Een club voor liefhebbers en/of bezitters van een zeiljacht van het Oostzeejol type Midget.

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A week of "England"  Midgetsong 1998  Affliction or virus  German Sands
Razzle Dazzle  "The Passage" 2003  From Greetsiel to..  2350 seamiles against the clock

With “Razzle Dazzle” and “Pride” to the Island of Terschelling.

                                                   (by Ton Vermaas,  English translation Bill Hart)

At the beginning of September 2001 we still have another week off. From Wednesday until the following Tuesday, great. But what can a guy do in just six days? Where can he go? Another trip to Terschelling?  Actually not too bad an idea.

The trip around the sands on Ascension Day, as a first time on my very own Midget 20, had been extremely gratifying. My fellow club member Ron, with his “Spirit of Pride” is equally keen on such a week’s cruise. For the time being I won’t dwell on the fact that our usual Friday night beer at the club might have had some influence on this decision….. Let’s go

The date of departure is set for Wednesday September 5^th.  Actually I should have had a closer look at the long-range weather forecast at my boss’s department. But that is hindsight. By not doing that you experience more of the things you would otherwise have missed. If that’s a smart idea is another story. More about that later.

After stocking the Midget –which does not take too long as space is limited- we depart our Houtrib harbour on Wednesday at about ten thirty. The wind is from entirely the wrong direction; force four from the northwest, exactly the course we have to take.

Because the previous days have been extremely windy, you wouldn’t believe the rollers that are running. Around the corner from the Commissioners lighthouse bucking waves becomes the game. Plowing into these with the Midget’s blunt nose, reduced my speed from time to about two knots over the bottom. We’re making progress, though, and are hoping to make it all the way to Makkum, today. Fortunately we’re blessed with sunny weather and it is not cold. I am setting my usual straight course toward Stavoren right across the Enkhuizer sands and the Vrouwen (Woman’s) Sands. This “woman” has recently been spreading sands rather liberally. It is slowly starting to get pretty shallow, even for a Midget.  Once in a while the depth sounder reads one meter twenty, which doesn’t leave you much to spare with a draft of one meter ten. After Stavoren things go a little quicker and at about eight o’clock we finally reach Makkum. Our friends (surely after this) Ed and his wife are awaiting us with a fantastic dinner aboard their “Whizzle”. Many thanks Ed. superb!  Not long thereafter we hit the sack. A day like that sure wears you out.

Thursday, at about ten, we depart Makkum.  Ed, with “Whizzle ” takes a southerly course with their beautifully coloured drifter. We are going straight ahead in the direction of the Kornwerd locks, were we swiftly lock through as experienced single handers. The wind is still from the wrong direction: North, force three to four. Nice wind for Ed on the Yssellake, but not for us, wanting to go north. Fortunately it is not cold and the sun makes things comfortable. But on the iron genny, for the time being.  For a change we don’t go by Harlingen and the Boontjes as before, but now via the Zuidooststrak and the Inschot.  Without difficulties we reach high-, during slack-tide. For me that does not  present such a problem with my one-ten draft. Also for Ron, with his greater draft, the tide is no problem. How was that again, with all those sparbouys on the sands with those open and closed channels and the navigational direction? I wished I had paid better attention during the piloting classes. Do I pass to port or starboard? Actually, because of my “spectacular” draft it really makes little difference. So, no grounding this time. A nice sun above, a seal just ahead, surrounded by the vastness of the sands and life really does not get any better. Boy, this is ultimate enjoyment. At the end of the Inschot we finally set sail. Tacking up the Vliestroom. With the tide and against the wind. Usually that produces tense moments, but this time it turns out OK. To turn in to the Westmeep from starboard, with this northerly, makes for a reasonable tack. Only you will face the falling tide full force. In these conditions, the Midget still manages to squeeze out a spectacular two and a half knots.

In the vicinity of the Slenk we will play motorboat again. To port from us a yacht is poking around on the Jacobs shoals, outside of the buoyed channel. With this rapidly lowering tide it does not appear to be the best place to be for yourself nor your yacht. Later, when we ask the skipper what he was looking for in such a spot, he told us that he still had six meters of water beneath his keel. There must be something wrong with either his glasses, his charts, his depth sounder, or a combination of all three. He’s lucky, does not run aground and follows us. Fortunately (though not for the salvage people of Terschelling) in the nick of time he manages to get away from those shallows. At five fifteen we are tied up at the yacht harbour  of Terschelling next to our friends Johan and Tjebbe. The rest of the day is devoted to the usual “docking-drinks”, dinner in the village, the pub and a final one for the bunk. You know what I mean.

That day we also make acquaintance with a new friend. The name is Leo. A pitiful meowing emanating from the Waters Ministry’s storage yard produces after some “here kitty kitty”…a pussycat.  Leo is not his real name, but from now on, it is. We feel so sorry for him that we opt for opening the tag holder on his collar to see to whom Cat Leo belongs. A phone call to the number on his tag does not produce the owner of Leo. Since this hairy quadruped of the smooching variety does not appear to be hungry, we abandon further attempts to save his life. But from now on, every walk from the harbour to the village and back, culminates in the friendly meow salutation from our new friend Leo. For one reason or another, on Friday afternoon, I decide after all to call our friends at the weather office at my home base. I talk to Brigitte, our weather girl, nicknamed Hurricane. You’ve got your predicting and predictable women.  This Hurricane, for me, is one of the predicting types. As a monogamous male, I fortunately do not know how predictable she is, which is a good thing.  Let’s leave it at that.

“Dear Ton, if you want to leave that island in one piece, you’d better leave immediately, because we’re expecting an honest to goodness autumn storm. I predict a Northwest blow force nine or ten, with a couple of peaks at eleven. Moreover, the storm is expected to last for a couple of days or so”  While sitting in the sun with a beer in my hand, I am a little doubtful of  her predicting talents at that moment,  and say: “It won’t be all that bad, Brig”. “ You’ll see, it’s really going to be quite bad. I wish you all the best and greeting from us here at Soesterberg. See you in a week”.  All around us we see several yachts cast off their lines to quickly head for the mainland. She was damn right. We decide to stay after all. We’ll see we have the time until Tuesday. By that time it should have abated. It won’t take that long. Friday night Brigitte’s promise arrives. It starts with a pretty decent blow. My Christine arrives on the ferry for a weekend at Terschelling. “Dazzle” and “Pride”, rafted together on the lee side of the harbour are banging against each other. There is no damage but this is no picnic. And this, in an almost empty harbour with much more comfortable spots, to which we (have to) move later on.

My Christine is one of the more predictable types: the very next day she leaves again on the ferryboat. A little bit my own fault. I could have known. I should have given her the whole story earlier.  I should have a better read of the book:” How do I get my wife on a sailboat?” Saturday, Sunday and Monday, heavy storm. The coaster: ”Birgit” runs aground between the Islands Vlieland and Terschelling. Which provides engaging listening in on the VHF. Mostly thought it’s the pub (usually the Whale), cat Leo, dinner in the village, pub again, harbour, cat Leo etc.etc. More entertainment is provided by the seal, which obviously fled the storm, and is busy catching fish in our harbour. In the village there is an old church that has been converted to library.