Waving at waves

 or: Can two peeps with two dogs make a La Ola wave?

There is a specific, highly anticipated moment when the local authorities of the Dutch coast throw their hands in the air and officially declare total beach anarchy. By October, the summer tourists are gone, and the municipalities issue a decree that turns the coastline of Zeeland over to its rightful rulers: the dogs.

For our party—two humans and two enthusiastic dogs—this was the cue for our annual pilgrimage to the holy waters that are the North Sea.

Our lil' house in the dunes

The first thing you learn about the North Sea is that nature does not do "gentle breezes." The wind blows with an industrial force, providing a free facial dermabrasion while ensuring your hairstyle remains strictly, permanently fuzzy. 

But for the dogs, it is pure euphoria. They transform into low-flying missiles, sprinting through the surf until the wet sand adheres to their fur with culinary precision. By noon, our little sand torpedoes are fully breaded like four-legged schnitzels.

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Which brings us to a question of physics: Can two peeps with two dogs make a La Ola wave? 

In Vlissingen, home to the longest promenade in the Netherlands, massive container ships glide so close to shore that our dogs viewed them as personal insults. 

Vlissingen harbour

Vlissingen town

Vlissingen beach

The resulting sequence—a dog lunging left, a human dodging right, the second dog leaping, and the other human tripping over a wooden wave-breaker—created a chaotic, undulating ripple of panic. A La Ola of domestic disaster.

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When the high tide swallows the beach, we retreat to the pine forests and bogs, before the relentless headwind eventually drives us toward the nearest beach pavilion. 

 

The beach pavilions are true culinary sanctuaries. Nobody cares that you look like traumatized survivors of a maritime catastrophe. You collapse into a booth, and the dogs immediately crawl under the table to perform a synchronized, heavy-duty full-body shake, effectively returning a solid pound of the coastline to the floor before dropping into a deep, twitching sleep.

By the end of the week, our minds are cleared of all civilized thought, the dogs are fitter than Olympic athletes. And yet, the vacation never truly leaves you. Thanks to the relentless wind, we will continue to find sand embedded in our shoes, our clothes, and somehow, inexplicably, inside the zipped compartments of our wallets for months to come.

January Impressions

We welcomed the New Year in the land of windmills, cheese and wooden shoes, and got a mixed bag of weather with fairly mild temperatures given the time of the year.

Our four-legged companion had a lot of fun in the sand and by the water and it was hilarious to watch the elderly lady (10 dog years = 60+ human years) being so playful.

The ocean was calm one day, and wild on another, as if something had angered it. We liked it both ways.

Another visit of Veere, a medieval fishing village.

Back home we got a wee bit of snow, while the rest of Germany was and partly still is buried under the white stuff.

Hilda  doesn't mind snow on the ground but she does not appreciate getting it on her fur.

Mid January we still got mulled wine and eggnog to go at the beach bar at the river.

There were some light hikes in the books to rebuild fitness after a not so funny bronchitis.

And for the first time in a long time we preplanned our vacation time. There will be local trips as well as some sojourns in France, Spain and Austria. We are looking forward to enjoying all these dog-friendly venues.