WHAT Kenyans are to marathons, the Dutch are to long-track speed skating. As the Netherlands’ skaters arrived last week at the Winter Olympics in Pyeongchang, their biggest fear was of failing to do better than in 2014, when they won 23 of the 36 medals. This year they got off to another flying start, sweeping gold, silver and bronze in the women’s 3,000 metres. The stars of the men’s and women’s teams, Sven Kramer and Ireen Wüst, have each won gold.

But the mood at the national skating association is not entirely sparkling. The excellence of Dutch speed-skating stems from the sport’s special place in national culture. Each winter the country waits anxiously for a cold snap long enough to freeze the waterways that mark its low, flat landscape. Then millions of Dutch take to the ice, zipping from town to town along lakes and canals. Yet in recent years such cold spells have grown rare.

“In the old days, three- or four-year-olds would be put out on the ice on beginner’s skates, pushing a chair. Without natural ice you lose the youth,” says J.W. Baarslag, an ijsmeester (icemaster) in the town of Veenoord. Artificial ice rinks do not hold the same appeal. A third of Dutch households own speed skates, but a survey in 2017, a mild winter, found just 17% of those who owned them had used them in the previous year.

In cold winters icemasters play a crucial role, checking to ensure the ice is thick enough. When it is, volunteer ijsverenigingen (“ice associations”) spring into action, sweeping away snow and organising routes between towns. Canal-side hot-chocolate stands pop up, and the landscape acquires the cheery feel of an outdoor carnival. Skaters carry tickets, which can be stamped at way-stations on the ice; those who show fully stamped cards collect a medal. Some join gruelling marathons such as the Elfstedentocht, a 200km race between 11 northern towns that leaves skaters with frost-caked brows and bleeding ankles.