Industrial-strength

The Dutch often call attention to their country's being small. In one of the most endearing examples, a TV-Noord Holland message on energy conservation concludes: "Nederland is klein. Denk groot." The Netherlands are small. Think big."

This is a bit of a game, since the Dutch will also quickly claim many of the World's Largest. World's largest dike, largest man-made land mass, largest water gate, largest canal system...and Rotterdam/Europoort, the world's largest shipping port.

This last one surprises many people--they think of New York or Singapore or one of the other ambitiously expanding (often merely ambitiously hyped) ports. I probably shouldn't have spent a whole day riding through, but I did, and redeemed myself (whew) by finding one vantage point (below) that ensured the whole day was worthwhile.

The night before, there had been a terrific accident on Huizerweg, below my window, the third accident I had heard and then seen in just my year there. In this one, a young man had run down the lane-divider post before plowing into a parked car and then a moving one. He must have been doing over 80 km/hour, which is twice too fast on that street, even in daytime. Well, I'm glad I don't drive much here.

The trip to Den Haag was a short one, including a weird train transfer under Schiphol airport. But a couple of nice conversations on the way, including the tale of one man who borrowed his brother-in-law's sailboat and then lost his passport while docked in England. I showed him the passport photocopy I always carry around--one in the bike, one in the car, etc etc--and he decided that was a pretty good idea. The UK police were not amused when he couldn't even come up with his Dutch passport number.

I step out of Den Haag Centraal station, and in the middle of the open area (between the station and the zebra clock) was this...this...this stack of sea containers. I assume this was backdrop for some kind of outdoor concert, or...in any case it was an interesting omen for a trip through industrial transport areas.
 

On my way south through Den Haag (the Hague, or 'S-Gravenhage if you are a Dutchman's Dutchman) I happened to ride through the government area. Just the one picture--it's hard to photograph--but while I read the plaques, I realized that this area was special in a way that hadn't occurred to me. This is one of the most sensible, rational, peaceful, capable governments on the planet, and around it are people who are entrusted by the whole world to try the world's most horrible, corrupt, and politicized international criminals, ethnic cleansers (what a term), that sort. In other words, this little spot, for all its modest appearance, is one of the most intense concentrations of civilized behaviour on the planet.
 

I rode through the village of Monster, just because I liked the name. I thought about taking a picture of the entry sign and myself, hands raised Boris Karloff-style, but dismissed the idea as a little too kitsch. On to Maassluis...

And the ferry across the Maas. I don't understand why the Dutch hesitate to bridge the Maas here, as there certainly is enough traffic. Boat height can't be the issue, as there are at least two bridges just upstream in Rotterdam. But the ride was very pleasant, even though we had to stop and start to dodge a few gigantic ocean-going cargo vessels.
 

Once on the south side of the Maas, I saw a part of the Netherlands that very few people see, especially very few non-Dutch, and never on a bicycle (fiets). This is car and truck country--everywhere I went open-jawed people remarked "fiets? Een fiets, HIER?" And though most of the land in the Netherlands is artificial or engineered to some extent, this area lining the Europoort is engineered to the centimeter. In this picture, roughly from left to right, note: windturbines, two-way bike path (fietspad), separation rail, freeway exit, freeway (under construction), guard rail, busy electric train line (several tracks), service road, industrial park.
 

Part of this new freeway was blocked off, which means nothing to bicyclists. I was just about to start down the bike path continuation, when two motorcycle Police stopped two other motorcyclists coming out of the area. They didn't ticket them, but apparently there was quite a lecture. I casually turned right toward the overpass. When the Police overtake me, a car turning right suddenly stopped to let them pass and was immediately hit by the truck behind. I ride by just as the Police sigh and pull over. Police witnessing of an accident doesn't get much more direct than that.

 
 

It's amazing, it just goes on and on. I rode for hours by things like this, trying to get to Maas again, on the west (North Sea) side of Europoort.
 

And I followed the curve around Maasvlaakte, the end of the artificial spit of land, half-filled with row after row of oil storage facilities, and a several square kilometers of open land bulldozed to the flatness of a still lake, and a small airport in the middle. At when I had followed the curve to eastward again, I came across a sign for a parking area named Maasmond (mouth of the Maas).

...where I discovered a pile of very large quarried rocks. In part of the pile was the shape of a lounge chair, and there I had lunch, watching the ships go in and out, seeming to dodge each other, waving to the to police boats running up and down the riverbank. The biggest boats were mostly on their way out, with the ebb tide. Tide: the Dutch take sailing very seriously. Their word for time is...tijd. In any case, the view is endlessly entertaining, some ships with cargo containers stacked five or more high, with nothing visible to keep them from just tipping off the stack and into the deep sea. Nothing but the fantastic size of the ships to damp out waves of any size. The ships were coming from and going to who knows where: I could make out home ports of Hong Kong, Buenos Aires, Tokyo, and Helsinki. And the pile of rocks to watch the procession is highly recommended: at 51.98204 degrees north, 4.04817 degrees east.
 

And I doubled back eastward, up the Maas' south bank, until I was across from Hoek van Holland. A few fishermen stared as I rode past. I had not seen another bicycle for 25 kilometers, absolutely the first time I had experienced anything like that.
 

Since most of the way had been blocked by big rivers, open areas with no paths or roads, and inaccessible industrial areas, I had necessarily done a lot of backtracking. I got stuck in the sand at one point, trying to cut across the edge of a nature preserve and coming up to barbed wire that I didn't feel like attempting with a loaded bike. More backtracking. Soon I had had enough and headed across one last bridge onto one of the Zeeland islands.

And I was rewarded by the fortress town of Brielle. The church (steeple pictured) has been built around so tightly that it is essentially unphotographable, but the canal area on the town's north side is very pleasant indeed. The scale and ambience of these village-center canal areas--Muiderberg, Brielle, Weesp, Spakenburg, Enkhuizen, Marken--can be very pleasurable. I cannot quite figure it out. But clearly the Dutch have. Florida could learn a lot, believe me.
 

And more riding along riverbanks back to the Maas ferry where (no accident) the Maassluis train station stands. A lot of the riding has had headwinds and no view. Head-down riding. I swallow a candy bar almost whole and drink a liter of water on the three trains home.

I am happier to have done this ride than to do it. Tomorrow the weather is promising, and I need that ride to be different.