Motor Boat & Yachting - January 2016 UK

in Holland for Christian Swarovski, a member of the Swarovski
crystal family. Sadly there were no shimmery chandeliers, or even
sparkly crystal bunny rabbits, in the master cabin.
The boat is kind of unique in that it is Class A rated so capable, in
theory, of traversing oceans. But, with the ability to hydraulically
lower its radar arch and shed its windscreen, it could, again
theoretically, limbo under those 11 foot high bridges of the French
canal system. Its 16 foot beam also meant it should be able to ease

• at a pinch – through the 17 foot wide locks.
  It was well-fettled with a couple of muscly 225-horse, straight-6
  Perkins Sabre turbo diesels, with big hydraulic bow and stern
  thrusters for turn-on-a-dime manoeuvrability. Big steel skegs were
  there to protect the props and barn-door-sized rudders on the
  notoriously shallow canals. It was perfect.
  To captain her, my wife and I took seamanship courses in France
  to get our ICC International Certifi cate of Competence tickets,
  primarily to learn how to stay the heck away from the 300,000-tonne
  barges barrelling along the Dutch rivers. We did a VHF course in the
  UK to get licensed for the boat’s three radios. And 20 years of owning
  a sailboat in Florida taught us that a lack of forward motion usually
  meant we’d run aground.

FALLING IN LOVE WITH HOLLAND
After moving aboard in the spring of 2013, we spent our fi rst
summer getting to know the boat and meandering along the inland
waterways of Holland. I know it’s been said many times, especially in
the pages of MBY, but this is one of the best cruising areas on the
planet. We loved the entrenched boating culture, the mix of deep-
water canals and wide rivers, a huge inland sea – the IJsselmeer – and
easy access to the North Sea, the Baltic, Scandinavia and beyond.
And being Holland, everything works. There are pontoon
moorings for tying-up at night literally everywhere you turn – even
in the middle of Amsterdam – with water and electric hook-up for
less than the equivalent of £15 a night. And liftbridges that magically
levitate after a quick request on the radio.
It was a year in which we covered the length and breadth of the
Netherlands, ate way too much cheese, gazed at hundreds of
windmills and failed miserably to string together even a few words of
Dutch. “Het wiel is gedaald van mijn fi ets.” That means, “The wheel
has fallen off my bicycle.” Which I did actually say, courtesy of
Google Translate, in a Rotterdam bike repair store.
Fast forward to April. Over the winter we’d formulated Le Grand
Plan for heading to the Med. But with a milestone Big 6-0 birthday
on the horizon, and brimming with newfound confi dence, we
decided that London and St. Katherine Docks would be an awesome
place for a party. And a great starting point for the whole adventure.
So we leave our winter base in Enkhuizen on the IJsselmeer, take
the huge Amsterdam-Rhine Canal south, cross the glorious
inland tidal waters of Zeeland, exit Holland at Vlissingen and nose
our pointy end into the big, bad North Sea.
Our fi rst day on salt water was a welcome anticlimax. Vlissingen to
Dunkirk. Glassy seas. Light wind. Easy tides. Little commercial traffi c
on what is one of the world’s busiest stretches of water.

A heart-soaring moment;

sweeping through the

Thames Barrier

The Erasmusbrug

bridge in Rotterdam

Leiden – one of the many

gems to be found in Holland

Flat seas but poor

visibility crossing

the Channel

Nomade nestles into

a berth in Chatham

Then it was ‘the crossing’. Dunkirk to Ramsgate, just over 40 miles. At

our tug-boat-like 7 knots, we reckoned on fi ve and a bit hours. Just in

time for tea at the Royal Temple Yacht Club. No problem. But did I

mention the eel?

Like all responsible captains, I do a series of engineroom checks

before we cast off. Dip the stick on each Perkins. Check the transmission

fl uid. Turn the grease caps on the shafts. And check the water inlet fi lters

for greenery. Only this time, as I unscrew the starboard engine fi lter cap,

out slithers a slimy half-metre-long tail.

Of course, being a Floridian my instant reaction is that this is some

deadly water moccasin that had got sucked into the system and is all set

to plunge its fangs into me. Realising that it is probably an eel – a salty

CANALS TO THE MED

JANUARY 2016 53

CANALS TO THE MED