Author: tom@thomaslong.net

With a 0930 flight to Porto from Gatwick, we dragged out of bed at 0500 several hours before London dawn to take a 0630 black cab to the Gatwick Express in Victoria Station. Thorben the Thames night manager hailed a taxi for us in a nanosecond, and off we drove through the inky darkness of London, leaving Knightsbridge behind for Victoria Station.

The city is under construction everywhere. No fewer than three new or expanded buildings are in progress within a block of  Royal Thames, and we could see lighted cranes all along our short route to Victoria. Our cab driver pointed out one of the last standing Victorian structures along the way, noting that one by one, all the old historical structures are all being replaced by contemporary buildings. He didn’t sound terribly happy about that prospect.

The ride to Victoria took only a few minutes in the pre-dawn traffic, and we entered the Gatwick Express terminal in time to take the 0645 train instead of the 0700 one I had originally planned. Security is fairly tight at Gatwick, as you either buy a ticket from the machines on site outside the gate or scan your pre-purchased ticket to get in.

Once inside the station, you take an elevator or escalator up to the platform and just walk to board the train on the platform or wait on the next one. They are spaced 15 minutes apart, so the wait is never long.

Inside, the train was very comfortable and quiet, with plenty of storage for our luggage. In only 30 minutes were were stepping out into Gatwick North Terminal to check our bags at easyJet’s long, long row of self-check bag machines. They have automated virtually every step in the flying process to squeeze every penny they can out of operations and keep fares ridiculously low.

Gatwick is basically a shopping mall with runways. Since virtually all flights go to another country, the duty-free mall is in full force. In order to get to the gate area, passengers are funneled through a huge circle of shops offering the usual duty-free items of liquor, perfumes, cigarettes, chocolates, clothing and souvenirs. What passengers don’t seem to realize is that the duty-free prices are about the same or sometimes even more than what you can buy the same merchandise for in town. But all major international airports are set up the same way, so I suppose it is profitable to someone.

After grabbing a quick breakfast in one of the lounges, we made our way to our gate to find hordes of passengers already in line to board our flight. By the time  we reached the check-in desk, the attendant told me our duffel bag would have to go underneath the seat. Thank goodness we had packed carefully before departing the Thames and kept the contents of the duffel as small as possible. It stuffed right under. Unfortunately, easyJet had changed equipment on me without notification, so the seats I had booked in what was supposed to be a row of two seats turned out to be a standard A320 row of three seats in a fully loaded plane.

The flight itself was packed but pleasant, as most passengers slept for the two and a half hours. My duffle stuffed easily under the seat in front of me, and my brief case slid underneath Lynn’s seat with her bag without problem. The overheads were stuffed so much everyone had to sit on their coats. This airline doesn’t waste a cubic inch of space.

When we arrived at Porto’s rather impressive and quite contemporary airport (it looks remarkably like the new billion-dollar boondoggle known as The New MSY), we had to deplane down a flight of stairs right in front of the covered jetway. I figured that was another way easyJet cuts costs–they don’t pay for the ramp for passengers to walk into the airport sheltered from the elements.

Surprisingly, we had to clear passport control upon entering the airport. Since the U.K. is still in the EU, I had thought we would not have to do that. I wonder what it will be like after the end of this month and Brexit. When we told the passport control officer that we were five days in Porto and another week in Lisbon, she chided us that Porto is better and more Portuguese than that big  international city of Lisbon.

We hoped she was right.

Porto’s airport is quite a ways north of the city, and the taxi was fully 30 euros to our apartment, which is situated in a very old part of town at the peak of Rua da Picaro, which runs up a long hill. Bernardo from Air BnB was there to greet us, take us up the stairs to our first-floor apartment, check us out and give us tips on where to go and what to see in Porto. Altogether check-in was a pleasant and simple experience. Thank you, Bernardo.

The apartment was Euro sleek in Ikea style, white everywhere and quite neat and comfortable. The washing machine was located in a covered space outside on the spacious terrace. The kitchen featured that rarity in European visitor apartments–a dishwasher. And the American-size built-in refrigerator included a larger freezer than we have at home. Coffee could be made from either a hot pot for instant or the Nespresso pod machine; they even included a few pods to get us started. The bathroom was spacious, featuring a separate shower already equipped with soaps and shampoo.

We were home. At least for the rest of the week. Now on to unpacking, grocery shopping, lunch, exploring and dinner. And wine.

The British Museum is the Victoria & Albert on steroids:  even bigger, more sprawling, covering the history of things from the earliest civilizations to the present. The collections include just about every imaginable three-dimensional object except paintings, most famously the Rosetta Stone and the Elgin Marbles saved (looted) from the Parthenon in Athens.

We spent half a day in the Brit and covered only a few major areas. The current special exhibition was the history of Troy and the literature it inspired from Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey and Vergil’s Aeneid. At 22 pounds each, admission to the Troy exhibit is not cheap, but the British Museum itself is free to enter, so I suppose they made it up on Troy.

Unfortunately, the Troy exhibit was overcrowded, despite timed tickets. It was difficult to read the captions because they were placed on the floor, and too many visitors crowded in front of the major pieces to allow ease of viewing. Lots of vases and artifacts were on display but difficult to see up close or read the explanations because of the throngs trying to do the same thing we were.

The rest of the British Museum is expansive, as it should be, since the building covers an entire major block in the Bloomsbury neighborhood of London. Art and artifacts just go on forever through nearly 90 galleries, some of which are quite large.

After Troy, we wanted especially to see the Elgin Marbles from the Parthenon. They are housed in a huge gallery 246 feet long. The artifacts in the British Museum represent about half the total of the Parthenon; the other half remain in the Acropolis Museum in Athens. (Don’t ever miss that one; it is laid out exactly on the dimensions of the Parthenon with the position of the missing elements clearly marked and space left if they ever are returned to their original home and owners.)

The 7th Earl of Elgin claimed that he was given official permission in 1801 to remove the fragments from their original site, although that document has never been found. Even then, notables such as Lord Byron criticized the acquisition as looting and plundering. The Greek government to this day wants them back.

The British are sensitive to the issue. The audio guide in the room justifies the acquisition of the antiquities as preserving them from ruin at their original site. And there is no plan to give them back. The controversy has raged on for more than 200 years and continues to this day.

But they are awesome to view in the Duveen Gallery of the British Museum.

After nearly four hours of antiquities and art, we were hungry. Rather than dine on museum quality and priced nibbles, we departed the Brit and crossed Museum Street to the aptly named Museum Tavern, founded on that spot in 1723.

There we shared their offering of “Favorites” dish–two sliders, four chicken wings and the ubiquitous fish and chips. For 13.99 pounds it was almost more than we could eat together.

Of course, it was Sunday. Soooo….Bloody Marys were in order.

I can’t say the Museum Tavern’s versions are world-class; they just throw a small bottle of mix into a glass of vodka over ice. The drinks are not even stirred, much less mixed properly. And Worcestershire sauce is nowhere to be found. Much less lemon or horseradish. But any port in a storm…

A late lunch consumed, it was time to return to the Thames by traditional red double-decker bus through Bloomsbury to Piccadilly Circus around Green Park and thence to Knightsbridge and the club.

We were detoured a full block on our walk back due to construction at the Berkeley Hotel, where the property is expanding into another building to accommodate their demand. Rooms there start at 480 a night. That’s pounds. In U.S. that is a bit more than $600 a night. Of course, it’s a bargain compared to the Mandarin Oriental next door to Royal Thames, where the basic room starts at 720 pounds and quickly jumps to 1,550 for the upgrade.

Believe it or not, we planned to dine there at Bar Bouloud, a sister restaurant to db Modern Bistro, our favorite restaurant in New York adjacent to the Iroquois Hotel.

And Bar Bouloud delivered. We dined light, because we needed to be up and out very early to Gatwick for our flight to Porto. That was good, because our “light” dishes were full of flavor and richness. We shared an order of escargot, which is prepared a bit differently, cooked with a mushroom and a tomato confit with garlic and pesto. Not a light dish at all.

Lynn ordered the onion soup which came out thick with cheese and bread in the true French style. It was more like a sauce than a soup. My skate wing was perfectly crisp and juicy, surrounded by a cauliflower puree and little tiny cauliflower buds with small capers. Not a light dish either. And they offered half bottles of wine served in a carafe, so we were able to enjoy a couple of glasses of very nice Bordeaux without having to get an entire bottle.

Our Irish waiter Tom was quite familiar with Portugal, as his parents have a house in Algarve, the beaches on the south end of the country that he visits as often as possible. We compared notes on food and Daniel Bouloud restaurants in London and New York. Finished with dinner, we left for an early bedtime and a rise well before dawn for the taxi to Victoria and the Gatwick Express.

Farewell, London. It’s been great. The next chapter of the adventure awaits.

 

 

 

 

Comfortably ensconced in Cabin 8, we awakened to a gray, brooding sky, a typical winter day in London. Or spring or fall, for that matter.

We barely made the deadline for breakfast in the Coffee Room, where service was, to be generous, casual. We spent our time waiting on breakfast watching the joggers and land skiers roll along Hyde Park across the street.

Service was not necessarily the club’s fault, because most of the dining room walked in at the same time as we did. The jolly table of four or six next to us was served even after we were, because we had all ordered special dishes from the kitchen rather than the continental breakfast already sitting out on the buffet. But our Eggs Benedict (Lynn) and Eggs Florentine (me) were perfectly poached, the first good ones we had enjoyed since the Flame in New York.

And then it was off for the Victoria & Albert Museum, which this year was featuring an exhibition of cars. Old cars, classic cars, muscle cars, futuristic cars, concept cars, car clothing, car accessories and the greatest car of all–a Jaguar XKE retrofitted to electric and used for Harry and Megan’s wedding.

How ironic, coming just days after the royals announced that they want to withdraw from royal-hood and become financially independent, aka social media celebrities.

The V & A is huge, sprawling and eclectic, to say the least. To get to the Renaissance Raphael cartoons (drawings made as the basis of paintings and tapestries), you walk through the main hallway filled with sculpture (including no fewer than 18 Rodins donated to the museum by the artist himself),

turn through the South Asia and Buddhist galleries, go behind the Mary Quant special fashion exhibit to arrive at a dark, cavernous room full of massive Raphael cartoons. How many museums feature cars, modern fashion, historic sculpture and Renaissance paintings in the same building?

And that doesn’t account for the Asian, African, Buddhist, Muslim, Greek, Roman, Romantic, etc., etc. objects displayed in the huge building. All for free, except for the special exhibits.

After a few hours in the V & A, we walked back toward Knightsbridge but could not resist a visit to Harrods, all lighted up in the early winter evening. Like the V & A, Harrod’s is free to walk through.

The dining halls and the food stalls were thick with shoppers, The merchandise departments were even more crowded, as Harrod’s was holding their semi-annual sale. It’s a happening. A Harrod’s sale in January and July is worth a visit to London just for the show. We actually bought a few things there many years ago.

Back at the Thames, we went down to the bar for a cocktail before dinner to discover that both bars were–closed! Yes, closed. The night desk clerk noted that the club is generally so lightly attended on weekends that they do not bother to staff or open the regular bars. So unlike our own experience at home.

However, the clerk was kind enough to pull two small bottles of wine from the stash behind the desk, then offered to sell us a full bottle.We eagerly accepted, as the bottle offered was a 2012 Graves Bordeaux at an even nicer price than we had paid at dinner the night before. The Thames wine collection is vast and professionally curated. And we were mighty grateful for their efforts.

Dinner was at Signor Sassi, an Italian restaurant easy walking distance a couple of blocks from the club. There we enjoyed a fine Italian meal of gorgonzola stuffed tortellini swimming in a rich gorgonzola sauce (Lynn) and osso buco with risotto (me), plus a huge green salad that we split.

Our meal was accompanied by a very nice Chianti, and our bill was complemented by a cover charge (just like Italy) and an included service charge, which was listed as optional but would not have been easy to eliminate.

 

 

Departure day from Queen Mary 2

Position at 0900:   N 50.24.225 W 001.33.581

Course: 77 degrees

Conditions: Temp 52 F; Wind NW @ Force 6 strong breeze; sea state moderate, pressure 1020.2.8

Speed:   26.1 knots

As light came on, we could see the white cliffs across the English Channel, bright in the rising sun. We were almost at our destination, although half a day late.

For us, that was an advantage, because we could arise at a regular time, eat a nice, large breakfast to get us through most of the day and not be rushed off the ship as we would have been with the planned 0630 arrival.

Which we did.

But disembarkation day is bittersweet, as everyone waits to pack up, get off and go away to the next destination, whether that be home, abroad or on the way around the world on the Mary. (About 25 or so passengers were in that last group.)

So we ate a nice, large breakfast in the King’s Court and went back to our stateroom to vacate at the last possible minute while watching the ship steam up the Solent to the Southampton terminal. We chose to wait the in the Carinthia Lounge after vacating our room. There we grabbed a quick salad for lunch, knowing it would be a long while before we reached another meal. And the Carinthia is a good place to run out to the deck to watch the ship dock in Southampton.

But finally, we had to retire to the Royal Court Theatre to wait on our call to disembark and pick up our luggage from the same barn-like structure we had started at in New York. From there it was a long, long walk down a flight of ramps to our waiting bus to take us into Victoria Station in central London.

The most frustrating thing about the trip is that the bus rolls right in front of 60 Knightsbridge, Royal Thames Yacht Club, where we are staying. But we can’t stop, so we slowly worked our way through the traffic to Victoria Station, where we caught a taxi for 10 pounds to the Royal Thames, where we had just passed 30 minutes ago.

We were assigned Cabin 8 at the Thames, a small room overlooking Hyde Park. We happily gave up the space for the view over the park, green even in the dead of winter. Once settled into our room, we walked downstairs to the bar for glasses of wine followed by an excellent dinner accompanied by an excellent wine, the committee’s choice of a 2012 St. Julien for the princely price of 20 pounds. Welcome to London at the Royal Thames. And thank you, Henry Woods.

 

 

 

 

Day 6 at sea

Position at 0900:   N 50.13.738 W 15.39.890 degrees

Course:   92 degrees (We have completed the Great Circle route and are now headed slightly south of east toward Ireland and England.)

Conditions: Temp 50 F; Wind North Westerly @ Force 6 strong breeze; sea state moderate, pressure 1006.8

Speed: 25.2 knots

The Queen Mary 2 steamed on at full speed all night long. I could feel the engines rumbling, straining to plow through the seas as fast as possible in order to arrive Friday at least six hours late.

We needed to do a final load of laundry, but I found the Launderette (that’s how they spell it) full at 0800. That’s as early as we can get up. So the clothes went back to the stateroom to await an available washing machine.

We made our morning constitutional three times around Deck 7, a total of 1.1 miles, according to the plate on the bulkhead. The sunny side of the ship was remarkably warmer than the other side; the deck was dryer on that side too. My frequent glances down to the deck noted that a number of bungs needed repair or replacement. I notice things like that.

Tardy though we may be, it was still the last day at sea, so the launderette was full, and our last little load was not laundered until nearly noon. But as the last day requires, we had to think about settling accounts. After standing in line for only eight minutes, I was pleasantly informed that our statement was just fine and would be delivered to the room in the evening.

The captain’s noon address reported winds of 40-45 knots, which we could well believe as we watched the spume blow off the top of the waves while we were enjoying cold beers in the Chart Room. By 1540 after lunch (salads at last!) and one last changing of the clock to GMT, the TV showed conditions of Force 9 Severe Gale winds and rough seas as we departed the open Atlantic for Bishop Rock and the English Channel.

Another evening in the Golden Lion featured Paul Garthwaite telling and playing the music of Pink Floyd. Again, most entertaining and most informative. All us old rockers from the U.S. and the U.K. were singing and clapping along. For a half hour, we were just another brick in the wall.

Our last dinner was a festive time, as we said farewell to Barbi and Ken and the couple directly across the aisle from us. They are all from near Southampton, so jut a short drive away. And then it was off to our stateroom for final packing as the Queen Mary 2 steamed into the Celtic Sea and the English Channel, due to arrive at noon Friday.

 

 

Day 5 at sea

Position at 0900: N 49.42.254 W 029.52.755

Course: 81 degrees

Conditions: Temp 46 F ; Wind Westerly @ Force 5 fresh breeze; sea state slight, large swells, pressure 1012.9

Speed: 21.8 knots

It felt almost balmy walking around the deck. Lynn joined me for our three circumnavigations before breakfast. We started and finished in the Carinthia Lounge, shed coats and went back to the Carinthia for breakfast about 1000.

By now, we have settled into a routine of a late morning breakfast and a early afternoon lunch. The problem is that we lose the hour between 1200 and 1300 when the clocks move forward each day, so we are pressed to have lunch before 1400 when most of the places close. Basically, after 1400, we are forced into the King’s Court buffet, which itself starts to shut down partially by then.

On this day, we wanted to catch a presentation about 20th century painting at 1400, so lunch will be early by our schedule or we will miss one or the other.

The captain’s midday address acknowledged that we would not arrive in Southampton on time due to the two diversions for medical evacuations. He estimated that our arrival would be either late morning on Friday or possibly even early afternoon. While that was good news to us, so we can sleep later, many of our fellow passengers might miss flights to wherever they are headed following the crossing.

A few hours delayed arrival could cost Cunard a lot of trouble and possibly money in re-booked flights and travel insurance claims. Not to mention the cost of fuel at 18 liters a minute.

The art lecture on the 20th century masters was conducted by a young British woman who giggled during her presentation, making her a bit hard to understand. We got through the Picasso portion, then most of Dali, before we ducked out for the King’s Court for lunch before they shut down the main food lines.

At 1730, we ventured down to the Lion’s Pub for a cocktail and a half-hour performance of Dire Straits and Mark Knopfler by guitarist Paul Garthwaite. He entertained the audience, even the elderly woman sitting next to Lynn who had never heard of Knopfler. During the performance, which was as informative as entertaining, we sang all the words of Knopfler’s early major hits from Brothers in Arms, our very first CD ever and one we still own.

A half hour of this was way too short, leaving us wanting more. We satisfied our desire for more in back in our stateroom, playing On the Road Running Live on my new tiny Bluetooth speaker that Lynn had given me for Christmas just in time for this voyage and adventure. Good sounds, good vibes in advance of our last gala dinner, which featured Beef Wellington.

Our great retired New Orleans chef Daniel Bonnot has nothing to fear from the ship’s Beef Wellington, but I’ve never turned one down before. Escargot either. Mine was fine, as was Lynn’s pheasant. Cunard and the Queen Mary 2 do a admirable job of cuisine considering the volume. It’s hard to make food exceptional when you are preparing 15,000 servings each day.

Our final formal dinner was a festive affair highlighted by the parade of chefs around the three levels of the dining room. Many of the passengers, especially the more elderly women, were dressed in period costumes of the 20s a century ago, wearing glittery, feathery headbands and dresses with fringe on the bottom. We chose to leave the dancing to others and repaired to our stateroom to watch talking heads screaming from opposite political corners. That’s entertaining enough for us.

Day 4 at sea

Position at 0900: N 47.43.885 W 42.21.375

Course: 72 degrees

Conditions: Winds “light,” temperature 34 F, beam seas, sea state “slight,” large ocean swell approximately 4 meters, pressure 1011.7

Speed: 24.0 knots

For the first time all week, we saw sunshine and drying decks, even as the Mary pitched in the large Atlantic swells. The official ship’s information termed the seas and wind “slight,” but that term can only be compared to conditions the day before.

Nonetheless, it was possible to walk the decks, and I enjoyed my three circumnavigations, watching the pool in the stern slosh around to act as a huge watery inclinometer for the ship’s movement.

We enjoyed breakfast in the Carinthia Lounge, where the selection is smaller but a bit more sophisticated. Lynn had a croissant filled with scrambled eggs and mushrooms, while I enjoyed the Mexican poached egg with guacamole, salsa and hollandaise over a long bruschetta.

This was planned to be an active day, with two different lectures in the morning and the evening. We worked our way from breakfast into Royal Court theater, where the very veteran BBC news reporter Martin Bell related tales and tape from his coverage of wars in Viet Nam and Bosnia. The Bosnian coverage was especially compelling, as the BBC was taping actual gunfire up close and so personal we saw footage of a cameraman get wounded by shrapnel.

Mr. Bell, though frail from Parkinson’s, still delivered his address in a strong, voice assured of a half a century of experience in the field. Although his war footage was most compelling video, his verbal presentation of his coverage of Margaret Thatcher and Ronald Reagan while he was stationed in the U.S. was equally interesting and entertaining.

In no time, he was finished and we were off to lunch in the King’s Court, this time in search of the burger and pizza bar at the far end. The short review—don’t bother. The pizza was just short of inedible after lying under a heat lamp for no one knows how long. The cheeseburger was room temperature at best, probably may have been decent when it first came off the grill but was way past its prime by the time I fetched it off the steam table. Lynn had gone for the potato and leek soup with battered shrimp, which she deemed pretty good. Me, I am not eating shrimp on a British ocean liner. For the rest of the crossing, we will stick with the main menu items.

After a reading session in the beautifully appointed library we hustled down to the Illuminations theatre for presentation by Barry Cave, a former U.K. police detective who related the fascinating tale of the bombing of the Grand Hotel in Brighton in 1984, a key moment in “The Troubles” with Northern Ireland. The group’s purpose in bombing the hotel was nothing less than to assassinate Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher.

Mr. Cave’s details of the investigation were fascinating, leading up to the capture of the conspirators and their eventual trials and guilty verdicts. Sadly, he reported, all five of the conspirators were released early from their prison sentences in the Good Friday agreement, and one actually serves in Parliament to this day. Five people died in the hotel bombing, and many more were injured, some grievously and wounded for life. Thus is justice in the real world, he concluded.

His concluding words, however, were a good piece of advice: Don’t take a laxative and a sleeping pill on the same night.

That seemed to lighten the mood as we departed the sobering session for a pre-dinner cocktail in the Commodore Club, the quiet lounge on the ninth deck overlooking the Atlantic at the bow of the ship. We have found the Commodore Club to be our favorite spot on the ship, quiet and richly elegant, furnished in ivory leather amidst dark wood walls that show nautical displays, including a model of Shamrock, one of Sir Thomas Lipton’s America’s Cup contenders.

After a Talisker for me and a vodka-soda for Lynn, we repaired to our cabin to dress for dinner, which this evening was “smart” attire. Our dinner companions, Barbi and Ken (no, really; more about them in another post) would be returning to the Britannia House of Commons after dining the night before in one of the Grills in the stern of Deck 7 with the swells. I see the Grill patrons every morning enjoying their elegant breakfast while I walk the deck. No one waves at me.

 

 

 

Day 3 at sea

Position at 1000: N 46.15.6 W 53.55.0

Course: 89 degrees

Conditions: Ice and snow on decks, winds Force 10, temperature 32 F, following seas at least 4 meters, pressure 986.1

Speed: 22.5 knots

No walking the decks today. They are covered with ice.

At 1200 changing to 1300 the captain reported on last night’s adventure with the helicopter pickup in a raging sea and what he said had been 80 knot winds and a blizzard some 80- nautical miles from land. Now we have have been steaming eastbound toward England since then. By 1200, we were ready to set our clocks another hour forward, even though we had not yet cleared the easternmost edge of Canada.

The captain also admitted for the first time that due to two detours, we are now behind schedule but they are running an extra turbine in an attempt to make up the time.

The ship sailed along at 22.5 knots in mountainous beam seas (six meters?) with snow flurries blowing into our balcony. It was time for a beer.

The Carinthia lounge was the spot of choice. Carinthia is on the same level as the King’s Court buffet but farther forward. It is a quieter, classier place that serves a limited menu of better food selections and a large choice of premium Iberian wines. Since we are headed to Portugal, we don’t need to pay Cunardian prices for wine, so we settled for a couple of cold beers and a snack of a mushroom-tomato-cheese slider.

Unfortunately, the Carinthia closes early for lunch, and we were already late, since we had lost another hour to the time change at noon. So we ventured down to the Lion’s Pub on the second deck where we ordered pub lunch minutes before they too closed their kitchen. On the second deck, the waves rose halfway up the level of the large windows, which has to be at least six meters.

After lunch, we worked our way (worked is not an exaggeration—walking the corridors of the pitching ship was laborious) back up to our stateroom to watch the snow blow by on the balcony. The winds remained at gale force, although down somewhat from earlier in the day. But the waves did not diminish at all, as we steamed across the shallow Grand Banks east and south of Newfoundland, finally leaving Canada behind by mid-afternoon and out into the open Atlantic.

In the evening, we were invited to a special Cunard World Club reception for Gold members and above (three voyages of at least 20 days). It was another formal night, with more champagne and the opportunity to actually shake the captain’s hand and chat very briefly. One of the junior officers reported and the captain confirmed that we are pedal to the metal to make Southampton on schedule. The junior officer noted at this speed with the extra turbine running, we are burning 18 liters of fuel a minute. That’s more than 1,000 liters an hour. There goes the fuel budget in the first week of the new year.

The same officer estimated that the winds during the helicopter evacuation were actually closer to 100 knots than the reported 80. Based on our own experience sliding in bed and listening to the rattling door the night before, we could not argue the point.

 

 

 

 

 

Day 2 at sea

Position at 0900: N 44.51.736 W 59.35.735

Conditions: Rain, Force 5 wind NE , breaking seas, 21.4 knots, pressure 994.2

Temperature: 36 F

It’s nasty out there.

After a detour north to Halifax, Nova Scotia to offload a sick passenger in the middle of the night, we finally headed east, but well north of our originally planned course. As a result, the conditions were considerably worse than the day before. We were running headlong into an Atlantic winter storm.

I made one half circumnavigation of the ship for a photo fix in the stern, then scurried back to the warmth and comfort of a rolling interior.

In our stateroom, we closed the heavy curtain of our room to ward off the cold draft blowing under the balcony door, which rattled slightly in the fresh breezes.

It was Sunday, so another day of rest following a day of rest on Saturday. The ship was pitching considerably more, making walking down the hallways and across the public rooms feel like late at night after some serious partying.

After breakfast in the King’s Court, we made our way forward to the Commodore’s Club overlooking the bow from the ninth deck for obligatory Sunday Bloody Marys. The bartender understood exactly what I wanted, with extra Worcestershire. When I asked if the mix included horseradish, he simply replied, “of course.” Tasty they were, as we watched the rain pelt the windows and the seas crash past the bow.

Today was the first day to set our clocks ahead by an hour, 1200 became 1300, and the captain’s announcement that followed confirmed we were now sailing in a near gale with falling temperatures and barometer.

We lunched in the King’s Court on pretty ordinary salads and some Asian pork, none of which was especially tasty or interesting. And then it was off to the library to catch the Saints game via computer, read books and watch the seas roar past the bow on Deck 8.

Let us not address the Saints game, except to mourn the loss of several precious minutes of Internet service following it on the ESPN app.

After enjoying a very funny stand-up comedian in the Royal Court before dinner, we returned to our stateroom for a quick glass of wine and discovered on the TV screen that our ship had turned back to a course of 270 degrees, heading back whence we came at a 24-knot clip through the Force 7 winds.

What’s up with that?

We had actually turned around again, and near midnight heard a report over the loudspeakers that the ship was approaching land in Canada for a helicopter evacuation. By now the winds were Force 10, our balcony door rattled incessantly, and the ship rolled in the huge following seas. We could feel ourselves slide outboard in bed, as the ship listed to port in the prevailing winds.

Shortly after, we heard the faint sounds of helicopter blades and by midnight, our motion calmed perceptibly, as the Mary turned once again to the north, slowed down for the landing. By 0100 we had turned back to the east and upwind toward England. The rattling of our balcony door abated, and the ship’s rolling diminished considerably. We slept soundly.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

At sea: Day One

Position at 0900: N 40. 35. 537 W 067.45.752

Conditions: Fog, rain, light winds variable, calm seas, pressure 1004

Temperature: 50 F

Morning rose dull and gray and foggy with light rain on our first morning at sea. We had enjoyed a very fine dinner the night before with our new dining companions, a couple from Stonehenge, England who were friendly and fairly interesting, relieving our concern of the unknown.

After a quick cup of British instant coffee (you can imagine how good that was), we embarked for a walk around the perimeter of the ship on Deck 7, just above us and underneath the lifeboats. Lynn stuck her head out the door, felt the breeze, the cold and the rain and immediately declared that she would meet me back in the room when I completed my circumnavigation of the ship.

Under the circumstances, I chose to duck in myself after one round. I could always come out later, and besides, it’s Saturday.

We chose the King’s Court for breakfast because of the great variety of selections and the more casual atmosphere. Unfortunately for us, so did most of our fellow passengers. Regardless, we were able to secure a table, and I waited a few minutes for a custom-made omelet with link sausage, while Lynn chose an egg over easy with bacon and fruit.

My omelet was a bit over cooked, but acceptable; the link sausage was not acceptable at all. In fact, it was dreadful. It had the consistency of a cheap mealy hot dog with none of the flavor. Lynn’s bacon was much better, good, in fact, by any standards.

We spent the morning exploring the ship, which offers dozens of opportunities for entertainment, enrichment, education within its 1,132 feet. Among other venues, I visited the bridge (sadly, no photos allowed), and we ventured up to the sports deck to see the introduction to the golf simulator (not free).

By mid-day, we had worked up a good appetite and tried to find seats in the Lion’s Pub, but were disappointed to find that it was absolutely full. Returning about an hour later, we found a two-top right at the entrance. I chose the cottage pie, and Lynn ordered her mushroom Wellington baked in a puff pastry. Both were excellent, washed down with Peroni beer.

Our afternoon explorations led us to the richly paneled ship’s library, where we checked out a couple of books for the voyage. The Mary’s library is just two decks above us and includes a phalanx of computers, so is a good Internet café.

Internet service on the ship is slow and expensive. It is virtually impossible to get a signal inside your cabin, but the open areas, especially ones equipped with computers offer speedier connections. We quickly learned to carry iPads out to the public areas rather than struggling with sporadic service inside the cabin. Just don’t plan to do any banking or confidential work.

The first night out featured the captain’s reception, a formal event, so we gussied up to hear the speech and meet some of the officers and some of our fellow passengers. The captain always reports on the summary of our ship’s passenger crew. We were surprised to hear that only 800 of us had boarded in New York for the one-way crossing. Fully 1,000 had boarded in Southampton in mid-December for the 24-day circuit from England to the Caribbean to New York and back home.

You can tell some of their cabins by the Christmas decorations on the doors along the long hallways. Who wouldn’t want Christmas in the Caribbean?