Terps, borgs and the pink granite coast: Let there be dikes

After a morning coffee with the boys (and more tasty stroop wafels, the most delicious thin delicate layered biscuit that erupts in your mouth leaving a sweet line of liquid caramel on your tongue) we headed off with Rene at the wheel to spend the day learning about some of the Deltaworks water projects that have become really fascinating to us as we follow how the Netherlands stays afloat when invading oceans, threatening storm surges, and continental drift continually threatens to flood this low flat country living on the edge of a continent that is forever being clawed out of the clutches of the sea.

We drove by fields filled with glasshouses for growing fruits, vegetables and flowers. In this climate glasshouses are easier to control than planting in the ground.

Our first stop for the day was the great Maeslantkering storm surge gates near where we landed in the ferry at the Hook of Holland. These massive man-made gates, white powder coated steel, arc into place, automatically controlled by computers. Once a critical level of storm surge is reached these two white gates swing on their separate pivots, and slowly close against the weight of heavy water incoming from the sea. They drop to the sea floor, buffering any life-threatening water surge that may attempt to invade the low lands behind them.

Four million Netherlanders depend on this working. They live behind and below these gates and the accompanying sand dunes that stand like giant Lilliputian barriers against the might of the ocean.

One tiny failure --a computer that does not react soon enough, a dike that gives way before the gates can be lowered -- and over four million lives are at risk in this tiny country, as most live on land that lies below sea level. They all rely on the gates, the dunes and the dykes for protection.

So they need lots of young Hans Brinker lads with their minds on the job and their fingers at the ready to stem the flow of water.

And, in the afternoon we met one.

A friend and colleague of Rene's met with us after a spectacular lunch of smoked eel spiked with lemon accompanied by salad and eaten with toast at the fantastic Scheveningen fish market restaurant, Simonis. Clearly, by the crowds there, this is a famous local fish hangout. Drool. This simple wonderful meal had flavours fit for a king.

After which we took a walk to see the beach cafes set up solely for the summer along the Scheneningen shorefront, which is being newly developed in front of high sand dunes that hold back the sea. These simulate stylish and more permanent restaurants. Fully laid out and equipped with expensive kitchens and chefs. But they are only temporary. Here today, gone tomorrow.

We had coffee at the delightful Boonooroonoo's, warmed by heaters on this cold spring day, but decorated in gorgeous statuary, plants and smart soft furnishings: an amazing expense for just for a few months in the summer. I had to keep reminding myself that at the beginning of autumn the entire shebang is packaged into the Dutch equivalent of a Melco box and stored till the same time next year. I cannot get over the expense and the energy expended in setting it all up, and the risk. This year is a cold one. Hopefully all this effort and new employment will pay off. But, in the early weeks of May, which is usually good tourist season time, we were the only ones being served.

Koen, Rene's friend, laid on a full graphic talk and tour of another stage in the Deltaworks project that he manages: the Sand Engine along the Kijkduin beach. Millions of tons of sand from 12 kilometres out to sea have been dredged and pumped half way between the Hook of Holland and Scheveningen Harbour, laid out on the ocean floor in a sand lump that rises in parts over 8 metres above sea level. This lump of newly laid sand is an experimental piece of work, to see if the ocean tides and currents will gradually disperse all the new sand, like an engine, along this more weakly protected stretch of the coast where the existing dunes might be improved with another layer of mighty fortification on the beach.

Such is life in the Netherlands. The struggle reminds me of battle-hardened medieval knights in a constant test of will against ever invading enemies who just never give up.

After the illustrated model and lots of talk and questions, we walked along the beach to see the sand engine in action. The new and huge swirl of sand loops out from the beach into the ocean and has grown an eco-lagoon at one side. This is good. It acts as a protective environment for shells and sea life.

Worryingly, the mass of new sand is moving quicker up the coast than anticipated, causing water around the bulk of it to move faster and more dangerously. Local residents are complaining that the outgoing tides sucks too fast near the beach: they fear someone will be caught in a rapidly moving rip, dragged out to sea, and die. So, Koen and his colleagues have put a stop to swimming here, for now; tho' kite-surfers were having a wild old time as the wind blew while we were there.

From the Sand Engine we headed back to town (again a short trip on a quick bus from the boys' apartment) to Garoeda, an authentically decorated Indonesian restaurant in the heart of town where we indulged in the most delicious rijsttafel (Indonesian rice table) : with dozens of different and delicious dishes straight out of an Indonesian Colonial banquet feast: three different colourful rices, nuts, whole and smashed with added spices, hot spiced meats that fell from a fork, skewered satays and dishes of tangy pickles that stung sharp on the tongue. A taste of history.

We made it back to our beds for the night, replete, with barely seven minutes to spare before our eleven o'clock curfew: at that time the gates of the campsite would have been closed against us. But we made it. Such a wonderful day!