Monday, December 6th, 2004, continued....
Our stateroom has a couch on one side with a round table fastened to the floor before it, on which there is a bowl of fresh fruit, some napkins and cutlery and
a metal rail around to keep things from sliding off. Across on the other wall is a vanity with four deep drawers that can't slide open from ship's movements, and a good, well-lit mirror. It has metal guard pieces along an area at the back
where you can place things without fear that they will slide away. It holds an ice-bucket with ice, and an array of bottled water and soft drinks for which a cost is added to your bill if you use them. Then there is a puffy-topped stool for sitting before the vanity. The stool is hollow and can be used for storage.
There is also a movable easy chair, so it is possible to seat five people without anyone needing to sit on a bed. At the top of the room under the window are twin beds, each with a night table with three good drawers of the same kind as the vanity. The large window has attractive heavy draperies that are easily opened and closed, and sheer curtains for daytime if you want more privacy than the bare one way windows provide. We see the deck, rail and ocean, and people walking by, but they can't see us in the daytime. At night it's better to draw the drapes because inside lighting changes things and you lose some of the privacy.
I had the vanity drawers and we shared the closets. There was enough room. Plenty of wooden hangers are supplied and you can move shelves around in the closet
to make any configuration that works best for you.
A thorough drill is always held on deck on the first afternoon at about 4, well
before sailing. It's announced through over-head speakers in the ceiling of each stateroom, in the passageways, and on the tv in each room which has been tuned
to the ship's station and left on by the room steward. There are red life jackets on top shelves in your closet with instructions to don warm clothing, diagrams showing how to properly don your life-jacket and to proceed to your muster station. Ours was station number 9, just a few feet down the passage, out the door and around the corner. There was a large life boat suspended there. All passengers were checked to be sure their jackets were on correctly and securely. Each jacket is equiped with a whistle and light in case you find yourself in the ocean and need to signal.
It could be vital to know how to find your way to your numbered lifeboat station
, especially if there is smoke in the passageways and lights along the floor come on. At the muster station you are instructed to line up with women in front and men in the rear, (on ships it's still "women and children first") and to answer for your stateroom when your name is called. I answered for us, so Ben got away with having a sleep instead of attending.
He has sailed on many ships and felt desperately tired, so he decided he needed
to rest more than to drill once again. Often as a boy he sailed with his grandfather who was Captain of a steamship that travelled internationally. He came to
Canada on a small ship, "The Canberra" in the spring of 1952. That Atlantic crossing in March was exceptionally rough. As the ship pitched and tossed in high
waves the ship's screw would come right out of the water and whirr with a loud
noise before submerging again. Ben was one of the few people aboard that ship who were still able to eat their meals. He comes from a seafaring family.
The first half day and evening aboard there were deep swells. The next day, our
first full day at sea we were were both very tired, and lazed and slept a lot.
Ben had a white face at noon, but looked much better by dinner. His part of the
trip down had been doing all the driving and scheduling, so he was still on the
go on that first morning at sea when he awoke. He went on deck about 6 am and
walked twice around the deck in a high wind. Then he couldn't do any more and needed to rest. He tried to sit on a deckchair, but because of the high wind he
had to come in.
The rough seas were caused by severe storms to the north up the coast and into Canada.
Both nights, December 6th and 7th were rough. There were heavy swells and we BOTH felt queasy. Ben, to his great surprise, since he has never even been queasy
aboard a ship before. We used some capsules of powdered ginger root I brought from home, and they gave excellent relief. The first night at dinner dress is always casual. Each morning a copy of the ship's paper is slipped under your door
. It has ship's news, and shortened versions of some American and world news.
In it you find out what the required dress is for the dining room that evening.
Last night, the second night aboard, (December 7th,) there were still high waves and swells. During the day the sky was partly cloudy and the air temperature
was 16 degrees c.
During the lifeboat drill that first afternoon on the 6th there were crew members posted throughout the ship at key points like staircases, and at muster stations. This refreshes their skills, too, in order to ensure orderly evacuation of
the ship in case something goes wrong, such as fire, and the ship must be abandoned.
Before that drill and after lunch we know our luggage would have arrived. When
we made our way there we found our stateroom was very close to an exit to the deck at the stern from which we could easily exit to walk around the whole ship, and our muster station for the drill and in case of disaster was just around the
corner to the right. Rather a nice location.
Continued in Part 3A
