Traveling by RV (specifically in our motorhome Howie) is what we mostly do. We love it, and if that were all that we were allowed to do, it would probably be okay. But in fact, we have lots of choices, and we get to do pretty much anything we want to. And when it comes to traveling across oceans, well, we will definitely consider other modes of transportation. Our recent cruise, on the Coral Princess, was a culmination of influences:

• My 93-year-old Mom wanted to see the Panama Canal, by cruise ship
• I personally had never been on a cruise ship and was admittedly curious
• Karin had not been on one in more than 30 years

Pretty easy decision, huh? So we did some research, bought some tickets, and off we went. (If you haven’t seen those posts, they are the five posts just prior to this one, starting HERE.) Having written all that content about the trip itself, I am writing today to talk about cruising, cruise ships, and how that mode of travel struck me. Just to recap, we traveled on a 10-day cruise out of Fort Lauderdale, Florida, to the Panama Canal and back. Our ship was the Coral Princess.

[If you’d like to see the “whole nine yards” about the ship, check out the info page from Princess Cruise HERE. It’s way more than we learned or photographed. In this post, I’m just going to go through the highlights of what we personally saw and experienced.]

The Coral Princess is a “panamax” class vessel, the biggest that can fit through the 1,000-foot-long locks of the Panama Canal. At 987 feet length and 106 feet of beam, she’s a big, heavy, stable boat. One of my worries about cruising was my strong tendency toward motion sickness – but even in six-foot seas I had absolutely no issue. Rougher ocean, maybe, but we didn’t experience anything heavier than six feet. (On a small boat, I’d be chumming for fish for sure.)

The exterior of the ship is as the picture shows, big and square-ish and quite tall (about 176 feet above the water!). The strange jet-engine-looking pods at the stern are not functional – apparently the designer thought it’d be cool to have those up there. The ship actually does have a “jet engine”, so to speak, a turbine generator down in the engine room. But the high-mounted pods are just for show.

Somewhere on the exterior bow, there’s a forward-looking bridge-cam. The images from this camera are sometimes displayed on the big screen on deck 14, such as when we were navigating the Gatun Locks at the Panama Canal. The images are also broadcast on the web, and you can see live video at http://www.kroooz-cams.com/coral/coral1.php. If you time your viewing, you can watch the ship go through the Canal locks — it occurs every ten days between 7AM and 12AM Eastern time.

There are many noteworthy features of the ship, starting with the huge promenade deck (#7) that circles the entire ship. This teak-surfaced deck is almost all outside, so it gets the weather if there is any. Standing at one end, it’s easy to be reminded of a mile-long bowling alley. This is where the joggers roam and the sunbathers bathe. It’s also one of the best spots to experience the open sea.

The span of deck has some slight jogs in it, so what you see in the photos is only about half of the length. Going around a full loop is a little less than 1/3 of a mile.

At the stern, there’s little wake — just the boil from the two fifteen-foot diameter propellers.

Up at the top of the ship, the decks become more elaborate, kind of like a split-level house and landscape. There’s a lot of open-air space, hot tubs, swimming pools, the open-air theater, and the huge buffet cafeteria. It would have taken a helicopter to photograph it properly.

There’s a great forward viewing area, but it has wind-protection blue glass that ruins photography. It also gets pretty jammed up at “peak times” like the Panama Canal approach.

As impressive as the ship is on the outside, it’s the inside where it really shines. Princess has taken a lot of time and expense to outfit a high-class resort, with bars, spas, restaurants, theaters and shopping all sprinkled around the giant boat.

Inside, all the passenger cabin areas look pretty much the same. Long passageways, broken up by the common areas such as lounges, bars, the atrium, and so forth. Squeaky clean always.

The inarguable centerpiece of the interior design is the relatively new (retrofitted) atrium at mid-ships. It stretches through 40 vertical feet or more, complete with glass elevators, marble staircases, and just pure luxury.

All the way aft, the Universe Lounge is another split-level venue for entertainment.

And speaking of entertainment, we found it to be beyond our expectations. Top professionals provided concert-level piano work, superb magic, song-and-dance, and comedy. Schedules were typically 45-minute sets, so you could easily watch two or three Vegas-class shows in a single evening.

There were also “side shows”, such as vegetable/fruit carving competition, destination reviews and documentaries, cabaret singers and players, always always something going on.

Did I mention the Casino?

Several shopping venues took place every day, from clothing and jewelry to photo studios and specialty tables. Here’s a nice prize, a beautiful watch for just a shade under four grand (yes, US dollars). How could I pass it up?

There are still plenty of places I never got around to photographing. The rear solitude “serenity” area; the beauty parlor; the fitness center; most of the passenger cabin areas; three different bars; several of the restaurants and the buffet where we ate many meals. But you should be getting the idea by now.

What I’ve discussed so far is the “scenery” on the boat that’s available to all passengers. There is also an “inner sanctum” that can only be seen by taking the ship’s tour. We were eager to see the inner workings, so we signed up early. They will only take 14 people on the tour, once per cruise. It was well worth the time and cost ($150/person). We spent almost four hours being toured around the ship’s innards, and an eye-opening trip it was.

First stop was, of course, the bridge. Met the captain and first officers, helmsman, and got a brief run-down on how the big rig is controlled. Of course it’s all electronic.

 

The traditional peg-handled ship’s wheel has (sadly) been long-since abandoned. The direction of this 90,000 ton vessel is now controlled by this incongruous little joystick.

A full set of semaphore visual signal flags is always kept on hand for communication, should all else fail. Each one stands for a letter or number. Slow going, but better than nothing.

From the bridge, we went forward to where the anchors and shore lines are managed. Huge, almost menacing rolls of rope and chain, massive capstains the size of 55-gallon drums. Electric motors the size of washing machines — all spic-and-span and ready for our next mooring.

The Princess has a 600-seat theater – – –

– – – and we went back-stage to see the elevated stage and talk to some performers.

Next, the kitchen (one of four). The Princess serves 12,000 dishes each and every day to almost 3,000 people. They have 200 crew that work only on food preparation and service. The kitchen is a stainless steel cavern mine, running every which way past freezers, cookers, prep tables, storage drawers, you name it. To ensure quality and supply, everything for a ten day cruise is taken on board at Fort Lauderdale. Simply amazing.

The laundry was equally impressive. Taking care of a 1,000-room hotel, plus the staff’s living quarters, means a LOT of washing. Mom’s a helpful type, and she gave them a hand ironing some sheets before we moved on.

Away from the passengers’ quarters, the environment is all work, and practicality. If there’s some extra space available, something is going to get stored there. Like this pile of large-diameter stainless steel tubing.

We were prohibited from taking photographs in the Engine Control Room (ECR) due to security concerns. And frankly, there was little to see. The casual observer might think it to be a small software development lab, with a few keyboards and consoles. The giveaway was the string of monitors surrounding the workspace, with status panels for every possible speed, voltage, temperature, and fluid level you can imagine. Two guys sat there, dividing their attention between fourteen tourists and three diesel engines and a turbine generator. The ship is all-electric, and the engines all just drive generators. Even the main drive propellers are driven with electric motors. Total capacity? A whopping 57 Megawatts – – sufficient power to keep 30,000 homes running.

We also made several passes through the crew quarters (no pix here either, not for security but for privacy reasons). The operative term in this area would be “spartan”. Clean, pale green, unpretentious living quarters. Crew rushing about their business or just taking a moment’s rest. The training of the employees is pretty obvious, for whenever a crew member was caught by surprise, you could see him/her quickly shift into “passenger friendly” mode, smiling and deferential. Then when we passed by and were no longer a concern, back to whatever business was at hand.

Last stop was the medical center, where a small team takes care of all non-critical health and injury issues. The residing doctor gave us a general briefing on what they could and did handle on a regular basis.

One of the passengers asked the inevitable question: “Have you ever had anybody die on-board, and do you have a morgue?”. The presiding doctor answered that yes, it had happened more than once, that they did not have a morgue, and it was necessary to keep the corpse in one of the food freezers until reaching the US. He kept a straight face for at least three or four seconds and then cracked up. I think he had the guy for those three seconds, by the look on his face.

I liked the doc’s sense of humor, but what really impressed me was the crew-relief center in the medical kitchen – – – if you zoom in, you can see the rum, vodka, and tequila bottles on the stainless steel counter. (Turns out, they were prepping for a birthday party.)

It would almost be worth getting sick to have a hospital bed with a porthole – – –

So, what is day-to-day life like aboard this floating palace? BUSY. From the boarding life-jacket drill to going through customs, we were going almost non-stop.

I think there must be some intensive training for cruise directors that says “Never give them time to think!!!”. Between the ship’s programs and the lure of on-shore activities, we were literally losing sleep on the trip. We’re not early risers, but we had no choice — the ship would invariably dock at around 7AM, with shore excursions beginning shortly thereafter. Embarkation was anywhere from 3PM to 5PM, so there was almost never any time to spare. The only real relaxation we got was on “sea days”, days of traveling across the blue abyss. Even then, there were always movies to see or acts to catch, destination discussions, etc.

And FOOD. Dang, they fed us like their lives depended on it. And we ate it, because it was damn good food. One evening, the buffet went German-style, and Karin (German-born and raised) said it was some of the best she’d had. We both ate extra portions of everything, shamelessly. Or shamefully. Doesn’t matter, we ate it.

With all of that, how can I possibly compare an RV to a sea-going Resort? Surprisingly, there are some similarities. Self-containment is one of them. Like an RV, a cruise ship is fully self-sufficient. There’s food, power, shelter, a bed, and a place to hang your clothes. There’s also that feeling of wandering, a nomadic sense of going where the wind blows. Of course, on a cruise ship you’re going where the captain says you’re going – but it’s still a bit of an “into the wild” feeling at times.

The differences are probably more compelling. In my RV, I’m the captain. On ship, I’m a passenger with no say as to destination or timing. If I want to be alone in my RV, I drive away. On ship, it’s better not to fret too much about crowds – like it or not, you’re part of a small town of 3,000 souls, and in a lot closer proximity than any small town. And of course there’s the cost factor. Per day for two people, cruising is roughly 10X more expensive than RVing.

More importantly, what do I consider the relative merits of cruising versus RV life? In fact, one of the reasons that I went on this cruise was to try to get a sense of what it was all about. I’ve long known how popular cruising is, and I wanted to see for myself what it had to offer. It can’t just be the allure of strange ports of call — after all, there are lots faster ways to get to an interesting destination than plodding along at 20mph.

One of the things I saw most strongly demonstrated was the sense of safety, and being cared for. Cruising is absolutely a no-worries enterprise (not counting icebergs, which are rare in the Caribbean). While I did appreciate the care-free temper of the experience, it’s not a major thing for me, and I’m very accustomed to being self-reliant. But for some folks, that sense of almost womb-like care is deeply satisfying. Absolutely every possible need is well-met, and with a cheerful smile.

Also, there is a lot of discretion in activity. Although we personally chose to “try everything” on our trip, it’s also possible to just chill out on the sun deck and let the day go by. Other people can go ashore, let ‘em. Any passenger can sign up – or not – to anything they like.

I’ll still spend most of my vacation time in our motorhome, for both economical and personal freedom reasons. I like the flexibility of going where I want to go, when I want to go there. I like being able to drive off away from the crowds and appreciate Nature by myself. Nevertheless, I may well take another cruise some time. There are other places, like the Alaska inside passage, that are appealing, and much more difficult to visit by RV. And there’s a different type of cruise available, where you take a boat down a major river, instead of the ocean. That could be interesting too. We’ll see.