| Norway Farewell Transatlantic 2001 | Days 9-12 |
Sea Days - enroute to Greenock - September 10, 11, 12, 13, 2001
In just a few hours, the section of dented rail is cut away and replaced, just another example of the multitude of skills that are needed to maintain a great vessel like Norway when she is miles from any shipyard or repair facility. The webbing to the right in this scene was put up to cover the opening where glass had shattered. Immediately after the accident a resourceful passenger darted to the scene and grabbed a few broken pebbles of safety glass and stood gleefully showing them off, glimmering in his hand like diamonds. I'm not sure they were among the numerous artifacts from this Farewell Voyage that appeared later on eBay.
The ship's pool has been filled again, but with the cooler air there are few takers. That wonderful sea motion is creating breakers at the sides.
Le seul mode à travèrser. The mural from the old First Class Library on France, chopped to fit in various locales throughout Norway, nonetheless evokes the ship's ineluctable heritage of the only way to cross.
Under way in the seas that she was born to sail.
Sunbathing in mid-Atlantic: instead of the old CGT blankets, these resourceful deck chair denizens use the ubiquitous blue pool towels provided by NCL for pool time in warmer climes.
The finishing touches on the port side repair: a new glass panel is worked into place.
The pool bar: daiquiri blenders and neon specialty glasses stand idle and abandoned on this northerly voyage.
Boat deck promenade, the sea around us: who could ask for more?
The First Class Children's Playroom, usually closed, but still visible from a window off the enclosed promenade.
International Deck, formerly the First Class Promenade Deck, has been tricked out with fake Parisian touches as unconvincing as the mock-Spanish grill work that adorned the private Sun Deck on France. I would have preferred wood planking rather than the hard slate that replaced it, and I never liked those ubiquitous smoked-glass globe lights.
Nonetheless, with the Atlantic moving past these windows, and the authentic sounds and smells of a glass enclosed Promenade Deck, this space provided some of the strongest evocations of la vie Transatlantique.
Ceiling decoration.
The Purser's Desk on International Deck was continually staffed by cheerful NCL representatives, at all hours of the day.
As the days grew cooler, only the hardier souls ventured into the Sky Deck pool.
Lisa and I were walking up to get some air before lunch, when a shipmate came to us, his voice shaking with disbelief and sympathy as he said that an airplane had just collided with the World Trade Center in an apparent terrorist attack. Our first instinct was to head for the ship's Internet Cafe, to log on and get some news, but as I headed forward on International Deck my wife called me back, as there was no need. The wide screens and video banks of the Sports Bar, normally used for transmission of games and competition, had been switched to CNN, and the horror unfolded before our eyes. September 11 instantly became a demarcation point in time, a date that will always carry with it the memory of where you were when you heard the news. As the events developed: the Pentagon aflame, a plane down in Pennsylvania, I felt a fear that was new to me. Being away from home in the trackless vastness of the Atlantic was both a comforting safety, and a distressing isolation. Captain Søvsdnes made an annoucement over the PA which many did not hear in the noisy lunchtime babble of the Windward Dining Room, but word of the tragedy quickly spread through other means, and a crowd gathered around the television screens. In a respectful and dignified manner which I and many others greatly appreciated, the Captain struck the flags to half mast, the day's entertainments were canceled, and a vigil/memorial service was scheduled in the Saga Theatre. The large numbers who wanted to attend led the Captain to schedule another one for later that same evening. |
This is the only scene I photographed that day, a view over the ship's fantail, as I was weighed down by a feeling that we had forever left hope behind us. |
Sea Days - September 12 & 13, 2001
The events of September 11 cast a pall that remained throughout the rest of the voyage. The notion of bidding farewell to an ocean liner, however historic and beloved, seemed naive, quaint, and even pointless.
As if the elements agreed with the sentiment, the skies grew gray, and the sea choppy, the crests of the waves torn away into thin sheets of spray as they were snatched by the wind.
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NCL -- to their credit -- relaxed the normally exorbidant rates for Internet access, allowing each passenger five minutes free time to send or receive emails. As many of the passengers came from New York, this was a welcome gesture, and a way to link back to home, which seemed so far away.
Passengers waiting to log on peruse the ship's daily news bulletin .
Lisa herself logged on every day. Only later did I note with amusement that despite her dislike of sea travel -- exacerbated by the weight of events, the days became unending drudgery for her -- Lisa has unconsciously adopted a nautical scheme with her hair ties.
This little table tucked off to the side near the Bistro, was one of the few places I found where one could sit and enjoy a drink and look out over the sea.
Here the skies have opened up to let in the sun, and the mood is lifting a bit: tomorrow is our first landfall in four days, and I am looking forward to reconnecting with the world in Greenock and Glasgow.
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September 8 - St. John's, Newfoundland |
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September 14 - Greenock & Glasgow |
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