea and is physically larger than the city of Rotterdam itself. It handles over 27,000 seagoing vessels and over 90,000 inland vessels annually. Out of the big ship channel in designated area, hundreds of ships were anchored, with the mass of them looking like cities themselves. To get past the entrance to the port, we turned on our engine and reported in to the harbor traffic control via VHF radio, as required. We were told exactly which bearing and which speed to use to pass through safely, as dozens of ships cruised by our bow and our stern in perpendicular lines at more than twice our speed. We had never seen so many vessels appear on AIS on our electronic charts before! 

Once north of that area, the white, red and green lights of hundreds of floating behemoths faded into the distance. Although there were always several ships in sight, we no longer felt overwhelmed. With good wind, we were able to sail smoothly across the surface of the sea until the 8:30 a.m. on Friday, May 29, when the wind speed dropped and we were forced to use the engine. Peter had been on watch in the early morning hours. After making breakfast burritos for us, I took over. A few hours later, Peter woke up to find that we had recently passed over a wreck without incident (There were no markers, just a small icon on the charts) and the mainsail had backed as the wind shifted from west to NNW. Somehow, I hadn't noticed, probably because I was composing the last blog post. Unable to raise anyone on the radio, we motored through the channel between Vlieland and Terschelling into the Waddenzee while watching about a hundred small boats cavorting just offshore of the islands. We easily found a great anchoring spot, dropping the anchor at 3:15 p.m. and settled in for a peaceful afternoon and evening, listening to harp music. 

Now, back to our grand day out in Brugge. After descending the spiraling steps of the belfry, we emerged into the bright sunshine. We then made our way to Museum Sint-Janshospitaal (Museum at St John’s Hospital) across from the Church of Our Lady. The property contains some of Europe's oldest surviving hospital buildings, dating to the mid-12th century, and there are exhibits of medical devices, religious icons and Flemish paintings. It treated ailing pilgrims and travelers and was later expanded with the building of a monastery and convent. It served as a hospital until 1977.

Peter under one of the arched gateways to the hospital

Part of the complex holds the Hans Memling collection, which was the main attraction for me. Memling is a famous 15th century German-Flemish artist of the Early Netherlandish school. In 1465, at the age of 35, he became a citizen of Brugge (which had to be purchased at the time), where he became wealthy. The hospital's museum displays seven of his masterpieces, four of which were commissioned by the hospital's friars and nuns. The large triptych of the two Saints John the Baptist and John the Evangelist was completed in 1479 and has five paintings. It is stunning, with vibrant colors, amazing perspective, minute detail and balance of composition, inviting viewers to sit and contemplate it, as we did. All seven works are marvelous, but I was particularly drawn to the Portrait of a Young Woman/Sibylla Sambetha. The delicacy of the lace, the pure and realistic color of the skin, the texture and luminosity of each fingernail show the fine skill of the artist. Also special is the Gothic wooden reliquary, the Shrine of St. Ursula, which was commissioned for the hospital and is considered one of Memling's greatest works. Constructed of carved oak with gilding and meticulously painted tondos in oil, it displays scenes from the life of St. Ursula and her 11,000 martyred virgins and other religious stories. 

Saints John the Baptist and John the Evangelist tryptich

Shrine of St. Ursula

From this part of the hospital museum, we went to the historic 17th century apothecary, which was run by the nuns, who also maintained a garden of healing herbs.

17th century apothecary in Museum Sint-Janshospitaal 

Scales and medicine jar in 17th century apothecary in Museum Sint-Janshospitaal 

Outside St. Joseph's Hospital, across the street beside the Church of Our Lady, two young buskers were entertaining passers-by with short pieces played on stringed instruments. It was teatime for Peter, so we stopped in a small cafe for a piece of cake and a refreshment for him. I had water because there is only Coke Zero available here, and I much prefer Diet Coke. 

Young buskers

Another canal scene

Our next destination was the Prinselijk Begijnhof Ten Wijngaerde (Princely Beguinage Ten Wijngaerde [Vineyard]) which was founded around 1244 and recognized as an individual parish in 1245. It came under the authority of King Philip the Fair in 1299. There is a Gothic church and about thirty houses, painted white, dating from the 16th, 17th and 18th centuries around a central yard with grass and wildflowers. (Cows used to graze here.)  No beguines live have lived here since 1927; it is now a Benedictine convent.

Prinselijk Begijnhof Ten Wijngaerde houses

Prinselijk Begijnhof Ten Wijngaerde houses

Prinselijk Begijnhof Ten Wijngaerde garden

We wandered through a beguinage a couple years ago in Belgium when visiting Sam and Emi and learned about this type of unique community in the Low Countries and later in France. The word refers to a complex of buildings created to house beguines, lay religious women who live in a community without taking vows or retiring from the world. The development of beguinages was part of a religious movement in the 12th and 13th centuries, partly in response to a demographic surplus of females, who socially had only the choices of marriage or nunnery for financial support. Between the 12th and 18th centuries, every city and large town in the Low Countries had at least one beguinages. While many of the architectural sites still exist, they have been converted to private homes, social housing or residences for the elderly. Very few serve their original function; Prinselijk Begijnhof Ten Wijngaerde is one of them.

After leaving Prinselijk Begijnhof Ten Wijngaerde, we continued our ambling through the streets and along the canals, passing by two historic godshuizens (God's houses) or almshouses. Starting in the 14th century, wealthy guilds and philanthropists built these white-washed, interconnected cottages around central gardens to house the elderly, widows and the less fortunate. In Brugge, about 40 of them survive, with some still functioning as social housing. Small white-washed archways squeezed between businesses lead to alleys and the housing. It is easy to miss them. The almshouses themselves are in the interior of city blocks, with few or now windows facing the street, a trait developed by the builders to avoid window taxes in former times.

Entrance to a godshof

At 6:30, we returned to Museum Sint-Janshospitaal for a harp concert. It was performed on a small stage within a delightful museum of historic harps, some original and some reproductions of ancient musical instruments. It is all the creation of Luc Vanlaer, harpist, composer and instrument builder. Vanlaer not only entertained us with music on various instruments but discussed with great knowledge and eloquence the instruments on display, some original and some his own reproductions based on such things as ancient Egyptian wall paintings. The concert was much more than we expected, and the education about the history of the harp was wonderful. This experience was the highlight of our day in Brugge.

Harps and other instruments on display

Luc Vanlaer playing a classical harp

After purchasing a flash drive of five CDs by Vanlaer, who only plays music he has composed, we left the museum and walked to Minnewaterpark, a serene space just south of the city center with a large lake where ducks and swans float placidly on the surface--except one swan, who seems to be agrily defending its territory.

Minnewaterpark

Perturbed swan

We caught the 8:38 train back to Oostende, had dinner and then went directly to bed. 

Three more boats, all local, have arrived to anchor near us. Peter is now cleaning the internal parts of our little dinghy engine, which gets gunked up with ethanol. The dinghy is in the water, and we will head to shore after lunch.

Peter working on the dinghy engine

Vlieland from our boat