Bob to the Baltic

From the Netherlands through the Wattenmeer to Baltic Germany, March 2007

Runner-up for the Love Cup in the Cruising Association's 2008 Log Competition

Staande Mastroute - Delfzijl - Norderney - Langeoog - Wangerooge - Hooksiel - Kiel Canal

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I hope that you find this both interesting and amusing!

If you are planning a voyage along this challenging route - particularly out of season - you will discover a wealth of helpful tips, a useful supplement to the pilot books.

Your comments and corrections would be very much appreciated - thank you.

Bob Harris, 29th February 2008

Minor corrections and clarification:
Rendsburg bridge clearance - 16th May 2008
Chart availability at Holtenau - 27th October 2008 
Rendsburg's Alte Markthalle restaurant - 12th November 2008
Caution re the Nord-Ostsee-Kanal locks, Rendsburg, Laboe's war museum, Postscript 2 - 5th May 2009

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"Engine fire!"   Fortunately not aboard my boat, but engulfing the starboard engine of a Boeing simulator at Gatwick.  It was the last day of February and afterwards I would simply jump aboard easyJet and be on the IJsselmeer by nightfall.  Not an obvious time of year to sail, but most airline staff have time on their hands in the winter and never enough in summer.  Getting Catfish of Cheshire to the Baltic would have to be done out of season.

The engine fire was a poignant reminder that one's emergency procedures need to be well thought out at this time of year.  The water is deathly cold, the weather fickle and daylight short.  Fellow yachtsmen are nowhere to be seen but hopefully the emergency services aren't too far away.  They would have to respond quickly, very quickly.

And so it was that in March 2007 I set off from the IJsselmeer in my 9m Fisher catamaran yawl, bound for the German Baltic.  Most of the time it would probably be wet, windy and cold.  On the positive side, I love having the water to myself and I looked forward to finding the Dutch canals and the East Friesian Islands completely deserted.

At this time of year, I would not contemplate such a trip without a pilothouse or wheelhouse.  Catfish is a wheelhouse yacht, her main steering position being inside what is effectively a small conservatory complete with comfortable seating and an ample table.  There is also a separate chart table, with all the navigational and communications gear arranged either side of the helm.

Crewing the trip was interesting.  My wife Caroline is a willing and efficient mate but there was no way that she was going anywhere near Catfish at this time of year!  April maybe, but not the whole of March.  It would have to be a boys' trip.

I was prepared to do some of the voyage singlehanded but certainly not the difficult stretch from the Dutch/German border to the Elbe.  Mal was happy to share this with me and stay aboard until the end.  He is an experienced and conscientious navigator, and tough too.  Also keen to help was Iain but although tough, he's not yet a yachtsman.  He had joined Catfish on a trip to Terschelling in 2004 and would be good company on the Dutch canals.

^{Mal the Navigator in Catfish's wheelhouse}

^{Ostfriesland from Space, showing Catfish's track from Groningen to the Jade}

Fitting out

Catfish has not been anywhere near her home port in Northwest England for the best part of a decade.  We have always left her wherever we've got to during our holidays.  In what is probably the slowest ever recorded cruise, she spent three years in Southwest Ireland, a season between Kinsale, Scilly and the West Country and the rest in the Netherlands, most recently as a mastless canal cruiser.

Away from home, you quickly learn what is important when it comes to laying up and fitting out.  Mechanical integrity and safety are paramount, with cosmetics simply ignored until there's time.  When I arrived at the Flevo Marina in Lelystad, Catfish was at the water's edge looking totally down at heel - but under the surface I knew that I had left her the previous autumn with absolutely everything prepared for a quick departure.

I had allowed for one day's work ashore, but this was curtailed by sleet showers and such strong winds that deck work  became too dangerous.  It was soon time to adjourn to somewhere warm for fresh Dutch coffee and appelgebak (apple cake).  Fortunately Mal and his partner Joan live nearby so at least I was guaranteed a warm bed in their spare room.

The actual launch was set for the next day and we were favoured with quiet weather.  While I set about clearing millions of tiny leaves that threatened to block every drain, Mal activated our mini-jetwasher for a good clean.  In the Netherlands it is frowned upon to use tapwater to wash your boat so he connected the jetwasher to the output of the deckwash pump.

That evening, our reward was an all-day breakfast devoured round the wheelhouse table whilst watching a full eclipse of the moon.  Joan then conjured up a magnificent cheeseboard.  The magic of our early season voyage was already unfolding.

Lelystad to Delfzijl via the Staande Mastroute

To Stavoren - Sunday 4th March 

The masts were 20 miles away in Stavoren.  Three years previously we had removed them so that Catfish could enter the shed for repairs and somehow we had never quite got around to putting them back.  In the meantime we had ventured along canals that rarely see a seagoing yacht.

Singlehanded motoring across the IJsselmeer hardly sounds like a challenge but this piece of water can be surprisingly nasty.  I didn't want a headwind but got fog instead for my Sunday cruise.  With no masts I lacked radar, but I rigged a small radar reflector which, post-Ouzo, we now know to be worse than useless.  By 0930 the visibility was just about acceptable and throughout the four hour voyage I saw just one other craft, a coaster sighted head-on at a range of half-a-mile.  At a closing speed of say 15 knots, that's just 2 minutes before the crunch.  I made a huge course change to immediately resolve the situation.

Approaching Stavoren, watery sunshine broke through and the sudden vision of Dutch sailing barges could have been taken straight from an Old Master.  After dark the wind increased to SW6 with rain hammering on my cabin.  I had been lucky to get my voyage done, particularly bearing in mind the dreadful forecast for the next few days. 

Stavoren is terribly exposed and I spent a whole day outside in a near gale doing jobs on the masts.  Despite wind and rain, they were craned in right on schedule at 0830 the next morning.

^{Stavoren - after 3 years as a canalboat, Catfish has her masts again}

To Sneek - Tuesday 6th March

Iain appeared at midday, straight off the Hull ferry.  After a quick lunch we were gone, motoring fast downwind along the Johan Friso Kanaal and looking forward to a posh celebratory dinner in Sneek.  After months of anticipation, we were finally on our way.

The previous day I had stumbled across a useful contact.  By dialling a Friesland Waterways number and taking pot luck with their Dutch-speaking menu, I found myself talking to Dennis.  He has a Mastermind knowledge of the local canal system including what’s working and what isn’t.  It was reassuring to tell him our plans and know that he would forewarn the bridge operators.

Sure enough, as we approached Sneek every bridge opened as if by magic and we made it through the last one just before closing time. Our target was the Sneeker Jachthaven, a small marina 2 miles off the Princes Margriet Kanaal, but when we arrived there was no sign of life.  In the early dusk and pouring rain, we were somewhat subdued as we squelched over the waterlogged canalbank, mooring up and locating some shorepower.  After a couple of long beers with the wheelhouse gently steaming under the influence of the fan heater, everything seemed so much more palatable.

During our voyage, Iain had managed to get himself neatly installed in the starboard cabin.  By comparison, my cabin in the port hull was a total mess, the victim of too much else to do.  Surely I could sort it all out?  But no, dinner ashore became our priority.

Unfortunately the locals were very busy while we were enjoying our meal.  They moved all the landmarks and then disappeared so that we couldn’t ask directions!  We did eventually find our marina, but they had even managed to dig a new canal between us and the main gate.  Interesting stuff this Palm beer.

At dawn we discovered that Frank the harbourmaster had been there all along, on his houseboat.  He was so amazed to see a yacht that the only money he would accept was for electricity, just €1.  We had used quite a bit of heat so we settled on €2.  Can you imagine this happening in a British marina?

To Leeuwarden - Wednesday 7th March

Heading northeast from Sneek, we encountered an insurmountable obstruction, or so it seemed.  Someone had built a motorway across the canal without telling Dennis.  I had a sudden vision of a 3 day diversion: back to the IJsselmeer, out into the Waddensee and up the Van Harinxma Kanaal via Harlingen.  Our schedule would be wrecked.

Closer inspection revealed an opening section, but it looked like it had been merely dropped into position pending the fitting of the lifting gear.  There was no hint of a control tower or hydraulics.  Contractors’ dump trucks rumbled over the bridge and everyone ignored us.  With great difficulty we moored alongside a sea of mud. My call to Dennis wasn’t encouraging and neither was the double-red light.  What bridge, where exactly? He said he would phone me back, then apologised because he wasn’t allowed to dial a UK mobile.  After a few minutes I tried calling him back but with no success.

Despondently we watched a dayglo man trudge across the bridge… and were amazed to see him fiddling with a remote control.  Up went the motorway and through we went, our decks strewn with huge clods of mud off the bank.  Thank you, Dennis!

You feel that the Princes Margriet Kanal should carry you all the way to Groningen but, because of just one fixed railway bridge, the Staande Mastroute has to head way up north.  This is via a clockwise tour of the southern outskirts of Leeuwarden and a scenic trip right through the centre.

Iain became focussed on dinner in this lovely city but we never achieved it.  Infuriating the rush-hour traffic, the bridges co-operated until we reached the railway line that comes in from Harlingen.  The Swettebrug just didn’t do what the Almanac said it would.  Reluctantly I called them on the VHF.  “Closed for today and opens at 0900 tomorrow” came the frustrating reply.

Where could we moor?  We were opposite a huge scrapyard and the area looked dodgy so we warped ourselves between two huge piles, a good 5m from the bank.  Watery sun emerged as we enjoyed our first foredeck drinks and nibbles of the year. 

To Dokkum - Thursday 8th March

After marvelling at a perfect dawn, we cast off at 0900 and hovered by the bridge.  Nothing happened.  A huge barge approached, which was a Good Thing because they schedule their trips according to the awkward bridges.  Still nothing happened and she was forced to stop.  After half an hour the bridge did open but we would have to spend the rest of the day playing catch-up.  The Swettebrug is a Rogue Bridge.

By contrast the city bridges displayed brilliant choreography, so much so that we were rushed through and couldn't stop to offload the garbage.  Fortunately the final bridge got stuck, allowing us off for a quick view of the city.  The garbage bins were locked until May!

Leeuwarden to Dokkum is the shallowest part of the Staande Mastroute and the minimum depth we saw was 1.7m in soft mud.  It is also the narrowest, and at the worst moment a huge Dutch sailing barge appeared around a blind corner.  She was only the second vessel we had seen since Stavoren.  Afterwards we passed a closed-up boatyard where I had hoped to fill up with diesel.

Dokkum is a delight. We stocked up at the shops and found a friendly restaurant.  A coin inserted into the water tap achieved nothing except air because the whole system had been emptied for the winter.  On board we now had an excess of garbage and dwindling supplies of diesel and water - wonderful!  At least nobody was collecting dues and all we paid was €1 into the electricity meter.

^{The pretty Friesland town of Dokkum on the Staande Mastroute}

It had been a perfect Spring day and the cloudless sunset made for a freezing night, but right on cue a layer of stratus moved in from the sea and provided a mild atmospheric duvet.

To the Reitdiep via the Lauwersmeer - Friday 9^th March

Progressing east from Dokkum in steady drizzle, the scenery became bleaker and more tatty but I noticed that there was a lot of new wooden piling.  Before long it would look neat and more Dutch-like.  The work seemed very labour-intensive and I wondered about how many canals a single craftsman could pile in an entire career, and would he get bored?

We took advantage of a useful current and by the time we reached the Willem Loréslūs we were up to 7 knots.  Until the 1960’s, this was the lock that closed off the North Sea.  Today it was fully open to allow the recent rainfall out of the canal system and into the sea via the Lauwersmeer.

Our Almanac mentioned a marina at Oostmahorn.  I phoned them and the first miracle was that someone was actually there.  The next three miracles were that they had diesel, water and garbage bins.  After fuelling we went for a sunny walk, leaving the boat in the diesel berth because there wasn’t the slightest chance that anyone else would need it.  We got a big surprise as we climbed onto the dyke and peered over.  Below us stood the brand new replica Olde Worlde port of Esonstad, and beyond lay a massive modern housing estate stretching all the way to Anjum.

^Esonstad

Iain’s return ferry was just one day away but he reckoned that we had time for a quick look at the Lauwersmeer dam.  We motored over to the Robbengatsluis and moored to a jetty that had a lethal covering of gulls' deposits - much too early in the year for a thorough Dutch clean.  Looking out over the Waddensee towards Schiermonnikoog, I had a sudden urge to take Catfish out through the lock and eastwards through the Dutch Friesian Islands to the Wattenmeer.  Then I looked at Iain and remembered that he still has a lot to learn about boats, despite his sparkling progress at manoeuvring Catfish.  Bad plan.

With a bitter wind from astern we followed the featureless channel southeastwards out of the Lauwersmeer and into the Reitdiep.  What looked like easy buoy-hopping was surprisingly confusing.  We had a race to find somewhere for the night and I’m ashamed that we had to resort to speeding to squeeze through the last lock in time.  Here was the historic Electra pumping station, and just round the corner lay a clean public jetty in pretty countryside. Dinner was to be another M&S opportunity and, with no light pollution, the starlit night was pure magic.

To Groningen - Saturday 10^th March

The dawn was stunning.  This was the very first day of the beautiful Spring of 2007.  The light was noticeably stronger and the humidity had gone.

^{Iain enjoying a perfect dawn start}

We progressed through rich farmland to Groningen’s outskirts and it was time to get on the phone again.  Despite having given the required 24 hours notice, it still took 30 minutes for the penny to drop and for all the bridges to open in sequence.  We took a good berth in the Zuiderhaven where we discovered unlimited shorepower and water.  Iain and I shared a quick farewell beer on the foredeck before he set off for the railway station.  In two hours he would be reunited with his car in Stavoren.

Despite all the bustle of Groningen, it all seemed a bit quiet after Iain’s departure.  I hadn’t had a day off since Gatwick 10 days previously, and here I was with nothing scheduled until meeting up with Mal in Delfzijl four days hence.  My cabin was still a mess but there were always far more important jobs.  The booms were still lashed to the wheelhouse roof and Catfish had to be made ready for sea.  Not just any sea, but the Deutsche Bucht sort of sea.

I remembered Amsterdam the previous summer when Caroline and I had watched helplessly from the quay while Catfish was swarmed by a gang of yobs.  I’m no stranger to mooring in Dutch cities on lively weekends, but when you are the one and only yacht you do feel vulnerable. Nearby, two Dutch sailing barges were breasted up. It didn’t look like they were going anywhere, so I manhandled Catfish onto the outside and hoped the canal basin was still wide enough for the rowing club.

^{Groningen - a safe mooring for the weekend}

Nobody troubled me until a friendly official approached and offered me a 3-for-1 mooring discount.  My long weekend in Groningen’s best location set me back all of €8.  He even asked me when I was leaving so that the bridges would be ready.

To Delfzijl - Tuesday 13th March

At 0900 I optimistically manoeuvred into the middle of the basin.  Within minutes the traffic gridlocked, the bridges lifting one after another as I took the route past the art gallery.  Why had I chosen the rush hour?

^{Groningen's extraordinary floating art gallery}

Leaving the city centre and approaching some extensive canalworks, I caught up with a huge and beautiful classic yacht.  We both motored straight into a fog bank. I was most grateful to him as he would be the first to encounter any opposite direction traffic.

^{Leaving Groningen - through the canalworks and straight into a fogbank}

I needed to get my gas bottles refilled with propane.  The chandlery had given me directions to a camping shop on the outskirts of Groningen, best reached by water en route to Delfzijl.  In visibility of 50m, I managed to find the correct turn to starboard off the main canal and gingerly made my way down the offshoot.  A bridge bell rang out ahead and I suddenly realised the danger:  bridge bell = traffic = probably a big barge.  I hugged the edge as an enormous bow emerged from the fog, accompanied by the thunder of a big diesel at full throttle.

Later I prepared some food and drink for the dreariness of the Eems Kanal as I had several hours of singlehanded motoring without anywhere to stop.  In fact I was happily surprised.  This long straight stretch is very pleasant and reminiscent of tree-lined French canals.

^{Peaceful cruising on the Eems Kanaal} 

Half way along, at 1121 precisely, there came a moment of big excitement.  I had my first-ever chartplotter with me but its only chip covered Germany and the SE Baltic.  As Catfish crawled onto the electronic chart, I was amazed to see the boat correctly depicted on the canal.  As the voyage progressed, the boat and the canal gradually diverged until I was apparently motoring through the fields.  If the plotter was to be believed, that night's mooring location was inside a warehouse!

Reaching Delfzijl, I decided against the canal moorings and instead took the southerly fork to the docks, pausing at the locks to pick up my German charts.

^{Delfzijl - the Kleine Sluis and Grote Sluis}

Once through the Klein Sluis, I turned to port towards Delfzijl's only seawater marina, ZV Neptunus.  Except for a cluster of small fishing craft, it was completely deserted.  Where were all the yachts on this fabulous Spring day?  I picked a slot by the walkway, handy for a water tap which I hoped would be working.  Nobody took any notice of me until the next day, when a friendly Dutch yachtsman approached.

"Sorry, but the marina is closed."

"Yes, but there is nowhere else."

"You have no electricity."

"Thank you, but I don't need shorepower and the water is okay."

"But the gate is locked."

"I have a dinghy..."

For the very first time in my life, I found myself having to row ashore from a marina berth.  My destination was a slippery ladder so it was best tackled at HW.  I continued to prepare the boat for sea and somehow managed to reassemble the fiddly mainsail batten cars.

^{Catfish of Cheshire at ZV Neptunus, Delfzijl}

I was lucky to get diesel.  The yacht facility was locked up for the winter and the bunker boat wouldn't consider such a tiny quantity.  I mentioned this to yet another friendly Dutchman and before I knew it we were in his car hurtling towards a filling station with all my spare containers.  On the return journey I was on tenterhooks expecting a can to fall over and dribble diesel all over the carpet, which would - like spilt milk - haunt the car for the rest of its life.

Mal arrived the next day, in good time for us to stock up on our favourite foods from the last outpost of Albert Heijn.  After the cosy familiarity of shopping in the Netherlands,  we hadn't a clue what to expect in the islands.

Delfzijl to the Elbe via the Ostfriesische Inseln (East Friesian Islands) and the River Jade

Seegats and Watts

"Seegats eat yachts", we had read!  Seegats are the channels between each Friesian island.  They are famous for shifting shoals, vicious tides and nasty sea states out of all proportion to the wind.  Some seegats feature deep channels whilst others are shallow with dangerous bars.

Watt is short for wattfahrwasser, which roughly translates into "water road".  Watts are the marked channels running through the extensive areas of sand and mud of the Wattenmeer, which is the sea that lies between the East Friesian Islands and the mainland coast of Ostfriesland.  Generally they run parallel to the southern shore of each island, connecting the seegats, but there are many others with more random courses.

Suppose you are in an island harbour wanting to progress eastwards through the Wattenmeer.  The harbour tends to be at the southwestern tip of the island, with its associated seegat just round the corner to the northwest.  Departing at about HW-2, there is a healthy flood in through the seegat and eastwards in your favour along the watt.

At first you are in a buoyed channel, maybe 7m deep.  Then it gets shallower and the buoys are port hand only.  Then shallower still, and you spot your first withy - maybe also some ice buoys, which are laid in case the sea ice tears out the withies.  Travelling eastwards, you simply leave the withies to port as the channel twists and turns.  Occasionally you encounter a starboard-hand withy, its branches tied downwards.

^{Port-hand withy with ice buoy}

The popular view is that if you are a bit early on the tide, you nudge gently to a halt as the watt shallows, and soak up the sun while waiting for the tide to rise.  Then you move on until there is another nudge, and maybe another, until eventually you are over the wattenhoch, the watershed.   This is the shallowest point on the watt and is where the eastgoing flood meets the westgoing flood that is arriving through the next seegat.  The wattenhoch is usually about two-thirds of the way along the island.

At this point everything changes.  On the plus side, the depth is increasing and you can breathe again.  However, in a westerly wind you are now in wind-against-tide and it suddenly becomes choppy.  At the end of the island and approaching the seegat, you see white water everywhere and the whole voyage starts to look like a ghastly mistake.  As you progress, though, you realise that the breakers are on the island beach to port and over the spit to starboard.  The marked channel is okay, although you do pass through the odd patch of square waves or sometimes even a few seconds of huge swell that comes from nowhere.

Arriving at the seegat, the channel takes you towards the gap between the islands.  You need to pass the tip of the spit to starboard, with great care because of severe tidal set.  When clear, you turn to starboard towards the next watt, with an island and its harbour to port.  Peace returns and you do the whole thing all over again.  After crossing the next seegat, you enter the harbour because by now it is HW and too risky to proceed on a falling tide.

The usual rate of progress is two watts per day, which equates to two islands.  However, in really calm conditions, you might manage a third watt.  To do this, you depart early, say HW-3, and risk more nudging.  And you might be still out there on the ebb, with the possibility of being stranded for 12 hours by which time it will probably be windy and dark.  Do you still want to do three watts?

The tides are critical so advance planning is essential.  Except in high summer, the two-hour opportunity arises only once daily because daylight is essential.  The tides get an hour later each day so it makes sense to start the voyage with an early HW.   As the days pass and HW moves towards midday, the tides reach Springs and there is useful extra depth in the watts.

^{What your tideplotter should look like as you navigate a watt}

To Norderney - Thursday 15th March

I chose this date months in advance so as to take full advantage of the tides.  At 0730, just after dawn and in clearing fog, Mal and I set off from Delfzijl.  Entering the Eems/Ems at HW, we motorsailed rapidly down river under main, mizzen and working jib, bound for Borkum.  It was all going so well that we decided to replan our voyage, to bypass Borkum and turn east when just outside the islands.  We would leave the island of Juist to starboard and enter Norderney (pronounced Nordern-eye) through the seegat.  We knew that we would need a light wind, favourable tide and daylight with good visibility. Quite a demanding scenario for the Ides of March.

Mal is a diving instructor and they have a saying: "Plan the dive and dive the plan", because you can't discuss changes of plan under water!  It translates well into sailing, as it means that you don't replan on a whim. 

The replan worked well but still gave us food for thought.  The Ems is deep and wide for a seegat but the sea state past Borkum was horrible in W2, with the ebb nearly over.  If that was in a 12m channel, what would the Norderney seegat be like?  By this time we were committed, so we would have to wait and see.

^{The full extent of our sightseeing at Borkum!}

Curiously, through the binoculars we noticed that the shallow Hoffes Riff to the NW of Borkum was quite smooth, so we cut the corner along the 5m contour and peace reigned again.  The afternoon was spent motorsailing in perfect sunshine with a good doze on the foredeck.  Juist's hospital and hotels were just discernible through the haze to the south.

We were the only yacht moving that day and it didn't take long for the coastguard to find us.  In Germany, the Kustenwache covers customs and immigration as well as safety.  A smart patrol boat, the Emden, shadowed us from a mile away.  We must have looked a little out of place, but at least we had our motorsailing cone hoisted.

We approached the Norderney Schluchter seegat, the first few channel buoys appearing in their charted positions, but then it all unravelled.  Clearly the channel had moved and the 2006 chart was no longer valid.  Even the 2007 chartplotter chip was obsolete.  The tide had us in its grip as it accelerated through the seegat, and all we could do was rigidly follow the buoyed channel through fierce crosscurrents and lines of breakers.  A night approach, mist or a stronger wind would have made it absurdly dangerous for a newcomer.

Peace descended as we reached the harbour mouth and, looking over our shoulders, we realised that the Emden was following us in.  I looked in horror at our cone, which was still up even though the sails were furled.  I don't think that they can get you for that, but it did look unprofessional.  We carried on confidently towards the marina only to find it completely missing.  The harbour was a mass of posts and the gangways hovered in space.  Where had all the pontoons gone?

The only option was a leeshore wall with all sorts of obstructions which, when coupled with a 3m tide, would be a major source of sleep deprivation.  That was when Bernhard made himself known.  Would we like to moor alongside a big survey vessel that wasn't going anywhere for several days?  Problem solved.

^{Catfish alongside the survey vessel in the Ostfriesian port of Norderney} 

The Emden sent a RIB and two very pleasant officers went through the formalities with us. We were the first foreign yacht of 2007.  Their firearms and bulletproof vests were somewhat disconcerting until they told us about the unsavoury situations they experience.  When you board a mysterious freighter at random, anything can happen.

Bernhard came aboard for a beer and it was then that we realised that we had really lucked out.  He was responsible for surveying and marking all the local watts in his shoal draft survey vessel, the Lutje Oog, and would tell us the best ways through.  We moved to the warmth of the yacht club for a bite to eat and the evening settled down to a pattern - as long as we poured beer down Bernhard, the information would keep coming.

He put our minds at rest about the seasonal channels, the ones described as May to September on the chart.  We needed to use them, and he said that they would be accurately marked although some of the withies might have broken in the winter gales.  Encouragingly, he had been out all week surveying, using his binoculars to supervise his crew planting withies into the freezing water, while he sat drinking coffee in the warmth of the bridge of the Lutje Oog.  [Bernhard, this is a joke!]

We had an interesting debate about how close we should pass the withies.  Bernhard said 5m but maybe it was the beer talking so we settled on 10-15m.  In his Netherlands book, Brian Navin suggests creeping nearer to the withies as the watt narrows towards the watershed.

Norderney was the last chance for fuel until the Elbe and it wouldn't be available until after we had missed the tide, so we were committed to a day off in Norderney despite it being a perfect day for moving on.  Diesel was dispensed from a 3m high tower, reflecting the occasional extreme tides.  Getting fresh water would be "difficult" so Bernhard simply transferred some from the Lutje Oog.  We could only hope that his crew weren't deprived of their daily showers.  When everything was done, another Kustenwache crew boarded us but we managed to persuade them that their colleagues had already visited.

An afternoon sortie into town revealed a sophisticated seaside resort.  Our early dinner was excellent and good value.  By nightfall the barometer was falling red and the wind soon built to W6/7.  However, we had been told by several sources that the watts are no problem even in a gale because the waves just cannot get established.  Moving on the next day was still a possibility.

To Langeoog - 17th March

By dawn the wind was down to W5 and at 0800 the sun was breaking through.  Our destination was Langeoog (pronounced Lang-ger-oag) and we had to negotiate two watts and two seegats before HW.

Catfish's boxy wheelhouse acts like a sail so, with the engine on tickover, we soon had 4 knots through the water plus nearly 2 knots of tide.  We didn't dare raise any real canvas, which was a shame because it would have been a brilliant trip under sail if only we had had the confidence - maybe next time.

The sea state was calm for F5 but at that speed nudging wasn't an option.  Not only would it be a crash rather than a nudge, but one hull would ground first and the boat would slew broadside on to waves and tide - not pleasant.  That's why we had delayed until HW-2, reckoning that grounding was most unlikely.

Following the buoyed channel of the Riffgat and then the Norderneyer Wattfahrwasser was quick and uneventful.  Then the withies started and we were pleased to see them in a long line, showing over the horizon.  They were still easy to spot when the low sun broke through right in front of us.  However, with our eyes now accustomed to bright sunlight the chartplotter was too dim to interpret.  It had been quite useful for orientation whenever we came across a broken withy.

The watt shallowed and shallowed, until we had a depth of 1.8m.  Catfish draws 1m.  We were still moving at over 5 knots when the depth dropped suddenly to 1.3m.  We didn't think this should happen at that state of the tide, so maybe the watt had moved or we had strayed slightly.  Just a foot beneath the keels, definitely time to slow right down.  Then the depth went to 1.5m, then 1.8m and soon we were happy again.

The seegat was unpleasant but not for long and the least depth we saw in the next watt, the Baltrumer Wattfahrwasser, was 2.3m.  Just as well, because by now the wind was gusting W7.  Soon we were crossing the second seegat and entering the harbour in brilliant sunshine, with many lessons learnt and relieved that it was all over for the day.

To our amazement Langeoog's marina was still there, though virtually empty and very down at heel.  There was fresh water but the shorepower was in disarray, wires (hopefully dead) trailing all over the place.  We selected a berth appropriate to the forecast gale (German Bight W10-11) and made for the cafe, which serves the best apfelkuchen (yes, apple cake again) in the world.

^{Langeoog - another deserted marina} 

Later we took a colourful little train for the 3 mile trip into Langeoog.  Although the marina was deserted, elsewhere there was moderate activity with tourists and walkers.  We found the town to be very neat and tidy but rather outdated with 30's and 60's architecture.  We walked back into a strong headwind along straight concrete roads that seemed to be ex-wartime.

The gale struck at 0200.  Despite ample preparations, I was inevitably summoned on deck by irritating halyards and errant fenders.  Dawn brought the rain and after the front passed there was some dramatic hail, but none of the snow on the decks that one hopes(?) for on an off-season voyage.  The cafe did a superb cheap Sunday pork roast, washed down by a couple of pints to guarantee an effective afternoon snooze, during which the gale peaked at F9.  The tide did something strange - instead of dropping by 2.5m as predicted, it hardly fell at all.

We returned to the cafe for a late apfelkuchen and found ourselves the happy recipients of a freebie takeaway pack as well.  This reinforced a theme that we had noticed since first setting foot on German soil, that everyone goes well beyond the call of duty to be friendly and helpful.  We were kindly invited to join the cafe owners for sea shanties in the town the following evening.  This would entail several miles by bicycle, half of it into a bitter F6 in pitch black.

To Wangerooge - 19th March

The wind had moderated to SW4 by the following morning, but with sleet at 5C.  To leave or not to leave, bearing in mind that the alternative was our commitment to sea shanties?  Our problem was the seegats, because the seastate might still be horrible from the gale.  However the wind was due to shift to the N, which could make the seegats even worse if we delayed by a day.

Bernhard had recommended watts that would take us across the seegat between Langeoog and Spiekeroog.  Fortunately a friendly German, sheltering from the gale in his immaculate Linssen motoryacht, pointed on our chart to a different pair of watts which would take us towards the mainland and away from the seegat.  He had arrived that way so it seemed okay for us.  Anything to avoid a seegat!

The watts were uneventful.  Under engine, we took the Newharlingersieler Wattfahrwasser, the Landbaltje and the Harlesieler Wattfahrwasser and the least depth was 2.3m.  However the Dove Harle seegat was very confused and except in the channels there was white water everywhere.

Approaching Wangarooge (pronounced Vang-ger-oagy), I made the decision to turn back because there seemed to be no way through.  We had already studied the approach to Neuharlingersiel just in case.  Fortunately Mal had seen this sort of thing before and suggested that we defer our turnaround for a minute or two.  Sure enough, a safe path appeared but I'm glad the engine didn't fail.

^{Approaching Wangarooge - no obvious way into the harbour} 

On our arrival, the harbour was a challenge.  It was HW Springs and nearly everything was under water.  All the neat features on the chart were in reality a selection of apparently random posts and warning signs emerging from acres of choppy water.  We were fortunate that the wind had veered to the NW, otherwise the port might have proved untenable.

We managed to find the visitors' pontoon, only to find that it wasn't actually connected to anything.  It also lurched horribly in the swell.  Instead we berthed on a private finger, reckoning that the chances of someone launching on a foul day in mid-March were somewhat remote.  There were no facilities at all.

The tide started to ebb and we found ourselves in a 5 knot cross-current that seemed to come from a broad waterfall 20m to starboard.  We couldn't figure it out until some piling emerged and the waterfall stopped.  Gradually all the breakwaters appeared and it began to look more like a harbour and less like a large lake.

^{Wangarooge - at HW Springs, the only visible features are the posts and pontoons}

Ashore, we found the harbourmaster and he said we were fine to moor where we were.  He couldn't charge us anything because the pontoon wasn't his - result!  He mentioned that the previous day's gale had caused HW to be 2m higher than predicted.  No wonder all the buildings were on stilts.

We had the ultimate bracing walk that afternoon, in brilliant sunshine but with a near gale from the northwest.  We didn't make the three miles into town but instead found a score of institutions that seemed to be for children from a selection of towns throughout Germany.  Naughty children being punished or good children getting some fresh air and exercise?  It all seemed a bit depressing, particularly with ubiquitous verboten signs covering the entire range of human failings.  I've since read that Wangerooge as a whole is in fact a delightful place.

Our walk also took in a visual survey of the Wattenmeer at low water.  Always travelling at HW, you tend to forget that most of the time it's all sand and mud.  Mal caught this atmospheric shot of a fishing boat off Wangerooge, with Spiekeroog just across the seegat.

^{Fishing on the Wattenmeer near low water}

The ferry came in after dark and I strolled across to watch from the shadows of the harbourmaster's office.  Right on cue, the little train from the town appeared and about 100 people were marshalled across the quay.  From my hiding place, I felt like I was starring in a Cold War film.  At the midnight HW the harbour filled with swell and the fenders and warps drove me from my warm bunk.  Mal slept through it all, of course.

To Hooksiel - 20th March

A bright dawn brought a fresh N5.  We now realised the full extent of the trap we had set ourselves.  We couldn't escape into the German Bight through a seegat with that sort of wind, except possibly on the last hour of the flood and it would not be pleasant.  We would then be out of phase with catching the flood tide into the Elbe.

What did Navin do?  His pilotbook is made up of routes and he made no attempt to leave the Wattenmeer through a seegat.  Instead, he continued eastwards to carry the tide up the Jade to Wilhelmshafen.  Well, that's fine if you want to go there, but we didn't.  Nevertheless, our only possible escape plan would have to be into the Jade, and with both wind and tide from the north there was no point in trying to head towards the Elbe.  Once in the Jade, there are two ports on the west bank and we chose Hooksiel because it has a better entrance.

On leaving Wangarooge harbour the first thing we did was motor straight into the port-hand sandbank, despite having carefully eyeballed its position the previous day - typical!  We broke free and crossed the Telegraphen Balje to enter the Wangerooger Wattfahrwasser, and then the Minsener Balje to reach our final watt, the Minsener Wangerooge Wattfahrwasser, leaving a couple of small islands to port.  Because we had left early on the tide we saw only 1.9m in our first watt but there would have been much more later.

Arriving in deeper water, we were quite relieved that all our watts were behind us and that we hadn't broken anything.  It had been a great experience but rather too nerve-racking.  In calm summer weather it would have been fun, and drying out in the middle of nowhere an adventure - though you do have to be aware that there are large areas where grounding is verboten to protect the wildlife.

Entering the Jade, we headed north to raise main and jib then turned upriver and enjoyed some peace at last.  For the first time in years, Catfish was actually sailing - though not very comfortably in the swell.  South of Hooksiel, a huge jetty extends for a mile out into the Jade and the tide was setting us onto it.  Getting caught underneath wouldn't be fun.  We got the sails down early and motored through an nasty chop into the shallow entrance channel.

From the outer harbour a lock leads into a pleasant tideless estuary, past a complex of marinas and then up to the town quay, maybe two miles altogether.  Our problem was the lock.  Circling the little harbour, I radioed Jade Control for a VHF channel and they gave me Wilhelmshafen Locks, who I then assumed controlled Hooksiel too.  Wrong!

After a couple of hours of misunderstandings, I managed to manoeuvre alongside a friendly fishing boat and Mal went off to hunt for the lock-keeper - who was found painting his cottage in the firm knowledge that nobody could possibly want to use his lock on a Tuesday in March.  He wanted 25 euros one-way which we thought was a bit steep.  Someone told us to save the money and stay in outer harbour but fortunately we ignored that advice.  We weren't to know that 50 euros return would prove to be excellent value.

With typical German efficiency the lock-keeper gave us a diagram of where to moor and a key for the appropriate pierhead gate.  Unfortunately he didn't quite tumble that my 9m cat has a breadth of 4m so we were forced onto the big boats' pier where the posts are further apart.  Of course, that meant the gate key wouldn't work and for the second time in my life I found myself having to row ashore from my marina berth.  The next day we were caught red-handed by the harbourmaster on one of his brief winter visits.  He wasn't too pleased until he discovered our dilemma, after which he couldn't have been more helpful.

When I re-read Navin's description of Hooksiel, the lock-keeper's telephone number jumped out of the page at me - how could we have we missed it?

Weatherbound in Hooksiel

There was access to the shore facilities but we were dismayed to find that the radiators and showers were freezing.  We tentatively tried the Ladies and discovered sauna levels of heat and piping hot water... and no ladies.  For five whole days we happily used the Ladies and their washing machine without a single embarrassing encounter. This might be a world record.

Why five days?  Very occasionally we would encounter a yachtsman (male, obviously) and discuss the next leg of our voyage.  All were adamant that nobody attempts the Elbe in an easterly wind-against-tide above F4.  Meanwhile, day after day the northeast wind howled out of a cloudless sky, so we were stuck.

There was plenty to occupy us but it was frustrating to be delayed.  Loads of jobs got ticked off including the final fitting of my new TackTick system, and even my cabin got tidied.  There was an interesting excursion by bus to Wilhelmshafen, and another day we took Catfish up to the town quay for provisioning, lunch and a general browse.  It was fascinating to read of the devastating floods that had inspired the 1960's seawall that now protects the town.  We also gathered that Hooksiel is the service centre for the biggest campsite in Europe, lying on the Ostfriesland shore overlooking the Wattenmeer.

^{Hooksiel - the town quay}

With hindsight, if we had to get stuck somewhere then Hooksiel could hardly have been bettered.  It is a very useful port.  The greatest plus was being tideless and a couple of miles away from the full force of the wind.  The shorepower was the first since Groningen and life would have been tedious without it.  As well as taking the load off the batteries and gas bottles, we allowed ourselves extravagant use of the fan heater whenever the sun wasn't toasting the wheelhouse. Though out of season and very quiet, the town was friendly and had nearly everything we could wish for, including superb savoury pancakes and the local Jever beer.

Hooksiel Marina: www.marinahooksiel.de    Harbourmaster, Hans Fischer: 0049 4425 958050 

Hooksiel Lock: 0049 4425 430

We were under pressure from the tides.  Every day they were getting later and forcing us towards a night voyage, which would be terrifying with all that Elbe traffic.  Just in time we got a forecast that seemed adequate, coinciding with a dusk HW at Brunsbuttel.  The day demanded an early escape through the lock but, if the lock-keeper overslept after a hard day's decorating, our whole day would be ruined.  Fortunately a charming local couple delivered precise instructions in German so he had no excuse.  It would be a very long day and we prepared our food with care.

^{Special provisions for the Elbe}

From Hooksiel to Brunsbuttel via the Jade, Weser and Elbe - Monday 26th March

We were out through the lock by 0810, our second €25 gratefully handed over.  Unsurprisingly the Jade wasn't ideal in wind-against-tide but fortunately it was neaps.  We motorsailed on starboard tack under main and jib, at peace with the world until we detected something very relevant being transmitted in German over the VHF.

Leaving the Jade, you can save a few miles by crossing over into the Weser, passing over a spit called the Mittel Plate. This was the area they were talking about on the radio.

"Jade Control, this is yacht Catfish, please repeat in English your message about the Mittel Plate."

Pause - shock, it's a YACHT!

"Catfish, where are you?"

"In the Jade southwest of Alte Mellum proceeding northwards, bound for the Elbe via the Mittel Plate."

"Ah, we have you now, your speed is 6.2 knots."

Correct.  Impressive, these modern radars.

"You are a catamaran..."

How could they possibly know that?  Then we spotted a tower a couple of miles to starboard and realised that we were on CCTV.  We both looked up instinctively to check the cone.  The conversation progressed and it turned out that a buoy had shifted out of position, which was serious but not with our 1m draft.  Nevertheless we were very grateful for their assistance and concern.

Mal's passage plan was impeccable.  We would take the last of the ebb out of the Weser and by the time we entered the Elbe the flood would be well under way.  Having studied the diamonds, we knew exactly what the tide would be up to.  Meanwhile we continued motorsailing closehauled and the wind remained a steady E4, with just one 20 minute burst of F5.

Unfortunately nobody had told the tide to obey the diamonds.  It was heavily influenced by the wind which had been in the east for the best part of a week.  Just when we thought we should have a knot of tide under our keels, we got nothing.  An hour passed and at last we had the first hint of a flood.  After another hour, suddenly we had a huge rate with wind-against-tide to match.  One minute the chop would be hideous, the bridgedeck slamming mercilessly, then without warning the sea would flatten.  A little further on we would enter another patch and the slamming would resume.  The waves weren't big, just a very inconvenient shape.  The Elbe's tides and eddies are truly something else.

Meanwhile the sun shone out of a cloudless sky and a procession of ships filled the horizon, keeping us well entertained.  We concentrated on hugging the very southern edge of the channel, with shallows close to starboard.  It's uncanny to see a sandbank when there's no land in sight.  A government vessel came over and buzzed us but they were just being curious.  A couple of yachts passed in the opposite direction, having a great sail despite the strong adverse tide.

The chart doesn't quite do the Elbe justice.  A casual glance suggests that the entrance at Cuxhaven is rather like, say, the Medina River only on a larger scale.  You expect some shelter but it's not like that at all.  Yes, Cuxhaven does sit where Cowes would be but the opposite bank is below the horizon.  You might just as well be entering the Amazon.

^{Filthy sea state on the Elbe, with Cuxhaven in the distant haze}

The prospect of a quiet mooring in Cuxhaven became more and more attractive as each slamming hour passed.  However Mal growled, "If we don't push on to Brunsbuttel, we'll have to get up and do this all over again in the morning."  So we continued, with the tide at double the published rate and a worse sea state than ever.  Overfalls and whirlpools were everywhere.  Sometimes it was dramatically better out of the channel with the loss of a knot of tide, which was a small price to pay.

We spotted an area of appalling turbulence ahead.  By the third wave, Catfish was actually travelling backwards at half a knot.  With hindsight, maybe we should have waited until both wind and tide were in our favour before entering this river in a small yacht.

With dusk approaching we sighted the locks and boldly crossed the river to the safety of the yacht marshalling area.  VHF Ch13 was helpful and welcoming.  An elderly German racing yacht milled around too and after 30 minutes the lights authorised us into the smaller lock.  As we accelerated, the German crew shouted "Nein!" so we stopped and asked for  VHF confirmation.  We were correct,  and  entered the lock in the gathering gloom.  Our German colleagues eventually got the message and followed.

Tying up in the lock was difficult. The floating pontoons are in fact low timber rubbing baulks for ships and poorly maintained, with rings not cleats.  Fortunately Mal was able to climb down and tie us up.  We hadn't realised what local yachtsmen are only too well aware off, that fendering needs to be at waterline level to protect against all sorts of nasties protruding from these baulks, also that commercial shipping often shares the lock.

Soon we were through and facing a miriad of navigation lights from ships, tugs and pilot vessels in the black confusion of the Nord-Ostsee-Kanal.  The marina lay to port, the other side of the canal.  We waited for a quiet moment and then realised that quiet moments never happen at Brunsbuttel.  We cut round the stern of one huge ship and nipped across the bow of another.  Surprise, surprise! - the marina was not just closed, but barraged too.

This left us in a quandary.  Yachts are not permitted to navigate the canal at night but we had nowhere to moor.  Hunting around, we just managed to secure ourselves to the outside of the marina, right under the bows of a huge trip boat.  The German yacht was forced to moor literally 2m from the passing ships.

The log recorded a 13 hour passage of 53nm.  Our mileage over the seabed was about 70.  The ancient Mercedes hadn't missed a beat and we raised a grateful glass to it.  A man from Security tried to move us on but we refused.  After dinner Mal spotted a rat so we sealed the boat before turning in for a night of disturbance.  Great spot, Brunsbuttel, though it's probably a million times better in season.

From Brunsbuttel to the Kieler Forde via the NOK  - Tuesday & Wednesday 27th & 28th March

I woke up early to the noise of machinery and took the photo below from the foredeck.  The ships really are that close!

^{Morning wake-up call at Brunsbuttel}

As dawn broke we were suddenly surrounded by big activity as a launch arrived.  Its crew removed the marina barrage and major maintenance commenced.  Our breakfast was interrupted by a decorator who insisted that he really did have to paint our precarious edge of the marina at that very moment.  We gave up and cast off.

Within half-a-mile we realized what our course of action should have been the previous evening.  Though it was dark, we could easily have proceeded to some alongside moorings and simply tied up to any large-ish yacht.  Staying just a few hours, I don't think anyone would have objected.

Navin mentions refuelling by can at Brunsbuttel but this was impossible because of the Security man.  Fortunately, as we left the town, we came across an excellent diesel facility on the north bank.  The tank got properly filled for the first time since Norderney 11 days earlier.

The trip was a delight.  The Kanal is quite pretty for most of its length and there are numerous attractive villages, usually with ferry crossings.  Although yachtsmen had yet to emerge from hibernation, walkers and cyclists were out enjoying the perpetual sunshine.  Monster-size motor caravans lined the shore.

The ships and barges were fascinating - all shapes and sizes, some obviously cheap and nasty but others were top quality.

^{Parts of a ship, maybe en route to Bremerhaven?}

^{We never did work out what these gantries were for}

The biggest ship, a Monrovian-registered car transporter, was also the cheapest and ugliest.  As it overtook, the canalbank was exposed by an extra metre for a length of about 50m.  Maintaining course just 10m from the bank under these circumstances was quite a challenge and of course it happened countless times over the 100 Km voyage.  This canal would be a very, very difficult place for an engine failure.

Still tired from the Elbe, by midday we needed a good break so we turned northwards into the Gieselau Kanal and moored above the lock in total peace and quiet.  The light on the lock was double-red, but this pretty little German yacht got through after her skipper enticed the lock-keeper out of his cottage.  We later discovered that the Eider was very much open over its full length.

^{The lock at Gieselau with the Eider disappearing into the distance} 

Returning to the ship canal after lunch, we carried on to Rendsburg and passed under its historic transporter bridge.  In more than one pilot book there is confusion about the mast clearance.  To clarify, the height of the railway bridge is NOK standard at about 40m and under the transporter there is about 3m, not 12m.  My photo suggests that we may have stage-managed both the transporter and the train! 

^{The transporter bridge at Rendsburg}

^{The transporter sets off from the south bank}

We had assumed that the only place to stop was off the ship canal but in fact there is a useful town quay just 300m west of the transporter bridge.  If you look in Navin's book, he doesn't mention the quay but in his photo there are a couple of yachts moored alongside.  Although there would be disturbance from the ships, it would be very handy if all you wanted to do was pick up a loaf of bread.

However what we needed a good meal and a perfect night's sleep, so our destination was the yachthafen at the very far end of the Obereidersee.  Famished, we scoured the area and discovered the Alte Markthalle in the heart of the old town.  The portion sizes were magnificent, our steaks completely smothered in krabben (that's shrimp, not crab).  Rendsburg is definitely a town worth getting to know, andon any future trip I would spend two nights there.  Not to be missed are trips over the transporter bridge at both levels - the railway viaduct that spirals through the town is fascinating.  Rendsburg's location in the railway system makes it a very good base for sightseeing or crew changes. 

www.alte-markthalle.de

The Gotland incident - a lesson in complacency

The following morning we encountered the friendly harbourmaster emerging from her 30ft sailing home.  For the first time on the trip, we were in a marina bustling with Spring activity.  Leaving town, we spotted the low rolling hills of Schleswig Holstein in the distance and I remarked that these were the first hills that I had seen from Catfish since Calais, 5 years previously.  Mal reflected and then declared that he had never seen any hill from his Netherlands-based yacht, except maybe a garbage tip in Zeeland.

Passing the Kanalmeisterei at Sehestedt, we were overtaken by a superb ship, the Gotland.  She was moving fast and soon showed us her stern, giving her home port as Heerenveen - strange bearing in mind that this Dutch town is nowhere near the coast.  She disappeared ahead around a bend.  Later, approaching a long narrow cutting, there was the Gotland ahead of us.  She was held up by a red traffic signal and hardly moving.  These signals were a mystery because our only decode was in German.

^{The bow of the Gotland - you wouldn't want to mess with that!}

We decided to hug the bank and overtake the Gotland to starboard.  Half way along her length, we realised that she wasn't stationary but moving forwards at about 3 knots so overtaking would take some time.  Worse, she was drifting over in our direction.  Then we arrived at some piles lying between us and the bank, narrowing the gap still further.  Full throttle pushed Catfish up to 6.5 knots and we briefly discussed an escape plan, which would be a sharp turn between the piles and towards the bank.  Fortunately we just made it beyond her bow in time.

This was an education in how ships behave.  It seems obvious now, but a ship that is almost stationary in confined waters is at the whim of the wind and current and must be given a wide berth.  If she had used her bowthruster, Catfish would have been blasted into the piles.  Her Master's decision to let us escape in our own way was his only sensible course of action.  I should have been much more cautious about overtaking, but had become complacent after two days of close proximity to large ships.

We travelled the length of the cutting, crossing with the three ships that caused the Gotland to stop.  Then we turned a bend and tried to put the incident behind us - except that looking astern, there was the Gotland again.  We joked that she was looking quite aggressive.

^{"She's coming to get us!"}

The Gotland approached rapidly and seemed quite close to our side of the the canal.  Fortunately to starboard we were about to cross the mouth of the Flemhuder See, a pretty lake with a useful yacht anchorage area.  Just before the Gotland caught up with us, we snuck in and stopped.  Seconds later I snapped this photo of the Gotland thundering past as she tried to make up her schedule.

^{The Gotland, from our safe anchorage in the Flemhuder See}

To recover our nerves, we decided on a lunch stop and it was a good opportunity to inaugurate the new electric anchor windlass.  In Hooksiel Mal had worked for a whole day finalising the wiring, and it worked well.   The Flemhuder See would be a lovely peaceful place to anchor for the night, the only downside being an eyesore derelict shed on the nearby hillside.

Pressing on towards Holtenau, Catfish passed another milestone.  In year 2000 she had crossed longitude 10W off Ireland's Kenmare River and now she was at 10E.  This will be insignificant to a Blue Water sailor but to us, with our pottering style of cruising, achieving 20 degrees of longitude is something quite special.

^{Just 3 Km until the end of the canal at Holtenau}

Approaching the locks, we were ordered into the northerly Alte Schleusen behind a smart German coaster, then told to move past her into pole position.  Mal went to pay the canal fee, which was a tiny considering the Kanal's benefit.  Surprisingly these locks have to allow for a greater range than the locks into the Elbe. This is because the North Sea tides are reasonably predictable whereas the levels in the almost tideless Baltic are at the mercy of wind and millibars.

The lock opened to reveal the Kieler Forde, our gateway to the Baltic and many future years of fun and interest in these idyllic waters.

^{The lock at Holtenau - after months of planning and dreaming, Catfish arrives in the Baltic}

Postscript 1

I'm writing this postscript in February 2008 and Catfish has been in the Baltic for almost a year.  We decided to base her at Kappeln, a neat little town just south of the Danish border.  Mal and I discovered Kappeln by chance after a night of hospitality (just don't ask!) at the British Kiel Yacht Club.  On a sparkling Spring day, we had simply set off northwestwards across the Kieler Bucht under cruising chute, discovered the delightful Schlei and stopped at the first sign of civilisation.  Kappeln is about 5 miles inland and has everything you could possibly need.

^{The British Kiel Yacht Club's immaculate fleet, with a slighty grubby Catfish lurking behind}

Postscript 2

Catfish was laid up ashore in Kappeln for almost a year.  During 2008 we cruised the Schlei in April and the Danish islands in June, finishing up on the German island of Fehmarn.  In September we carried on eastwards along the German coast as far as the island of Poel, before heading west to Lubeck.  A week was not too long in this fabulous city, lying in the Hansahafen.  For the first time ever she was laid up inside a hall - expensive, but what a difference when it comes to Spring cleaning!  We relaunched her in April 2009 and spent a cloudless week inland, reaching Schwerin via a very flooded Elbe. But that's another story...

Additional information, contact details and useful tips

March weather log

What was the weather really like?  I wrote an informal daily narrative on my palmtop and it is available verbatim as an attachment below.

Helgoland

We didn't go there, but I can't help thinking that Helgoland was put there by the gods for the benefit of yachtsmen trying to enter the Elbe.  At first glance it looks like an irrelevance, stuck out there in the middle of the German Bight.  In fact it is less than 15nm off the channel into the Elbe, so you pass quite close no matter where you are approaching from - even if you are simply transiting from the Jade/Weser, as we were.

Approaching from offshore, Helgoland is the perfect place to await the correct tide and weather to set off up the Elbe.  From the East Friesian Islands, Helgoland is even more significant because you probably have to time your escape through a seegat at HW.  You then find yourself fighting the ebb in the outer Elbe, which is a waste of time.  Crossing to Helgoland is a good alternative.

We avoided Helgoland because we didn't really want to be offshore in a small yacht so early in the year.  Also, we couldn't risk getting stuck there in the event of mechanical failure or a series of depressions.  Hence our choice to pass from the East Friesians into the Jade although, as Brian Navin observes, once in there it can be difficult to escape.  It certainly was!

Nord-Ostsee-Kanal (Kiel Canal) instructions

On the Nord-Ostsee-Kanal there was one piece of paper that we desperately needed but weren't given until we locked out of the canal at Holtenau.  This contained the canal's English language instructions and, without them, we found the lights totally confusing.  I urge anyone going this way to print a copy from the two attachments at the very bottom of this log.  Alternatively you can download the instructions from this link:

http://www.kiel-canal.org/english.htm

^{Traffic jam on the Nord-Ostsee-Kanal}

Netherlands Canal info

I'm told that most major maintenance is done straight after the end of the boating season, presumably because this avoids the risk of icy conditions after Christmas.  Therefore there's a good chance that you won't encounter a severe stoppage in March.

An internet search brings up some useful information from the authorities but, in my experience, this is not reliable.  For instance, a Dutch-speaking friend was able to find the canalworks in Groningen but nothing about the motorway bridge in Friesland.  The most satisfactory source of information is perhaps by face-to-face and VHF contact with bridge and lock keepers, simply asking them about any problems ahead.

Out of season, the general principle regarding opening times is that days are short and that nothing much is open on a Sunday.  So plan carefully and be prepared to rise with the dawn!

CEVNI

For a typical 10-12m yacht, my understanding is that CEVNI is not required for the inland waterways of the Netherlands.  However, Germany does require a CEVNI for the Nord-Ostsee-Kanal and other inland waterways.

Before leaving UK, I had a last-minute panic when I suddenly realised that in March we might be the only yacht under way and attract particular scrutiny. I had visions of the whole trip being dead in the water at Brunsbuttel simply for lack of a paper qualification.  I found a friendly examiner in the hills above Huddersfield, and I'd like to thank the RYA for processing my paperwork so promptly.

Charts and chandlery

Dutch charts weren't a problem because many outlets are open over the winter.  I needed to have German charts aboard before leaving the Netherlands at Delfzijl but, since I couldn't find a UK source, I had to buy them in the Netherlands.  That's when the problems started.

I was looking for small craft chart folios and 2007 would not be released until late March.  I would have to rely on 2006 charts, but most retailers had sent their old stocks back.  Thus for a period of several weeks or even months, it seemed that no charts were available.

Eventually I tracked down a Dutch nautical supplier called Datema, who have several branches in the Netherlands.  In mid-February I managed to mail-order 2006 charts to get me to the far end of the Nord-Ostsee-Kanal, and arranged to pick them up in mid-March on my way through.  In Delfzijl, Datema is a handy 10 minute walk from the Grote Sluis.  After a heart-stopping 20 minutes in which nobody could find them, I had my charts.  Quite a relief.

Datema: http://www.datema.nl/

Navin's book tells of ample chart-buying opportunities at the Baltic end of the Kanal but we found them closed, though I've heard that they are open in season.  We were told that our nearest source of charts was a chandlery in the middle of Kiel so, relying totally on the chartplotter, we set off up the fjord.  With binos we managed to spot the chandlery, but where would we moor?  Eventually we scrounged a difficult berth in a small marina and took a five minute walk to Niemeyer, one of the best chandleries I've ever seen.  Their 2007 charts had arrived that very day.

Niemeyer: http://en.awn-shop.de/

Approximate location of their Kiel store: N5419.300 E01008.500    Small marina nearby: N5419.681 E01008.885

Out of season, chandlery in the IJsselmeer is not too much of a problem although some are weekends only.  Thereafter, I found a good chandlery by the marina in Groningen and the next was a very limited one in Norderney.  Even in high season, I doubt if they have charts.  You really do need your German charts on board before leaving the Netherlands.

The Jade port of Hooksiel is apparently "the largest yachting complex on the North Sea coast of Germany".  Chandlery and charts?  No.  We took the bus to Wilhelmshafen on the promise of a parade of fantastic chandleries, only to find just one - and it was out of stock on anything essential.  How do German yachtsmen survive?

By the time we reached Kappeln, we were in the Easter build-up and there wasn't a problem.  Even the booze store was selling 2007 charts.   Although Kiel's Niemeyer is excellent, easily the most impressive chandlery of the trip was on the public quay in Kappeln, just by the fishing boats.  At very reasonable prices, Niro Werner's Skipper Store sells absolutely everything for a yacht or ship, including stuff I've not  seen anywhere else, and absolutely no yachting clothing - paradise!  He also sells/exchanges German/Scandinavian propane cylinders.

Kappeln has a very user-friendly machine shop.  Mal went there to get our table leg rethreaded after it sheared off in the turbulence of the Elbe!  The metallbau is across the bridge and up the hill  beyond the conspicuous yellow tower.  Before visiting, try and speak to Oliver Kruse on 0049 4642 987763. 

Diesel, water, electricity and gas 

We filled up with diesel by hose at: Lelystad (Flevo Marina), Oostmahorn, Norderney, Brunsbuttel, Laboe, Kappeln (portable facility available from about Easter onwards).

Most of the locations are obvious except for Laboe, which is on the southern shore of the Kieler Forde.  Enter the fishing harbour and turn to port at every opportunity.  Space is tight.  Open Mon-Fri 0600-1400, or for out-of-hours service call 0049 43043 8052 or 0049 1758 175766.  If you get the chance, I've had recommended to me the nearby war museum, located near the shore-based submarine.

Fresh water by hose was available in: Lelystad, Stavoren, Sneek, Oostmahorn, Groningen, Delfzijl, Norderney (with difficulty), Langeoog, Hooksiel, Rendsburg, British Kiel Yacht Club, Kappeln.  There must have been several other opportunities.

We hooked up to shorepower in: Sneek, Groningen, Hooksiel, British Kiel Yacht Club, Kappeln

I refilled my UK red Calor and Dutch propane bottles in Groningen.  Proceeding eastwards along the Eemskanaal, turn south into the Winschoterdiep and after 600 metres turn westwards into the Finse Haven, where the depth is optimistically given as 5.2m.  Moor at the friendly marina and ask for directions to Weiss, a 200m walk.  The shop is open from 10am and might be closed Saturday afternoons and Sundays.  They refill the gas bottles while you wait.

Living aboard

This section is for softies like me who cannot survive without their creature comforts!

As I've mentioned, it's my view that a pilothouse or wheelhouse yacht is essential in these waters at this time of year, simply on grounds of safety.  To navigate efficiently in such complicated waters needs to be done out of the wind and rain, using a dry chart on a flat surface whilst maintaining constant visual contact with the outside world.

Comfort is important too and a sunny wheelhouse is a great place to be on a cold day.  On Catfish, the test is to descend into one of the hulls.  It will probably be cold and gloomy, a reminder of what the interiors of most conventional yachts are like out of season.

While under way on cold damp days, the Eberspacher needs to be run almost contantly to keep damp at bay, otherwise the wheelhouse windows are streaming.  Another weapon against condensation is Catfish's pair of 12V window demisters.

The Eberspacher is essential first thing in the morning to give the boat a 30 minute blast of heat.  On Catfish, the switch is by my bunk so I needn't get up until the boat is warm.  With shorepower available, the fan heater achieves much the same result but without the noise.  A silent 500W convector heater works wonders in a small cabin.

The Eberspacher outlet in Catfish's heads is the first in line and produces a huge amount of heat so showering is a pleasure even on a freezing night.  In the sleeping cabins, the hairdryer's "elephant's trunk" is handy as a bunk-warmer provided one is careful not to set fire to the bedding.

The catalytic gas fire provides a reliable back-up in case the Eberspacher fails (they all do eventually) and provides masses of heat with little disturbance.  Iain referred to it as "the brute" on account of its sheer power.  Good ventilation is of course essential.

We rapidly got used to temperatures that would be unacceptable at home.  Relaxing in the evening, a wheelhouse temperature of 14C was fine.  The lowest temperature my cabin reached was 6C and I was never cold in bed.  Before the trip I had been suffering from an endless nagging post-viral cough and it had completely disappeared after just two cold nights of sleeping on Catfish.

My hands and fingers took quite a beating from ropes which were perpetually cold and wet.  A pair of £6 B&Q nitrile gauntlets proved a winner, being waterproof but not too thick for deck work:

http://www.diy.com/diy/jsp/bq/nav/nav.jsp?isSearch=true&fh_search=nitrile+gauntlets&selected=products

Diesel, water, gas and shorepower are difficult and unreliable at this time of year, so a yacht that is self-sufficient is essential if you want to maintain a cossetted lifestyle afloat!

Eberspacher

A few years ago my Eberspacher D3L became difficult to start.  I removed it, had it serviced and put it back but it was no better.  The mechanic then suggested that I check the small filter in the pump, which on Catfish is hidden under the floor.  What small filter?  I referred to the manual and found no mention of it.  However, when I took the pump to pieces there was indeed a tiny blocked filter in the entry port.  My Eberspacher now has its own diesel tank which I can monitor for dirt, and the heater seems to appreciate the shorter pipe run.

The mechanic also said that an old Eberspacher will, with care and the occasional spare part, last indefinitely.  There should be no need to replace it.

Insurance

Many yacht insurance policies choose the Elbe as an arbitrary limit to their usual Western European cruising range.  For Catfish, moving the limit eastwards and sailing out of season was simply a matter of sending an email followed by a small cheque.  I have never had any difficulty insuring Catfish for her itinerant lifestyle, although I have always been careful to keep my broker up-to-date.

Insurance for yachtsmen is more complicated.  A few years ago I took out travel insurance through Norwich Union, noting that sailing was included amongst their list of "dangerous" activities.  A couple of seasons later I read the small print and noted words to the effect that "if the main purpose of your holiday is to undertake this dangerous activity, you are not covered."  In other words, a day spent sailing in the middle of a beach holiday is fine, but not a sailing holiday in total.  Searching for an alternative, my conclusion was that the RYA's travel insurance is the only one in which I have any confidence for sailing.  Many of us may be sailing uninsured.

And finally..... 

The Riddle of the Sands

As soon as I mention Ostfriesland to any yachtsman, the inevitable question is what I think of Childers's masterpiece.  I hadn't read it before our voyage but I did soon afterwards, and I'm glad it was this way round.  It brought the book alive to have already cruised through most of the locations.

In 1998 the popular modern-day author Sam Llewelyn wrote a sequel to The Riddle of the Sands.  The Shadows in the Sands (Headline Book Publishing, ISBN 0 7472 6005 2) is entertaining and builds well upon The Riddle, though it does come in for some criticism because of occasional implausibility.  The book is not easy to get hold of but well worth the effort.  Enjoy!