Can you stand one more babble about my vacation?  I have over 700 pictures, at least 10 of which I’m completely in love with and another 10 that have stories I’ll treasure the rest of my life.  I need to get a little more babble out.

My very favorite day was boat day, though I think we took a boat almost every day.  On this boat day we took not the ferry, but an old fishing boat out of Oudeschild: the TX20-Orion. Our goal to “sail” the ocean to the famous sandbanks, maybe see some sea lions, and catch whatever got caught in the low tide.

The day started out dark & stormy, and I worried a little about cold & wet, but I packed up my family nonetheless, stuffing extra clothes and towels in a big bag.  Holland is not known for sun and heat, truth be told, I love a rainy day.  My family protested a little, Dane protested a lot (he has a fear of boats, sharks really) but got in the van without much prodding.

The harbor is Oudeschild is small.  It feels like stepping into centuries past.  I can imagine the men unwinding the ropes early in the mornings and sailing off to sea to catch their days meal and pay.  I was thrilled to be on board and watch our rope get unwound and slowly push away from the wharf.  Even with the light rain drizzling over my head, or maybe especially with the light rain drizzling over my head.  I felt alive and in my element as we left the harbor and picked up speed.

Soon the sun peeked through clouds, never breaking all the way through, leaving the whole day feeling like another time.  My kids slowly left the shelter midship and started peering over the edges, salt water splashing up and excitement taking over. My family, several generations back, is old merchant marines.  Being out on the open water is in our blood and I was secretly proud as my kids turned out to have a little salt in them. Even Dane got over his fear of boats (and sharks) and enjoyed his ride.

Too soon the ship neared the sandbanks. Sandbanks that spread for miles, barely above sea level, ocean rippling over the top.  She slowly coasted between wooden markers so close to the leading edge, I was sure she’d beach herself.  But 10 feet from the temporary shore she came to a gentle halt and the first mate pushed out an old, heavy, iron plank, then beckoned for us to leave ship.  We grabbed buckets and small scooping nets and slowly filed off, the iron plank proving to be slippery and steep.  The rope rails were very appreciated, and necessary.

The captain and crew had provided big, rubber, fishing boots for anyone that wanted them.  Dane, Cole & Tess all insisted on wearing them. Dave & I followed bare foot.  Surprisingly the north sea was warm.  Warmer than the cool breeze.  And the sand was warm, wet and soft beneath our feet.  Soon Tess & Dane were barefoot as well, digging their toes in the sand and wading into the ocean up to their knees.  Only Cole stubbornly kept on his boots and earnestly hunted for crabs. That boy loves crab.

We saw lots of crab, all torn apart by the seagulls, lots of shells, and seaweed clustered with clams, cockles and more.  Our  nets easily scooped up the seaweed clusters but most everything we caught had previously been caught (and eaten) by birds.  Dave & I both grew up on the California coast, Cole was born in California, and we quickly realized that the little holes in the sand meant live animals underneath.

Dave was the first to figure out that just standing in place let his feet sink into the sand.  Then he wriggled his toes, dug out a clam, and the idea of digging for our dinner was born.  The four of us (Cole was still hunting for crab) happily stood and wriggled our toes and dug out clams for an hour.  In that time we filled a bucket, a bucket I later rinsed and cooked in white wine, garlic and butter.  That hour, with Cole enthusiastically hunting down crab in the background, is one of the favorite, happiest, hours of my life.