Holland with Hills

As the title suggests, I've now started experiencing my first hills in Holland - not quite the mini-mountains that the North of France was offering me, but a shock to the system none-the-less. When cycling on the straight and narrow for so long, you very quickly settle into a familiar, almost hypnotic type of cycling - the mind clears and simply takes in what is around you, but getting back amongst hills really makes you concentrate on what you\re doing and how you expend your energy. I haven't been eating too well recently - more snacking than full meals, and that has made for a relatively difficult day's riding today, but before that, let's recap. I left Amsterdam a couple of days ago now - I had intended my last night to be quiet and relaxing with a couple of beers in front of the Football. How wrong I was. The only seat available was next to what looked like a cross between Vincent Van Gogh and a couple of thousand volts (for the hair). He was Christian, a Northern Irishman (though definitely supporting the Republic, in Football at least), cycling through Europe with a friend (though he was due to fly back the next evening) and we hit it off like a charm, spending the rest of the evening in the pub putting the World to right. Upon leaving the pub, it transpired that he was staying in the same campsite as me, and early wake-up call in the morning or not, a night-cap of proper Irish whisky was not to be sniffed at. This turned into a couple of nightcaps, then a few more morning caps as we whiled away the wee hours. Chris spent a considerable amount of time trying to catch a photograph of a rabbit - there was one continually perching on the porch next to us, though he disappeared every time Chris went near his camera to his endless frustration. Upon heading back to my tent (about 5 metres from his porch) I wandered onto a path thick with rabbits sitting there staring at me, and not moving unless I got within about a foot of them - picture perfect, but no camera!! The next morning's ride was less fun. For those of you that don't know, hangovers in tents are not fun. The sun hits early, and boils whatever happens to be under canvas mercilessly. This added to the fact that (a) you're in a sleeping bag; and (b) sleeping heavily - the result cannot be described as comfortable when you wake up, dripping in sweat, in 35 degree heat, dehydrated and with a pounding headache. Yup - that was me. At least it was a good prompt to get up and out ASAP. Riding out of Amsterdam was much easier than heading in, as there wasn't a great deal of wind and the route to my next site was pretty straight. I arrived early evening at Prinsen Campsite outside Oudijk and bedded down to what transpired to be a free night of camping (there was a note on reception saying that nobody was home, but to pitch up anyway and that they'd settle the bill when they were back - they never were, despite my asking around) interspersed, of course, with the trifling matter of the England game. After a few celebratory beers, and introducing one of the local patrons to the writings of Charles Bukowski, a comfortable night was spent listening to the sheep see who could bleat the loudest in the field next door. So now to Arnhem, which is where I am presently, after the day's riding described above. This is a beautiful and simple part of the country, which is becoming more Germanic the further I head East (unsurprisingly). I arrived last night and, with no footy to watch, settled in to an evening of reading, writing blog, catching up on e-mail, washing clothes, showering, cooking dinner, cleaning up, checking bank statements etc. etc. etc. Nice and relaxing. The next day was spent, a great deal of it at least, in Arnhem itself. There isn't a whole lot of the Old Town left (Arnhem's has been inhabited for several thousand years, but successive wars and regeneration projects have left little of this history on show) and the original bridge over the river (the one too far) was destroyed by American bombers in WWII, but the city is still very pretty (plus a new bridge along the lines of the old one). I spent a lovely day doing very little except sightseeing and drinking tea. After Arnhem I headed off South. After being thoroughly rained on I came across De Breyenburg campsite in Ledeacker, which has functioned as home for the last few nights. Unfortunately my chargeable battery pack (which has functioned to keep all of my electronics in working order) was stolen overnight, so I've had to order a new one online. After a few evenings of watching the Quarter-Finals (plus one deadly night including no football whatsoever), my battery has now arrived and I will be heading off again tomorrow down towards Liege.