Racing the Wadden Sea with a Silt Sled

Hans Faber

May 23, 2018

The mud flats of the Wadden Sea are endless. But what to do with them? How do you give meaning to mud? Yes, one cubic meter of mud flat contains millions of diatoms, thousands of small crabs, mussels, snails, and worms. For birds, all this frutti di mare is like ordering à la carte. Birds are nice, okay. However, the real meaning of mud is when you go down and dirty and take part in a silt-sled race. Each year, races take place at the mud flats of the Wadden Sea coast of Germany and the Netherlands, and of 日本 ('Japan'), too.

We wrote about it before; living on the endless flatlands near the Wadden Sea takes an acquired taste, especially considering the loads of free time people from the north of Germany and the Netherlands have. The sports they practice are both eccentric and exotic. We recall some of their sports: searching for peewit eggs, leaping far with wooden poles of four meters long or longer, throwing stones called boßeln, and playing the palm game kaatsen, which is a kind of pelota. Read our blog post What's hip and happening at the grasslands to learn more about Frisian leisure activities.

And, then there is silt-sled racing too! The chill and exciting topic of this blog post. We understand, you never heard of it. Although, you might have heard of the North German singer Yared Dibaba und die Schlickrutscher ('and the silt sled').

What is a Silt Sled?

A silt or mud sled is, as the word implies, a sled to slide over the soft, silty mud flats of the Wadden Sea. A shallow sea that is UNESCO World Heritage-listed, stretching from the northwest of the Netherlands to the northwest of Germany, all the way to the southwestern-most tip of the region of Jutland in Denmark. About 500 kilometers long and on average 20 kilometers wide (Algemene Rekenkamer 2013). So, a lot of mud. Additionally, in the provinces of Zuid Holland and Zeeland in the southwest of the Netherlands, silt sleds were used for getting around on the seabed at low tide.

In the Dutch language, a silt sled is called a slikslee or waddenstep, and in the German language, it is called a Wattschlitten or, indeed, a Schlickrutscher. In the Grunnings Low Saxon language, it is called a kraaite or kraite. In the Oostfreesk Low Saxon language, it is called a Creier, Kreier, or Kreyer. In the Mid Frisian language, it is called a slykslide. In the region of Butjadingen and Stadland at the mouth of the River Weser, it is called a Schusch. Finally, in Japan, it is called a 潟スキー, meaning 'lagoon skiing', and pronounced as 'kata sukī'. In this blog post, we will focus on the sleds used on the sweeping seabed of the Wadden Sea.

slikslee schlickrutscher kraaite kraite kreier kreyer mudsled — silt sled to empty fishing pods

Like any regular sled, the sliding surface curls at the front. Specific to this sled type is that it has low-standing boards all around to prevent it from sinking into the mud, like a little boat. Furthermore, you use it like an ordinary step on wheels to get it into motion, like when you were a kid racing on the sidewalk. Nowadays, electric steps are popular in all major cities in the world to get around.

Other silt sleds are more advanced. Especially in Germany along the coast of Land Wursten and Butjadingen near the mouth of the River Weser at the German Bight. These posh and slick sleds are being pulled by dogs.

Of course, parallels with the Inuit sleds of Greenland on snow instead of mud did not go unnoticed. Initiatives are being developed to train seals to replace ordinary dogs. Not without reason is a seal called a seehûn ('sea dog') in the Mid-Frisian language. However, training seals to pull sleds has turned out to be more time-consuming than anticipated. We promise, the day will come soon when you will be able to see silt sleds being pulled by seals. Having the additional bonus, it does not matter whether it is ebb tide or flood tide. Of the two seal species in the Wadden Sea, training common seals appears more promising than training grey seals.

Silt sleds were mainly used to move around the mud flats by fishermen to go to their V-shaped fish weirs and traps, called a visweer or harge in Dutch, or a Buttschütte in the Oostfreesk Low Saxon language, with a fishing pod at the tip of the V-angle. These weirs and traps were placed in gullies at the Wadden Sea. Noticed the similarity between the English and Dutch words weir and visweer ('fish weir')?

At ebb tide, fishermen could roam the blue-black, smelly mud flats with their sleds quicker, easier, and safer. Safer because, at places, the Wadden Sea can suck you into the mire up to your waist, and when the flood comes in – and trust us, it will come – you will be lost. Read also our posts Walking the Sea, or A Wadden Sea Guide and His Twelve Disciples to understand the dangers of the Wadden Sea. The technique of the harge or Buttschütte is not unique to the Wadden Sea. Similar fish traps were practiced in the province of Zeeland, too. Actually, it is a global technique. But the specific thing here is the vast area of mud.

In the Netherlands, near the town of Almere, three Iron Age Buttschüttes next to each other have been found, dating to 2400 BC. One had a staggering length of 700 meters. The other two had a length of at least 240 meters. They were made of wooden sticks. The wood used was mainly alder and was cut from trees at the end of autumn or the beginning of winter. At the various V-shaped openings, wicker fishing pots have been found, too. These had a length of nearly 2 meters and were almost 1 meter wide. Anyway, this way of catching fish in this region is terribly old.

Besides these advantages of moving around, a sled with boards that resembles a little boat makes it possible to carry your nets and the catch of the day back from the mire, including anchovies, other fish, mussels, or crabs. It could also be your weekly catch of lugworms and sandworms for fishing bait that you dug up with a pitchfork. Silt sleds were also used to move around while building low dams, the so-called rijsdammen or Lahnungen in Dutch and German, respectively, to create new marshland. Again, read our blog post Walking the Sea mentioned earlier to learn how land was (re-)taken from the sea. The last advantage of this mud vehicle is that it has a net-zero carbon footprint, which is very important if we are to be serious about the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) and all the international agreements on mitigating climate change.

Nevertheless, the silt sleds lost their popularity halfway through the twentieth century. Fishing became a large-scale industry, and together with the near disappearance of, in particular, anchovies, small-scale fishing no longer offered a viable means of income.

Author of this blog post heard the stories of the last fisherman at the hamlet of Koehool in the north of the province of Friesland. This fisherman had a silt sled to reach his fishing pods and nets. An always nervous man, by the way, when the weather turned bad. Then he would be standing on top of the dyke staring over the tidal marshlands, mud flats, and the sea. He stopped fishing in the late '70s. Or was it, when he stood on top of the dyke at Koehool, that he was waiting for King Radbod to appear on his white horse riding the marshes? Like the Wild Hunt or Wilde Jagd. This is what local legends tell us, anyway. The fisherman of Koehool stopped fishing in the late '70s. The last silt-sled fisherman in the estuary of the Dollart on the Dutch side of the Dutch-German border was Piet Kolthof, also known as Pie Tidde. Pie Tidde stopped fishing not too long ago as well.

New developments and applications of the silt sleds are taken place, too. In the summer of 2018, the Royal Netherlands Rescue Squad (KNRM) of Hansweert in the province of Zeeland introduced an inflatable silt sled.

Silt-Sledge Racing

Races are being held near the village of Paesens-Moddergat at Lauwersoog, on the southern shores of the island of Schiermonnikoog, and near the town of Delfzijl. All spots in the Netherlands. If you triumph in the race on the island of Schiermonnikoog, with its elegant silt sleds, you receive a Gouden Haring ('golden herring'). Now, how lovely is that? Races are held in the month of August every year. Do not forget to enjoy Europe's biggest beaches, too, while you are out there.

To be absolutely clear: racing the mud plains with cars is not exactly recommended. It will not work, and it might even be dangerous. Most likely, you will have to be rescued with a silt sled. Also, the salty water is not good for your car's paint and chassis. See images below.

In Germany, silt-sled races take place with villagers from Dangast, Dyksterhusen, Pilsum, and Pogum at Upleward-Greetsiel in the region of Ostfriesland. Therefore, with the races of Delfzijl in mind, the Dollart Bight and the estuary of the River Ems seem to be the focus of world silt-sled action today. Especially, the 'world championship' — buckle up to pronounce this one — Schlikschlittenrennen of Upleward-Greetsiel appears to be the biggest in Europe and takes place every year in the summer too. They have fancy, colourful, sturdy sleds.

On the other side of the Dollart Bight is the biggest race of the Netherlands, namely the silt-sled race of Delfzijl, mentioned earlier. This race takes place during Pentecost on Sunday and has been occurring for 43 years — quite an achievement. The time of year, namely Pentecost, might be more risky weather-wise compared to other races normally held in the month of August. It’s still very cold, too. Tough people, those Delfzijl-people. They simply forgot it is barely the end of winter when planning these races.

It is not by coincidence that silt-sled races take place in the Dollart Bight. The amount of mud is tremendous and even disturbing the water quality and, thus, has a negative impact on the animal and plant variety. To get rid of the excessive mud, the people of the province of Groningen have started to harvest mud. No, we are not kidding. They extract the fertile mud, let it dry, and use it for heightening dykes and low polder lands.

The silt-sled tournament fields at the Dollart Bight are even historic battlegrounds. It was the Roman poet and army officer praefectus Albinovanus Pedo who wrote about the Wadden Sea, particularly about the estuary of the Dollart. That was during the military campaign under the command of General Germanicus in the year AD 16, when his fleet of a thousand small ships was wrecked in a storm. His description is the oldest surviving text describing the treacherous mire and cold sea, or land, depending on your perspective. His amazing account of the disastrous expedition in the Dollart Bight and River Ems area reads as follows (translation after Looijenga, Popkema & Slofstra 2017):

Long since they had left the day and sunlight behind. For long they, exiles from the known part of the world who had dared to go through forbidden darkness, had been looking at to the boundaries of nature and the farthest coast of the earth.

From here they saw it, the sea, carrying huge monsters under slow rolling waves and from all sides wild whales and sea dogs rising up and grabbing their ships. The breaking itself increased their fear.

Already stuck in the mud the ships and the fleet were left behind after a rapid storm. Stuck they believed their unhappy fate was that the wild sea monsters would tear them apart. And high on the deck behind, someone with a fighting gaze fought against the blinding sky. The world had been snatched away. Nothing could be distinguished. The breath was taken from him [Albinovanus Pedo] and he exclaimed:

"Where do we end up? The day itself is on the run and nature seals the rest of the world with everlasting darkness. Do we look perhaps for tribes under new skies and for another world that has not yet been touched by war? The gods call us back. Forbid that mortal eyes see the end of everything. Why do we violate with oars a strange and sacred sea? Why do we disturb the quiet residences of the gods?"

Romans drowning at the River Ems estuary

So, ships stuck in the mudflats. In a world where nothing could be distinguished anymore. What was sea and what was land? Where did the horizon end, and where did the sky start? A world that must be sacred and the domain of gods. About a century earlier than Albinovanus' journey, the Roman historian Tacitus wrote about this same area, concerning the rumors that even the Pillars of Hercules existed there, marking the end of the world. Or that Hercules himself had been there. Yes, the Romans really thought they were at a mythical place at the very edge of the world. If interested in more history of the Roman presence in this region, check our blog post Pagare il fio.

I sink in the miry depths, where there is no foothold. Rescue me from the mire, do not let me sink.(Psalm 69: 2 and 14)

The 42nd Race

The bastards of the Frisia Coast Trail participated in the Delfzijl races of May 20, 2018, and thus violated a sacred sea and disturbed the ancient gods, too. Like the Romans did with their oars. Although, the whole experience was less spiritual than the Romans experienced it 2,000 years ago. Quite down to earth, actually. Even better: down to mud.

The game started at around 09:30 in the morning. That was a bit unfortunate, according to the organizing committee De Drie Delfzijlen. But the moon simply dictates the rhythm of the tide, and thus the time for the silt-sled races to start. The games must finish before the flood comes in. ‘Unfortunate’ in the sense that the night before many potential contestants had been feasting and drinking in town until early in the morning. Hence, many of them were not able to appear at the start this early. Their rhythm is not dictated by the moon but by hormones instead. Nevertheless, still around eighty people participated this year. There were heats for children, for women, and for men. Furthermore, a relay, and a race for the most creative outfit.

The bastards finished without glory. Subdued by the wild whales and sea dogs of Delfzijl, as described by the aforementioned Albinovanus Pedo. If we project this description onto today's 'beasts': the Frisian bastards lost against the local, more than two meters tall rugby players who participated, too. Know that the people of the Wadden Sea coast are actually the tallest people on our planet. They are even taller than the people of the archipelago of Tonga in Polynesia. If you do not believe it, check out the facts of our blog post Giants of Twilight Land. Knowing this, imagine even a local rugby team from this area. Indeed, you do not stand a chance.

But the bastards did not back down. However, they did all this without leaving a lasting impression in the miry flats, leaving net zero footprint. Below is an impression of their futile efforts.