Trip Report Jan. 14-21/10
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TwoCanucks
- Posts: 4736
- Joined: Tue 10th Feb 2009 01:03 am
- Location: Amsterdamage
Thanks guys, nice to get feedback especially good stuff.... 
Sorry for the long delays but, haven't had much time to my self the last couple of weeks. I'll work on the notes this evening and hopefully have the next bit ready for the weekend.
As Luvtick and others have stated, one snotes ca nbeco meveryhar dto dec i pher......
Sorry for the long delays but, haven't had much time to my self the last couple of weeks. I'll work on the notes this evening and hopefully have the next bit ready for the weekend.
As Luvtick and others have stated, one snotes ca nbeco meveryhar dto dec i pher......
lmfao...Trad wrote:Thanks guys, nice to get feedback especially good stuff....
Sorry for the long delays but, haven't had much time to my self the last couple of weeks. I'll work on the notes this evening and hopefully have the next bit ready for the weekend.
As Luvtick and others have stated, one snotes ca nbeco meveryhar dto dec i pher......
Stoner chicks RULE
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Mick Stoner
- Posts: 29
- Joined: Wed 26th Aug 2009 06:43 pm
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titus wong
- Posts: 884
- Joined: Sat 11th Apr 2009 06:47 am
Tuesday the 18th
I'm standing frozen with fear in the middle of the bike lane on Damrak, what appears to be 50 bikes are all bearing down on me, ringing their little bells.....I suddenly realize what I must do, I leap up and out of bed and answer the ringing phone....it's 8:00am, my wake-up call!! I truly hate waking up like that, suddenly and in a panic situation.
I am rally pumped for this days events. Many times my dad and I had sat over a drink or two and I had listened as he recounted his war memories. One he always told, with many pauses as he had stop to compose himself as the memories flooded back, was the crossing of the Kanaal Zuid in Apeldoorn. Today I going to try and find that spot on Kanaal Zuid.
I inform LittleD that we will be leaving in an hour and he had better make a move. I head for my morning SSS. I emerge from the bathroom to find no coffee made and LittleD still snoring away in his bed. I make coffee, we seem to require another bottle of Bailey's I notice and still no sounds of live from LittleD, the trusty grinder is put to full use as I twist 4-5 for the mornings travel and I try the shaved ape one last time...no response. I leave.
A coffee, a pastry and a joint are consumed as I walk up to the station. For someone who neither reads nor speaks Dutch I found the whole process of ticket purchase to be easy and not overly confusing. I had to change trains in Amersfoort and was given a slip of paper with platform # and times printed on it, in Dutch but no problem. Having time before departure I headed out for a puff.
I found the Dutch countryside to be fascinating and I spent the time staring enthralled from the train window. Amersfoort is reached in what seems like no time at all and I have just enough time to slip out of the station for a puff, I thought....missed the connection to Apeldoorn, no big deal as there is another in 30 minutes....which is enough time for?.....I think most of you know. I was once again amazed by the volume of bikes at the Amersfoort station. In Canada we have acres of parking lot around our commuter train stations, this is the Amersfoort parking lot.
Within approximately half an hour I was standing in front of the Apeldoorn station staring at their parking lot. I pity the poor bugger who's bike is in the middle of this.
Through my research on ACD I had found that there is a former German bunker just at the west end of the station and by some shear coincidence it has been converted to a coffeeshop....two birds with one stone as far as I'm concerned. I was down to only 1 joint so, not tough to surmise where I headed for.
The place was empty when I walked in and up to the bud tender, who was smoking a joint that smelt great, so I asked for a couple of grs of what he was puffing and a coffee. Strange to stand in there thinking that it may have fired on my dad, his regiment had fought around the station also, whilst grinding pot for a joint. When the bud tender brings my coffee over I ask if he knows where Kanaal Zuid is and how far. After giving easy directions he enquires as to my purpose in visiting Apeldoorn, I explain and we end up having a very interesting conversation over a couple of joints and coffees. RFR and I'm off, head west and one can't miss it....after a bit of flawless one-eyed navigation I'm there. Which direction? North? South? What the hell....north!
Dad had spoken of this fight and had told me that the only place to cross the canal was at a set of locks where there was a narrow, wooden foot bridge....covered by at least 2 MG-43's (German machine guns). I stroll up the side of the canal, puffing my joint, imagining how it may have looked in April 1945. I started to notice that the buildings that were close to the canal all seemed to be newer houses, from the 1950's or so, except for one or two that were on the bends of the canal. Of course!! The Germans had cleared the buildings to open fields of fire on both sides and had left a few house that they turned into bunkers. To attempt a crossing here seemed like suicide.
I walked and walked as the sights before my eyes and the ones dancing in my head combined until I had to stop....My eyes, it seems, had started to sweat profusely and as it dripped off my nose, it kept putting my joint out!! I had been walking up this canal for a good hour and a half with no sign of any locks, I've walked the wrong way?
One last photo of the canal and I figure I should start the long walk back to the station to head for Arnhem, or I could walk back down to my starting point and head south for an hour. Very disappointing to have not found the spot. Just then a lady addresses me in Dutch and I turn to tell her, sorry I don't understand, she spots my Canadian flag lapel pin (yes, we all seem to wear those pins us Canadians. And most everybody knows why.) points at the flag and points further up the canal and says two English words...."Canadian Monument" Well, I thank her very much and I set off to the next bend in the canal. I make the corner as quickly as one can at a determined waddle and see this in the distance:-
With the zoom on the camera, I see
I head up the canal at a near dash, well at least a quick walk...although I must have been walking fast 'coz' my eyes started sweating again.
Holy shit!!! I've found it.
The locks.
I'm standing on the German end of the bridge, looking north.
As I stand there all of the re-counting's of this battle that I had heard over the years are replayed. I remember sitting in dads Sergeants' Mess in the '70's with him and a few of the men that fought here and listening to all of them tell the story....with pauses after someone says things like "yeah, that's when Mike got it". At the regimental museum, where he and his cronies would regale me with stories on almost every artefact from this period....with many pauses again.
And I'm standing there..........FUCK.
Don't know how long I stood there or what I must have looked like gripping the railing with a thousand mile stare but, a gentleman approached and said something....friendly people to say the least....which brought me down to earth shall we say. Once again my lack of Dutch embarrasses me and I tell him so. He sees my face, cheeks covered in eye sweat and asks, in almost perfect English, if I am all right. Damn friendly people here. I explain the situation and this gentleman turns out to be a bit of a local historian, knows of the conflict here and knows of dads regiment....he shook my hand and thanked me for what my father had done. We talked of the battle to liberate Apeldoorn and walked further up the canal as he pointed out different German strong points. He didn't puff joints but didn't mind if I did. What a wonderful land this is.
The gentleman, whose name is beyond my frazzled intellect, left to attend to his life and I started the now safari length hike back to the station....with only one joint left for this mammoth trek. Two hours and fifteen minutes later and I'm back in the Bunker and the grinder is operating flawlessly on 2 grs of White Widow. First things first I thought to myself....I was out of pot and I needed a ticket to Arnhem, easy one. The bud tender ask how I had got on with my search and seemed genuinely pleased when I told him the outcome. He gave me a coffee on the house as we chatted a while and then....RFR and off to Arnhem. It's about 3:30pm-ish at this point.
This is a very long report and has been a little hard for me to write at times (joint kept going out) so, I'm going to stop here with a promise to finish the day later this evening....it being dinner time here.
I'm standing frozen with fear in the middle of the bike lane on Damrak, what appears to be 50 bikes are all bearing down on me, ringing their little bells.....I suddenly realize what I must do, I leap up and out of bed and answer the ringing phone....it's 8:00am, my wake-up call!! I truly hate waking up like that, suddenly and in a panic situation.
I am rally pumped for this days events. Many times my dad and I had sat over a drink or two and I had listened as he recounted his war memories. One he always told, with many pauses as he had stop to compose himself as the memories flooded back, was the crossing of the Kanaal Zuid in Apeldoorn. Today I going to try and find that spot on Kanaal Zuid.
I inform LittleD that we will be leaving in an hour and he had better make a move. I head for my morning SSS. I emerge from the bathroom to find no coffee made and LittleD still snoring away in his bed. I make coffee, we seem to require another bottle of Bailey's I notice and still no sounds of live from LittleD, the trusty grinder is put to full use as I twist 4-5 for the mornings travel and I try the shaved ape one last time...no response. I leave.
A coffee, a pastry and a joint are consumed as I walk up to the station. For someone who neither reads nor speaks Dutch I found the whole process of ticket purchase to be easy and not overly confusing. I had to change trains in Amersfoort and was given a slip of paper with platform # and times printed on it, in Dutch but no problem. Having time before departure I headed out for a puff.
I found the Dutch countryside to be fascinating and I spent the time staring enthralled from the train window. Amersfoort is reached in what seems like no time at all and I have just enough time to slip out of the station for a puff, I thought....missed the connection to Apeldoorn, no big deal as there is another in 30 minutes....which is enough time for?.....I think most of you know. I was once again amazed by the volume of bikes at the Amersfoort station. In Canada we have acres of parking lot around our commuter train stations, this is the Amersfoort parking lot.
Within approximately half an hour I was standing in front of the Apeldoorn station staring at their parking lot. I pity the poor bugger who's bike is in the middle of this.
Through my research on ACD I had found that there is a former German bunker just at the west end of the station and by some shear coincidence it has been converted to a coffeeshop....two birds with one stone as far as I'm concerned. I was down to only 1 joint so, not tough to surmise where I headed for.
The place was empty when I walked in and up to the bud tender, who was smoking a joint that smelt great, so I asked for a couple of grs of what he was puffing and a coffee. Strange to stand in there thinking that it may have fired on my dad, his regiment had fought around the station also, whilst grinding pot for a joint. When the bud tender brings my coffee over I ask if he knows where Kanaal Zuid is and how far. After giving easy directions he enquires as to my purpose in visiting Apeldoorn, I explain and we end up having a very interesting conversation over a couple of joints and coffees. RFR and I'm off, head west and one can't miss it....after a bit of flawless one-eyed navigation I'm there. Which direction? North? South? What the hell....north!
Dad had spoken of this fight and had told me that the only place to cross the canal was at a set of locks where there was a narrow, wooden foot bridge....covered by at least 2 MG-43's (German machine guns). I stroll up the side of the canal, puffing my joint, imagining how it may have looked in April 1945. I started to notice that the buildings that were close to the canal all seemed to be newer houses, from the 1950's or so, except for one or two that were on the bends of the canal. Of course!! The Germans had cleared the buildings to open fields of fire on both sides and had left a few house that they turned into bunkers. To attempt a crossing here seemed like suicide.
I walked and walked as the sights before my eyes and the ones dancing in my head combined until I had to stop....My eyes, it seems, had started to sweat profusely and as it dripped off my nose, it kept putting my joint out!! I had been walking up this canal for a good hour and a half with no sign of any locks, I've walked the wrong way?
One last photo of the canal and I figure I should start the long walk back to the station to head for Arnhem, or I could walk back down to my starting point and head south for an hour. Very disappointing to have not found the spot. Just then a lady addresses me in Dutch and I turn to tell her, sorry I don't understand, she spots my Canadian flag lapel pin (yes, we all seem to wear those pins us Canadians. And most everybody knows why.) points at the flag and points further up the canal and says two English words...."Canadian Monument" Well, I thank her very much and I set off to the next bend in the canal. I make the corner as quickly as one can at a determined waddle and see this in the distance:-
With the zoom on the camera, I see
I head up the canal at a near dash, well at least a quick walk...although I must have been walking fast 'coz' my eyes started sweating again.
Holy shit!!! I've found it.
The locks.
I'm standing on the German end of the bridge, looking north.
As I stand there all of the re-counting's of this battle that I had heard over the years are replayed. I remember sitting in dads Sergeants' Mess in the '70's with him and a few of the men that fought here and listening to all of them tell the story....with pauses after someone says things like "yeah, that's when Mike got it". At the regimental museum, where he and his cronies would regale me with stories on almost every artefact from this period....with many pauses again.
And I'm standing there..........FUCK.
Don't know how long I stood there or what I must have looked like gripping the railing with a thousand mile stare but, a gentleman approached and said something....friendly people to say the least....which brought me down to earth shall we say. Once again my lack of Dutch embarrasses me and I tell him so. He sees my face, cheeks covered in eye sweat and asks, in almost perfect English, if I am all right. Damn friendly people here. I explain the situation and this gentleman turns out to be a bit of a local historian, knows of the conflict here and knows of dads regiment....he shook my hand and thanked me for what my father had done. We talked of the battle to liberate Apeldoorn and walked further up the canal as he pointed out different German strong points. He didn't puff joints but didn't mind if I did. What a wonderful land this is.
The gentleman, whose name is beyond my frazzled intellect, left to attend to his life and I started the now safari length hike back to the station....with only one joint left for this mammoth trek. Two hours and fifteen minutes later and I'm back in the Bunker and the grinder is operating flawlessly on 2 grs of White Widow. First things first I thought to myself....I was out of pot and I needed a ticket to Arnhem, easy one. The bud tender ask how I had got on with my search and seemed genuinely pleased when I told him the outcome. He gave me a coffee on the house as we chatted a while and then....RFR and off to Arnhem. It's about 3:30pm-ish at this point.
This is a very long report and has been a little hard for me to write at times (joint kept going out) so, I'm going to stop here with a promise to finish the day later this evening....it being dinner time here.
Tuesday the 18th, the remainder of the day.
As one gets further from the main tourist areas of Amsterdam the number of people who speak English lessens and English signs are almost non-existent. I buy a ticket for Arnhem alright but become confused when I can't find a train going to Arnhem listed on the spoor (platform). I ask a couple of people who turnout to not speak English but who try to help anyway. I finely locate a teenager who replies to my 'Excuse me, do you speak English' with a 'Sure'. 'Can you help me' I enquire, he replies with 'Sure'. Oh-oh, I think this kid only knows the word 'Sure'....has to be a pimply faced teenage boy, couldn't be some young 40yr old, hot little Dutch lady who can only say 'Sure'.
When asked to explain how to reach Arnhem he turns out to know English very well. Better than a lot on this forum who claim it as their first language I might add.... The helpful young lad explains that I can't get a direct to Arnhem and I have to change trains in Zutphen, no wonder I couldn't find Arnhem listed anywhere. I don't mind changing trains as it gives me an opportunity to get a puff and see a bit of the places I stop, all-be-it not much more than a couple of hundred yards around the station and through a cloud of smoke. Connection made and I'm on my way to Arnhem and 'The Bridge To Far' with a hell of a buzz going. And as I sit once again enthralled by the countryside flashing past I start to feel the beginnings hunger....every coffeeshop so far in Holland has handed out little cookies with their coffee and I have ended up with four of these little life savers in various pockets about my person, which see me through to my stop.
Arnhem....I had looked at a map before I left Canada, which is an ocean and a good number of brain cells away, so I figured I had a plan. I am to exit the station on the south-east corner of the property and head south to the river, turn left and there's the bridge. My only problem is whether to eat before or after the bridge. It's drizzling and getting dark as I exit the station and start looking for a spot to puff a joint. That done I head for the river. Seems that I had exited the station by the NORTH-east corner (this was discovered much later) and was totally lost with-in half an hour. Two joints in my pocket, lost in Arnhem, hungry, wet, tired of walking, pissed off and only one joint left now!!! My catch phrase becomes "Train station, please". I ask people on the street, they point, I walk, it rains, I ask, they point, I walk, it rains and so on ad infinitum, it seems. Back at the station I decide to make another try for this bridge and make it to the river this time without much problem. I can see a lit-up bridge downriver through the rain, which has been fairly steady since my arrival. It looks a long way off and I figure that it is as stated, a bridge to far....for this wet, tired, old fart to get to anyway. I take a photo or two of what might not even be the right bridge, neither pic was worth the effort...just lights through the rain.
FOOD. I had spotted a couple of likely places on the walk to the river and soon located the first. As I'm checking the menu in the front window I notice two things. (1) There are no English translations for the dishes on the menu, this sucks as I have no idea. (2) My reflection in the window. Shit, I'm surprised the restaurant staff didn't rush and put up the closed sign upon seeing me looking in. Although, I wouldn't have known that the sign said 'Closed'. I decide not to inflict myself upon any of the nice places I pass and stuff the hole in my gut with the dreaded MacD's. That done I put flame to the last joint and trundle toward the station. I haven't seen a single coffeeshop from which to re-supply in all of my roaming around and am smoking my last joint....this is not good. Thankfully I only have to wait 20 odd minutes for the train back to A'Dam and it is a direct route, no change in Utrecht....bonus.
I settle into my seat cold, wet and tired and it's not long before I'm starting to nod off in the warmth and relative comfort. Just as I drift into dreamland I hear the loudspeaker announcing the stops for this train. Utrecht....nod....Amsterdam Zuid Oost....nod,nod,nod....Amsterdam Central....noooddd,nodnodddd....Berlin...nodnnoo, AWAKE. Can't be sleeping through my stop and awakening in Germany....without anything to smoke? I'm awake now and I pull in to Central around 9 or 10pm, straight to 420 for a buy and fly, 2 grs of Blueberry I think it says that in the notes. I forego the RFR and set off in the direction of that sweet sirene, the Nes.
LittleD is seated at the bar and has a Culpner up and ready by the time by tired old ass hits the stool. I drain a good portion of the glass and put the grinder to work. It's not long before I'm filling LittleD and DC in on my day. A couple of more beers and a few joints later LittleD suggests we stroll off to Basjoes. RFR and away....at an amble, which is slower than stroll and even slower than a waddle.
Fist bump, two grs of Cheese and a coffee for me, LittleD gets black hash, coffee and fist bump. I flop into a seat, I grind and LittleD rolls his hash into strings and we construct a mini killer (ala Stuart1976) Well you can imagine it didn't take too much of that beast to knock me on my ass. I'm in dire need of rest so we decide to finish the joint on the way back to the hotel, say our goodbyes to the ever cool James and depart. We only get about two-thirds of the joint smoked before getting there so, LittleD goes for a walk to finish the beast and I thankfully board the elevator up to the room. Completely spent, I crawl into bed and die.
As one gets further from the main tourist areas of Amsterdam the number of people who speak English lessens and English signs are almost non-existent. I buy a ticket for Arnhem alright but become confused when I can't find a train going to Arnhem listed on the spoor (platform). I ask a couple of people who turnout to not speak English but who try to help anyway. I finely locate a teenager who replies to my 'Excuse me, do you speak English' with a 'Sure'. 'Can you help me' I enquire, he replies with 'Sure'. Oh-oh, I think this kid only knows the word 'Sure'....has to be a pimply faced teenage boy, couldn't be some young 40yr old, hot little Dutch lady who can only say 'Sure'.
When asked to explain how to reach Arnhem he turns out to know English very well. Better than a lot on this forum who claim it as their first language I might add.... The helpful young lad explains that I can't get a direct to Arnhem and I have to change trains in Zutphen, no wonder I couldn't find Arnhem listed anywhere. I don't mind changing trains as it gives me an opportunity to get a puff and see a bit of the places I stop, all-be-it not much more than a couple of hundred yards around the station and through a cloud of smoke. Connection made and I'm on my way to Arnhem and 'The Bridge To Far' with a hell of a buzz going. And as I sit once again enthralled by the countryside flashing past I start to feel the beginnings hunger....every coffeeshop so far in Holland has handed out little cookies with their coffee and I have ended up with four of these little life savers in various pockets about my person, which see me through to my stop.Arnhem....I had looked at a map before I left Canada, which is an ocean and a good number of brain cells away, so I figured I had a plan. I am to exit the station on the south-east corner of the property and head south to the river, turn left and there's the bridge. My only problem is whether to eat before or after the bridge. It's drizzling and getting dark as I exit the station and start looking for a spot to puff a joint. That done I head for the river. Seems that I had exited the station by the NORTH-east corner (this was discovered much later) and was totally lost with-in half an hour. Two joints in my pocket, lost in Arnhem, hungry, wet, tired of walking, pissed off and only one joint left now!!! My catch phrase becomes "Train station, please". I ask people on the street, they point, I walk, it rains, I ask, they point, I walk, it rains and so on ad infinitum, it seems. Back at the station I decide to make another try for this bridge and make it to the river this time without much problem. I can see a lit-up bridge downriver through the rain, which has been fairly steady since my arrival. It looks a long way off and I figure that it is as stated, a bridge to far....for this wet, tired, old fart to get to anyway. I take a photo or two of what might not even be the right bridge, neither pic was worth the effort...just lights through the rain.
FOOD. I had spotted a couple of likely places on the walk to the river and soon located the first. As I'm checking the menu in the front window I notice two things. (1) There are no English translations for the dishes on the menu, this sucks as I have no idea. (2) My reflection in the window. Shit, I'm surprised the restaurant staff didn't rush and put up the closed sign upon seeing me looking in. Although, I wouldn't have known that the sign said 'Closed'. I decide not to inflict myself upon any of the nice places I pass and stuff the hole in my gut with the dreaded MacD's. That done I put flame to the last joint and trundle toward the station. I haven't seen a single coffeeshop from which to re-supply in all of my roaming around and am smoking my last joint....this is not good. Thankfully I only have to wait 20 odd minutes for the train back to A'Dam and it is a direct route, no change in Utrecht....bonus.
I settle into my seat cold, wet and tired and it's not long before I'm starting to nod off in the warmth and relative comfort. Just as I drift into dreamland I hear the loudspeaker announcing the stops for this train. Utrecht....nod....Amsterdam Zuid Oost....nod,nod,nod....Amsterdam Central....noooddd,nodnodddd....Berlin...nodnnoo, AWAKE. Can't be sleeping through my stop and awakening in Germany....without anything to smoke? I'm awake now and I pull in to Central around 9 or 10pm, straight to 420 for a buy and fly, 2 grs of Blueberry I think it says that in the notes. I forego the RFR and set off in the direction of that sweet sirene, the Nes.
LittleD is seated at the bar and has a Culpner up and ready by the time by tired old ass hits the stool. I drain a good portion of the glass and put the grinder to work. It's not long before I'm filling LittleD and DC in on my day. A couple of more beers and a few joints later LittleD suggests we stroll off to Basjoes. RFR and away....at an amble, which is slower than stroll and even slower than a waddle.
Fist bump, two grs of Cheese and a coffee for me, LittleD gets black hash, coffee and fist bump. I flop into a seat, I grind and LittleD rolls his hash into strings and we construct a mini killer (ala Stuart1976) Well you can imagine it didn't take too much of that beast to knock me on my ass. I'm in dire need of rest so we decide to finish the joint on the way back to the hotel, say our goodbyes to the ever cool James and depart. We only get about two-thirds of the joint smoked before getting there so, LittleD goes for a walk to finish the beast and I thankfully board the elevator up to the room. Completely spent, I crawl into bed and die.
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titus wong
- Posts: 884
- Joined: Sat 11th Apr 2009 06:47 am
Just read the first half of this day. what a wonderful report, I'm glad you walked on and found the lock it must have been really emotional after all your fathers storys. A moving post, thanks for sharing it..
You also had me LMAO
You also had me LMAO
I make the corner as quickly as one can at a determined waddle
gonna heat me some Ti
,,glad you found where your dad fought in apeldoorn, even better you found a local that could tell and show you around 