Ambience Day 16 – Remembrance Day at Sea

 “When you go home, tell them of us and say, for your tomorrow we gave our today.”

John Maxwell Edmonds

 

Remembering and Reflecting

 
Day 16 on Ambience, our final sea day on board and November 11^th - Remembrance Day. Taken together, it was a day that almost demanded reflection - on the voyage, on historical events, and on the trajectory of our own lives. 

 
At its best, travel does more than move us from one place to another. It asks us to pause and consider what we have seen and felt.  Journeys push us to reflect on the landscapes we’ve crossed, the cultures we’ve encountered,  and the people whose lives intersect briefly with our own. Ultimately, good travel not only widens our geographic horizons but also our perspectives.

After a long year of travelling and a wonderful journey on Ambience, today offered us a great deal to reflect on.
 
Not only the memories of Norway - of sailing into the Arctic Circle, of watching the northern lights dance across the night skies, or of standing in new cities shaped by history and faith. Not only the conversations shared on board, but also the perspectives gathered from people whose paths we may never cross again.
 

Above all, however, it was a day shaped by remembrance. Both the previous Sunday and today were dedicated to honouring those who fought, endured, and sacrificed in the name of freedom, which felt especially poignant while surrounded by open water, moving quietly through seas that have carried both commerce and conflict for centuries.

 

Breakfast and Bird Watching

 
After a very late night and a long day in Kirkwall, we both slept in a little longer than usual. That extra hour felt like an unexpected gift. When we finally rose and stepped outside, the morning was already bright and clear.  The skies above us were blue - promising good weather for our final full day at sea.

Breakfast in the Lido was simple and unrushed.  Afterwards, we drifted back outside, as we so often had through this voyage, toward the back end of the ship.  Over the past two weeks, we have spent most of our time outdoors here – whether on the exterior decks near the buffet or hot tubs, or on the lower walkways, or the long open observation spaces at the stern.  These three outdoor spaces (one having warm air vents!) had become some of our favourite places on Ambience, allowing us to stay outside, remain moderately cozy, and to watch the water for birds and whales.

 
This morning, as we stood there, streams of gulls and gannets swept past the ship, sometimes close, sometimes at a fair distance, riding invisible currents with effortless grace. Among them, we noticed a small brown bird that seemed to be struggling to keep pace with the vessel, beating its wings determinedly as the ship moved on. We watched for some time, quietly hoping it might find a place to rest.
 
After nearly half an hour, the effort paid off. A handsome, Speckled Starling suddenly appeared and landed on the railing beside us, feathers ruffled by the wind but looking immensely relieved.  Much like the efforts of the Woodcock arriving on board as we crossed the North Sea, the Starling’s arrival reminded us how thin the line can be between endurance and refuge.
 

Crossing Paths, Preserving Memories

 
Throughout the morning, Ambience made her slow, steady way along the coast of Edinburgh, Scotland. Around us the sea was calm and as such the ship’s motion was gentle.  Sailing past this stretch of coastline felt like crossing paths with an earlier version of ourselves.

Just a year ago, we had passed through the Scottish capital by train, bound for Glasgow and the beginning of our hikes on the West Highland Way and the Great Glen Way.  While those journeys had taken place step by step, this one has slipped by almost effortlessly.  Yet, standing on deck, we felt the connection to a place that we had so recently trekked through. 
 
As Ambience continued south along the coast of the United Kingdom toward Tilbury, I stayed out on deck watching birds sweep past the ship, while Sean ducked inside to do something unique – at least for him. He ordered two photographs: one of Ambience beneath the Northern Lights, and another of our dining table group in the Buckingham Restaurant.

 
It may seem like a small or even slightly silly gesture, but that second photo mattered to us. We wanted a picture of us together - not just of places, or skies, or ships, but of shared evenings, pleasant conversations, and new friends. At £9.99 per image, it also marked something else entirely: Sean, the RCGS expedition photographer, buying photographs taken by someone else. 

 
That alone said everything. It was a clear sign of how connected we had become to this voyage, to the people we’d met on board, and to the experience itself. Some journeys are worth carrying home not just in words or memories, but in something tangible - a reminder that we were there, together, at that moment in time.
 

Morning Enrichment, Moment of Silence

 
Later in the morning, we stepped into the Palladium Theatre for what was scheduled as a pair of enrichment talks. The first was a relaxed and engaging Q&A session with Dr. Stephen Payne, designer of Queen Mary 2, moderated by Ambience’s captain. It was a thoughtful and interesting talk about ship design, decision-making at sea, and the realities of building vessels meant to cross some of the world’s most demanding waters.

 
With Dr. Payne's Q & A complete and before the next talk could fully begin, the rhythm of the day shifted.  A ship-wide announcement was made, and at precisely 11:11 AM, the entire vessel fell silent in observance of Remembrance Day. For two full minutes, Ambience - carrying nearly 2,000 passengers and crew - became utterly still. No footsteps, no music, no background hum of conversation. Just the quiet presence of a ship at sea.
 
It was, as others have noted, a surreal experience: to stand within such a large, complex moving world and feel it pause completely. 

 
When the two minutes ended, the captain recited In Flanders Fields, followed by For the Fallen. The words carried through the still, quiet vessel, and for a moment, it truly felt as though everyone was reflecting and remembering the cost paid by so many in the past.
 
With the moment of remembrance and respect passed, the programme resumed with ORCA’s presentation, Diving Deep. It opened with a striking reminder – that we currently know more about how to survive on the Moon and Mars than we do about our own oceans. What followed was a fascinating exploration of the hidden world beneath the surface - of the immense pressures whales endure during deep dives, of environments so extreme that humans can barely reach them, let alone understand them.

 
Listening to the talk, it was impossible not to reflect on the layers of life and mystery beneath the hull as we sailed on. Whether aboard Queen Mary 2, Queen Elizabeth, Wind Surf, or now Ambience, we have spent countless days crossing oceans while knowing so little about the vast, living world below us. It felt humbling to be reminded of just how much remains unseen, unexplored, and yet worthy of care in this world.
 

Captain’s Announcement and Connections

 
Just after noon, the captain’s daily announcement came over the ship’s speakers, noting that we were sailing off the coast of Newcastle upon Tyne. As with Edinburgh earlier in the day, the name immediately carried us back onto land - to another trail we had walked not long ago - Hadrian’s Wall.
 
As we set off to have a quick lunch, we noticed that the ship’s progress was noticeably slow - clearly there was no urgency in our progress.  A quick check of the ship’s location and speed on a wall screen revealed what was clear that, if desired, we could easily reach Tilbury by this evening.  But – thankfully – there was no need to hurry our arrival.  Certainly, we were on schedule, and I personally had no desire to disembark. 

 
In fact, both of us were very happy to allow the kilometres to pass slowly. 
 

Cruise Questionnaire

As the afternoon settled in, we finally turned our attention to something we had been quietly avoiding for days: the cruise questionnaire. Not because we were indifferent, but because we genuinely found it difficult to answer.

Many of the questions seemed to seek judgments we simply weren’t qualified to make. Were we satisfied with the service of the senior personnel on board? How competent was the captain? Our first, practical thought was straightforward enough: we found land when we were meant to, reached every port safely, and were now on our way home. By any reasonable measure, the captain had done exactly what was asked of him.

 
But beyond that, what were these questions really asking? As passengers, how would we meaningfully assess the competence of a bridge team, or evaluate the inner workings of ship management? These are complex systems, operating well beyond the view and expertise of those simply voyaging on board.
 
The same uncertainty applied to questions about the ship’s management. We could comment on how the ship felt to be on - calm, organized, well-run - but not on the behind-the-scenes decisions and logistics that made it so.

 
In the end, we answered as honestly as we could. Rather than speculate, we focused on what we did know. We named the staff members who had gone above and beyond, acknowledged the warmth and professionalism of the crew throughout the ship, and made a point of recognizing how consistently they carried themselves with grace - even in the face of rudeness or entitlement from some passengers.
 
It felt important to highlight that part and make sure that the corporation was aware of the professionalism of their staff and how amazing the crew on board are.
 

Relaxing on Ambience

 
As the afternoon wore on, Ambience settled into a familiar rhythm that only sea days seem to give way to. There was no port to wait for, no shuttle schedule, no checklist of “must-sees” - just the steady movement of the ship and the sense of being carried forward.
 
During this time, we drifted between decks, pausing often. The North Sea stretched out around us in a myriad of colours - steel blues and muted grays mixed amid the rolling waves. Even after years of walking long trails and crossing oceans, these scenes still held our attention completely.

On our walks around the deck, we began to see signs of land - a couple of flies, a huge bee, and smaller birds.  The world, when you give it space, always finds a way to amaze you, no matter how far you wander or travel.

 
Around us, the same reflective mode seemed to have taken hold of others as well. People wandered without purpose, lingered in doorways, leaned against railings, stopping mid-corridor to talk. Conversations unfolded in unlikely places. Contact details were exchanged. Promises were made to stay in touch - some realistic, some hopeful - but all were sincere in the moment. It felt less like the final sea day of a cruise and more like the last afternoon of a shared retreat, when everyone knows the ending is near but isn’t quite ready to say so.

 
There was a softness to the atmosphere across the ship - reflective, peaceful, and increasingly emotional. As the hours passed, the feelings on board seemed to deepen. For many, it would eventually give way to a late night filled with long talks, lingering embraces, and more than a few quiet tears.

 
By late afternoon, we, along with most on board, stopped to listen to the ukulele concert and choir performance in the central well.  Both were simple and earnest performances that felt matched to the feel of the day. 

Outside the windows, beyond the ship, the large wind farm that we passed on our second day on board appeared once again.  Its rows of turbines turning steadily along the horizon.  It felt like yet another sign that we had come full circle.
 

Alaska and Norway: Two Ways of Seeing the North

 
As the voyage drew to an end, one of the conversations that surfaced on board – around the bar in the Botanical Lounge - was the comparison between cruising Norway and cruising Alaska. It wasn’t framed as a debate about which was “better,” but rather as a consideration of how two places that appear, at first glance, to be so similar also seem to offer profoundly different experiences.

Queen Elizabeth to Alaska

 
Between us, and among those chatting, were people who had sailed to Alaska through Canada's Inside Passage and to Norway via the North Sea and the Arctic Circle. Having voyaged to Alaska aboard Queen Elizabeth, we found ourselves drawn naturally into the conversation, reflecting on how each journey had revealed a distinct way of encountering the North.
 
We were, of course, also interested to hear openly how others viewed and experienced both journeys. 
 
Norway and Alaska both carry reputations for dramatic northern coastlines, yet the similarities begin to fade once you travel through them by ship.

Inside Passage Canada

Norway’s coast seems to be defined by an intricate network of glacially carved fjords - narrow waterways bordered by steep mountains that rise almost directly from the sea. The moderating influence of the North Atlantic current keeps these ports mostly ice-free year-round and allows ships, large and small, to penetrate deep inland. As such, fjords have villages, farms, and centuries-old harbours in them, which gives the voyage a sense of human history.  In this way, the landscapes in Norway feel lived in.
 
Alaska, by contrast, feels vast and remote. While it, too, offers fjords, tidewater glaciers, and towering peaks, the scale is different. There are long stretches of wilderness spanning between ports, and human settlements are more sparse – hence the experience felt shaped as much by absence (of people) as by presence in ports. On Alaskan voyages, ships seem to travel more exposed passages, and wildlife such as whales, otters, bears, eagles, and seabirds become central to the journey. Because of this, Alaska carries more of a sense of frontier space, where nature dominates, and human infrastructure feels less predominant.

Endicott Arm, Alaska

 
On the ground, both regions demand similar practical considerations when travelling to them. The weather in Norway and Alaska is famously variable, making layers essential for warmth and staying dry.
 
Similarly, in voyages to either location, excursions can be costly, and it is not difficult to spend the equivalent of the cruise fare again on shore activities. Yet each also offers free or low-cost possibilities: walking trails, historic streets, viewpoints, museums, and the ability to easily be outdoors in extraordinary settings.
 
There are differences even in how ports function. In Alaska, towns such as Juneau, Skagway, Ketchikan, Sitka, Icy Strait Point, Seward, Whittier, and scenic cruising areas like Hubbard Glacier tend to sit on the coast and are the standard ports where ships visit, allowing passengers access to the surrounding wilderness.

Alaskan Coastline

 
In Norway, many ports lie inland at the ends of fjords, embedded within the landscape itself rather than perched at its edge. The result is a different rhythm of arrival and departure, and more port combinations or options on Norwegian cruises compared to Alaskan voyages. 
 
Ultimately, the conversations kept circling back to the same conclusion: cruising Alaska is not the same as cruising Norway. The differences are not a product of cruise lines or specific itineraries, but of geology, climate, culture, and history. Each offers a distinct way of engaging with northern landscapes, and each rewards visits in its own way.

Birdwatching during Gala Night on Queen Elizabeth

 
Seen through that lens, the question is not which is better - but which kind of encounter with the North you are seeking?
 
Considering the similarities and differences between the two voyages and northern regions, we felt that the question alone was reframing and pushing us to reflect and reconsider our experiences voyaging to Norway.  But that would happen at another time.
 

Final dinner in Buckingham’s Restaurant

 
As evening approached, we returned to our now familiar routines – getting ready and heading to Backingham Restaurant for dinner. 

 
Through the windows, the light outside softened and then glowed as day faded to night and we gathered one last time in Buckingham’s Restaurant for our final dinner together.

The full table was there - familiar faces, shared stories, and the easy warmth that only comes after many evenings spent in one another’s company. Conversation flowed easily, circling back over moments from the voyage, reflections on the places we had seen together.

 
Both the meal and the company felt perfectly chosen for the shared occasion.  At the end, there was a moment of collective pause before the inevitable goodbyes.
 

Evening Exploration and Reflection

 
With our last dinner completed, we headed back to our cabin, changed again – I out of my formal dress and Sean out of his suit.  Then, now clothed in jeans and hiking shirts, we packed our luggage and set it out in the hall to be collected by the army of staff and porters preparing for disembarkation.  Given this process across the ship, there was lots of luggage outside of rooms – which were due out by 11PM tonight. 

     

 
It felt like a small but telling transition, one we recognized from past voyages. The ritual was familiar, and so was the quiet mix of gratitude and reluctance that came with it.
 
Setting back out, piano music drifted through the central well of the ship, weaving into the gentle motion of the ship.  On any other night, the ship would have felt alive and bustling, but tonight it remained subdued. 
 
We stopped in at the Purple Turtle, where the end of trivia gave way to live music by the Triade group. Once the quiz crowd dispersed, the room shifted dramatically - from full and animated to calm and open - and we were able to find a seat. It felt like a small gift, a chance to linger in a space that had been such a draw throughout the voyage, and simply – for a moment - sit and listen.

 
With no desire to return to our room just yet, we drifted back toward the Botanical Lounge and the Raffles Bar, hoping for one more conversation, one more shared moment. There, we reunited with our dining companions, along with friends they had made along the way. The conversation flowed - thoughtful, warm, and full of shared perspectives. It was one of those evenings where connections feel genuine rather than fleeting, and where the pleasure comes from being with those who are like-minded and have shared the same experiences.

 
We lingered longer than planned, which is not unusual for us. Similar evenings have taken place on pilgrimages, hikes and other voyages.  We are always reluctant to let a day end - and even more reluctant to let a journey do so.
 
It was just after midnight when we finally returned to our room.  Outside, the sea continued on in darkness, steady and indifferent to our goodbyes and the passing moment for the passengers on board Ambience.
 
See you on deck!
 
Nautical Term for the Day: Through Thick and Thin - From old sailing directions describing progress “through thicket and thin water.” The meaning evolved into steadfast loyalty through all conditions.