Friday, October 3, 2008

Over the Pond - Part Two

Over the Pond – Part Two

Aug. 27th. - Just another day in fantasy land.

I slept late on Wednesday morning.

The fact that I pulled a full 10-hour snooze shift and woke at 9:00 A.M. told me that I had beat jet lag. Rested and refreshed, I would spend today immersed in all things Dutch. Trudea, a regular household fixture, had arrived and was rattling around the kitchen preparing a typical Dutch breakfast with breads, jams, cheese, soft boiled eggs and coffee. The coffee cups are small compared to the ceramic goblets that we’re more used to, but that’s because the coffee is so much better. Quality over quantity, I guess.

Today, preparation for my cross continent ride would begin. The first step was to get more acquainted with Yomaha and European traffic. The Diversion’s riding position felt somewhere midway between my Ninja and the GTR/Concours. As such, it didn’t take more than a few miles for it to start feeling familiar. The motor is a little buzzy around 4000 rpm and does need to be spun up a bit, but will reward you with decent acceleration when you allow it a full head of steam. Below 4000 rpm not much is happening. This is a little different from both the considerably stronger low end of the GTR and my “all the power, all the time” 12R which I refer to as my one-gear wonder. Yomaha was a little more demanding of my attention - a lesson in which I was to get some schooling days later - navigating the Passo Stelvio switchbacks in the Alps.

Ad, with Trudea on pillion, led me through the friendly narrow streets of residential Prinsenbeek, then out onto the Autobahn. Familiarizing myself with the traffic signs presented no challenge. Didn’t need to... I was just following Ad’s tail light.

After an hour or so of just cruising around, we stopped into Breda, Prinsenbeek’s “parent”city. Breda has a colorful history. Dating back to the eleventh century, Breda was a direct fief of the Holy Roman Emperor. Due to its strategic location, Breda has been occupied over the years by Germans, French, and English. It has been home to both wealthy noblemen and royalty, and its palace was where the first Dutch princes resided. Despite a fire almost destroying the town in 1534, much of the grandeur of the old city can still be found.

Major cities everywhere look pretty much the same with their glass and chrome, but if you want to feel the heartbeat of a city, head for the old town. That’s were Ad, Trudea and I found ourselves enjoying good strong Belgium coffee on a sidewalk cafĂ© in the shadow of a 800 year old cathedral. I strolled through crowded open marketplaces drinking in the sights, sounds and wonders of my first real taste of Europe.


All too soon for my liking, we mounted up again and maneuvered our way back through the narrow maze of old streets to the more contemporary feel of “new town”. On the outskirts of town, we stopped off at Kasteel van Breda (Breda Castle). Nestled in a pastoral setting on grounds befitting its regal origin, this castle dates back to the 12th century and is the ancestral home of the Counts of Orange-Nassau. It now functions as a Royal Military College.

Our next stop was a flour shop. Over the years, and still today, windmills have performed many functions in the Netherlands. One of these functions is the grinding of flour and the shop which we visited was the ground level of one such windmill dating back to 1726. According to the proprietor, there are 40 operating flour windmills still commercially active in Holland. I scaled the worn ladder steps to the second, third and fourth levels of the windmill to see the 266 year old workings of the mill. The shopkeeper’s husband was upstairs hard at work milling the flour and tending the machinery. To be clear, this was not a tourist “show and tell” but a regular working family business.

After making some small purchases, Trudea purchasing the ingredients for tomorrow morning's breakfast pastries, we headed for home. Once changed out of riding gear, Ad, Guus - who had now joined us -, Trudea and myself headed out to dinner at one of Prinsenbeek’s finer dining establishments.

Earlier that day, I had received a phone call from fellow traveler, Phil Tarman. Since his arrival in Europe a couple of days prior to mine, he had been having his own travel adventures in France. He had now connected with my Belgian guide, Gie Lambier and proposed to meet us in Prinsenbeek the following morning. Originally Gie was to meet me on the morning of the 28th and begin our five-day odyssey of adventure to Tiefencastle. Ad was to leave a day later, taking a more direct route to Switzerland. Phil would now be traveling with Gie and I .

Harry Van der Laan from Delfszyl in northern Holland was to arrive at Ad’s that night. This would be a nice surprise for Phil as they were already acquainted from Harry’s travels in the States. In fact, Harry keeps a Concours garaged in Colorado at Rick Halls place just for his periodic trans-Atlantic visits.

Harry arrived shortly after our return from dinner. The arrival of Gie and Phil in the morning would bring our travel group to four : Gie, Me, Phil and Harry.

I committed time to preparing for our morning departure. My experience is that beer combined with trip prep is a strategy fraught with peril. I applied myself first to the needs of the morning departure.

First things first.

The challenge was to make my kit all fit in two Krauser-type hard bags and a tank bag.
Once I was convinced that I had tomorrow morning's needs addressed, it was Miller time (as we say on this side of the pond).

I now relaxed and enjoyed good Belgium beer, good company and good conversation. Ad, Harry and I discussed bikes, beer, COG politics and the social, economic and political differences between our two worlds. The more we talked, the more it became apparent that the issues are the same on both sides of the pond; they just use different names. World leaders should all be made to sit down in a room with beer and they can’t leave until all the world’s problems are solved. That’s what we did (beer tends to do that).

Eleven o’clock (or was it twelve) came all too soon. It’s bedtime. Tomorrow will be here soon.

And tomorrow is MOVING DAY!

It’s been another fabulous day in fantasy land. It’s hard to believe it’s only been one day. It’s still hard to believe I’m actually here.

Lights out!!