The Unique Cruise Beloved by Cruise Fanatics

Crossing an ocean, on the water, is still a big deal—even when you do it on a cushy cruise liner. Day after day, just surrounded by liquid horizons on every side. Steaming between continents, like explorers did way back when they navigated the seven seas in creaky wooden vessels moved by the power of the wind.

In Puerto Rico, I board the Viking Sea, a beautiful, upscale, and relatively small and intimate ship (by today’s mega-cruise standards). After one stop in tropical St. Maarten, we cast lines for a whole new world. Which is actually, technically, the Old World. Soon after we leave the island’s sugary beaches and swaying palms behind, the captain comes on the loudspeaker to give our coordinates, expected weather, and next port of call.

It’ll be more than a week until we make landfall again. In Spain. Sitting there on my balcony, the ship skimming happily along a flat, calm Caribbean Sea—a whiskey drink in hand—it sounds like he’s talking about a trip to the dark side of the moon. And to be honest, I’m just so glad that we have such a gloriously long time to get there.

This is my 57th cruise, and it is a particular type of voyage beloved by veteran cruisers—a repositioning. Every spring, cruise lines follow the sunshine and move a number of their ships from the Caribbean to the Mediterranean. In the fall, they move them back. If you’re a guest, there’s big bang for buck here. Because you’ll visit far fewer ports along the way, and the length of the trip tends to be long (usually a couple weeks, and all of it in the low season), cabins on a repositioning are almost always available for just a small fraction of the price of a regular cruise.

For someone looking to just relax and enjoy, it’s a really a great deal. Think: all the amenities and services of a five-star hotel. Just, you know, one that happens to be floating in the middle of the ocean. You get the pleasures of twice-daily housekeeping. All the steak you can eat in multiple restaurants. Big pours of pinot at lunch. Long afternoons at the pool. Afternoon tea in the bright, elegant Wintergarden. Shows in the evening, often performed by artists who graced the stages of Broadway and London’s West End.

All of the above is true on my Viking voyage. And they also bring in a number of guest speakers and performers to keep us entertained. One, a classically trained Italian concert pianist with wild, curly locks named Julian Gargiulo (or, “The Pianist with the Hair”) managed to bring together Beethoven and Bach with an actually-funny stand-up act. Another, named Mick Dawson, once rowed across the entirety of the Pacific Ocean (with a partner), an epic trip that nobody else has yet replicated.

In that specially built rowboat, it took them more than six months, from coast to coast. He’s also rowed across the Atlantic. And between his time as a (British) Royal Marine and a professional sailor, he’s crossed the world’s oceans as many as 150 times. So I sit down with him one day and ask him whether those trips bear any similarities with this present voyage? To my surprise, he doesn’t laugh.

In fact, he nods, confirming the notion. “You simply have so much time,” he says, a thoughtful look on his face. “There are no distractions, no rush. You can sit and stare at the ocean, that’s a rare luxury. There’s just something primeval about it.”

He adds two tips. One, go ahead and try new things. (The daily schedule on the ship includes everything from morning origami lessons to afternoon line dancing, plus wine tastings and workshops.) Second, he advises me to get to know my fellow cruisers. “Everyone has their own interesting story to tell,” he says.

So, I do. Dawson also mentions that life on board a vessel during long voyages—yes, even on a row boat—invariably settles into a routine. Albeit, one that you’d never keep or maybe even imagine on shore.

The ship prints and distributes its own small newsletter, and every evening, The Viking Daily is waiting in my turned-down cabin. For me, it becomes required reading. Before bed, I settle onto the crisp white sheets and plan out tomorrow.

One of my first activities: a tour of the stairwells. Yes, seriously. On Viking’s ocean vessels, a replication of many panels from the famous Bayeux Tapestry runs all the way down from Deck Nine, and the earnest on-board historian leads our group of about 20 through a meticulous interpretation of the scenes, retelling the Norman Conquest of England in 1066. Everyone nods earnestly as we make our way down the stairs, from landing to landing.

My daily staple becomes team trivia, every day at noon. I’m a fierce competitor when it comes to trivia. And I have an extensive mental archive of entirely useless knowledge, especially regarding history and geography. That, combined with the team’s wide-ranging expertise from science to pop culture, helps keep us up near the top. (Note: It breaks my heart, and will haunt me for a long time, that we never actually get an outright win.)

Afternoons bring lectures, as well as fun, silly activities. One day, I pair up with a fellow guest and we compete in a mid-afternoon scavenger hunt that involves singing in the elevator, selfies with the captain, and finding a two-dollar bill. (Note: She was the defending champion from a previous cruise, and I quickly see that she’s the Michael Jordan of scavenger hunts. We end up winning, by a wide points margin.)

And then, late in the afternoon—shower, change, and reset for the evening. Which includes intimate acoustic performances in the Explorer’s Lounge, a two-floor space enclosed in glass at the bow of the ship, which frames the perpetual blue before us. Grand production shows in the Star Theatre, where a four-person song-and-dance team showcases the songbook of everyone from ABBA to Dolly Parton and the Beatles. Then, usually, a nightcap at Torshavn, the on-board nightclub, where a live band plays favorites and plenty of people (not me) get up and dance.

Some days, I go up on the top deck and just stare out at the waves. Others, I don’t even go outside. The hours slip away. Time becomes elastic.

On a trans-Atlantic crossing, the jet lag is metered out. Normally, switching continents brings with it a necessary shock to the system. You get on a plane, fly across hours, and land, but your body hasn’t yet caught up. So you lie awake at night, or your eyes flutter open, involuntarily, at a ridiculously early hour.

Here, the crew announces the time changes. In the middle of the Atlantic, actual time zones matter little, because there’s no human life outside the ship. It’s a self-contained society, steaming across the ocean. The Viking Daily notes the time change, and you simply spring ahead, on six different nights. (People are constantly consulting each other: “are we an hour ahead again tonight?”).

We finally arrive at Cadiz, in the southern reaches of Spain. I hop out of bed, expecting a grand entrance to the harbor, perhaps white sails all around bathed in morning light. A fitting continental arrival after eight full days at sea.

Nope. I throw open the balcony door to find a wall of fog obscuring everything a few feet beyond the edge of my railing. But that’s OK. Once we dock, a big day awaits—I’ve booked a culinary tour that involves a wine tasting and a master class with a renowned local chef.

It’s the kind of thing foodies dream about. But, you know what? I already miss my shipboard routine. And I’d trade it all, for just one more day of noontime team trivia. (And maybe—yes—a win, for once.)

When you go...

Stay:

In Puerto Rico, Condado Ocean Club provides a small, intimate, boutique-cool accommodations, right on the crashing waves of the beach. Everyone gathers at the infinity pool, where you can grab a cabana and lunch and just enjoy the sun.

In Barcelona, you have options. If you’re looking for privacy and tons of space, the CasaGrand Luxury Suites offer massive apartments, with up to five bedrooms and more than 2,000 feet of room. Plus, a rooftop pool.

For more of a scene, Hotel Arts (part of Ritz-Carlton) stands 44 stories, right next to the Med. Big penthouse suites offer sweeping views, plus there’s a top-floor spa, gallery with pieces from emerging artists, and a brand-new speakeasy.

Sail:

Transatlantic repositioning cruises are offered in the spring and fall. My voyage was 14 days on the Viking Sea, a ship that offers everything from a main pool with indoor/outdoor retractable roof to a full Nordic spa complete with hot and cold pools, sauna, and an actual snow grotto.

Restaurants range from a multiple course tasting menu at Chef’s Table to a buffet with crab legs and steak-on-demand, plus 24-hour room service. A tip: if you really want to feel like an explorer, hang out on the quiet, comfortable second floor of the Explorer’s Lounge. It has maps and books and replicated artifacts from famous voyages.