07-07-2026 A Quiet Day on the Gulf of St. Lawrence

A quiet day in the Explorer Lounge as we sail the Labrador Sea

One of the unexpected pleasures of cruising is that not every day needs a destination. After yesterday's wonderful visit to Halifax, today belonged entirely to the sea.

We both slept later than usual, waking to the gentle motion of Viking Neptune as she continued north across the Gulf of St. Lawrence head toward Newfoundland. The swells were moderate, just enough to remind us we were traveling, and the air had definitely turned cooler. At last, the Woolx layers and hoodies we had packed so carefully were beginning to earn their place in the suitcase.

Rather than rush to breakfast, we ordered room service and enjoyed a leisurely meal in our stateroom. Real coffee, smoked salmon with capers and onions, and one of Viking's wonderful blueberry muffins made the perfect beginning to an unhurried day.

By now I was becoming aware of something I hadn't anticipated. My body was arguing with the constant need to rebalance itself. Even though the seas were relatively calm, every muscle seemed to be making tiny adjustments with every movement of the ship. It felt as though I had been running a marathon without ever taking a step.

super comfy pairs of chairs at the front of the Explorer's Lounge

Later we wandered up to the Explorer's Lounge, quickly discovering that everyone else had the same idea. It was surprisingly busy, but just as we were settling into a pair of less-than-ideal chairs, Mo noticed another couple gathering their things. They happened to be leaving what I now consider the best seats on the ship.

Two wonderfully comfortable chairs sit on either side of the piano at the very front of the Explorer's Lounge, tucked beneath the soaring windows that look straight out over the bow. From there we watched the gray Gulf o St Lawrence stretching endlessly toward the horizon while sipping coffee from charming Norwegian mugs. I settled in, determined to write while the memories of the voyage were still fresh.

The ship tracker on our TV in our bedroom

Looking out across that vast gray ocean, I found myself thinking less about what I could see than about what lay beneath us. As we sailed north, we had already crossed from the ancient continental rocks of Nova Scotia over a huge underwater valley carved by glaciers during the Ice Age. Soon we would reach Newfoundland, where the edge of the Appalachian Mountains meets the sea. Not long after that would come Iceland, where entirely new crust is still being created as the Earth's tectonic plates slowly pull apart. It struck me that this voyage wasn't simply taking us from one country to another. It was carrying us through hundreds of millions of years of Earth's history.

The water around us had a murky gray-green color that some people might mistake for dirty water. In reality, it was exactly the opposite. The Gulf of St. Lawrence receives enormous amounts of freshwater from both the Great Lakes and the St. Lawrence River. Those rivers carry fine sediments and nutrients that feed immense blooms of plankton. Those tiny organisms become food for fish, seabirds, and eventually the whales we all hoped to see during the next few days.

Sometimes the richest ecosystems don't announce themselves with crystal-clear water. They hide their abundance beneath the surface.

Nice to have the pool to myself

By afternoon I decided it was finally time to try the pool and hot tub. That simple decision turned into one of the highlights of the day.

The hot tub was HOT and the bubbles were STRONG!

Twenty minutes floating in warm water cut my pain nearly in half. For a little while I wasn't thinking about Inclusion Body Myositis, aching muscles, or balance. I was simply floating in warm water in the middle of the North Atlantic, watching the ship gently rise and fall with the swells.

Sometimes the smallest victories become the memories that stay with you the longest.

1000 piece puzzles are the sweet spot for us

Sea days have always been puzzle days for Mo and me, so we borrowed one from the ship's library and found a quiet table where we happily spent an hour assembling the border. After dinner we returned, eager to continue. The puzzle had vanished. Someone had thoughtfully cleaned off the table and put every piece back into the box.

Puzzle gone, and this space wasn't very private

I suppose we'll save our puzzling for home.

As evening settled over the Gulf of St. Lawrence, the horizon blurred into a soft gray haze. Whether it was distant wildfire smoke high in the atmosphere or simply the northern weather, the sea and sky seemed to melt together into one endless landscape.

A glass of wine at the pool bar where we could see the coast of Canada through the haze

Somewhere beneath us lay that hidden glacial valley, carrying cold Atlantic water deep into the Gulf of St. Lawrence and supporting an extraordinary web of marine life. If we happened to see a whale over the next day or two, there was a good chance it would be there because of everything happening hundreds of feet below our ship in that unseen underwater world.

The pianist was spectacular, and played every evening in the Atrium before the dinner hour

It was a quiet day. No ports. No excursions. No dramatic adventures.

Good coffee in cute little cups with a cookie as we played dominoes

Just a comfortable chair in the Explorer's Lounge, good coffee, a little relief from aching muscles, and the deep satisfaction of knowing we were slowly making our way toward Newfoundland, Greenland,  and Iceland.