We were lucky enough to be one of the early ones to disembark in the Hook of Holland, so we got through immigration very swiftly and were on the road by about 08:30 heading for Havelte, where we were booked in to an adults only campsite (brilliant, we need more of these) called Jelly’s Hoeve. We have stayed there before but not camping; on that first occasion we were in one of their very comfortable rental apartments. Hoeve is Dutch for farm and Jelly, apparently, was the last farm horse. Delightful.
Our journey from the Hook to Havelte was 200kms and the journey went very smoothly. We were entering Havelte at about 12:00. There was one curiosity: a motorway service area where they charged to use the loo. Bizarre.
On Sunday we would meet our local guide but until then we were on our own. Just as well ‘cos we had an empty fridge and needed to do some serious shopping. In the centre of Havelte there is an AH [Albert Heijn] supermarket to begin stocking the fridge. There is also a long term parking area which could accommodate a motor home. We couldn’t check in to Jelly’s until 13:00 and had time before so headed straight for Havelte and the short walk from the parking area to AH.
At the checkout we were reminded of another Dutch oddity, at least in this rural area. The shop here doesn’t take credit cards, it’s cash or a regular bank card (debit card). OK, cash it would be. We have most of our euros on a prepaid Caxton card which will be fine in France but sometimes not here. Happily we have enough cash for a while. It’s odd, in Australia it was cash that was difficult to use, now it’s credit cards, even prepaid ones. How complicated life gets.
Whilst at the shop, Antonio messaged me to say that he had unexpected free time in the afternoon and would I like to go out looking today. At the time, the weather looked quite favourable; you bet I would.
And so [lose 100 points] to the main reason for my visit to the Netherlands. I have seen every dragonfly and damselfly on the UK-list bar one, the accursed so-called Irish Damselfly (Coenagrion lunulatum). The British name is complete rubbish and based on the fact that, in the British Isles, it occurs only in Ireland. A more sensible English language name is the Crescent Bluet in reference to the crescent moon shape on abdominal segment 2.
I have jumped through hoops to try and find it without going to Ireland. I was told of a lake in the Auvergne that supposedly supported a population and went there in early July 2018 but failed to find it. I made a repeat visit in early July 2023 with the same result. We are here now, earlier in the year, because Antonio knows where there is a population in the Netherlands. (According to his information, I think I was too late in the year for their early flight season in the Auvergne.)
So, Antonio, helpful chap that he is, picked me up after we had Frodo settled and off we sped with high hopes. The weather had begun to look decidedly iffy chez Frodo but after our 30-minute drive things were looking a bit more hopeful. Antonio is a great spotter and, of course, knew where to look.
The habitat, a marshy area with cotton grass and mixed vegetation, was beside a classic Dutch cobbled road. Antonio drew a blank on the first side of the road but switching to the other side, he soon called me and my camera over. At long bloody last, I had my sights on a splendid male Coenagrion lunulatum. Even better, he shortly afterwards found a female, which can be a bit cryptic and are tricky to spot. I had the set. I couldn’t thank Antonio enough.
There are five European species of Whitefaced Darters. Britain has just one of them but I had seen three, altogether, though my pictures of two could do with improvement. As a bonus, males of one of my missing Whitefaces, The Northerm Whiteface (Leucorrhinia rubicunda), began settling on wooden boards beside the road. How happy was I?
What it is to have friends.
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