Departure Day – Leaving Familiar Shores
Only a Mile Away, Years Apart
It was a strange experience. We had booked a hotel we knew well, only a mile from where we had lived for 25 years. We knew it as somewhere to visit rather than stay, somewhere for drinks rather than overnight bags, yet now we were guests there ourselves. Stranger still, we were having breakfast in the same restaurant where we had celebrated our daughter’s 18th birthday years earlier.
The night before departure, after good food and friendly service at the Crown and Cushion at Minley, we visited another old favourite: the “Wellie”, the well-known pub in Sandhurst. But it had changed. Gone was the cosy atmosphere we remembered, replaced by a DJ, karaoke, flashing lights and a clientele that looked barely old enough to order a drink. Two of the ladies in our group asked for tea and the barman looked genuinely puzzled.
It was one of those moments where you suddenly realise the world has quietly moved on around you. Not dramatically, and certainly not tragically, but enough to leave us feeling old enough for one quick drink before retreating to the comfort of the hotel.
The Moment It Started to Feel Real
Departure day arrived quickly. Our embarkation slot was 12:30 and we arrived almost exactly on time. Embarkation itself felt slightly chaotic in the way large travel days often do…. queues, redirected luggage and a vague sense that everyone else understood the process better than we did.
This appeared to be the busiest arrival period, with queues to join other queues both outside and inside the terminal. Thankfully, once through that stage, check-in and security were efficient and well organised. Just over an hour after arriving we were finally stepping aboard with that familiar mixture of anticipation and relief that marks the real beginning of a holiday.
Southampton: Not quite the scenery normally associated with holiday photographs — but every journey has to start somewhere.
One moment photographing cranes and ships, the next photographing a seal.
By then it was drifting into mid-afternoon, so food became the immediate priority. We headed to the Horizon Buffet for a light lunch, although “restrained” might not be the first word usually associated with buffet dining. Still, we behaved ourselves remarkably well considering the scale of temptation on offer.
Looking out across the harbour, I unexpectedly spotted a seal swimming near the ship. I managed a quick photograph before it disappeared beneath the water, not to be seen again. It felt oddly special; Southampton docks are not somewhere I associate with wildlife encounters, surrounded as they are by cranes, containers and heavy industry. One moment I was photographing dock machinery and ships, the next I was trying to track a seal before it vanished beneath the water again.
Our cabin was ready, so we headed there and met Desmond, our steward for the week. We are generally fairly undemanding guests, so I suspect our paths may only cross occasionally.
First impressions were good. The cabin felt brighter and more spacious than I expected, helped enormously by the balcony and full-height glass doors looking out across Southampton Water. The décor was modern but fairly understated - pale woods, muted colours and soft blues giving it more of a hotel feel than a traditional cruise cabin. After unpacking and finding homes for bags, coats and lots of clothes, it quickly began to feel like somewhere we would happily call home for the next week.
After unpacking it was time for muster, and we happened to be sailing on one of the six-monthly cruises where everyone attends muster in person.
Fortunately it did not take too long and finished just in time for sail away.
Sail Away
The weather was unexpectedly warm and much of the ship seemed to spill out onto the decks to watch Southampton slowly disappear into the distance. Drinks appeared in abundance, sun loungers filled quickly, and those who were clearly more organised than us had already claimed places in the pools and jacuzzis.
From higher decks the scale of Southampton itself became obvious. Huge container ships edged through the harbour with tug boats escorting them, ferries moved purposefully in every direction and the docks stretched away into the distance. At one point an enormous container ship passed nearby, stacked improbably high with coloured containers that looked almost like giant building blocks from a distance. It was a reminder that Southampton is not simply a cruise port but a working harbour operating on an altogether different scale.
The sky also seemed determined to put on a display. Large sculpted clouds drifted overhead with shafts of sunlight breaking through in places, occasionally turning the water silver. Speedboats crossed our path leaving curved white wakes behind them and sailing boats sat quietly at anchor in the evening light.
Later, wandering past the aft pool, there was one of those very cruise-like scenes: people relaxing in the water while behind them the ship's widening wake stretched back towards the harbour we had left behind. It felt like one of those moments when the holiday finally shifted gear. Southampton was disappearing behind us and the anticipation of the week ahead was beginning to take over.
Southampton fading behind us while life on board had already settled into holiday mode
Evening Approaches
As evening arrived Southampton gradually softened. The busy harbour of cranes, container ships and industrial activity slowly gave way to open water and gentler light. Out on deck the air had noticeably cooled and the sunshine that had felt almost summer-like earlier in the day had become something that required hats, scarves and a little more determination.
One of the things I found unexpectedly fascinating was watching the harbour traffic around us. Pilot boats darted backwards and forwards across the water at remarkable speed, crashing through their own spray and looking impossibly small beside the ships they guided. Earlier they had been part of the background; now, with the lower evening light catching the water, they suddenly became photographic subjects in their own right.
As we moved farther from Southampton, the bright orange pilot boat peeled away from the ship and headed back towards harbour. Against the evening sun and the widening wake stretching out behind us, it felt like a small moment of transition — almost a final farewell before we properly headed out to sea.
By now the warmth of the afternoon had disappeared entirely. We found ourselves wrapped up in hats and scarves on deck watching the sun sink lower, standing together looking back along the ship's wake. It was one of those slightly ridiculous travel moments where you wonder how you can be cold and happy at exactly the same time.
Jonathan Wilkes at the Limelight Club
Somewhere around then it finally stopped feeling like embarkation day and started feeling like a holiday.
For our first evening we decided to avoid the main dining rooms and instead booked the Limelight Club to watch Jonathan Wilkes, a singer and entertainer performing Rat Pack classics alongside dinner service. It was not especially busy, perhaps unsurprising on the first night, but the audience seemed to enjoy the easy humour and familiar songs. It wasn't entirely to our personal taste musically, but it was an enjoyable enough way to ease ourselves gently into the rhythm of the cruise.
And with that, day one quietly slipped into evening, Southampton disappeared into the distance.
Norway suddenly felt a little closer.
Somewhere between Southampton and open water, departure quietly became a journey.