23rd June 2022

Sea Day

We have now left the sheltered waters of the North Sea and are making our way towards Iceland through the more turbulent North Atlantic Ocean. We awoke to a 1.5-metre swell, which set the ship rocking and prompted Sue to acquire a couple of complimentary seasickness tablets from reception. Fortunately, the ship’s stabilisers did their job admirably, and the tablets remained unused in her handbag.

As we continued with our now-familiar sea day routines, conditions on the outer decks became increasingly unpleasant. A light early morning mist thickened into dense fog by late afternoon, reducing visibility to just a few metres and briefly turning our thoughts to icebergs, and one particularly unfortunate ‘unsinkable’ ship. Thankfully, we have radar, and no orchestra or Leonardo DiCaprio on board, so we should be quite safe.

An after-lunch march around Deck 14 required fleeces and raincoats; apart from a few hardy bird- and whale-watchers, we had the deck to ourselves. On gentle interrogation, the dedicated naturalists admitted they’d seen little more than a few kittiwakes and terns making use of the ship’s airflow to assist their journey to who-knows-where.

Indoors, we’re now frequently stopped and drawn into conversation by fellow passengers we’ve met on previous voyages. Apparently, Sue isn’t the only one with a knack for remembering faces.

A particular highlight of the day was finally completing our course of Madagascan anti-malarial tablets. With any luck, we can now bid farewell to the minor side effects that have lingered over the past three weeks.

At 11 p.m., following an excellent performance of All That Jazz in the Palladium Theatre, we ventured out to the stern and were surprised to find calm seas, a bright sky, and visibility stretching to the horizon. It could easily have been 4 in the afternoon on a sunny day, definite evidence that we are heading into the realm of the midnight sun.

24th June 2022:  Sea Day

This morning, we shared breakfast with an unexpected guest, a lone swallow that had hitched a lift on the ship. It briefly perched on the shelves above our table before being startled by a passing waiter, at which point it took flight and disappeared further into the restaurant in search of another perch. Ironically, the keen birdwatchers, who always rose early to secure a spot on the forward deck, were none the wiser, missing the wildlife that clearly preferred a later breakfast in rather more comfortable surroundings.

The day was filled with the usual rhythm of presentations, quizzes, and laps around the deck. A particular highlight was a lecture by polar explorer Ann Daniels, the first woman in history to reach both the North and South Poles. A remarkable speaker, courageous, determined, and deeply inspiring.

The sea remained calm throughout the day, and although a pod of dolphins was spotted, they sadly didn’t appear while we were on deck. As we retired to our cabin for the night, the sun was still high in the sky, and the distant coastline of Iceland, with its snow-capped mountains, was clearly visible. Tomorrow, we dock in Reykjavik at 7 a.m.