As I write these ruminations we are tied up in the Westerkan, inside our first bridge - a huge road bridge that obligingly opened for us when we asked. It's a little strange being at street level with traffic and people going by, and we don't feel like leaving the boat for fear of bits being nicked. Perhaps we're being unfair to the denizens of Ams. A regular procession of motorboats come buzzing, burbling and plop-ploping past us, some with balloons, some with wine. It is perhaps the Ams equivalent of promenading, no doubt intensified by being a pleasant Sunday evening in August. Most are slow causing little wash, with the occasional plonkers drunk already and going too fast. We'll see more of those later I think.
Meanwhile the trains regularly thunder across the bridge which will be opened for boats like us with masts after midnight when all trains have finished, thus starting the convoy south ... convoy of 1 so far though we expect more yachts to arrive after 2200.