Cruise B

Our Cruise May 4-18 2016


Cruise day one. Our trip from home to the cruise ship terminal in Vancouver is always a bit of an adventure. We've done it many times, in many ways, and have perfected what works for us.

I drive Helen and our luggage to a bus stop about a mile from home, and then take the car home. I walk briskly back to Helen, and we catch the bus to Sechelt, where we switch to another bus going to the ferry terminal. Unfortunately, our packing kinda got out of control this time, and we had two massive suitcases, each the size of a small sofa, a shoulder bag containing our two-bottle wine allowance, Helen's knapsack-sized purse, and a ukulele. We got lucky on these busses, as both humongous bags fit into the luggage holder.

Transferring to the ferry required hauling everything far enough to make me wish we'd packed considerably lighter. We pretty much filled the ferry elevator.

After the ferry ride, we had to haul it all out of the terminal, and line up behind about 50 other people getting onto the bus into the city.

We made it on, and even got one bag into the luggage rack, but the rest all had to stay with us. Helen had her purse and ukulele, while I got to ride shotgun over one sofa bag, and the satchel of wine. Neither of us got seats.

Surviving this half-hour drive, we unloaded at the corner of Georgia Street and Burrard. That gave us about a kilometer to schlep our baggage clown show to the cruise-ship port. Once we finally got there, the pressure greatly lifted as we turned the two suitcase/sofas over to the luggage handlers to take aboard.

Being down to just Helen's purse, the Uke, and the wine, made me feel like I was weightless. I was positively giddy.

Step one line up and go through security; step two line up and go through US customs; step three line up and get checked in by the cruise line and; step four actually go aboard.

We travel with a group of three friends, but we beat them aboard. It is our tradition to meet at the buffet if we don't do so in all the lining up. Lunch for me included a sushi snack, a small slice of beef with mashed potatoes, a big plate of pasta, and two pastry desserts. For cruising, that's a sensible lunch, although non-cruisers would never recognize it as such.

We wandered about, and unpacked. The ship left the harbour heading north towards Alaska. Supper hit about then.

For me one appetizer (which was actually small), a chilled soup, and a hot chowder, a pork entree, a slice of strudel for dessert. Oh, yeah, and a hot fudge sundae. Piggy? The appetizer was two scallops. The chilled soup was much like a milkshake, but about one cup in size. The hot chowder was a bit bigger. The pork was small, thinly cut, and had a few green beans, and a small amount of mashed potatoes. The strudel slice was pretty big, but the sundae was small. All together, more than a normal meal, but not ridiculously so.

No food after that. We had decks to walk, and a show to enjoy.

It might seem that my cruise was being ruined by an obsession with food, but nothing could be further from the truth. I was noticing my intake, remembering to keep it within a wide set of parameters, and not worrying about it at all. Most of my attention was really given over to enjoying the gorgeous ship, our fun friends, and my gorgeous and considerate wife, Helen.

Day two started with a walking lap of the deck at 5:30am, followed by a climb to deck 8, and coffee with Bernie. Returned to our cabins in time to join the rest for an 8 o'clock breakfast in the dining room. I had salmon and rice, and it was very nice.

We all pretty much went our own ways after that until lunch. I attended a computer workshop, and went for an 8km run on a treadmill, which was dull but exactly as expected and advertised.

Treadmill machines are funny, and lie to their users. On real runs, I average 8km per hour, and count 9km as pretty much my maximum. On the machine, I set it for an uphill incline of 5%, which is a pretty steep climb, and my speed for 8kph. All fine, but as lunchtime approached, I needed to pick up the pace, or to cut my run short. I started bumping up my velocity. Soon, I was over 9kph, and then 10kph. Soon I was beyond 10.5kph. In real life I don't think I could go that fast for any length of time even if being pursued by a grizzly bear. On the machine, going up a steep hill, I was fine. The conclusion had to be that I was clearly neither going up a 5% grade, nor maintaining 10.5kph. Stupid, lying machine. When it told me I'd gone 8km, and my Fitbit concurred, I headed for the shower, to be followed by lunch.

In mid-afternoon, we attended a waltz lesson. Yet another form of exercise, but one where I get to hold my beloved in my arms.