Summer Classics

The summer’s weather has been pretty lousy here in Holland this year, but even the brooding skies couldn’t put a damper on this past weekend’s classic festivals.

We started on Thursday with the inaugural evening at Haarlem Jazz. They’ve swapped out the main tent for an open-air podium this year which we found much nicer, especially since the stage was transparent and you could see the historic city hall behind the performers.

Then on Saturday, we got up early to get Sage out into the woods so that we could leave her for the day while we joined our friends on their boat for SAIL Amsterdam. SAIL only happens every five years, but it is the largest festival in the country. To see it from a boat was really special - a once in a lifetime experience for us.

Boarding the boat in the quiet harbor at Penningsveer – the only calm waters of the day.

It was tough to find a mooring in the crowded waters and whipping wind as we waited for the sluice at Spaarndam.

In the sluice.

The boat traffic kept building on the North Sea Canal approach into Amsterdam….

…until it was a virtual traffic jam on the water. You could walk from boat-to-boat! Beth and I were stationed on the sides with grapple hooks to push boats away that might get too close.  There were many shouts of "Full thrust reverse!!!"

Sail 2010 Video 

This YouTube video shows a bit of the craziness of boats weaving in and out of the channel.

But seeing the tall ships against the backdrop of the city was spectacular.

Het Ij was filled with all kinds of boats…

…loaded with all kinds of passengers.

Then we did a daring dash across the Ij and made for the calmer waters of Amsterdam’s canal rings.

We found a great mooring by this old tower for lunch.

It was a great place to sit and watch the boats go by.

Beth and I hopped off the boat and said our goodbyes…

…then jumped on a train back to Haarlem where we got Sage out for another walk before heading back to the city center for an evening of funk at the music festival.

Now it’s time to recharge for next weekend – a proper sendoff for summer.

Smoked!

 Beth and I are ramping up our training for the Amsterdam Marathon in October. The last time that I ran this marathon, I had only trained at the bare minimum levels, which got me over the finish line in decent time but left my body in a sorry state for the next week and a half. I couldn’t even come down a flight of stairs without wincing in pain. 

So this time around, I’m going to be much better prepared. In addition to already running between 25-30 miles per week-- well ahead of schedule for the October race, I’m also incorporating a day of cross-training with the bicycle into the weekly routine. Last weekend I managed to get Beth out on one of these workout rides with me. Normally she’s more of a “watch-the-scenery-go-by” cruiser on the bike, which is fine with me, but this time she agreed to break a sweat. 

So we took off out of town on one of my favorite loops – into the dunes behind Santpoort, across Landgoed Beekesteijn, through the tunnel at Velsen, then a nice wide arc around Spaarnwoude and back into Haarlem through the village of Spaarndam. It’s a modest 40K, so I set a pace that would get a little burn into the muscles and sweat onto the brow, but not push her so hard that she wouldn’t enjoy it. She held up like a trooper and was all smiles at her accomplishment as we were coming back across the last dyke and pedaling hard against an angry headwind. We had the landmark radio tower of Haarlem directly in our sites and were talking about how good that first cold beer would taste. 

And that’s when we heard the familiar “Ring, Ring” of bikes coming up on us from behind, wanting to pass. I pulled in front of Beth to give them room, expecting the usual suspects -- Lycra clad athletes on carbon-fiber racing bikes, tucked into a tight, drafting formation.

But instead, two late middle-aged riders, on grocery-getter granny bikes (complete with saddle bags and baskets), blew by us like we were standing still – pedaling effortlessly with their faces held high and their hair flowing majestically against the ferocious head wind. 

The look on Beth’s face was priceless.

So priceless in fact, that I still haven’t told her about the extra-fat hub I noticed on their back wheels, the telltale sign of an electric-assist bike. She still thinks that we got smoked by a granny-fiets-- a fact that I insisted would NEVER have happened if I were out biking on my own. Fortunately, she won’t be reading this blog entry until I’m safely cruising at 30,000 feet above the Atlantic.