Running, Rowing, and Crew to Flight Stations

After scraping myself out of bed at perhaps 8am this morning, the idiotic thought entered my head to visit the on-board gym once again. I’ll blame guilt more than anything. Thankfully the gym was relatively quiet, so I got to pick whichever running machine I wanted.

Although the gym has big signs everywhere warning not to open windows or doors – because it supposedly has air conditioning – I’m still wondered where this mythical air conditioning is. It certainly wasn’t anywhere to be seen while I was on the treadmill – slowly dying. I managed three sets of five minutes running, with a few minutes in-between each walking. It doesn’t sound like much, but when you factor in the floor slowly moving beneath you, it’s pretty mentally taxing.

I’m wondering if it might be better to run laps of the ship on the promenade deck early in the morning – before the rest of the passengers appear. I’ll have to check the rules – nobody want’s a runner thumping overhead every few minutes while pretending to “get up in a minute” (we all know we do it).

After the running machines I blew through a few minutes on the rowing machines before giving in to the oppressive heat. Given my frame (long limbed, fairly stocky, over 6ft tall), I should be good at rowing – and it was kind of demonstrated by my form while pounding out a kilometre next to an older gentleman. He seemed to be making life incredibly hard for himself with short, staccato pulls – I focused on long, powerful, economic strokes. I’ve always fancied getting a rowing machine at home, but we don’t have the room for one.

I cycled to work for the better part of 20 years – until the pandemic – my legs seem to remember how to work when forced back to work.

After the gym I wandered back to the cabin – a suitably sweaty mess – and jumped in the shower. The bath now has my gym kit hanging across it on a temporary washing line – hand washed with soap. I need to get some detergent from the on-board shop.

No sooner had I got out of the shower and sat down, then we were on our way across the ship to visit the on-board photographer – to choose photos from the photo-shoot the night before last. Carlie – the photographer – took us through hundreds of shots on her iPad, and we ear-marked the ones we want printed (and might have bought all of them as digital downloads – expect a deluge of photographs at some point in the future).

You now find me sitting with a cup of Earle Grey (hot), writing this email while the crew run around outside like headless chickens, strapping everything down – clearing the decks.

Earlier this morning a notice went out that we had changed course – an unwell passenger was being transferred to the mainland by helicopter. A second message went out a few moments ago from the captain – calling all crew to flight stations, and asking all passengers to remain indoors, retrieve any loose items from their balconies, close all doors, and so on. Apparently there is a strict ban on photography of the helicopter’s approach or departure – no doubt they’ve had problems in the past with idiots either getting in their way, being blown over by the down-draft, and so on.

I’ve been present at the arrival of an air ambulance in the past – the noise of the engines, and force of the down-wash is pretty spectacular. You need to know what each other are doing, and what you’re going to be doing, before the helicopter arrives.

After the mayhem dies down we’re headed off to take part in our first “quiz” on-board – a music quiz being held in one of the theatres. I would like to think I’ll be helpful, but the reality is somewhat closer to an observation a friend made some time ago – the key to doing well in any quiz is to have my other half on your team.

Tonight is another formal night – and another photo with the ship’s photographer. Normally we wouldn’t go for all the studio photos, but given this sort of holiday only comes along once in a lifetime, it would seem a bit silly to say no to anything. Of course this means you end up running from one thing to the next all day long – and then laugh at your own “fear of missing out” idiocy.

Tomorrow we will awake in Palermo, Italy. We have a vineyard tour booked. Expect lots of photos.