As I write this, I’m sitting in my cabin on the Queen Victoria Cunard ship, cruising through the Norwegian fjords.
My family and I are halfway through a seven-night cruise of this beautiful country, where stunning scenery under brilliant blue skies was promised. Of course, because it’s our luck, it hasn’t quite yet matched the images in the brochures.
Even before we boarded the vessel in Southampton, I could see that there were going to be some challenges on this vacation. For starters, I had booked us all into a lovely hotel overlooking the harbour, where we could relax and look forward to the journey ahead. My parents required an accessible room, which I’d reserved for them, but in order to reach it, they had to go through a security door and three fire doors, about as far from the main lift as you could get. The ‘Oceans 11’ team would have found it a challenge to get to that room. How was anyone on a mobility scooter supposed to navigate all of that? Then, to top it off, their beds were the highest I’d ever seen in a hotel for any kind of accommodation, let alone for those who were physically challenged. I looked around for the complimentary trampoline that surely had to be in a corner somewhere, as there was no way my mother was making it up there to sleep without some sort of aid.
In the end, we had to strip the bed practically down to the boxspring. Not ideal, but better than the floor.
The next day, the family had to head to the cruise port. It took a while for a taxi to arrive at the hotel that was big enough to handle a deconstructed mobility scooter, but eventually we got one, after turning away three in a row. Even as a British person, I have to say I miss the American petrol-guzzling Ford Expeditions and Lincoln Navigators of this world. In the UK, it seems requesting a big vehicle gets you a Picanto with four doors instead of two.
The check-in process for the ship was smooth, and we motored out into calm waters. The next day would be at sea, so it gave us the chance to find our way around the Queen Victoria; and the day after, we would be arriving in Stavanger port. I had booked a private boat to take us on a close-up tour of the fjords, and we were all looking forward to it. However, as we explored the decks of our ship, I had a call from the boat captain to say that the weather wasn’t looking good for us to go. It wouldn’t be dangerous, but it would be rainy with limited visibility. Well, that wouldn’t be enough to keep us island kids down. We voted unanimously to go nonetheless, even as we looked up the weather report for Stavanger with its predictions of 100% rain all day.
I called him back to announce that we were hardy folk and not to be swayed by a little drizzle, at which point he said that the storm was all over the news and he would have to cancel on us. At the same time, the captain of our ship went over the loudspeaker to say that we weren’t going to be stopping in Stavanger after all, due to bad weather. What was everyone fussing about? It looked a little overcast outside, but nothing to get yer knickers in a twist about.
We changed our tune around 8pm, as the North Sea buffeted the Victoria with large swells, and rain lashed the outer decks. You couldn’t tell the drunk passengers from the sober, as everyone on board shuffled along the hallways, taking the odd unplanned steadying step to the left or right while reaching for handrails. It wasn’t that the ship was listing harshly, but it subtly threw off your balance enough that you couldn’t walk a straight line if you had to traverse more than 10 feet.
For some, sleeping through the night was a piece of cake – it felt as though they were being gently rocked like a baby. Others jumped awake at every creak, groan and shudder. Some were bright-eyed and bushy-tailed in the morning. Some looked a little worse for wear.
In fairness, the waters were calmer the next day once we started into the fjords and left the open water behind, but it certainly wasn’t sunbathing weather. For those of us who had had enough of feels-like 104°F temperatures in Cayman, we were perfectly happy. No sun? No problem. A few brave Europeans lay out by the pool in about 60°F, trying to capture whatever few rays saw fit to shine down. Hopefully, they’ll be rewarded for their persistence in the coming days.
As of today, the water is very smooth but the skies are overcast with spitting rain. The scenery is still absolutely breathtaking, even under grey heavens. We’ve left the port of Skjolden and are heading to Olden. My Norwegian is limited to tusen takk (‘thank you very much’) and hallo (hello), but I’m working on it. Three more days to become fluent… not a problem.
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