Tutak goes to Holland - Chapter VI (Dordrecht - the bells again).

We meandered out of the clutches of Oude Tongue which was starting to feel like the village in the "Prisoner", one expected the big white ball to come round the corner at any moment.  With the keel feeling the bottom we once more made our way through the reserve and back into the Volkerak.  North East to the Volkeraksluizen and into the Hollands Diep, the traffic was starting to get quite heavy now.  Wilemstad's fortifications would be left for the journey home as we cracked on for the left turn into the Dordse Kil and its junction with the Oude Mass, gateway to Dordrecht.

I got the highway code for European waterways out as some of the signs were new and barges were doing there thing of passing on the wrong side with the blue boards a-showing.  Powerful leading lights drew you to their lair and radar scanners spun their electronic web.  Fortunately and by chance I had planned to exit this aquatic highway on the right but even so it was delicate when negotiating the many docks let into the banks as one expected to be assailed by a heavily laden tanker with "right of way".   

We hung a right out of the main flow after waiting awhile for the rail bridge to lift after the 13:45 had gone over.  It had been bumpy and we were glad to be in the quiet back waters of the city, how little did I know.  There is a little board with a bell push and a man on a bike arrives in due course to open the bridge.



Adjacent to the flag pole is the pedestrian entrance and there are facilities sufficient for ones needs.



And what a pleasant location, the pontoons were a bit ramshackle but serviceable and it added to the charm.



The famous tower that was supposed to be much taller but never got finished, hence the rather stumpy look.


 

The Dordrecht tower towering over tiny Tutak is truly tremendous and terrible after a night with the town celebrating another goat bladder not being caught by a goalie or something, (takes breath while available).  The largest bell lodged in the tower weighs in at 9400kg which makes it the biggest in Holland. The peel of the six heavyweight bells fondles you awake by concussion.  The heart becomes superfluous as the pressure waves take over with (musical?) cardiac compressions.  If you are lucky the Carillonneur will play the other 61 bells for you which are not at all like an opening artillery barrage.  I did wonder at the frugality of the fees at this city centre location, but I guess the monster organ pipe railway bridge was a give-away clue.  I think there is a name for it, it escapes me, but the wonderful church organ can be heard through the tower with brilliant clarity as the organist practises for the Sunday service.  

 

 Dordrecht was to be the furthest we got this time.  We were halfway through our allotted time and it would be prudent to get to the coast if a suitable weather window turned up for the trip back to Blighty.  Truth be told I was a little wary of these very commercial waterways and to have gone further would have mean it getting even busier.