Poffertjes and Biking

If you ever get the chance to travel to the Netherlands, at some point during the trip you MUST buy Poffertjes. If you've had them before you know that they're absolutely delicious, and if you haven't had them then you're missing out. Poffertjes are a bit like pancakes formed into a flattish ball, but they're made with a batter that's a little bit different (I don't know what changes, but whatever it is makes them delectable). Then, they're covered in heaps of big chunks of butter and so much powdered sugar that you can hardly see the plate. Sadly, they're mostly a Dutch thing (we had them at a place called Dutch Diner) and I don't think that we'll be having them again anytime soon :( . 

Us, right before digging into delicious Poffertjies.

Grandpa, waiting for the picture to be over so that he can chow down.

Update fom Monday, June 16: Yay! We got to eat Poffertjies one more time before leaving the Netherlands. I wonder if I can use Poffertjies as an excuse to come back sometime soon...

After we were done eating, we checked out the nearby flea market. I liked this one better than the last one we went to in France, partly because they had a larger selection of stalls and partly because there were so many flower venders and their merchandise. We ended up only buying olives and hair ties (if you see me wearing puffy colored ties in my hair, you know wear I got them)

After taking the train back to Jean's house (the diner was in Rotterdam), we played a game called "trimino," which is basically like playing dominos with three sides. 

Then, a little after noon, we drove into town and negotiated out a few rented bikes and rode the bike paths by the house. 

We ended up going for a really long ride (as my bike informed me, in the end we rode for roughly 33 kilometers (20 miles) and for a duration of 4 1/2 hours, just cruising mostly). We went by a few flower farms, a river, a forest, and other stuff of the like during the first half of our ride. Then, Carolyn declared that she was hungry so we headed back to the house for a snack. Afterwards, Carolyn decided to hang out and veg, but Grandpa and I kept going. This time, we went in the opposite direction and rode through rows and rows of various crops, some of which looked a lot like kale and lettuce (we also saw a lot of wild rabbits. I've always thought that Truckee had a relatively high wildlife population including bunnies, but it seems that Europe has even more. They were having a blast in the lettuce fields). Next we traveled through horse country. I don't really see why anyone would need so many horses, 'cause it seemed like every farmer had three horses for every member in his family, and two more if he had a dog.  At first I thought that it was really cool, since I've never seen so many horses all together, but after a while the horse poop started to bug me. In the end, our road ended up being a dead end so we turned around and rode back. By the time we got back I was exhausted, so I think that I'm gonna go take a nap for a while...

Bikes, Dijks, and Lots of Windmills

Post from Thursday, June 12:

First thing's first: the Netherlands are below sea level. You might now this already, but it's really important to basically everything here. Almost every thing in the Netherlands can somehow be traced back to that fact, so it's a good one to know. Second thing: the country in which I am currently writing this from is the Netherlands, not Holland. Apparently, when the first  Dutchmen moved to America, they were mostly from the state/area of the Netherlands known as Holland. When asked where they were from, they responded "Holland," and when asked where this "Holland" was they pointed to the Netherlands on a map and thus, Americans came to call the Netherlands by an incorrect name (well, maybe not exactly like that, but close enough). While none of the Dutch are going to be offended or anything, I prefer calling the country by its original name, so from here on out that's what I'm doing.

Anyway, on to the adventure. Today our travels were focused on something very (i) related to being below sea level: the dijks. Or more specifically, Kinderdijk. Hundreds of years ago, the Netherlands was mostly underwater, with only a few dry sections. The olden days Dutch folk decided that hey, you know what? That ocean area over there would make a good farm. Let's create giant dams around the entire country and put some cows there instead. And so they did. However, they still had to get the water inside (i) the dam to the outside (i). That's were the windmills come in. Basically, the wind blows the giant windmill blades, which powers some complicated gears inside and eventually turns a waterwheel, which then turns and pumps the water from one side of the dam to the other. Or at least, I think that's how it works from what we learned at Kinderdijk. 

While we were at the dijk Grandpa, Carolyn, and I  rented bikes and rode along one of the many paved trails while Grammy and Jean opted to stay at the shaded tangles by the beginning of the trail. The Dutch are very bike-inclined people and as a result, there are trails covering the entire country (including the dijks). It was AWESOME.  The Netherlands are incredibly flat, so biking is really easy(not like Mom and Dad's killer mountains) and I felt like I could keep going for miles (or to keep with the local terms and whatnot, kilometers (i)). We actually ended up biking into the next town over on accident, at which point we decided to turn around. On the way back, we stopped at one of the windmills that has been converted into a museum. For a building so small, I'd say that the information available per square foot is exceptionally high. Here are some pictures from the adventure:

Us before our ride, photo courtesy of Grammy

One of the many windmills. Since the time when the Dutch first began using windmills for their water level problem, there've been a lot of different designs. This one, with it's slightly conical shape and thatched roofs, a traditional one.

The only other design of windmill at Kinderdijk. Majority of windmills have the ability to turn their blades to face the wind, and while on the more traditional ones only the top cap moves, these ones have entire halves that turn.

Huh. Is picture didn't end up too good, but I just wanted to show you guys what Carolyn and I call the Delusional Dutch. Traditionally, Dutch people are farmers of some sort growing fruits, vegetables, tulips,  cows, sheep goats, etc. In modern times, they've started working and living in cities with jobs working in offices and whatnot. However, they still like to pretend that they live in the countryside and make their living off of farming, so on the weekends they live in tiny shacks and grow whatever they want in tiny gardens. It's not the same scale farming as traditional Dutch, but it seems to do the trick for the modern Dutchman.

Some of the local wildlife just chilling

We biked past what looked like a practice army camp out as they were getting ready to leave

It's off to bed now, and then tomorrow more fun!

While the little mice were away

We had a plan. "Let's go for a hike." "No, I'd rather go for a bike ride." "Mountain or road?" "Mountain, but let's do something new." Go for a short ride, come home, have a late lunch, then go paddleboarding in the evening. Perfect. People have been asking what we do while the girls are away. This sounded pretty sweet to us.

One of the things we love about where we live - we can roll right out the driveway and be in the Tahoe National Forest in about 2 blocks. We rode the single track to Donner Camp, crossed over 89 and started climbing the Emigrant Trail for a few miles. This dropped us onto Carpenter Valley Road.

"Blake said look for a hidden trail on the right and it will lead to a great loop that leads back down to Prosser Creek." We passed a couple of jeep trails, but these were way too obvious. Chum spots a totally obscure trail (his trail radar was on, he said), and he's sure this is it. I had my doubts, but we drop in anyways. It is narrow and loose, but someone had definitely been maintaining it. Definitely a trail. We get to a cool bridge over fast moving water. Alright, this is worth it.

On the other side we begin the climb. We climb. And we climb. And we climb. I'm starting to doubt to intelligence of listening to Blake, a man who does epic 500 mile solo MTB rides through grizzly country. But if Maggie can do this, so can I.

#%^*! The soil is completely loose, hardly anything to keep your traction on. It's steep and I'm slipping. It is still narrow and there are tons of mules ears growing in the trail. I don't think more than 20 people have been on this trail. Ever. I actually dismount and hike-a-bike. This totally stinks, but Chummy is still chugging uphill on his single speed. I feel like a total wus. I try to push the thought that I never want to see this trail again out of my head. I had no idea.

We finally reach the top and there is a big fire road. Yay! We just need to follow this around Prosser Hill and it will link up to a beautiful buffed out trail called Animal. But wait. Shouldn't Animal be the other way? Uh oh, there is another fire road. Which one do we take? Pull out the phone - maybe the map can help. Follow those fresh jeep tracks. No, that road peters out. Backtrack. What about this road to the left? No, backtrack again. There are hundred of lumber roads criss-crossing these woods. We've heard stories of people getting lost back here. And we want to be careful we don't drop so far into the valley that we can't get back out. Neither of us is saying it, but there is a possibility that we can't find our way out.

Luckily we brought lots of water and food. But we don't have any jackets or emergency kits - this was supposed to be a short ride. Ugh, somewhere we lost our last food. Really? Even Chummy is tired now, and he never gets tired.

We reach a ridge and can see a reservoir in the distance. Is that Prosser? Or Stampede? Wait, this isn't Prosser Hill we're skirting. It's the next ridge over. If we can't find the right trail, we will just bushwhack our way down. It won't be fun, but it will get us home. Eventually.

Finally, we find a trail that feels right. It descends over loose cobble and gravel, getting narrower but we follow little blue flags tied to the shrubs, then red markers stuck to trees. We traverse several microclimates with completely different flora at every step. And I have to admit, the bird calls all afternoon have been great.

All said and done, we rode about 25-30 miles. No idea of the vertical. While that is not too far, it is a long time to be lost. My feet ache, my back is a little sore, and muscles are tired. But it was epic.