a fantasy
On our bikes (it was one degree below zero) a fantasy arose: that it would become extremely cold. A solid wave of freezing would sweep across the land. The river flowing beside us would come to a standstill. We would keep cycling along the red path, looking out over a long sequence of hardened waves. We passed a boat. The red of its hull stood out against the gray of sky, grey ice. Voices carried. We heard clunks and cracks. Maybe, we thought, the skippers needed a hand. We parked our bikes against a cold lamppost and clambered over everything that was frozen.
reality
Rivers can actually freeze. The Meuse came to a halt in ’63. On the front page of de Volkskrant on January 26 there’s a photo of four people sitting at a table, with the caption: The frostbound ferry operators of Cuijk are having a wonderful time. In the middle of the frozen Meuse, the women* play a card game, ears wrapped warmly to keep heads cool. Table and chairs, coffee and a cookie — everything is there.
Every day someone waits by the Meuse. Every day. That’s just how it is. That someone does it voluntarily (you can be a Meuse watcher too, if you like -> email maaswacht@gmail.com). Maaswacht is a collaboration between the river Meuse, TAAT, and SoAP.
*here I distort a fact