Welcoming Winter’s Lash Aboard QE2

On the aft end of the Boat Deck of the Queen Elizabeth 2, we hung onto the rail and watched the fantail heave and plunge against the froth of the ship’s churning wake. The sea was a magnificent tumult, piled into 35-foot swells and streaked white by the whipping wind. Spray cascaded down the side decks in sheets. The sky was mostly clear, with broken clouds scudding across it. Wave crests dazzled in the sun, and the receding waters were blotched with the purest turquoise, aerated patches in our wake that contrasted with the darker blue water of the North Atlantic.

Headed into the teeth of the wind, the QE2 was making about 25 knots (37.5 mph), using seven of its nine diesel engines. It was late morning in mid-December last year, and we were in mid-ocean, three days into a six-night crossing from Southampton, England, to New York City. Of the 1,472 passengers (the ship’s capacity is 1,750), about a dozen of us were on deck to see this splendidly raging seascape. Then the cone-shaped speakers on the rear bulkhead crackled, and we strained to hear above the wind.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” said Capt. Paul Wright, speaking from the bridge. “A few minutes ago I reported that we were experiencing Force 10 winds,” referring to the Beaufort wind force scale rating that indicates full gale.

“Now we’re getting readings up to Force 12, hurricane. That means that the effective wind speed over the decks is about 100 mph. I recommend that you stay inside or, if you must go on deck, stay aft.”

When I’d suggested to Laurel, my wife, that we join our friends Ted and Suellyn Scull on the QE2’s transatlantic sailing (the last crossing of the 2000 season and thus, depending on how you think about it, the last of the millennium), she at first demurred but then agreed, though not without second thoughts.

“My friends at work are asking me why we’re doing this,” she told me shortly before we were due to fly to London, then join the ship at Southampton. “What should I tell them?”

What indeed? Bad weather is a probability in the North Atlantic at any time of year, and in December it was practically guaranteed. Temperatures would be cold. Days would be short. The experience would, in fact, be about as far from a Caribbean cruise as you could find.

Why, then? Because it’s a perfect setting for those of us who love ships and the sea but have never fully taken to cruising, with its implications of aimlessness and casual overindulgence. And nowadays, in the post-Sept. 11 world, such a crossing seems safer, somehow, than a jetliner. (Some passengers apparently agree; Cunard notes that its bookings for crossings increased in the aftermath of the terrorist attacks.)

In any season the QE2 is the closest extant approximation of the transatlantic voyages of my youth, made aboard such liners as the Ile de France, Nieuw Amsterdam and Bremen. In December, the experience is all the purer: It’s black tie four nights out of six. Afternoon tea in the Queens Room and lectures in the theater are more characteristic of the journey than a pool game or grandparents’ brag sessions.

Even on a relatively calm crossing there’s bound to be sea enough to keep the decks moving underfoot, that invigorating feeling of being in a real ship on a lively ocean, in contrast to the more staid one of floating around the Caribbean in a vessel that sports the lines of a condo on a barge. The QE2’s speed is exhilarating, emblematic of a “line voyage,” traveling with a purpose from one place to another. (Overlook the fact that we had flown to England for the express purpose of sailing back home.)

For Ted, who has made 15 trips on the QE2, the December crossing is an annual ritual. “It seems to have developed a cult following,” he says, “among like-minded people dedicated to the experience of a transatlantic crossing.

“The QE2 has basically saved the transatlantic option. And since 1987, when the ship was dieselized and a series of renovations was begun, it has only gotten better in terms of decor. Food and service too, for that matter.”

This liner was a ship of its times, but the times have changed since its debut in 1969. It has been upgraded frequently, including the 1987 switch from steam engines to diesel and, in 1999, an $18-million refurbishment. (It is in dry dock again until Dec. 10, officials say, but that is only for routine maintenance. The ship departs Southampton for Fort Lauderdale, Fla., on Dec. 11 for its last crossing of the year.) At 70,327 gross tons the QE2 is far from the largest ship afloat, but it has a real presence and its own reputation to live up to.

After a pleasantly bucolic train ride with the Sculls from London’s Waterloo Station to Southampton Central, we boarded the majestic ship. With midnight blue hull, white superstructure and Cunard Line’s traditional black-banded red funnel, it was a sight to behold. To the strains of harp music, we boarded through the circular Midships Lobby, an elegant space lined with murals depicting Cunard’s history. We were escorted to our cabin on Three Deck, a handsome wood-paneled space with a pair of portholes and a separate dressing room. After unpacking, we set off to explore the ship.

Though I had sailed it twice before, the vessel keeps reinventing itself in terms of names and decor of public rooms, so there were new things to see.

Walking through the ship, we were struck by the pride Cunard is taking in its history--highly appropriate since the company is unique in carrying on a long shipping tradition, unbroken since its founding in 1840 (although it is now owned by Carnival Cruise Lines). Stairwells are filled with reproductions of Cunard travel posters, original paintings of the past and current fleet, and cases of assorted memorabilia. In the Quarter Deck foyer is a magnificent model of the Mauretania, a classic four-funnel liner that made its maiden voyage in 1907 and sailed into dignified old age and retirement in 1935.

The naming convention of the decks is something else to like about the QE2: Sun Deck, Boat Deck, Upper Deck, Quarter Deck, One Deck, Two Deck and so on. It’s traditional and serious--and also helpful in finding your way around.

Other commendable things, likewise traditional, are the wood deck chairs and the restriction of public address announcements to weather and navigational updates: no hyping events or hawking goods.

While exploring, Ted and I bumped into Mary Ellen Ryan, an old friend of his, also a veteran of 15 crossings. She had a bone to pick.

“Why do they call this a ‘Blues Cruise?”’ she asked indignantly. “It’s a crossing.” Crossing versus cruising is an acutely important distinction to the ocean liner faithful, and such devotees are attracted to the QE2 in December as bears are to honey. (Though the blues was indeed one of the voyage’s themes, with such notable musicians aboard as Roomful of Blues and the Persuasions, the large type and prominent position on the Daily Programme always went to “Transatlantic Crossing to New York.”)

Strolling through the ship on our December voyage, we could tell immediately where we would be spending time. The spacious, columned Queens Room would be our venue for afternoon tea, served with harp accompaniment. At 4 p.m. sharp would come the “march of the white-gloved stewards” as they flooded from the pantry with trays of teapots, finger sandwiches, pastries and scones followed by the happy clatter and rattle of cups and spoons being placed on saucers.

Nearby on Quarter Deck is the Chart Room, which would be our watering hole of choice, with a bar backed by an illuminated navigational chart of the North Atlantic marked for the QE2’s routes. This cozy space is the perfect cocktail spot. The Queen Mary’s piano is there, an elegant artifact of burled wood, which Keith Trewitt played, alternating with peripatetic harpist Mary Amanda, both making music as elegantly understated as this lounge.

Also on Quarter Deck is the extraordinary two-room library-cum-bookstore, a bustling, serious place with real librarians, an extensive, well-cataloged collection (not just castoffs from former passengers) and an excellent selection of maritime books for sale. This is one of the QE2’s characteristic spaces, clearly heralding what one of the chief pleasures of shipboard life can be. Another such space is the theater, where most of the extensive program of lectures was held. Broadway composer Richard Adler spoke (and even sang a little). Author Malachy McCourt read. A Concorde pilot and a Manhattan historian talked. And our friend Ted, among the country’s foremost authorities on ships and cruising, gave a series of four lectures on maritime subjects that ranged from his own lifetime of voyages to Cunard history to New York Harbor.

Every day at noon the captain and watch officer made a navigational report from the bridge.

“Right now there’s just enough movement to let you know you’re at sea,” Capt. Wright said the first day, but we knew that some seriously bad weather was lurking in the Atlantic. “We’re on a southwesterly course toward the Azores to avoid the highest swells, which adds about 300 miles to the crossing.”

That evening, addressing the tuxedo-clad, gowned gathering at the Captain’s Cocktail Party (an inescapable shipboard staple even in the era of less formal occasions), he had more to say.

“Since you’ve chosen to travel on the last transatlantic crossing of the season,” he said, “I assume you’re looking forward to some rough seas.” At that, a cheer welled up from a surprising number of the assembled passengers, for weather is definitely a part of the mystique.

“I guess I’m a weather freak,” Ted had said when I asked why he was looking forward to high seas. “I like a good blow, and I like to experience it on a ship that was built to take it.”

As rough as the crossing was at times, it didn’t interfere with our regular visits to the Britannia Grill for meals, always lunch and dinner, sometimes breakfast. (Some of our shipmates were absent and presumably in their cabins during the most tempestuous hours.)

Cunard says it is among the largest purchasers of caviar in the world, and our congenial table of eight did our best to keep it a contender. The Captain’s Dinner featured beluga, the premier caviar once saved for the czars. Sevruga, rated lower but still exquisite, was served on other nights.

The Britannia is a simply and tastefully decorated room with tall windows looking out over the sea. Meals were consistently good, seldom great, but the waiters unfailingly made them stylish yet relaxing occasions. The more interesting dinner entrees included sauteed pheasant breast with Madeira and grape sauce, baked filet of orange roughy with vegetable herb crust, chateaubriand with sauce bearnaise and lyonnaise potatoes and grilled sea scallops in coconut cream with sesame shrimp toast.

Those visits to the Britannia punctuated the ritualistic ebb and flow of sea days, the rewarding routine of having nothing you must do yet not time enough to do everything you want.

First there’s breakfast, in the Britannia or perhaps at the buffet in the Lido. Morning constitutional along the impressive expanse of Boat Deck. Reading, perhaps bundled up in a deck chair or by a window in one of the lounges. Lecture. Luncheon. More walking. Visit the library. Blues performance. Deck tennis, with the ship’s rolling adding another dimension to a difficult game. Tea. A plunge in the heated whirlpool on the afterdeck, the cold air making it an exhilarating sweet-and-sour experience. Dress for dinner. Cocktails. Dinner. Perhaps a show or dancing. Bed, lulled to sleep by the rhythmic creak of the wood paneling as the ship crests the midnight swells.

And through it all rushes the stormy North Atlantic, the perfect setting for the QE2, the last of the great express liners.

Guidebook: Sailing the Atlantic

* Getting there: Crossings may originate in Southampton, England, or in the U.S. Air fare can be included in the price of the cruise, or you can purchase it separately. The next winter crossing and the last of the season will be Dec. 11, a “Blues Cruise” from Southampton (about 75 miles from London) to Fort Lauderdale, Fla. Rates for that six-night cruise begin at $1,261 per person, based on double occupancy and including one-way air fare. (The lowest one-way Los Angeles-to-London fare booked independent of Cunard is $902, though round-trip fares may be substantially cheaper.)

The first transatlantic crossing in 2002 leaves Southampton for Fort Lauderdale on April 8. Southampton-New York crossings resume on May 12; there will be 21 (plus one Southampton-Quebec City), the last leaving Southampton on Dec. 15.

* What to know: The QE2 tends to be dressier than many ships; formal attire is appropriate.

On a winter crossing, be sure to take warm clothing. Even if you plan to stay inside, when you reach your destination, whether it’s England or the U.S., it may be chilly (unless you’re going to Fort Lauderdale).

Because of the time difference and the speed of the ship, for many the preferred direction of travel is westbound so you gain an hour each night, rather than losing one.

Check with your doctor to see what’s recommended for motion sickness if you are prone to it.

* For more information: Contact a travel agent or Cunard at (800) 728-6273 or visit the line’s Web site, https://www.cunardline.com.