A sunny, windless winter day in the Netherlands is a rare gift — and you must make the most of it! Since our longtail bike was in repair, I grabbed my mountain bike and set off to Zeeland, leaving Oksanka to enjoy the sun in The Hague. I decided to go on a solo scouting mission before we’d explore the region together.
I picked the day for the weather, only to realize later that it was also the anniversary of the devastating North Sea flood of 1953. This disaster reshaped the Dutch coastline and claimed thousands of lives. Much of my route would take me across land that was once underwater — either the seabed from the start or flooded.
The start of the ride wasn’t particularly eventful. I began with a short train hop to Delft to save time and bypass the city traffic. From there, I pedaled toward Maassluis, a lovely town on the Maas River, where I planned to catch the ferry.
On the other side of the Maas, I was still in South Holland, but it already felt like Zeeland: less urban, fewer greenhouses, more nature. The air carried the unmistakable pungent scent of the sea. As I rode on, I came across a picturesque old fortification — Fort Noorddijk. It was built in 1884 to defend the shore from potential naval atacks, but today, its only inhabitants are hibernating bats.
Then I crossed the water again via the Haringvliet Dam. Once an open estuary of the North Sea, the Haringvliet was sealed off by this huge 5-kilometer-long dam, built between 1958 and 1970 to protect the area from devastating sea floods.
The dam has 17 locks that control the water flow. Usually, the locks stay open to let water and fish move freely, but when a storm pushes up the water level, they close to hold the sea back. This dam is part of the Delta Works, the country’s iconic flood defense project, stretching across South Holland and Zeeland.
Behind the dam, I found myself in a real paradise for birdwatchers. I jumped off my bike and continued on foot, following a path that wound through shrubs and tangled trees. And then I saw a giant woolly “egg” resting on the sand. It was the observation station, built in 2019 near the village of Stellendam. Several people inside were photo-hunting, armed with beefy lenses. Of course, with my fixed-lens wide-angle camera, I could only observe the birds from a distance, rather than capturing close-ups.
But birdwatching isn’t really my thing, so I didn’t stick around for long. I turned northwest and ended up on a quiet bank with a perfect view of the Haringvliet Dam that I had crossed just half an hour earlier. There was a group of elderly folks here, all snapping shots of the dam and the birds. An intercity bus was parked nearby, so I guessed they must’ve been on some sort of photo tour. Well, I was on a photo tour that day, too!
This was Goeree-Overflakkee Island. Even though it felt like Zeeland to me, administratively speaking, it was actually the southernmost part of South Holland. To reach real Zeeland, I had to cross this island first, stopping at a few interesting spots along the way.
See that lone tower on the horizon in the photo below? That’s where I was going. The sun was shining straight at me, so I switched my camera to black-and-white mode.
The striking red Westhoofd Lighthouse (“West Head” in Dutch) stood tall above the shoreline. Unfortunately, it turned out to be closed to visitors, so I had to admire it from the road. It’s the only Dutch lighthouse constructed after the Second World War, replacing its predecessor that was blown up by German occupiers just days before Nazi Germany’s capitulation.
I got off my bike and headed toward the sea. A narrow path ran to the top of the dune, so I left my bike at the bottom and climbed up.
I thought about walking closer to the lighthouse, but a thick wall of thorny bushes stood between us.
A few people were walking along the beach below, and Zeeland was waiting for me just beyond the dune.
The border between South Holland and Zeeland runs across the 6-kilometer-long Brouwersdam, which connects Goeree-Overflakkee — the island I had just visited — with Schouwen-Duiveland. Interestingly, modern-day Schouwen-Duiveland used to be four separate islands. Over the centuries, nature and human engineering gradually merged them into one.
The Brouwersdam is an impressive structure with stunning views. Since it was winter, the dam was nearly deserted, despite the extraordinarily warm and sunny weather. In the summer, however, it fills up with parked cars, motorcycles, and caravans, but there is still so much space that it somehow never feels fully crowded.
Near the Zeeland side of the dam, I found the only food truck around and treated myself to an ice cream. I’d already had a ham sandwich earlier, and now I was in the mood for something sweet.
And then the birdwatching photo tour folks showed up. They arrived just a minute later, spilling out of the bus with their gigantic cameras. A couple of them even lay down on the ground to snap photos of seagulls drinking from a puddle.
But I wasn’t here just for the sea views. While researching what to see in Zeeland, I came across two castles in the north of Schouwen-Duiveland Island. The first one was Moermond Castle. These days, it’s a hotel, which means you can access the grounds freely — no need to plan around a narrow window of opening hours. I’m a spontaneous person, and honestly, I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve shown up just minutes too late, only to find the gates already closed because I’d been sidetracked by something else along the way.
The Moermond Castle you see today is the third one built on this site!
- The first castle, constructed northeast of the current location across the canal, had a circular shape and a water moat. It was destroyed in the 13th century and had long been unknown to archeologists.
- The second castle (14th century) stood just south of the present one, on the same island. Based on the remaining foundations, it had a keep flanked by two round towers.
- The current castle dates back to 1513, as follows from the inscription above the fireplace. It actually began as the gatehouse of the second castle, which was transformed by sealing off the gate openings on both sides and vaulting the basement.
So, the oldest part of the current castle is that tall section topped with a gabled roof. I even spotted the brick pattern where the former gate had been sealed off.
The sun was sinking toward the horizon as I finished exploring Moermond Castle; I caught its last golden rays lighting up the tip of the tower spire.
I was riding near the village of Noordwelle when the sky turned pink and violet — unbelievably rich, saturated colors. Behind the houses, the tower of an old church emerged. St. Cornelius Church was founded in the 12th century, but destroyed in a war and then rebuilt again. Much of the reconstruction utilized original medieval brick, which is why it still feels quite authentic.
The tower leans noticeably, so two modern buttresses were added to support it. Inside hangs a 15th-century bell weighing 417 kilograms — no wonder the tower’s leaning! During the Second World War, the Germans nearly stole the bell, but the ship carrying it was wrecked before it got far, so the bell was returned to Noordwelle soon after the war.
My next stop was truly peculiar and had an interesting backstory! See that lone tower in the distance in the photo below? That’s where I was pedaling, rushing to catch it in the last of the beautiful light.
The Plompe Toren (1468) is the quiet witness to the relentless erosion that has been reshaping Zeeland for centuries. It’s all that remains of the village of Koudekerke, which slowly vanished as the sea crept closer and closer to its streets.
Koudekerke once stood on the southern edge of the island of Schouwen (now part of Schouwen-Duiveland). Around 1400, the Eastern Scheldt estuary began shifting, slowly eating away the coastline. In the 16th century, a dike was built straight through the village, residents began to leave, and the church was torn down. Only the tower was spared to serve as a beacon for the busy shipping traffic. A handful of houses still clung to the site in the early 20th century, but the Second World War finally swept away what remained of the village.
It was getting dark, but the sky still held a soft glow. Honestly, I hadn’t expected to see the second of the two castles — it seemed too far off my path. But then I realized it was actually nearby and wouldn’t take much of a detour. I thought, “Why not?” and sped off in that direction. I really hate arriving too late, when city lights spoil the view, casting an ugly glare that obscures the subject. Luckily, I got to the Haamstede Castle right on time! It stood in the center of the village of the same name. Its oldest parts — the keep and gatehouse — date back to the 13th century.
The sky had gone nearly black, and that’s when I truly realized how short even the sunniest winter day can be. My hope to visit Zierikzee — the real pearl of Schouwen-Duiveland — was gone. I could still ride there, but it was too dark to see much, let alone take any decent photos. I had a tough moment deciding what to do next. Eventually, I settled on crossing over to the South Beveland Peninsula and catching a train from Middelburg, the capital of Zeeland.
I had to cross yet another dam, but this one was anything but ordinary — it was the Eastern Scheldt Storm Surge Barrier. I had already seen a similar lock system earlier in my journey, but this dam wasn’t just one section — it had three, with a total of 62 steel gates that can close off the sea when fierce storm winds push tides toward the coast. Each gate spans 42 meters, and the entire dam stretches 9 kilometers in length!
As I rode past the barrier columns, they felt even more massive up close than from afar.
I hadn’t noticed how cold I was getting. In Zeeland, it’s not just the temperature — it’s the damp, salty air that seeps deep into your bones and chills you to the core. So, I pedaled straight to Middelburg without stopping. There, I found a cozy pub and sat down to enjoy a beer with pulled pork nachos; not the most logical choice when you’re freezing, but it’s my comfort food when cycling far from home.
I came home full of impressions, but with a slight sense of defeat. I simply wasn’t fast enough on that short winter day to reach Zierikzee — the true, lesser-known gem of Zeeland, tucked away from the train lines.
Just a bit more than a month had passed before I finally returned to carry out my plan — and this time, I wasn’t alone. Our longtail bike was back from repair, and Oksanka was super excited to join. We set off straight from our home in The Hague, and I couldn’t help but notice how much had changed since my solo trip.
I had a small surprise in mind. During my solo trip, I hadn’t realized I’d passed right by the most charming spot on the border of Holland and Zeeland — the seal rescue center in Stellendam. So this time, before entering Goeree-Overflakkee Island, we stopped there to see the seals recovering from exhaustion, injuries, or being orphaned.
Since it’s not a zoo, you never know how many seals will be there at any given moment or what stage of recovery they’ll be in. When we visited, there were a dozen of them — half already enjoying the outdoor pool, splashing around and playing with inflatable toys.
The other half stayed in separate indoor enclosures, noticeably quieter and less active. The center itself was small and pleasantly uncrowded. We wondered whether it would be the same in summer, when Zeeland fills up with Dutch and German vacationers.
After our dose of cuteness at the seal center, we rode deeper into Goeree-Overflakkee Island and climbed an observation tower to look back at the path we’d covered. The dunes had already shed their pale yellow tones, glowing now with fresh shades of green.
Our next stop was the gorgeous Westhoofd Lighthouse. Maybe it was just the different light, but the lighthouse seemed more pinkish-red than I remembered from my first visit.
The once-deserted Brouwersdam shook off its winter slumber; daytrippers flocked in and food carts popped up along the way. We stopped for a snack, too, and while waiting for our order, I snapped a guy completely absorbed in devouring fresh fries — one of my rare “candid satire” photographs a-la Martin Parr or Ed van der Elsken.
I wanted to show Oksanka both castles I had discovered during my first trip. When we arrived to Moermond Castle, the sun was at its zenith, so we could take in its details: the leaning tower, the varying brick patterns, and various facade decorations.
In Heemstede, the main street renovation was complete, and hundreds of people were enjoying drinks on the café terraces. To our surprise, no one was walking near the castle. Its rear, where walls and towers had been dismantled to their foundations, looked like a lush garden. Heavy branches hung low over the canal, framing the ruins in deep greenery.
We slipped away from Heemstede’s buzz pedaled out into the fields. I teased Oksanka, asking what she thought that solitary tower on the horizon might be. We were approaching the Plompe Toren — a peaceful spot by the water, ideal for lunch.
It wasn’t just a great spot for a late lunch — I also took a chance to test our new ultra-lightweight foldable chairs, each weighing just a kilo.
Inspired by the lone tower — the last trace of a once-thriving coastal village — we found ourselves talking about the fragility of human creations when faced with the forces of nature.
After lunch, only a 13-kilometre stretch separated us from Zierikzee, and we covered it in no time. Just like travellers in the past, we entered the town through a medieval gate, the Nobelpoort.
Now, let me give you some interesting historical context about Zierikzee. The town was first mentioned in 976, but truly began to prosper after receiving city rights in the 13th century. It’s been through a lot since then — battles, fires, and sieges that scarred its landscape.
Interesting fact: The name Zierikzee has an unusual origin. It stems from the personal name Siric (or Sigiric), meaning “ruler of victory,” and the Old Dutch word “aa” or “ee” for “water.” Over time, Sirics Ee was misread and reshaped into the modern spelling.
We cycled into the heart of town and found ourselves in front of an old building that looked like a town hall — but it wasn’t. This was the Guest House Church. Back in the 14th century, it opened its doors to poor travelers and the sick, later becoming a chapel. In 1651, they added a gallery to make more room (you can still spot that year on the facade).
Right above the gallery, a merman and a mermaid proudly hold Zierikzee’s coat of arms, featuring a standing lion.
But the main highlight of Zierikzee — a pair of fortified gates — was waiting for us right at the end of the old harbor. There’s the older, Late Gothic South Harbor Gate, and just across the water from it, the slightly younger Renaissance-style North Harbor Gate. As the sun dipped low on the horizon, it cast a warm golden glow over the brickwork, making the whole scene feel almost magical.
While I was busy taking pictures, Oksanka pointed out, laughing, how loudly my stomach was growling. I hadn’t even noticed! We went looking for food, but almost every café had already closed. The only place still open was a hotel restaurant. Not having a choice wasn’t ideal… but our dinner there turned out to be really lovely.
After dinner, we kept wandering through Zierikzee — it was hard to stop with so much beauty packed into every corner. Maybe it’s a good thing this town sits off the main train routes; we seemed like the only ones walking its streets, and that made our little adventure so special!
Every detail of this little town of just 12,000 people whispered what a mighty fortress of strategic importance it once was.
One of the most dramatic moments in Zierikzee’s medieval past happened in 1304, when the town was besieged by Flemish forces aiming to seize control of Zeeland. A major naval battle unfolded just offshore between the Flemish and an allied Franco-Hollandic fleet. Zierikzee held strong — and the defenders even managed to capture the Flemish commander! This victory helped turn the tide in Holland’s favor and kept Zeeland out of Flemish hands.
Oh, I almost forgot about the last interesting place here, the unfinished giant of Zierikzee! It’s colloquially referred to as the Dikke Toren (“Fat Tower” in Dutch).
This 62-meter-tall structure was meant to soar up to 130 meters — even taller than the Cathedral Tower in Utrecht, the Netherlands’ highest! Construction began in 1454 under the renowned Keldermans family of architects, but unfortunately, work ceased around 1510 due to an economic downturn and a lack of funding.
The sun was nearly down, and we had to rush to the nearest train station in Goes to make it home at a decent hour. I kicked into high-gear mode for the 20-kilometer ride, not expecting much — until Zeeland surprised us one last time. As we crossed the Zeeland Bridge, we watched the sun glide from touching the horizon to sinking completely below it. And with that stunning sunset behind us, our Zeeland adventure came to a peaceful close — until next time.
Leave a Reply