Cycling, canals and small towns, written down before they are forgotten.
The dike road from Hoorn runs straight into whatever the IJsselmeer decides to throw at you. Today it was a north‑easterly that turned 28 kilometres into a slow argument with the handlebars. Enkhuizen made up for it: the harbour was quiet, the drop tower at the Drommedaris caught the last light, and the bakery by the station still had speculaas.
Woerden, Oudewater, Haastrecht, back along the Hollandse IJssel. Sixty flat kilometres, mostly on knooppunt routes, with three ferry crossings that cost a euro each and a coffee stop at the cheese weigh‑house. Best done on a weekday morning, when the farm roads belong to herons and the occasional tractor.
Dutch waterways look planned from above, but most follow old peat ditches dug by hand in the eleventh century. The kinks are property lines and arguments that were settled 900 years ago. Once you know that, a map of South Holland reads like a ledger.
Occasional notes from someone who moved to the Netherlands for a year and stayed for the cycling. No newsletter, no comments, just a page that gets updated when there is something worth writing down.