Moored at last

Here's how our beauty looked once moored at a desert pontoon in Monnikendam. There was nobody to be seen or contacted, which was not that surprising once you remember that it was Easter. Our plans to buy a ticket for electricity were going to be soon forgotten as the office was absolutely closed. We left them a message and got back home.

Home? Yes sir, home. After spending a couple of days on a boat that is the only constant element in a forever changing landscape your mind starts to call it "home", much in the way we call "home" a tent and a rucksack when we trek on the Alps.

Not that we had much to do. We had loads of food, beer and tobacco. We had gas, a generator and fresh water enough, and we were a crew feeling simply great after a successful D-day. What else could happen to us, apart from spending a great evening complimenting Dick for a great purchase and ourselves for being the best sailors ever (the latter being an absolute exaggeration, obviously).