Awake at 0430 this morning. Earlier than usual for me and I think maybe my body recognizes the underway rhythm. I showered and dressed and headed for the Lido Deck in search of a shot of joe. With the bitter elixir of life in hand, I stood in the dark on the fantail and watched the sea churn and foam away from the ship’s screws. Shortly before 0600 the sky began to lighten to port. A low cloud deck on the horizon hid the sun’s immediate appearance and the eastern sky yielded a sunrise rainbow. Reds and oranges just above a bumpy smudge of cloud blended subtly upward through blue-green to dark violet into the dark night sky and the brightest of stars stubbornly and futilely resisting the sun’s influence. Of nearly three thousand guests on this cruise, I shared what I consider the best thing about being at sea with only a half dozen others.
Our cabin is forward and low in the ship’s superstructure—about where officers’ country was on the last amphib on which I sailed. The bump and shudder of the bow plowing through a heavy sea is a familiar feeling. There is a slight roll, significant when you consider that these big cruise ships are designed to largely negate the sea’s effects. Wonder how many folks will be sick this morning.