The Voyage BeginsGreetings all, and welcome aboard the Queen Mary 2, the grandest ocean liner ever to sail the seven seas. And that’s no exaggeration.
At 1,132 ft in length, 152 ft in width and 150,000 tons in weight, she literally is the largest passenger vessel ever constructed.
At $800 million U.S, by far the most expensive.
And with a top cruising speed of 30 knots, one of the fastest as well.
For the next 4 days, I will endeavor to try and bring you all along in spirit for what I believe so to be one of the greatest travel experiences there is, a trans-Atlantic crossing on a proper ocean liner.
The story of how I wound up here goes back quite some time. For many years, I have been surrounded by a family of cruise ship addicts. It started with my parents, and then at some point infected my sister, her husband… even my niece Emily has now been assimilated.
However the traditional “cruise” holds little interest for me. As long as I have been old enough to travel on my own, my idea of a good trip has been to set my own agenda; that is go where I want to go, see what I want to see and stay as long – or as short – a time as I like. The idea of being herded around islands day after day and having to stick to a rigid schedule, running from bus to bus and follow a guide around is not my idea of a good time. I so much prefer to just fly somewhere, rent a car, jeep, scooter, whatever, and just disappear, only to return when it’s time to fly home.
But a crossing is quite a different matter.
For one thing, there is a tremendously rich history here. Before the age of the airliner, this was the premium mode of international travel. As well, there are the thousands of stories of so many immigrants who sailed ships like this to The New World. Unless you’re 100% aboriginal in origin, there’s a very good chance that someone in your not so distant past arrived this way. And finally there is the North Atlantic herself, an ocean with a legacy so vast it could fill a reasonable size library on its own. From the Vikings to Columbus, Jacques Cartier to the Pilgrims, the horrific stories of the Liberty ships against the U-boats, and of course the grand dame of these waters, the Titanic, the realization of who and what has passed before me – or lies beneath me – is astounding.
So for many years when I would see images of one of the great liners steaming into New York or Southampton, I always felt a sense that I was missing something, and that if the chance came to experience such a voyage I would gladly jump on it. Unfortunately, time seemed to be running out. By the late nineties, most of the great liners had long since retired, only the QE2 was doing yeoman’s duty, and she was on the brink of retirement to due to steadily declining business.
Suddenly, it all changed.
When James Cameron released his epic Titanic in 1998, few people realized what a dramatic impact it would have in recapturing the public’s interest in the grandeur of the traditional ocean crossing. That same year, the famous but fading Cunard line was picked up by cruise giant Carnival, and plans were set in motion to build the greatest liner the world had ever seen – the Queen Mary 2. In 2004 she set sail for the first time, and the grand tradition gained a new lease on life.
The moment I first saw it in pictures I was stunned. I had no idea that she existed until she made the news on her first sailings, and I clearly remember my first reaction…
“Now THAT’S a proper ship!!!”
None of this upturned-bathtub, floating strip mall nonsense like all those eyesores bobbing around in the Caribbean. This was sleek, elegant, powerful, fast, and built to withstand anything one of the world’s fiercest oceans could dish out.
I was sold.
However, I wasn’t quite sure when I would actually get the chance to sail her. When the subject was brought up, most folks around me just stared blankly.
“You wanna spend six days on a ship heaving up and down in the North Atlantic? To see… nothing?”
Yes.
The reaction was always the same. Pass.
They just didn’t get it.
However one person in my family did. My mom. On the number of occasions when she would try selling me on the idea of joining the rest of them for one of their many cruises, my answer was always the same. Nyet. But at some point I did mention that given the chance I would definitely do a crossing on a real liner.
Little did I know that chance would come sooner rather than later.
Having duly noted these comments, my mother began surreptitiously checking the QM2’s schedules and fares, and when the economy tanked last winter, an opportunity presented itself. QM2 rides were going for a song… was I still truly interested?
What, are you kidding? Where’s my dinner jacket and walking stick…
And so here I am.
Of course the first thing you all want to know is… what’s it like?
In a word, fabulous.
From the moment we pulled into the port in Brooklyn, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. This thing just completely dominates the space around her. At nearly a quarter of a mile long, I suspect she probably creates a noticeable disturbance in the earth’s gravity field. But despite her enormous size, she is truly stunning to look at. From every angle this ship looks the part, drawing heavily on the DNA of great Cunard liners before her to give her that magical blend of elegance and invincibility.
Although the ship appeared stately and ready to go, I unfortunately was far from it. Having spent the last three days on a business trip jumping from air-conditioned car to humid hot air to air-conditioned plane to humid hot air to air-conditioned bus to… well you get the idea, I had come down with some kind of vile cold or flu bug. This was NOT good, because one of the pre-requisites to board was filling out and signing a certificate stating that one was in good health, right down to asking if you had a sore throat (um, no) coughing (of course – HACK! – not) or others symptoms.In fact I sat for some two hours in the port terminal while waiting to board fighting the instinct to cough or blow my nose with every fiber of my body, lest some clandestine Cunard health inspectors be on the lookout for my sort.
Even while now on board, I’m still careful about displaying such symptoms as anyone with a contagious illness can be confined to quarters.
How bad would that suck?
All this to say it has taken me two days just to find the energy to simultaneously think and type. But I refuse to let it put a damper on my spirits. I am determined to explore and enjoy every aspect of the voyage, even if it means pneumonia for the next 4 weeks!
But enough of my whining, you wanted to know what it was like.
The first thing that strikes you when walking aboard is a sense of reserved opulence. It really does look like the great liners of yore, no ice sculptures or flashy faux surroundings, just the rich, dark textures of fine woods, frosted glass, brass fittings, beautiful carpeting and lovely artwork everywhere you look.
And quiet.
My god is this thing quiet. No matter where you are on the ship, whether you’re in port or pounding back the Atlantic at 30 knots, you can pretty much hear a pin drop.
QM2 has 12 decks and our cabin is on the 8th. It is pleasingly roomy for ship accommodations, but the best part is having a balcony with a large door opening up onto the sea. The view from the 8th is a bit obstructed as we have the life boats parked along side us at this level, but one can still easily see the ocean, and I kind of like having them there. For one, if something really did go wrong, we can literally hop over our railing and be ready to go in a matter of seconds, and two, their space-pod like futuristic design make them look like hi-tech submersibles. This leads to me wandering off in thought, maybe we’re actually out on some expedition with Bob Ballard from the Woods-Hole Oceanographic Institute, searching for the lost continent of Atlantis…
We leave port at 5:00 pm sharp. With minutes to spare I make a beeline for the observation platform at the very top of the ship. At nearly 200 ft up from the waterline, you are literally at eye-to-eye level with the Statue of Liberty as you go by. A mighty, deafening blast suddenly erupts from one of the Queen’s horns – which I’m told can be heard from 16 kms away, and let me tell you I don’t doubt it – and we’re under way.
At first I don’t notice anything but the sudden appearance of smoke from the main stack, but I look out over to the terminal and sure enough we are gracefully easing out into the harbor.
Along with hundreds of other excited passengers, I spend the next hour watching all the famous NY landmarks go by, with the piece-de-resistance being the passage under the Verrazano bridge. When the QM2 was designed, this was actually one of the major constraints, as there is no other access route to the Brooklyn port. As it stands she still has to pass at the highest point, dead center of the span, and even then she only clears the bottom of structure with average of 3 meters. It’s so close that the crew must constantly monitor the tide levels to make sure she’ll fit.
Once out in open waters, we rapidly start passing other traffic. Freighters on the same route are left in our wake like they’re standing still. She may be big, but she hauls! At 30 knots, the QM2 is no faster than her predecessors Queen Mary and Queen Elizabeth 2, but considering she outweighs the two of them combined her speed is still an extraordinarily impressive achievement. The only ships that surpass 100,000 tons and can make 30 knots or better are U.S. navy aircraft carriers, and they rely on massive nuclear powerplants to do it. Although the QM2 has power to spare – her 4 diesels and 2 jet engines provide more than 157,000 hp – the real secret to her hustle is her hull design. Like the other true liners that have come before, she has a much more pronounced V-form to her hull, with a deep draft and a very pointed and elongated bow. This makes for a very clean and efficient shape to cut through the waves. In addition, a large, bulbous cylindrical bow protrusion below the waterline helps to greatly reduce the bow wake and resulting drag.Soon the shore starts to disappear in the distance and the sun heads for the horizon. I suddenly realize that the hundreds of folks mobbing the upper decks have virtually disappeared.
I walk the length and breadth of the various open areas and passageways of the top deck, and have them pretty much to myself. I take the opportunity to shoot a hundred photos or so, trying to capture the vast size of the thing and beautiful way she is lit from the setting sun through the hazy summer clouds.At one point I am standing in a large open deck that spans the width of the ship, just behind the superstructure that houses the exhaust stacks. I haven’t seen anyone come by for what seems like an eternity, it’s actually a bit spooky. Walking along one of the far walls, I suddenly feel an overwhelming thrumming in my chest… WHUM WHUM WHUM WHUM WHUM WHUM…
Wow.
I have found a little acoustic corner where the engines’ mighty voice can actually be heard. The pitch is so low it’s nearly inaudible; you feel it more than hear it. But what a sound. It’s like listening to an earthquake.
I stand with my back to the wall, looking up at the mighty stacks, listening and feeling the thunder emanating from the belly of this giant steel beast. I then realize I can just barely feel the ship move with the swells, and can now see the minor course corrections as I watch the horizon to either side. For a few brief moments, I feel like I am one with the vessel that’s been tasked with taking me and 2,500 other passengers safely across one of the world’s most hazardous oceans. I can think of no other I’d rather trust.
NEWSFLASH!!
Day 2 at sea: Just as I am preparing to upload this, an announcement is made that a patient is gravely ill and must be medevac’ed out by helicopter. Since the Canadian Coast Guard helicopters have a range of little more than 200 miles and we are well on our way out into the mid-Atlantic, we immediately change course and steam north for Newfoundland. The Coast Guard chopper will then rendezvous with us at its maximum range and hover over the ship to pick up the patient at approximately 9:00 pm Newfoundland time.
Stayed tuned for details of the rescue in tomorrow’s installment!
Day 2 at sea: Just as I am preparing to upload this, an announcement is made that a patient is gravely ill and must be medevac’ed out by helicopter. Since the Canadian Coast Guard helicopters have a range of little more than 200 miles and we are well on our way out into the mid-Atlantic, we immediately change course and steam north for Newfoundland. The Coast Guard chopper will then rendezvous with us at its maximum range and hover over the ship to pick up the patient at approximately 9:00 pm Newfoundland time.
Stayed tuned for details of the rescue in tomorrow’s installment!
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