Day 17 - Apeldoorn

I wonder how many bicycle accidents there are every day in Holland, I muse. We're sitting at a corner cafe in Elspeet, a steady stream of bicyclists going by. Three young girls sail into the scene, casual as three puppies, an ice cream in one hand, chatting aimlessly. They round the corner like a flight of swallows, uniform in their nonchalance. But something happens and one of the girls is on the ground, her bike skidding sideways across the pavement. The scene momentarily freezes, a split in time as onlookers wait to rush in. But seamlessly she stands, popcicle still in hand, grabs her bike with the other and is off with her friends, who barely register her mishap. Hardly a blip in a casual schoolgirls' day.

Google tells us the Netherlands has the fewest bicycle fatalities per square kilometre than any other European country. Which is probably good news given that they most likely have the most bicycles per square kilometre than any country in the world. Or so it appears. The bad news is that bicycle fatalities have risen sharply in the last ten years. Why? Perhaps the new prevalence of e-bikes, which has put the aging generation back on two-wheels. Pedal assist has increased the average speed of e-bikers, who easily sit on 20 km/hr on flat turf. Perhaps it's also the prevalence of the new racing generation -- slick gear, helmeted and gloved, svelte bodies hunched over their ram-horn handlebars -- speeding past the ancient upright riders with an air of petulance, impatience.

The Dutch seem about as concerned with these statistics as they are with their government's daily reminder of Covid infections. Not interested. No masks. No helmets. Life is just too cruisy to care.

Not a few times we've been told what a privileged positions bicycles have in this country. If an accident occurs, the onus is usually on the driver. So bicycles swing and sway along the streets with only casual backward glances to see what cars are up to. They know they have the power. And the car drivers know it too, continually making way for the two-wheelers. As an Australian-American, I find this difficult. The car is king where I come from and bike-riders are tolerated at best, scorned and tormented when drivers grumpy. It's hard to drop my defenses and go with the two-wheeler flow.

And then there's the ubiquitous bicycle path, the fietspad. Even in the back country (if Holland can be said to have such a thing), when car roads turn to dirt and gravel, the fietspad is almost always paved. It shrinks to just shy of a meter wide, making two-way passing unnerving to the uninitiated. (The mind fills with potential disasters -- misjudged distances resulting in side-swipes and calamitous crashes.) One learns to keep eyes on the thin space in front of the front wheel and forego the usual "Hoi!" to passersby, hoping for the best as we slide past within an inch of each other.

We ride into Apeldoorn in the early afternoon. It's a good thing that we've only a short ride today: forecast is for a hot weekend and already it's sweaty on the bike. We park the bikes at the Paleis Het Loo, a previous residence of Dutch royalty, now a museum. It would be interesting to learn some of its history, but the €19.50 admission price puts us off. Instead we call our B&B to find out if we can check in early. Sure, no problem. It's not only an elegantly appointed residence, but it's the first accommodation we've had that has air conditioning -- and the first time on this trip we've needed it.

Apeldoorn is a mid-size modern Dutch city with winding tree-lined streets of stately houses. Bicycles aren't allowed to park in the central area, keeping it free for pedestrians, but the city offers a large building where bikes can park, for free, which includes electrical outlets for ebikes, a pumping station, and someone on guard to watch over things. By late afternoon the line of outdoor eateries are filling up with Friday afternoon drinkers, especially enticing on a sunny hot day. After a couple of pints, we find a quiet lane with a trail of outdoor restaurants and park ourselves at a trattoria -- one of us is craving Italian tonight. The night is still warm and we take our sticky bodies back to our room, watch Netflix in cool comfort.

Apeldoorn's tribute to the Canadian soldiers who helped free them from the German invasion of WWII.