"Floating the Timber"

Timber Yard in Zaandijk, Holland

The name of this timber yard is called Donker where my father worked with my brother Felicien before he immigrated to Australia in 1970 with his wife Petronella (Nan) and three children, Alain, Nicole and Angelique.  Donker was the owner and the name means darkness, Donker wanted the people to think by buying the timber they would become “switched on”, the words on their building is an advertisement that says “Turn your light on in the dark” it became a very well known slogan over the decades.

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Timber Yard, Zaandijk.

The timber yard is on the left foreground of this photo, to the right is where brother Felicien and his family lived in Hazepad, their house was about half way down the row of houses seen in this picture.  Hāzepad (Haa zer) and (pad meaning lane) translated as hare lane, the next street over was called Ezelpad which means donkey lane, Gorterspad (Hotters pad) means porridge lane, there were many streets in this village with these types of names.

On the canal were many barges delivering their goods to the factories along the river: oil, coconut, soap, cornflakes, biscuits, mayonnaise, mustard, paint and more.  Among them were barges loaded with timber which came from the port of Zaandam six km away.  Timber arrived at Zaandam on big ships from overseas and unloaded onto barges, about 20 metres long, these would be towed up to four at a time by small powerful tug boats.  Barges were floating boats without motors. 

It was always fascinating to watch the barges pulled along the Zaan river, by the little tug boats.  At the end of the river the tug boat would disengage and push the four barges one at a time into the lock.  When the gates were closed locking the barges in, the tugs returned for more barges.  Once locked inside the lock the water level would be lowered slowly to the level of the Hazerpad canal when the gates were opened again the barges were pushed out and along this new canal with a pole by one man on to the timber yard.

Two of my grandfathers were lock-keepers in this particular lock, they were my paternal grandfather Felicien Poulain (Snr) and my maternal grandfather Jacob van den Berg (more about them later with dates and and a photo of the loch).  The barges would be unloaded all by hand because there was no machines or cranes, this was the job of my father for 47 years.

"How it All Started"

Jacob Poulain (Snr) and Aaltje Poulain (nee van den Berg) 

on their wedding day in Wormerveer

This is my father and mother Jacob Poulain (Snr) and Aaltje Poulain (nee van den Berg) on their wedding day, 28 July 1938, their eldest child was born in 1942.  They were married in the registery office of Wormerveer.  Wormerveer is where my father lived at the time, he worked in a timber-yard.  He was 33 years of age and my mother was 29 and she lived in the village of Zaandijk only two kilometres down the road.  While they courted mum and dad would visit each other on their push bikes.  Later when we came along they both had two seats, one on the front and another on the back for us children, that was our transport.  On Sundays after church we would travel to visit family in the village next door on the bikes of our parents.  Calamity would strike if we had a flat tire, mum and dad would have to push us all the way home still sitting in our seats!  At the age of 7 or 8 years we would ride our own bikes. 

My mother would go to the weekly market to buy the vegetables, she had side bags on the back of her bike for her shopping.  There were no supermarkets or dairies in those days we had a grocery shop only for the basics, sugar, salt, flour and everything was wrapped in brown paper bags.  We had a special butcher that sold only horse meat which is a national staple diet still today.  Every village and town had one of these butchers that specialised in horse meat, as well as the butchers that sold other meat products.

Dad would bike 3 km to work at his timber-mill, I remember him pulling splinters out with a hot needle.  I can almost feel the splinter coming out myself.  We would watch him around the table, we all lived around the table, there was no television and we couldn’t go outside in winter so we took great interest in anything going on.  Dad had a bowl of hot water, with disinfectant and soda to soak his finger with the culprit splinter in.  When the splinter after much probing and squeezing  finally burst through we were always happy because our father would not be losing another finger.  It was a break from the monotony of playing Snakes and Ladders, Ludo or reading comics, so, that would be another nights entertainment over.  When dad was younger a splinter infected one of his fingers which was amputated, it was his ring finger because he could never wear his wedding ring.  In those days it was unheard of to wear your ring on another finger, so he never wore it.

At the age of 13 years he started working in the windmill called Herderskind which means the Child of a Shepherd.  To get to work he had to walk through paddocks, he had no bike and there were no foothpaths.  It was a bitterly cold job especially in the winter, he wore very thick clothes to keep him warm.  He worked there for more than forty years, and received a Long Serving Medal from Queen Juliana of Netherland, my nephew Alain Poulain, the eldest grandchild has inherited this medal.  Later the mill burnt down and became a large timber-yard.  My brother Felicien also worked with our father at this timbermill until he moved to live in Australia. 

My mother rode a bike similar to this one that sits in my front garden

"When is Fish Gold"

Fishing in the Village Urk -  

Unloading the vis (fish) and gear from the boats.  

Painted by Jacob Poulain 1971.  

(Painted from a picture in a Dutch magazine).

In the 1960’s vissing (fishing) was the main trade in Urk, they built big trawlers large enough to carry six men.  Small in our eyes today, but in comparison with their two-man small sailing boats this was large.  There were 300 boats in the harbour each with its own dock.

All the boats would go out to sea after midnight, they could not work on Sundays because of religious beliefs.  The vissermen (fishermen) would stay out on the seas for a whole week and return home on Fridays.  The women would be waiting on the wharf to greet them.  Sometimes a boat did not return, because it was caught in a storm and it’s precious cargo all drowned at sea, hundreds have died in this manner over the years, from this particular village.  The mood of the people would always be joyful, to have their men back home safe again and vis on the tafel (table).

The chest portrayed is used for carrying gear, but the Dutch magazine joked that because the trade was so properous, the men carried gold of the boat instead of fish.

There are all different docks where they repair and paint their boats.  The fish is unloaded, and taken to a large factory on the wharf, the vissermen would be paid, and the viss processed, exported and distributed through-out the land.  The woman would take home a pot or bucket full for her family, this is their treat.

The main viss were soles and herrings, a favourite Dutch delicacy is raw herrings pickled in vinegar called Roll-Mops sold in supermarkets globally (mmmmmm my mouth is watering), also zoute haring (salted herrings) wrapped in raw onions, would be eaten on the street corners sold from the street carts.  More about these later.