Rolling With the Punches

Cruise vacations are popular because they are predictable: no plane changes, no lost luggage, no weird food. This cherished selling point flies in the face of Traveler’s Axiom No. 1: The world is full of surprises. Trust me.

The idea of a 14-day voyage from England to New England by way of Norway and Iceland seemed like a great idea to my three cousins and me when we saw the listing. The itinerary, which began in Harwich, Britain, and ended in Boston, included some unusual ports: Stavanger, Norway; Lerwick, Shetland Islands; Torshavn, Faeroe Islands; Akureyri and Reykjavik, Iceland; St. John’s, Newfoundland; and St. John, New Brunswick.

We would cross the Arctic Circle. We would see Shetland ponies, turf houses and colorful puffins, the shimmering arcs and streaks of the aurora borealis and the land of fire and ice where Jules Verne set the stage for “The Journey to the Center of the Earth.” We would follow “The Route of the Vikings,” as the cruise was called. We also would be sailing in waters near where the Titanic went down. But more about that later.

This trip would be different from the nine other cruises my cousins and I had taken. We would be on the Royal Caribbean’s new (at the time, two autumns ago), sleek luxury ship, the Vision of the Seas. It had spent its inaugural summer in the Mediterranean and was making its first transatlantic crossing to begin the fall foliage route on the East Coast before moving to the Caribbean for winter.

This is called a repositioning cruise, which, because it was taking place after the height of the season, was offered at attractive fares in hopes of filling the ship.

And what a deal this was. The $3,200 per-person price covered an inside stateroom, air fare, nine shore excursions, insurance, port taxes and departure tax.

We were excited about the prospect but had a few reservations, mostly about how crowded it would be at full capacity: 2,000 passengers. It wasn’t until we were in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean that we realized we should have paid closer attention to one other detail: the weather, especially the “when to go” section in the guidebook, which recommended that visits to the Vikings’ stamping grounds be made by mid-August. We were a month late.

Between Harwich and our first port, Stavanger, the ocean was calm, the skies sunny. Although Stavanger is the oil capital of Norway, its old city is a charming sight from the harbor, lined with restored 200-year-old timber houses, freshly painted a gleaming white with red and brown tiled roofs.

Our shore excursion had many high points, among them a boat ride up the Lyse Fjord and a visit to an Iron Age farm excavated in the late 1960s, where guides took us back to the way life was lived here before the first millennium. This also was where we had our first of many brushes with the Vikings who united Norway and influenced much of northern Europe.

After Norway, we were bound for Lerwick, one of the more than 100 islands in the Shetland chain north of Scotland. We were eager to see the Shetland ponies and the ruins of Scalloway Castle and maybe shop for Shetland sweaters.

The Shetlands were the first of the islands that the intrepid Vikings encountered during their explorations west. Unfortunately, at the first little challenge, we intrepid 20th century travelers were unable to follow in their footsteps. Because Lerwick lacked harbor facilities for large ships, tenders were to take us ashore. While we watched from the decks, the seas turned rough, the ship’s anchor wouldn’t catch and the 78,491-ton, 915-foot-long, 105-foot-wide Vision of the Seas ended up stuck on a sand bar while two tugboats came chugging to the rescue. By then, the rising wind made it too dangerous to transport passengers via tenders. So all we saw of Lerwick as we sailed on was a richly green landscape, small boat harbor, warehouses and piers for the fishing fleet. No ponies. No Vikings.

It was disappointing, but we’re seasoned travelers; we understand that cruise routes are subject to change. Besides, the weather report was better for our next stop, Torshavn, capital of Denmark’s Faeroe Islands.

The mountain slopes around the little town (population 16,000) are home to the brilliant spectacle of millions of seabirds, including the celebrated black and white puffin with its orange and yellow feet and beak, a prized delicacy in these parts, served baked or roasted and sometimes stuffed.

Our little group didn’t sample much local cuisine. The shipboard meals and endless snacks were more than enough, but I wondered how hungry we’d have to be for puffin casserole.

The Faeroes, a volcanic archipelago of 18 islands, are shaped by North Atlantic storms and winds. We were utterly bewitched by the scenery as ship sailed past--the jagged coastline and hundreds of waterfalls coursing down mountains that remain perpetually emerald green from the precipitation that falls 280 days a year.

Our shore tour included the village of Kvivik and the excavated remains of an 11th century farm, and Kirkjubour, an ecclesiastical center in the Middle Ages.

The weather held until we were back on board, where we settled down for the program on our next port, Akureyri, on the north shore of Iceland. The speaker began by explaining that she had just dropped her carousel of slides and had hurried to put them back in order to begin her talk on time. Soon we were laughing at geysers shooting sideways and houses standing on end. None of us realized how prophetic this would be.

The guidebooks say Akureyri, at the head of a fiord about 35 miles in from the sea, has such a mild climate that it’s a gardener’s dream. This was hard to picture, since we had crossed the Arctic Circle to get there.

Iceland rides on the Mid-Atlantic Ridge, where the tectonic plates of North America and Eurasia are coming apart. It would have been great just to stand and contemplate that and the sheer wonder of the natural forces that created the extraordinary scenes before us--the “pseudocraters” left by volcanic eruptions, the steaming sulfurous jets escaping from far below the Earth’s crust, the bizarre lava fields of Dimmuborgir, the spectacular Godafoss waterfalls and volatile Lake Myvatn, formed by a still-active volcano. But weather ruled.

Drizzle began as we boarded our tour buses. This was followed by a smorgasbord of everything Iceland has to offer by way of climate: fog, rain, snow flurries and gales. The guide was forced to give us all the information about each site before we left the bus because talking outside was impossible. Still, nobody had brains enough to stay on the bus. We would rush out, take pictures, then race back to the bus wondering what we had shot.

Our next stop was the capital, Reykjavik, on the southwest coast. Under clear and sunny skies that soon turned cloudy, we took a tour that explored the city and beyond, where the Earth reveals more secret activity.

There was the pounding 105-foot Gullfoss waterfall; the geyser called Strokkur, which performed nicely for us, spitting scalding water 70 feet in the air every eight to 10 minutes; the volcanic vents and bubbling pools at Geysir, which has given its name to all the spouts around the world. We also visited Thingvellir, a spectacular lava field that is the original home of the Althing, one of the oldest parliaments in the world, having first met in 930.

Leaving Iceland for Canada, we were looking forward to three days at sea with no ports and some unstructured time to write postcards, do laundry and engage in some of the myriad activities--seminars, cooking demonstrations, games and fitness classes--on board.

The first clue that we might be in for unscheduled drama came when the ship’s TV in our cabin began broadcasting blow-by-blow descriptions of sea conditions. First the waves were “stable” or “slight,” then “moderate,” then “rough.” We reacted with acute astonishment when the level reached the “phenomenal” stage. (Honest, that’s the term they used.) Gusts were clocked at 75 mph, and a ship that could cruise at 22 to 24 knots per hour crept along at 5 knots.

A ship’s officer told us that sudden waves splashed up to Deck 9, two decks below the top. The sliding-glass doors to wind-blasted Decks 5 and 6 were sealed shut with metal doors. A good guess was that the morning Walk-A-Thon would not take place.

The storm neutralized the fitness zealots because the ship’s movement made using exercise equipment dangerous. The indoor swimming pool had to be drained.

Only two elevators were operating. We took to walking the stairs--our cabin was on Deck 3--and discovered a new decorative touch had been added to the landings: neat stacks of motion-sickness bags.

One stateroom window blew out, and the occupants and some of their belongings were drenched. In all, five cabins were affected. Not bad considering that the Vision of the Seas boasts two acres of glass canopies, windows and walls.

We sailed along in impenetrable fog with the ship’s horn sounding continually. Interestingly, everybody seemed to have absolute faith in Capt. Leif Otto Bang and the crew’s skills, for shipboard life went on as usual. Nobody walked around with a life jacket on. One of our table mates disappeared for three days, and we lost a waiter to seasickness, but not our appetites.

More than a trifle peculiar were the tunes the musicians played in the seven-deck-high atrium. One evening early in the cruise, it was Caribbean calypso music. During the storm, it was show tunes, one of which someone recognized as the theme from “Titanic.” To demonstrate the serenity of the passengers, when the movie itself was shown a few days later, the theater was packed with people who actually applauded the special effects of the ship going down in waters not too far from where we were heading.

As was our custom, we attended the port talk on St. John’s, Newfoundland, our North American landfall. Instead, we kept going and put in at Halifax, Nova Scotia. It was one of those itinerary changes that proves fortuitous. In Halifax we picked up the Titanic connection: 150 of the victims are buried there, and many artifacts from the wreck are on display in the city’s maritime museum.

We had bright, glorious weather in Halifax and in St. John, our last port before home. Stepping ashore there, my cousin Karen summed it up: “This must be how Noah felt when the rain stopped.”

Did all this make for a difficult trip? No. Did it ruin the romance of travel? Not at all. It just changed the nature of the adventure. And, of course, we did come out all right.

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GUIDEBOOK

Following the Fleet in Springtime

Repositioning cruises are seasonal, moving ships from one part of the world to another. In spring, much of the shift is from the tropics to Alaska, with some lines moving from the Caribbean to Europe.

The following are typical, spanning a price range from budget to luxury. Toll-free telephone numbers and Web sites are given, but the cruise novice might do better talking to a travel agent.

Some specialists: Cruises of Distinction, tel. (800) 434-6644; Cruises International, tel. (800) 255-7447; Cruise Masters, Culver City, tel. (310) 568-2040; Cruise Planner (online), https://www.cruises4you.com.

A few typical spring repositioning cruises follow. Prices are per person based on double occupancy. Air fare usually is not included, although air-cruise specials often become available as the season nears.

Fort Lauderdale, Fla., to Vancouver, Canada, via the Panama Canal; the Ryndam; April 18 to May 7, from $2,612. Holland America, tel. (800) 426-0327, https://www.hollandamerica.com.

Miami to San Francisco via the Panama Canal; Norwegian Wind; April 7 to 24, from $2,228. Norwegian Sky, Ensenada to Seattle; April 23 to 29, from $702. Norwegian Cruise Lines, tel. (800) 327-7030; https://www.ncl.com.

Fort Lauderdale to Rome; the Navigator; April 1 to 18; from $3,595. Radisson Seven Seas, tel. (800) 285-1835, https://www.rssc.com.

--TIMES STAFF