Fyne Tyne to Rhine - 2

Our rail journey to the ferry in Newcastle was stressful as we had expected. Three separate trains and fitting the bikes into each one's storage space was a challenge, either because the doors are too narrow or else because a group of Canadian tourists had dumped their enormous suitcases in the bike storage area. The final train from Edinburgh to Newcastle required us to hang one bike from a hook in a small cupboard then squeeze the other one alongside it. Then having arrived in Newcastle we had to push our bikes over a bridge to get from one platform to another and reach the station exit. The forty minute ride from there to the ferry terminal was quite straightforward after all that and thankfully a calm sea journey was what we hoped for and we got it.

The motion of our ferry as it sailed across the North Sea could barely be felt inside our cosy cabin.

Having eaten our breakfast on board we were ready for off as soon as the ship docked. This part of the route we had ridden last year so we knew that just a few minutes ride from the ferry terminal was a National Park with a completely traffic free cycle path through some amazing woodland. It was easy to find the start but there was one change we hadn't expected - the Highland cattle.

These creatures are released into the woodland as an efficient means of managing the undercroft with no human intervention. We first caught sight of these enormous beasts as they ambled along the path in front of us so we simply stopped to let them pass. They presented no danger as they were clearly used to humans, on bikes or otherwise, and they didn't seem to mind having their picture taken either.

After the woodland came a long stretch of riding through the dunes (part of Holland's sea defences) and the highlight of the day came as we stopped for lunch beside the twisty cycle path.

Whilst pausing to eat the pears we had snaffled from the breakfast bar on the ferry we noticed a woolly caterpillar scrambling over the sandy soil and when I offered him the end of my pear he stopped for a big lunch before eventually staggering off again. My knowledge of the Dutch caterpillar language is rather limited so I missed hearing his words of thanks.

Less pleasant for us was the cool wind blowing against us as we rode  down the coast.

Holland may be very flat but a headwind has the same effect as a hill when you are riding and by the time we reached our accomodation for the night we both felt done in. Hendrina, whose house it was, made us very welcome and showed us to our attic bedroom. We have stayed in many Dutch homes, most of which have high ceilings and tall doors because Dutch people are generally taller than other humans. One consequence of this is that the staircases inside are much steeper than we are used to, sometimes frighteningly so, and much care is needed, particularly when descending.

There was a lot of rain in the night but by the time we set off riding  through the dunes again it had stopped.

The few straight sections on the path may seem like a motorway at first glance until one fits in some cyclists to give it perspective.

The odd shower did little to discourage us and by late afternoon we had found our next Vrienden house in a place outside of the city of Den Haag called 'Monster'. Again we were made welcome by the house owners despite their being distracted by the imminent birth of their latest grandchild at a house not far away. By morning their new family member had arrived safely and we bid them farewell as we rode off towards Rotterdam.