Niagara Prince

For ten years, we have been agents for American Canadian Caribbean Line (ACCL). They send a cruise ship in for a 4-month season every winter. This year for the second time, the owner, Captain Luther Blount, invited me for the MV Niagara Prince cruise he would be on.

I took my computer on the cruise. My intention was to have emails ready to send the night I got home. The only problem was that I left the mouse in my bedside table when I carefully packed the computer, cord, extension cord, and miscellaneous correspondence.

Friday, 30 January

This morning there was some question about whether I would take the cruise at all. The ACCL office faxed that Luther was recovering from the flu and might not come but that I was welcome to take the cruise; I decided it would not be the thing to do, since I was his guest. I called the office in Rhode Island and was told that Luther would join the ship in Punta Gorda. Also, he had another friend aboard, a recently widowed woman, and I could sort-of fill in for him, giving her extra attention. So I shifted mental gears once more.

To Alex’s and my delight, our old friend Bob Gifford is captain of the Niagara Prince for the Belize season.

Alex carried my not-so-featherweight bags aboard after lunch. I hung things up, then went on the office. I went home, bathed, dressed, and came aboard with my familiar S.A.S. handbag in one hand and my Africa hat in the other. The slip I had forgotten that I would need for my single dress was rolled neatly atop my umbrella at the bottom of my purse.

Most of the cabins are on the deck below the lounge, dining salon, and galley, instead of on a deck above. I like it. There is no walkway outside the windows so there is more privacy.

My cabin is slightly smaller than the one Emilie and I had on the Caribbean Prince, but it is almost lavish for me alone. The bunks are built slightly higher, leaving more easily accessible stowage space beneath them than I needed to accommodate my wardrobe, even though I had packed generously rather than bothering to make decisions on what to take.

With the two pillows plus a thick throw pillow on each bunk, and folded heavy extra blankets, I have all I need to make myself a comfortable nest with my legs elevated. There is a small square desk and chair alongside my bunk that would be ideal for working, but I think it is wiser to use the case for my laptop, resting on my knees, as a desk for my computer.

 

The ship carries only about 78 passengers. It is bring-your-own-bottle. A little before 5:00 pm I took my bottle of White Label up to the bar, fixed myself a Scotch and soda, and joined a couple of seated passengers. We were having a pleasant get-acquainted session when my horrid little plastic glass simply slipped out of my hand scattering a small amount of liquid and a lot of tiny ice cubes over the rug. There are better ways to make a good first impression. Of course, everyone laughed, probably delighted that I, not they, had done it.

I circulated a bit, meeting delightful and friendly people, joined them for dinner, and went back to my cabin early. I was settled in bed to read by about 8:30 and managed exactly two pages of what promises to be a good book before realizing that I needed open eyes, not closed ones, to continue.

Saturday, 31 January

First light coming in my generous-size window woke me. I watched a spectacular sunrise as I dressed.

I fixed a cup of coffee in the salon and went topside to the Sun Deck to join the other early risers.

The passengers were fascinated to find someone from Belize aboard and asked endless questions. This morning after breakfast when I was back in my room, I lectured myself about taking care not to become the verbal Old Man of the Sea of the voyage.

I went back topside and found a wonderful V-shaped lookout forward where the outer rail meets the railing of the ladder. I stood there alone reminiscing as we slowly made our way through Port‑o‑Stuck.

I ran into Luther’s friend Thelma as I came down the ladder from the Sun Deck, introduced myself, and had a little visit. She is a delightful woman, a littler older than I. Her daughter Martha is a bright charmer, a veterinarian, who looks about twenty but has a teen-age daughter.

 

We moored at San Pedro this afternoon. After the boat with snorkelers and the glass-bottom boat took off with passengers, the captain began shuttle service ashore. María had told me about a nice gift shop she found when she and Alex were at San Pedro last weekend. She was much taken by some glazed pottery, assumed it was expensive, couldn’t manage to take it home anyway, and left it there. I mentioned it to one of my new friends. She and her husband had spent three days in San Pedro before the cruise. She said the shop had lovely stock at New York prices and a pushy owner to match.

I found my way up the beach to Belize Arts. Lots of lovely things I don’t need or want. However, if you are looking for a pink pot with a green iguana peering over the top, I can tell you where to find it.

 

We all dressed up this evening for the Captain’s dinner. Four of the people at our table are interestingly related. The younger couple has been married for several years. A few months ago after they all took a trip to Hawaii together. Her father and his mother, friends for years and both long widowed, decide “that they enjoyed being together” and married.

• Her daughter is her husband’s stepdaughter and daughter-in-law.
• His son is his wife’s stepson and son-in-law
• The girl is married to her stepbrother.
• The man is married to his stepsister.

Sunday, 1 February

We sailed from San Pedro just after daylight. After lunch, we anchored at Goff’s Caye for snorkeling.

This cruise is a real holiday for me. I circulate enough to be a part of the group, to enjoy the sailing and scenery, and then escape to my little cave and luxuriate in being utterly alone doing exactly what I want to do.

Much of the cruise involves island-hopping, stopping regularly for snorkeling or bird-watching trips to special cayes. Been there, done that, thank you, loved every moment of it, and would rather be holed up with my computer or book. There is plenty of time to socialize at meals.

This morning, I set out tromping around the deck—17 revolutions to the mile. At about the third lap, the woman I was following thought of a question she needed to ask me. That led to a 20-minute conversation that we both enjoyed far better than exercising.

 

After the first couple of days, I almost gave up on finding any passengers with unusual backgrounds. Everyone was delightful and fun to visit with, but we seemed not to have anyone as especially interesting as two or three I had met on my earlier cruise.

Then I found myself talking to Bill Allen at early morning coffee. Our casual comments about sea conditions led him to mention his time with Scripps Institute of Oceanography. I fed him the odd question to keep him talking about it.

One project kept their ship in the Pacific mapping currents for seven months. In all that time, he said, they saw only one ship. The Scripps ship was describing circles around a certain point when they saw a Norwegian tanker bearing down on them. In that empty ocean it did not deviate a degree. The Scripps ship was fully lighted, although it was daylight, but the Norwegian continued on its course and passed with perhaps 500 feet to spare. The Scripps captain turned his search light on the freighter. The bridge was empty. The ship was proceeding on autopilot without even a man on watch and no one aware that it nearly had run down the only ship within thousands of miles.

Bill’s wife Pam is British and a retired doctor. At dinner, the woman sitting next to her started to choke, so Pam did a Heimlich Maneuver quickly. She said it was the first she ever had done.

Monday, 2 February

Late in the afternoon, the Captain announced that a Norther was on its way. Already snorkeling was poor because of the roiling of seas from the westerly wind. The captain said he would reverse his itinerary, head directly to Guatemala, and hope that the weather would be normal again and the sea pleasant for snorkeling by the time we returned to the cayes of Belize.

Swimmers returned to the ship chilled by the cooling water. Several passengers were literally blasted through the door into the lounge by torrents of rain. The ship rocked and rolled as she made for the protected harbor of Placencia to anchor for the night.

Tuesday, 3 February

Morning the air was cold, but the clouds cleared gradually. By the time we had finished ship formalities in Punta Gorda and headed for Guatemala, the sky was solid blue. The crossing was rough enough to be interesting. Foam-capped waves tossed the shallow-draft ship. The ship entered Guatemala in Livingston and stayed long enough for passengers to climb the hill to the few shops that comprised the town’s shopping area. The typical Latin American stores were full of plastic and limited canned goods. However, passengers found a few cosas típicas—Guatemalan belts, hand bags, and for one couple an hamaca matrimonial (hammock-built-for-two).

Late in the afternoon, we made the long-awaited run up the Río Dulce. The ship cruised slowly up the winding river of the gorge. The birders aboard made a greater noise with their exclamations of delight than did the dozens of birds perched on trees and bushes clinging to the green vertical walls of the forested mountains rising from the water on each side. The captain anchored in a cove in lake from which the Río Dulce flows.

Wednesday, 4 February

Our anchorage was at the mouth of a small river flowing into the lake. The Captain himself took the skiff to sound that river and found 30- to 60-feet of water, even under the bushes along its banks. He returned to the ship, eased her around a right-angle turn into the river, and tried the side trip for the first time. The passengers were spellbound at the slow journey between high walls of jungle, not quite close enough to touch.

There was no place wide enough to turn the ship, so the captain reversed all the way back to the lake and then proceeded toward Lago Izabal.

 

My reputation as Resident Authority took a beating in Guatemala. Most of the passengers looked forward to shopping for native crafts. I assured everyone that there was a fine gift shop at the orphanage where the ship always stops. It was closed because it had attracted guerrillas who came down from the mountains to rob them.

I calmed disappointment by telling everyone that there would be an informal market near where we docked at the Fortaleza de San Felipe at the entrance to Lago Izabal. The fort was built in the mid-Sixteen Hundreds to protect against intrusion of pirates. Allegedly, the Spanish stretched a large chain across the narrow entrance to the lake from their strategically located fort to the opposite bank to ensnare would-be intruders. Repeated attacks ultimately almost destroyed the Fortaleza.

In 1955 reconstruction began. Today the fort is a small stone gem. It is a little maze of unexpected narrow passageways, none straight for more than a few feet; of steep narrow stairways to the battlements and tower; of small, windowless rooms and unexpected open courtyards. One of the passengers wished he could have it for a house, not an impossible idea considering its compactness. I commented on the dark, airless rooms. He fended off the question: “Guest rooms!”

The Indian women were not there with their colorful woven goods and other typical crafts because we arrived unexpectedly, off schedule. Passengers who had heard me tell of the fine shopping possibilities at the orphanage and again at the fort railed at me in mock irritation.

The Cruise Director announced that the vendors would be at the Hotel Miramonte when we docked for the night. They weren’t.

Thursday, 5 February

More than half the passengers took off early to visit the Mayan site of Quiriguá. Emilie and I went there last cruise so I did not go again. It is unlike most ruins—a great park set with some of the most handsome stellae found anywhere.

Mid-morning, the Captain announced over the P.A. system that the Indian vendors had arrived. The passengers who had remained aboard flew down the bow ramp and fluttered excitedly around the blankets, tables, and one kiosk where displays of Guatemalan fabrics, clothing, linens, and trinkets still were in the process of being laid out on display. We rapidly made it worthwhile for the Indians to have made the 400-mile round trip from Antigua for the Niagara Prince.

 

One of the shipboard activities was the raffling of some handsome Belizean carvings to raise money for the orphanage. Our cruise doubled the amount raised on the earlier one.

When these raffles first began, the guerrillas learned that the ships left U.S. Dollars with the orphanage and came down from the mountains to rob them. These days they do not dare give the orphanage the cash raised. Instead, the ship’s pilot finds out what food the orphanage needs and buys it for them with proceeds.

This afternoon, the First Mate made three trips with the ship’s skiff to the nearby community store to buy sacks of rice, beans, flour, fruit, and vegetables, which they delivered to a wharf, aswarm with eager children when we passed the orphanage as we left Lago Izabal.

 

Every passenger was on deck for the return trip through the Río Dulce, enraptured again by the river twisting between the mountains. The Captain’s plan was to clear quickly and sail on to Livingston before dark in case Luther were there. No need. We barely had anchored when Luther appeared in a speed boat he had taken from Punta Gorda to meet us.

Both Thelma and I were concerned about Luther’s drawn look. However, he was elated with his success in surprising everyone. Luther and Thelma had an old-home-week reunion, then he agreed with her brusk instructions to eat with us rather than with the crew as he had suggested he might do.

 

After dinner, a troop of Guatemalan Garifuna dancers came aboard to entertain the passengers. The intricate but monotonous drumbeat, unintelligible chants, and shuffling dances surprised and delighted the audience. At the end, the Garifuna urged passengers to join them and a surprising number did, gyrating in interesting variations of basic uninhibited dance.

Friday – Sunday, 6 – 8 February

We sailed early for Punta Gorda. We stayed there long enough for passengers to invade the local gift shops to buy the local little Mayan baskets or pick up Guatemalan items they had overlooked at the Hotel Miramonte display the day before.

To the delight of the passengers, the rest of the cruise involved anchoring morning and afternoon at small islands perched on the reef and surrounded by bleached sand and clear aqua water. They resumed their interrupted snorkeling and explorations in Luther’s specially designed glass-bottom boat. The picture-book settings were nostalgically familiar to me and, to others, spectacular in their perfection.

 

I was available whenever Luther (my host) was around. However, I rapidly realized that he was not interested in talking business. Suited me; we had spent hours together on things I considered very close to nonsense on the previous cruise.

Luther spent hours taking photographs with a new camera (or getting in his captain’s hair). He did the same thing on an earlier cruise this season, then had his camera and all the film stolen in the airport. I doubt that he missed a square inch of the ship. I nearly fainted when I saw him crawl under a protective railing and disappear down a ladder into the supplies stowage hatch. This is an 82-year-old man who ran a fever of 104 two weeks earlier.

Luther and Thelma spent a lot of time reminiscing. It was good for them both, and I made a point never to intrude.

Luther dreads mealtimes and always hangs back until everyone is seated before finding an empty seat. He was delighted to have Thelma, Martha, and me available to ease the situation. We did not always all sit together, but we made sure he never was alone.

At meals Luther always ended up talking about his new ships or new patents. The passengers were as fascinated as I was. One passenger, who had not been at our table, asked me, “What was Luther lecturing about this noon?”

Meals during the cruise were generous in quantity and superb in quality. Fish caught by the crew ended up on the table grilled or in wonderful chowders. The desserts of our delightful sous-chef, who doubled as snorkeling leader, were to die for. “Diet” was not a word in any passenger’s vocabulary.

Monday, 9 February

We returned to Goff’s Caye for morning snorkeling, over the complaints of some of the passengers at going the same place twice. Everyone returned aboard delighted at the water, the reef, and the numbers of colorful fish.

I packed in the morning.

Alex took my luggage and me home after meeting the ship in the early afternoon. He, María, and I returned to the ship for the final Captain’s dinner that night.

It was hard to say goodbye to the friends with whom I had shared the delightful cruise.