When the Gate of Hell Opened at the Golden Necklace
Updated: 5 days ago
When you enter the province of Friesland from the west by car, crossing the Afsluitdijk (‘closure dam’) and continuing along the A7 motorway, you will pass a viaduct named Okkehel. If your destination is the nearby port of Harlingen, you may also spot the bright green sloops of the rowing club Okke Hel in its harbour. In this blog post, we will explore the legend of a skipper named Ocke—later written as Okke—who is said to have lived about a thousand years ago in this watery corner of the world. And let us hope it is just a legend! Otherwise, hiking the nearby 15-kilometre circular dyke path Pingjumer Gulden Halsband (‘Pingjum Golden Necklace’) could turn out to be a rather risky and dangerous undertaking.
A thousand years ago, there lived a skipper named Ocke. He was born in the village of Pingjum. Ocke was a good and brave skipper. His posture and strength were no less than that of the famous Grutte Pier 'Great Pier' centuries later. Ocke was also a rough personality. Someone who liked his mug of beer. More worrisome, though, was that he was a heathen. Despite most Frisians already having embraced Christianity as their new religion, Ocke’s heart was still with Woden.
One day, Ocke sailed from the town of Bolswerd on the shores of the (former) Middelzee (literally 'middle sea') via Pingjum to the sea channel Vlie. A sea inlet used to connect Pingjum with the Zuiderzee (literally 'southern sea') and the sea channel Vlie. His ship was loaded with grain. When Ocke's ship was near the village of Witmarsum, the wind turned to the grim north and became a severe storm. His crew was terrified, and they experienced many hazardous moments.
Luckily, the storm calmed down after a while. This made Ocke’s men cheerfully say: "Nou sil it mei Gods help wol gean," which translate as 'from now on, with God's help, it should be fine.' When Ocke, the pagan he was, heard this, he got furious. From behind the helm he yelled at his men:
“God is dea en kâld! Wat soe hy? ‘t Sil sûnder Him!”
‘God is dead and cold. What would he? It must be without him’
His words were blasphemy of the highest order, and such an offence could not go unpunished. Even in the nineteenth century, when the philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche—perhaps inspired by skipper Ocke—declared “Gott ist tot” (‘God is dead’), or when TIME magazine put the question “Is God dead?” on its cover in 1966, the supposedly modern world reacted with outrage and shock.
It should therefore come as no surprise that, as soon as Ocke had uttered these terrible words a thousand years earlier, an enormous wave rose up and surged towards the ship. It swept Ocke overboard. At that very moment, a bolt of lightning struck him, and the abyss opened beneath the vessel. The jaws of the wolf yawned wide, and Ocke, his ship, and its crew(?!) were swallowed by the salty scum and dragged into the dark depths.
For all eternity.
Centuries later, many inlet seas in the province of Friesland silted up and were turned into arable land. Where once the wild sea reigned, grasslands and buttercups had taken over. For long, until around the year 1825, a wooden pole protruded above the lush grass (Van der Molen 1940). It was the tip of the mast of Ocke's ship, and the fields were called Ocke Hel or Okkehel. It is low-lying land. Submerged during winter, and filled with reeds and singing birds during summer.
Unfortunately, the exact spot of the ship is no longer known. Cows used the tip of the mast to rub their body and skin against. Until it broke off. No farmer ever bothered to mark the spot.
To find the fields where this spectacular ordeal is said to have taken place, leave the village of Witmarsum in a south-westerly direction via Koudehuisterdijk Road. This quiet backroad is, in fact, an old dyke and part of the circular dyke system known as the Pingjumer Gulden Halsband (see further below).
Follow the road until you reach the hamlet of Koudehuizum, which consists of little more than a farmstead. From there, head south towards the hamlet of Harkezijl and the terp village of Schraard. The landscape unfolds as a maze of medieval plots, criss-crossed by remnants of old dykes such as the Marnedijk, Kattendijk, and Schraarderhemdijk. The latter is also locally known as the Grienedyk, meaning ‘green dyke’ or ‘young dyke’ (Kartskarel 2006).
Looking south-west, you can also see, at a distance of about 1.5 kilometres, the Okkehel viaduct mentioned at the beginning of this blog post. This wider area is where, according to the legend, the abyss once opened during a violent storm of thunder and lightning.
What the hel?
The whole story explains why the fields near Koudehuizum carry the name Ocke or Okke, but it does not explain why it is called hel too. What is meant by the word hel anyway?
The words hel, helle, hol, and hool also appear in numerous toponyms across the province of Friesland. Consider De Hel (near the polder of It Heidenskip—no, we did not invent that combination), Lytse Hel, Hoalle Poarte, Hollepoartepoel, De Reade Hel, Reahel, Rohel, Helsdoar, Heldoar, Helbird, Skraeder Hol (near Okkehel), and Hollegreft, among others. Similar names can be found elsewhere in the Netherlands, such as Hellum in the province of Groningen and Hellevoetsluis in Zuid-Holland.
Many of these toponyms, some of them names of former farmsteads, are associated with wet areas, ponds, small lakes, and former kolks—water-filled depressions often formed by dyke breaches (Winkler 1894). At the Hallumer Mieden, a waterlogged lowland near the village of Hallum in Friesland, you can even find the old Eendenkooi bij de hel, meaning ‘duck decoy near the hel’ (Betten 2018).
The narrow sea strait between the Wadden Sea island of Texel and the mainland, which provides access to the Wadden Sea from the North Sea, is today known as the Marsdiep. In earlier times, however, it was called Helle Dore or Helsdeur (‘Hell’s Door’). A pumping station in Den Helder, the naval town on the Marsdiep, still bears the name De Helsdeur, preserving a reminder of this old name. The pumping station has been in operation since 1973.
The etymology of the town’s name, Den Helder, remains uncertain (Van Berkel & Samplonius 2018). We cannot resist wondering, however, whether it might also be connected with hel. Perhaps—and this is admittedly speculative—it simply means ‘The Hell Door.’
The origin of the word hel is probably Celtic and therefore very ancient, dating back at least to the Late Iron Age. It is generally understood to refer to something like ‘low-lying land’, a ‘hollow’, or ‘swampy ground’ (Van Berkel & Samplonius 2018; Clerinx 2023). A selection of Dutch toponyms that may be related to such low-lying or waterlogged landscapes includes Helbergen, Helbroek, Hellebroek, Hell, Helle, Hellegat, Hellendoorn, Helleneind, Hellouw, and Helmond.
Another proposed explanation connects hel to Celtic words associated with salt and the sea—specifically the Welsh halein, meaning ‘salt’, and hali, meaning ‘sea’ (Kerkhof 2016).
In the old Germanic tradition, Hell was understood as the underworld. The word may ultimately derive from the Proto-Germanic haljō, the Gothic halja, and the Old Frisian helle, all carrying a meaning something like ‘concealed place.’ Compare this with Old English helan, meaning ‘to cover’ or ‘to hide.’ Interestingly, the almost identical Mid Frisian verb hiele still means ‘to heal’—and is pronounced the same way as in modern English.
And who has not heard of the fairy tale Frau Holle, or Mother Holle? She is often interpreted as a figure preserving the memory of a pre-Germanic goddess associated with both life and death. In regional traditions, this mysterious being was connected with the underworld and was said to dwell in the hollow trunks of elder trees.
Taking these Celtic and Germanic interpretations together, a hel or hell can be understood as a place associated with evil spirits and the souls of the dead: a dark, cold, and watery world. Such places might be found in vortexes, kolks, sea straits, deep ponds, and pits—locations that became particularly dangerous when the weather turned wild, when mist descended, or when storms raged across the land and sea.
These wet and inhospitable places were thought to provide access to the Otherworld, to the underworld itself (Winkler 1894). In the medieval imagination, too, water sources could be inhabited by dragons, demons, and other malevolent beings (Arnold 2024). A dark pool, a swirling vortex, or a treacherous sea strait could therefore be more than a dangerous feature of the landscape: it might be a place where the boundary between this world and the next grew dangerously thin.
Indeed, these were places where the gates—or doors—of Hell might suddenly open. In modern terms, we might almost imagine them as wormholes: openings in the landscape connecting different worlds, spaces, or dimensions, a recurring phenomenon in Hollywood films such as Stargate (1994), The Matrix (1999), and Interstellar (2014).
Interestingly, this description is reminiscent of the medieval and early-modern concept of so-called grenslanden, or borderlands: places of twilight where werewolves, warcs, weargs, Grendel-like monsters, and outlaws were believed to dwell—in other words, those who had received the so-called ‘punishment of the wolf.’ These were people cast beyond the boundaries of ordinary society, occupying a shadowy realm somewhere between the human world and the wilderness.
For more on these borderlands and the punishment of the wolf, see our blog post Who’s Afraid of Veracious Woolf?—The Dread Beast Is Back.
The lands around Okkehel are thought to occupy the site of a former kolk or sea inlet. If so, this would make it a place traditionally associated with the underworld—and perhaps, therefore, the very place where the Gate of Hell once stood. And who knows? Perhaps it still does.
Pingjumer Gulden Halsband
The dyke-system Pingjumer Gulden Halsband 'Pingjum golden necklace' is a so-called binnenringdijk, meaning a dyke-system in the shape of a ring or collar, located more inland. It has a total length of circa 13.5 kilometers. Pingjum is the main terp village that is surrounded by the Gulden Halsband. Other (former) terp settlements within the Gulden Halsband are: Pingjumerrijge, Lutke Pingjum, Westingastate, Wattingastate, Meinsma, and a former terp settlement of which the name has not been preserved (Van Rooij 2015).
The dyke system developed between the tenth and twelfth centuries AD—roughly the same period in which the legend of Ocke Hel is thought to have originated. The dykes were built primarily to protect the surrounding settlements and farmland from flooding by the former sea inlet of the Marne. The Marne was connected to the Vlie, an important tidal channel that opened into the North Sea. In later centuries, the Vlie developed into the Zuiderzee (literally ‘southern sea’), which was eventually transformed into the present-day lake IJsselmeer.
The Pingjumer Gulden Halsband is one of the oldest circular dyke systems in the Netherlands—and, consequently, one of the oldest of its kind in the world. The earliest known attestation of the name Gulden Halsband (‘Golden Necklace’) dates from 1682.
Remarkably, the dyke system continued to serve its protective function well into the nineteenth century. During the catastrophic February Flood of 1825, large parts of the province of Friesland were inundated. But not Pingjum and its immediate surroundings. After almost a millennium of service, the Gulden Halsband once again withstood the fury of the sea and kept the land enclosed within it dry. It had, so to speak, kept the Gate of Hell firmly shut. It held the doors. Hodor.
Only in 1892 was it decided that the Pingjumer Gulden Halsband would no longer form part of the country's primary sea defence. The great dykes built closer to the coast had finally taken over its heavy responsibility. After centuries of standing guard against the sea, the Gulden Halsband could at last retire.
From around 2006, the villagers of Arum, Kimswerd, Pingjum, Witmarsum, and Zurich started initiatives to preserve the Gulden Halsband. Some farmers already had levelled parts of the dyke-system to create more agricultural land. The villagers did so with great success. In 2019, the Gulden Halsband was listed as regional monument by the municipality Súdwest Fryslân. So, no more levelling by farmers. Through the years, biodiversity is increasing, too.
Part of the effort to raise public and administrative awareness of the unique cultural significance of the Gulden Halsband was the establishment of a hiking path following the ancient dyke system. Today, it makes for a beautiful circular walk and forms part of the long-distance trail Nederlands Kustpad, Part 3.
For a convenient starting point, spend the night at the pension and tavern De Gekroonde Leeuw (‘the crowned lion’) in the small terp village of Arum, housed in a former tram station. Set off from there in the morning and follow the trail as it traces the Gulden Halsband through the Frisian landscape.
And as you walk, bear in mind that the ground beneath your feet is almost sacred territory for the Mennonites — the worldwide Anabaptist church community whose founding figure, Menno Simons (1496–1561), was born in the nearby village of Witmarsum (Hielkema 1995).
Why the dyke system came to be known as the Gulden Halsband remains a mystery. Who knows? Perhaps the name evokes those ancient times when the Frisians were said to have lived under the yoke of the Vikings. According to old sagas and later traditions, the Frisians were forced to wear a noose around their necks as a symbol of their subjugation. After the Frisians were liberated from Viking rule at the end of the ninth century AD, the story goes, they exchanged these nooses for golden collars—transforming a symbol of bondage into one of freedom and independence. Could the Gulden Halsband therefore be a distant echo of this ancient symbolism? We can only speculate.
For more on why golden collars, necklaces, and the idea of having ‘free necks’ became such powerful symbols in Frisian tradition, see our blog posts With a Noose Through the Norsemen’s Door and Barbarians Riding to the Capital to Claim Rights on Farmland.
animation of the Pingjumer Gulden Halsband
As an anecdote, an uncle of one of the Frisian bastards was born and raised in the village of Pingjum (family Bruinsma). He remembered that when ploughing the fields outside the dyke system—that is, on the former sea inlet of the Marne—the clay was so thick and heavy that it could almost tip the tractor backwards. When ploughing inside the Gulden Halsband dyke system, however, this was not the case.
When he was young, he and the other villagers also claimed that they could taste the difference between potatoes grown in Pingjum, on knipklei or heavy clay, and those grown in nearby Witmarsum, where the soil was more sandy. Guess which ones this uncle preferred?
Conclusion
When hiking the circular path Pingjumer Gulden Halsband, and you are at the hamlet of Koudehuizum, do not forget to take a quick look in the direction of the hamlet of Harkezijl and the terp village of Schraard, where about the ship of Ocke Hel must have been. An area where, along the Schaarderhemdijk (also Grienedyk), it is haunted at night during autumn and winter. More importantly, refrain from taking the name of God in vain like Ocke did a thousand years ago, because just as well the Gate of Hell may open again. When the wind turns to the grim north, you better run!
A final remark. The ungodliness of the place is underlined by the recent find of a pommel cap that belonged to a sword of Viking making, the so-called Mammen style. Among other things, it depicts wild boars, which symbolized strength and courage. The cap was found by detectorist Sander Visser near the village of Witmarsum in May 2024 and will be displayed in the Fries Museum. Because Witmarsum is its provenance, we, therefore, like to think of it as Ocke's Sword—the heathen sea dog.
Note 1 — Variants of the legend of Ocke Hel.
On the internet a variant can be found of the legend of Ocke Hel, alas without sources, that can be associated with the HT. According to this legend, Okke came from the port of Harlingen instead of the village of Pingjum; an Ouwe Seun ('old son') therefore. One day, when having a drink in one of the taverns of Harlingen, Okke makes a bet with a stranger. The bet is that they will row from Harlingen to the island of Terschelling. When leaving the tavern, Okke notices that the man has the legs of a goat. Okke realizes it is the Devil. Because the Devil is bragging continuously that it is the strongest rower ever, Okke asks if it is okay that he gets a 30-minute head start. The vain and arrogant Devil agrees. The next day they race. Okke starts and rows in a straight line to the island of Terschelling. What the Devil did not know, was that it would be outgoing tide. Not long after the Devil also started rowing, it hit a sandbank. Okko won the race. This is how Okkehel got his name.
This variant of the legend of Ocke Hel is said to be the basis of an annual race on the Wadden Sea. Each year, rowing teams race with sloops from the port of Harlingen to the island of Terschelling; the so-called HT. It is a yearly race of circa 35 kilometers that started in 1975 and takes place in the spring. Depending on the weather, reckon three hours of rowing. One of the club teams participating is called Okke Hel with its green sloops. Sloops with the names Danser 'dancer' and Snurk 'snore'.
By the way, an effective way to keep the Devil from entering bawdy taverns, graveyards, or any other place where he might come to collect souls is to lay a cattle grid across the entrance. With his goat-like legs, the Devil supposedly cannot cross the grid and enter the premises. For more tips and tricks on keeping the Devil at bay, see our blog post How to Bury Your Mother-in-Law (Properly): Ancient Frisian Funeral Rites, which contains, besides cattle grids, several other valuable methods for warding off the Devil.
In yet another variant of the legend (Franke 1932), which closely follows the one we described in this blog post, Ocke Hel is said to be someone who was brave and never tired of battling the waves. Neither was he afraid of a fight during which he often used his knife. His enemies he beat to death. Moreover, out of every ten words he uttered, nine were blasphemies.
Note 2 — Okkehel was also the name of a Frisian punk band with new wave influences between 1979 and 1984, with Piter Wilkens as lead singer and main song writer. Okkehel is, in fact, one of the first music bands singing in Frisian language. Later, the band also incorporated influences of funk, reggae, and jazz. Today, Piter Wilkens is a well-known troubadour and folk singer.
Note 3 — While Ocke Hel thought God was dead, respected American philosophers of Frisian descent, professors William Harry Jellema (1893-1982) and Alvin Plantinga (1932-), argued God is not dead (De Haan & Huisman 2009). The answer, of course, is 42 (Adam 1979).
Note 4 — Featured image is the sculpture La Porte de l 'Enfer ('the gate of hell') created by Auguste Rodin. A sculpture inspired by Dante's fourteenth-century poem Inferno where, when entering Hell, above the doors the phrase is written 'Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate' ('abandon all hope, ye who enter here'). You can admire the Gate of Hell at the Musée Rodin in Paris. A warning: Now you know the legend of Ocke Hel, do not peak behind the gate to see what is there!
Suggested music
Okkehel, No Hast (Alle Tiid) (1982)
Black Sabbath, God is Dead? (2013)
Further reading
Adam, D., The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy (1979)
Alighieri, D. (Dante), La Divina Commedia (1321)
Arnold, E.F., Medieval Riverscapes. Environment and Memory in Northwest Europe, c. 300-1100 (2024)
Berkel, van G. & Samplonius, K., Nederlandse plaatsnamen verklaard. Reeks Nederlandse plaatsnamen deel 12 (2018)
Betten, E., Terpen- en Wierdenland (2018)
Bureau Peter de Ruyter, landschapsarchitectuur, Masterplan ‘Gouden land’ Visie op de toekomst van de Marneslenk en omgeving in 2030 (2018)
Clerinx, H., De god met de maretak. Kelten en de Lage Landen (2023)
Dykstra, W., Uit Friesland’s volksleven van vroeger en later (1895)
Elson, J.T., Toward a Hidden God (1966)
Erfgoedvereniging Heemschut, Pingjumer Gulden Halsband (website)
Franke, S., Sagen en legenden rond de Zuiderzee (1932)
Haan, de P. & Huisman, K. (eds.), Gevierde Friezen in Amerika (2007)
Hielkema, H., Pingjum en Witmarsum, bedevaartsplaatsen van de Mennisten (1996)
Huisman, K., Penjumer Halsbân (1994)
Irving, J., The Legend of Sleepy Hollow (1820)
Kartskarel, P., Bloedmooi Wûnseradiel. Landschappen, dorpen, dijken, vaarten, droogmakerijen, monumenten (2006)
Koopmans, S., De Middelzee, in verbinding met den Fliestroom langs Bolsward (1890)
Kerkhof, P.A., Het raadsel van Nehalennia ontrafeld (2016)
Molen, van der S.J., Frysk Sêgeboek, II (1940)
No.ordpeil landschap erfgoed, Het verhaal van dijk tot dijk (website)
Pronk, R., Door het Friese landschap met Willem (2010)
Rooij, van J., Pingjumer Gulden Halsband (2015)
Salverda, J.C.P., Skipper Ocke (1858)
Wal, van der J., De Pingjumer Gouden Halsband (1985)
Winkler, J., De Hel in Friesland (1894)
Annex
Legend of Ocke Hel by S. Koopmans (1890)
Van der Molen (1940) also documented this saga and gives Salverda, J.C.P., Hiljuwns-uwren (1834) as source.
Tûzen jier great lyn, do libbe Ocke, it iennichst bern fen Louw, in krêftige Fries, in echte séman, dy ‘t neat lieaver die as mei syn skip op it sâlte skom om to swabjen. In fûleinige skipper wier it, dij nin gefaer koe en for nin divel ef minske bang wier. Mocht er it Kristendom yn namme ek al oannomd ha, yn syn herte hie de âlde lear fen Wodan yet it greatste plak. Mei Wodan hied er lokkich en fortúnlik west: sûnder Wodan woe dat net mear flotsje. lendris wier er wer mei in forheftige stoárm op’e Middelsé en sette, by Boalsert lâns, de koers op Pingjum oan, hwent dat wier syn berte-plak. Der siet mem yn hjar wente al dagen lang mei eangstme nei him út to sjen. Ho trille it àld minske oer al hjar lea, as hja mei eltse ûre de wyn slimmer oanboasjen fielde. “Ocke, myn lieave Ocke, forgiet op it salte skom!” Sa kierme hja. Mar ek Ocke syn skipsmaeten wieren hjar rie to’n ein. Neat oars tochten hja, as it skip scoe forgean. Mar einling liket de stoárm hwat bidarje to scillen, en wylst it skipsfolk yn’e mest opsjucht, sizze hja tsjin elkoar: “Nou scil it mei Gods holp wol gean.” To nauwer need hat Ocke dy wirden fen syn kameraeten heard, ef de Satan springt yn him los, en hij snauwt syn folk ta: “Dy (God) is dead en kald!” To, “poat oan mar! Hwat scoe hy? ‘t Scil sûnder Him!”
O, grouwelike godslastering! Ocke, Ocke, hwat lean scilst derfoár krije! Bitink, as de wrake fen Him, dij’t de hiele wrald rejeart, dij treft, hwat skrik’lik lot dij den oer de holle hingje scil! Mar der tinkt Ocke net om, en—hy hat der ek gjin tiid mear foar. Hwent, nin tel is der forroun, neidat syn mûle dy freeslike wirden útbrocht hat, ef ….. in oeribel greate weage komt op it skip oansetten. Hja skoert him mei en Ocke ploft fen it roer wei oer board. In felle bliksemstriel fliocht troch syn lichem, spjalt de ougroun op en ….. for iwich fordwynt Ocke yn de djipte!
As jimme, friunlike lêzers, nou ier ef let, ris to Wytmaersum komme, den ha jimme mar in healûrke mear to rinnen om by it plak to stean, hwer’t dizze drowige historie fen foár tûsen jier bard is. Draei efkes oan’e westside de Kaldehúster dyk mar op; panderje sa twiske de bouIânnen troch en oer in stik fen de Pingjommer Halsbân bij ’t Spyk, in greate, trijekantige tichtgroeide poel, dêr’t winterdei in plasse wetter yn stiet, mar hweryn simmers de reidpopels en it toerebout tige yn’e hichte sjitte en hin en wer widsje. Den sjongt dêr yn de ieremoarn it lieaflik reidmoskje en tsjattert it út fen wille, wylst it him sêft op en del dounsje lit fen it bûgsomme reid. Op dat plak, nou iensom en forlitten, wier alear drokte en biweging bij de rûs. Do wier ’t de foárhaven fen Penninghom, fen Pingjum, wer’t de skippen delfoelen en ankeren, as de stoármen to folle op it Flie bûwkken, ef as hja hjar frachten to Pingjum losse woeden. Dat alles is nou, al ieuen lyn, forflein, lyk as alles op dizze ierde forgiet. En Pingjum-sels is in stil, gewoan bouboers doárp wirden, hwer’t nimmen me ar wennet, dij’t ús sizze kin, ho it Gea- of doárp-segel er earen útseach, der’t de oarkonde mei bisegele waerd, dij’t de willekarren bifette, hwernei de Tollegrietman to Pingjum mei syn Tollen (rjuchters) riuchtsje moást, op de 31ste Maert 1504 troch de ‘ghemene meente’, de yngesetenen, opmakke en fêststeld.
En as wij fen dat forlittene en binei alheel tichtgroeide havensté ús oukeare en skeanoer op’e Koaipleats oangeane, den fine wy dêr, efkes súdliker, de breede ryd of slinke, hwerfen de lânnen yet in ein djipper lizze as dij’t er neist oan ta komme, en dij slinke is it lêste oerbliuswsel fen de stream, hwerop Ocke en folle oare skippers foár ieuen hinne en wer sylden. Knyp de eagen efkes ta, en yn jimme forbylding sjogge jimme de seilen yet fen de Scraerderkant oukommen. En rin in pear gewinten lân fjirder, den stean jimme fuotten op in stik lân, dat eltse arbeider, boere-feint ef jonge jimme oanwize scil mei de namme, “Ocke Hel”.
To midden yn dat stik lân stoe, nou 60, 70 jier lyn, yet in peal, en dy peal wier de top fen de mêst fen Ocke syn skip, dat op dit plak, ieuen lyn, yn’e djipte forsonken is. Nou is, spitich genoch, dy peal dêr net mear. De kij hawwe der krekt sa lang tsjin oanrost, dat er oubritsen is, en nimmen it plak mear fine ken, hwêr’t er iens stien hat. Mar dat er der earen stoe, wit dy ald man jimme yet to forheljen, dij’t der in stik lân fierder mei syn brike skonk hinne strampelt to mollefangen. Hij hat him yn syn jonge jierren klear dêr kinnen.
En wolle jimme mear wíte fen in plak, hwer ik jimme ta bislút yet hinne liede wol, efkes fen siden de Kievytsherne yn’e hoeke fen de Grienedijk, de wei nei Scraerd op,—ik scil jimme it folgjende forhelje,—Sount Ocke op dat plak, hwat nou yette Ocke Hel hiet, op sa’n grousomme wíze oan syn ein komd is, hat it yn’e harne fen’e Grienedyk, yn tsjustere hjearst- en winterjounen, jimmer spûke. Den wier Hantsje-om dêr oan it bouen. In filde foâle mei in gleaune kêrs op’e stirt, holp him ta dit wirk. Mar al ho lang as Hantsje dêr nou al beusig west hat, nea komt er fjirder. Nachts eint it ridlik wol, mar moáms as de dage wer oanbrekt, fordwynt syn wirk allíke ûnforklearbar yn’e skimering, as ‘t de jouns to foaren bigoun is. Sa giet dit jier út, jier yn, jimmer troch. En nea doch wirdt koárthakke wirch fen syn fruchtleas bodsjen.
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