The Netherlands also greeted us with rain, albeit more discreetly than the days before. The route led from Burlo 200 kilometres north towards Friesland. For the first time, it became clear to me (discreetly underexposed geographically) what distances we were covering here in total.
The campsite in Oudehorne (Friesland) is a true paradise for children. Peacocks greeted us screaming loudly, horses and sheep in the paddocks next door vied for attention and we would probably charge an entrance fee for the playground. Child satisfied - Mum and Dad relaxed - A day's break before Berta and I's next "gig" with flax spinner Geeskegrietje van Dijk.
Flax rises in Friesland
The province of Friesland is the only one in which another language is an official language besides Dutch, the closely related Frisian. Friesland was an important flax-growing region from the 18th century onwards. Before that, flax was always grown on a small scale. Since the Middle Ages, linen has come mainly from Flanders and northern Germany. After 1800, cultivation increased dramatically. In 1835, flax was grown on 20% of the Frisian farmland. However, the boom lasted only 100 years. With cheaper cotton coming in from the sea, the demand for flax fell and after the Second World War, flax cultivation in Friesland came to an end. The remaining production moved to Zeeland, where flax is still grown today.
The remnants of its former grandeur can still be experienced today in the north of the province on the coast. In the Vlasmuseum It Braakhok and on a whole flax route, the tradition is preserved every year with spinning demonstrations, blue printers and blue fields. Unfortunately, the weather threw a spanner in the works and instead of a trip into the blue we spent a rainy day at the campsite - also quite nice. Gea also invited me and showed me her collection of looms, including one from the 17th century. She is a wonderful damask weaver and learned flax spinning from her grandmother. She loves linen and flax. One of her greatest wishes in this context is to have Frisian linen again. In this context, things are also happening. A group of enthusiasts is growing flax again on an area of just over 20 hectares, which was once processed separately by a production company in Zeeland. Unfortunately, the quantities that can be produced each year are (still) too small to have this processing done regularly.
Coarse flax and fine damask
Gea gets its flax from Zeeland, where 91% of all Dutch flax comes from. I hope we will pass by there on our way home.
The workshop day began with a technical nail-biter. The beamer, which is on tour with us, is a diva and cost me discreet nerves, but in the end it held up well. 21 linen and flax-loving women listened to the stories of Berta's flax and we compared traditions and material. Fine damask from the 18th century, far removed from the coarse peasant linen of the Mühlviertel and yet one and the same fibre. Berta made new friends here, too, and they started Geas Flachs classes with full vigour. I would have loved to stay with them, but there were almost 500 kilometres of motorway ahead of us. Back to Germany to the Schlei, Germany's only fjord, as a stopover before our next border hop to Denmark.
Tomorrow we're off to Haitabu, Europe's largest port in the early Middle Ages.
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