Diary of the GR5 Walk in 1999

Today, I plan to walk from Herkingen to Sint Philipsland, a total of 17.5 km. But first I must catch a bus to Herkingen. Breakfast is served by an English lady, who, as it turns out, has just sold the hotel and is staying on for a month or two to help train the new owners, who are new to the hotel business. She has been here for 2� years and finds it much too quiet, both socially and with regard to the business. The breakfast spread is ok but I miss the fresh strawberries as well as the orange juice. I pay the bill with my credit card but the eftpos machine rejects the card. However, she writes out a manual payment slip and all is well.

As I walk along the moorings, a couple, working on a smallish yacht, asks, "where am I walking to". I am off to Nice I reply and inquire where they are going. They plan to sail directly to Norway sometime in August and are getting the yacht ready for the journey. Their intention is to complete the trip non- stop, taking rotating 4-hour shifts at the helm.

Catching the bus is not quite as easy as I had thought. The bus timetable does not show Herkingen as a destination so I ask a bus driver how to get there. First, I must catch the 136 back to Dirksland and then the 138 from there to Herkingen. Ok, so I wait for the 136. At Dirksland, I find that there are only three 138 services a day, but fortunately, I have to wait only 30 minutes for the first bus. Sometimes, everything just falls into place. Further, the 4.50 Hfl ticket from the first bus is still good for this trip.

So, by 10:20 am, I am in Herkingen. There is a supermarket, so I stock up with an apple, some orange juice, and a can of Coke.

The first 6.5 km are along the top of the Klinkerlandse Zeedijk, the dike bordering the Zee. It is covered with asphalt all the way to Grevelingendam. The sky is partly clouded but still sunny and there is a cool breeze that is generally assisting me or at least not hindering my progress. Along the way are installations of large wind-driven generators. They are even much larger machines when one gets close to them. They appear on the skyline often in this part of the Netherlands. The peace is interrupted suddenly by seven air-force jets. They thunder past almost directly overhead.

At Grevelingendam, there is a display showing the making of the dam. This involved building a cableway over the sea to carry the large buckets that dropped the stone to make the base for the dam. The display has one of the huge wheels that drove the cable. There are parks and picnic areas all around, but like those at the Haringvlietdam, they are deserted and it seems like they are not used much anymore. These constructions must have been very popular years ago, but not now. They remind me of the Snowy Mountains Hydroelectric schemes in Australia.

The path continues South along the Philipsdam. Here the saltwater from the North Sea is separated from the fresh water of the lakes. Here also is the Krammersluizen that has two locks for small pleasure boats and two large locks for commercial boats. The main feature of these locks is that in the process of letting the vessels from one side to the other, no saltwater is let into the lakes and little fresh water is lost to the sea. The process relies on the fact that salt water is heavier than fresh. Changing the water in the locks takes about 15-20 minutes.

I continue walking along the Philipsdam until I reach the road that leads inland to Sint Philipsland, a small village 2 km off my GR5 route. Along the way I find a credit card which I intend to hand in at the next bank I pass. This is indeed a small village, one windmill, one bar, one bank and a chemist that doubles as a post office. I have about 25 minutes to wait for the next bus to Bergen op Zoom so I head off to the bank to hand in the lost credit card, but it is closed. I leave it with a girl in the chemist shop next door who agrees to take it to the bank when it re-opens. At the post office half of the chemist, I buy bus tickets (strippen kaarten) which cost 11 Hfl for 15 tickets or 1.50 Hfl each from the driver.

I head off to the bus stop but the bus is late. This gives me time to carefully read the timetable on the bus stop pole and find that the bus I am waiting for runs every two hours only in holiday periods. I recollect that there is some mention in the Girls� book that they found some accommodation at the bar. So, off I go to the bar to investigate, but it is packed with people and I am reluctant to enter. The man in the shop next door confirms that they do have some rooms so I reluctantly venture into the crowded bar. I buy a Coke and ask the waiter if he speaks English. A firm flat "Nay" intimidates me from making any further inquiries. I drink up and decide to head back to the bus stop and wait for the next bus. The bus arrives on time and seven kaarten and 40 minutes later I am at the railway station in Bergen op Zoom.

The hotel recommended in my topo-gid, De Blauwe Vogel, is across the road and I start to feel at ease. It has been a long day and I am looking forward to resting my feet and having a long hot shower. Wrong! The caf� is open, but unfortunately the hotel is closed for renovation. The owner rings a pension nearby that has a double room for 110 Hfl per night. I am almost tired enough to accept. But no, I walk another � km to the other topo-gid recommendation, De Schelde, which is full. They phone another hotel that is also full. The only other hotel left is a four star establishment in the center of town.

What can I to do? I am too used to my creature comforts to sleep out. Anyway, I am not equipped well enough for that to be a real option. I could check out the expensive hotel in the town center. But I am too careful with my expenses for that to be an option. I could catch a train to another city. This seems to be admitting defeat. Lastly, I could check out the hotel in Halsteren, a town I passed through on the bus. I had already planned to stay there tomorrow night. The hotel is not actually in Halsteren but in Oude Molen a small village close by.

I find a phone that accepts coins, a rarity in the Netherlands, and call the hotel De Ram, but the number has changed, as have most of the numbers in the Netherlands. I give up in a huff and begin to walk off, but decide to give it one more try. First I ring the operator for assistance, get the new number and try again. Success! There is a single room available which will cost me 65 Hfl per night. I almost scream with delight, feeling I have once again triumphed over seemingly insurmountable difficulties! Fifteen minutes later I am back on another bus and, despite some misleading directions from two girls, I am in my room at the hotel less than an hour later.

Showered and rested, I head off down to see what is on offer in the way of food. Dinner seems expensive, 25 Hfl is the cheapest main course. I decide on a pork medallion in port wine sauce for 30 Hfl. What arrives is a feast. A large plate has the pork, sauce and some small boiled potatoes. But accompanying this are three more dishes containing roast potatoes, fries and an unfamiliar green vegetable that looks like anorexic beans. These are Zeekraal: a type of seaweed that is harvested for only two months of the year and is a delicacy. They have a nice somewhat salty taste and are unlike anything I have eaten before.

After this feast, I wander outside to confirm that I can find the GR5 that should pass close by. Then I am off to bed to watch a little TV. I still feel very uneasy, as I am still very much aware that I am travelling by myself and I do not speak the language. Consequently I am easily intimidated and must rely on finding people who speak English in order to survive. I determine to overcome this fear as I drift off to sleep.