Riding under the Dome

The fellow from the hotel who serves our breakfast and checks us out shakes his head over our “old school” bikes as we wheel them out of the storage room and load them up.

”We’ve been told to stay home today,” he says. “It’s too dangerous in the heat.”

He waves us off and closes the door, retreating back into the air conditioned hotel.

We don’t really have a choice. We need to keep moving and get to Rotterdam. We have a plan. We will ride swiftly and not make unnecessary stops. We’ll try to source drinks from shops and not get stuck in cafe scenario where it’s easy to be delayed for an hour while you order, get served and then try to get the waiter’s attention so you can pay. We’ll stay hydrated. We’ll cut the last part of the trip, after we get to Kinderdijk, and take the water bus instead. We’ll survive.

We set forth under the European heat dome.

Just a few kilometers out of Wijk Bij Duurstede we come across a huge lock. Huge. There’s already one long river freight boat in it and another is slowly manoeuvring in.

Will we take a look? Sure! Why not?

Locks are fascinating. They are masterful implementations of a simple concept – that is, managing how boats get up or down river, navigating elevation changes without having to make like Jessica Fox running the rapids. They allow river boats to travel serenely, like swans, only bigger and uglier.

So we watch this huge river boat glide in and tie up, and watch the huge gate come down, then ride to the other end and watch them come out the other end.

No unnecessary stops.

We ride on. The path is mostly along the top of a dike which is bordered by either water, or by lush green. This helps with the heat. There are plenty of farm animals around and it strikes me how little shade or shelter is available. There are cows standing knee deep in water, but there’s no trees in sight. There are sheep crowded under makeshift shade cloth shelters; again, no other shade. I see a group of young girls leading horses away from the water, hopefully to shade. This country, this continent is not ready for this type of weather.

Another slurp from the water bottle. We ride on. We’re making pretty good time, but my water supply is getting low already.

We pull into the next town, up, over a small formerly movable but now fixed bridge. There are tables on the banks of the canal, set up with old lace tablecloths. A woman is standing by the edge of the road. She’s just been serving drinks to people seated at one of her tables. I pull up right in front of her.

”So,” she says, that introductory word that can mean so much – a question, a statement, a “here’s your food,” a gap filler.

”I need a cold drink,” I blurt and she swings into action.

”What would you like?”

”Bitter lemon please. Two!”

She’s a little surprised, but takes Neil’s order and tells us to give her our water bottles to fill as well. She then presses her advantage.

”Perhaps some cake? I have apple cake, strawberry cake, chocolate cake. All home made.”

I don’t feel like cake, but she is being very kind. “Apple cake,” I say, after thinking for too long what about would be easier to face.

The first bitter lemon is gone in seconds. I pour the second and savour it.

The apple cake is absolutely delicious!

We stay too long. It is very comfortable in the shade. The outlook is very pretty.

Buy drinks from a shop. Don’t get caught up in a cafe

The woman from the cafe gives us a tip. “Over there, where the construction is, there’s a door. Behind there is the oldest lock in Europe.”

When we get back on the bikes we visit the lock.

Was that necessary?

Then we are back on the dike, scooting along, refreshed, and with about 20km to get to Schoonhoven. If we had kept to plan yesterday, we would have already been in Schoonhoven. On the plus side of that, we would have been closer to Rotterdam, doing less in today’s heat. On the minus side we would have been going yesterday until about 8pm, in yesterday’s heat, on yesterday’s legs and in yesterday’s mind frame, which was not as good as today’s.

Up on our dike we look down into fields, into gardens, into back yards. We pass a community of thatched houses. How old are those thatches? How do you maintain a thatched roof? How do they keep the rain out?

People are out in their gardens, sitting at tables under trees, or in arbours. There’s so little air conditioning here. Are they outside because it is cooler than inside their houses? We, from the well air conditioned continent would be inside, sealed up in our cool houses, on a day like today.

We finally reach Schoonhoven and ride straight to the ferry dock. There’s a cafe. Of course we stop. We watch the ferry going back and forth between Schoonhoven and a point just across the river. It’s a fast trip and a quick turnaround. We time our departure from the cafe to join the queue of bikes just as the ferry appears to be departing the other side. But we wait and and we wait while some kind of manoeuvring is going on with the ferry. We wait, and we’re waiting in direct sun. There’s no shade.

The ferry finally arrives and appears to be listing to one side. There are two huge trucks on it. The trucks inch off carefully and the the ferry slams the gates behind them and pulls away from the dock. Oh no!

But they’re just turning the ferry around. One of the trucks got on the ferry, on our side, but had no money, so when they got to the other side they turned the ferry around and brought him back along with a full load of other vehicles. A truck driver with no money?

When the ferry is finally turned around and ready to load a Very Important Man in a Very Expensive Car tries to jump the very long queue of cars who have been patiently waiting. The crew tell him to get to the back of the line but he makes a run to try to get on the ferry. There is a lot of arguing. He is Very Important and must get to work. After much arguing he roars off the wrong way up a one-way street.

The heat is getting to everybody.

We have only around 20km to go, along dikes that run through fields. There are canals everywhere, and everywhere there is water today there are people trying to keep cool. It is so tempting to stop the bike and jump in, but we keep going, keep drinking water. The end is nigh.

A young girl holding a huge plastic water gun calls out as we pass. I swerve closer to her and she lets out a blast. Unfortunately the water jet barely reaches me; just a few sprinkles. I really want to tip my water bottle over my head, but need the warm water for drinking.

A group of young men try to keep cool in the time-honoured way: by gathering under a bridge and drinking beer. At least they are in the shade. I have a feeling there are going to lots of bright red sunburned shoulders, backs, chests, stomachs and other body parts after this day is done.

We’ve been promised windmills in this last section, and that promise delivers in spades. At first we see windmills out in the middle of fields, but then, along the final stretch into Kinderdijk, they are lined up along the canal – I believe there are 19 in total. They stand like a guard of honour as we pedal towards the main river, and the salvation of a water bus to Rotterdam.

But first, a cold drink. Over there, at the info centre – there’s a cafe. But no, there’s a note taped to the door, handwritten in English. They are sorry but because of the heat they are closed. We can get information and drinks at the cafe, back the way we came. But no, that’s closed as well. We have a one hour wait for the next water bus, and we are both thirsty-as with little or no water. We ride further into town and find salvation at a bar. They don’t have air conditioning, but they have every fan known to humanity blasting away, and we both slam down a cold drink and a beer.

Relief at last.

Suitably cooled down, we ride back to the water bus dock and board our Australian-made ferry for the ride into Rotterdam, and salvation in our air conditioned hotel.

There are things I just don’t get. The guy on the ferry, once he finds out we are Australian, so proudly shows us the metal plate on the deck that proves the ferry was made in Australia. Meanwhile, we have ferries running in Sydney that are made in the Netherlands. What?

It’s been quite the day, but maybe not as horrid as it sounds. While riding it feels much cooler – the power of evaporative cooling, and a sign our bodies are doing what they’re designed to do. It’s only when stopped in the sun that it becomes unbearable.

But the day is not quite done with us. We arrive at our hotel and I stand guard over the bikes while Neil goes to check in. He is taking a very long time. An American couple – cyclists (the bikes are a dead giveaway) – approach and ask if I am staying at this hotel. I am.

“What are you going to do with your bikes?”

I didn’t think there would be a problem. We research every place we stay and make sure they are bike friendly, with space to safely store our bikes.

This couple have been hassled about their bikes, told there is nowhere to store them, and then hotel finally acquiesced and found a corner where they could store them overnight. They wheel their bikes inside and disappear.

Neil is still standing at the desk. I make a questioning face through the window, and he points at the bikes and shakes his head. There is some animated conversation going on between him and the young woman checking him in. He finally comes out, smiling. Our bikes will be spending a couple of nights in a meeting room on the sixth floor.

All was not going well in the bike negotiations until Neil pointed out the questions and answers on booking dot com. As well as questions about dogs, cats, and the glass wall of the bathroom, there was a clear question and positive answer about bike storage. Apparently they are now going to remove that question, and perhaps also the employee who told the apparent porky. In the meantime, they have honoured their word and we retire to our room.

But the day is still not over. We have five days of stinking bike gear to wash and dry before we set off on our final push on Sunday. So, for our sins, at around 8pm, we are trekking to a local laundromat. Normally we would stay in an apartment with a washing machine, but there was nothing available in Rotterdam for this weekend. So there we are, when we should be eating dinner after a long day, watching our clothes go round and round in a laundromat that is hotter than Hades.

With everything else done that needs to be, we are seeking food at near 10pm. A couple of tacos in what can only be described as a food court (with attendant loud, live DJ) has to do.

Finally the day is done.

Stats for today:

• Distance: 74.44km
• Climb: 135m
• Average speed: 17.8km/h
• Average temperature: 34C (When we got to Kinderdijk it was 38C)
• Moving time: 4:11:14
• See our ride on Strava

The beer picture

At the end of a day’s ride, our tradition is to enjoy a beer, and to photograph it for posterity. Today’s beer picture was taken at a pub in Kinderdijk, the place of last resort we sheltered in from the heat while waiting for the water taxi to Rotterdam. I had already sculled a bitter lemon before even starting on the beer. The pub had fans going all over the place, including one that had a water reservoir and thus worked as an evaporative cooler.

Along the way today:

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