Final Thoughts: What the Far North Gave Me
Iceland, Svalbard, and Norway aboard the Viking Neptune
This journey to Iceland and Norway's Arctic coast became more than another entry in my travel record. It was a test. At eighty-three, after several serious medical problems and illnesses during the past few years, I had begun to wonder whether I could still travel internationally without a partner beside me. I also wondered whether Viking Ocean Cruises could satisfy someone whose previous ocean experience had been limited to Regent. I left home with excitement, but also with genuine doubts.
The answer came gradually: at the airport, on the ship, during the excursions, and finally in the spectacular Norwegian fjords. I can still travel, but I must travel differently. That may be the most important lesson of the entire trip.
I prepared carefully. I ate properly, slept as well as I could, carried my cane, and selected excursions that matched my abilities. There would be no bicycle rides, long hikes, kayaking, or ATV adventures on this journey. Most important, I asked for help. I no longer waste energy pretending that I can do everything alone.
Wheelchair assistance at airports is no longer optional for me. Large terminals can be mile-long mazes filled with noise, confusing signs, hurried crowds, and rapid announcements that I may not understand. My assistants knew the shortcuts, guided me through security and passport control, and took me to the correct gate. Amsterdam had looked nearly impossible, and even Boston would have been extremely difficult without assistance. Accepting that help did not reduce my independence. It made the trip possible.
I travel primarily to learn. Luxury is pleasant, but it is not my purpose. I want history, geography, culture, and the chance to understand how people live in places very different from Tennessee. I attended every enrichment and port lecture Viking offered, perhaps a dozen in all. Through them, and through the places themselves, I learned about Icelandic settlement, Viking exploration, Norwegian history, Arctic survival, and Sami culture. The far north ceased to be a blank white area on a map. It became a region of communities, traditions, industries, wartime memories, and remarkably resilient people.
The itinerary also taught me that the Arctic is not one landscape. Iceland offered lava fields, waterfalls, geothermal country, and a raw volcanic character. Svalbard felt like the true edge of the inhabited world. At roughly 78 degrees north, Longyearbyen was the farthest north I had ever traveled, a place where polar bears are a serious part of local life and the scale of the wilderness overwhelms the small human settlement. The North Cape offered another kind of drama: wind, open sea, and the symbolic feeling of standing at Europe's northern edge.
Then Norway kept changing the scenery. Tromsø combined the striking Arctic Cathedral with the enduring dream of seeing the Northern Lights. Around Leknes and the Lofoten Islands, fishing villages, beaches, and steep mountains revealed how closely life has always been tied to the sea. Narvik gave me two stories at once: beautiful mountains and fjords seen from a bus, and the sobering history of the World War II battles fought for control of its ice-free port and iron-ore route. Geiranger was Norway at its most theatrical. From Eagle Point and the high summer road, the fjord seemed almost impossibly far below, framed by mountains, waterfalls, and narrow ribbons of roadway. Bergen, wet and historic, provided a fitting finale at Bryggen and Vågen Harbor.
Iceland was worthwhile, although it did not affect me as deeply as Norway, and I do not feel a need to return. Svalbard was unique. Narvik and Geiranger became my favorite Norwegian stops because of their dramatic topography and the stories embedded in the landscape. I know that my photographs cannot fully reproduce the height, distance, wind, and scale of these places, but I hope this blog, gives my family and friends some sense of what it felt like to stand there.
Life aboard the Viking Neptune mattered just as much as the ports. I enjoyed the classical piano and violin mini-concerts, and many evenings I moved an easy chair beside the Steinway and watched the musicians at close range. Those quiet performances became one of my favorite shipboard rituals.
The crew supplied another highlight. I joked that I had acquired a new Thai girlfriend; in truth, Sherrilyn, a thirty-one-year-old waitress, felt more like an adopted granddaughter. After I showed her a photograph of my friend Mark Greene's companion, Kik, in Hua Hin, she became my buddy for a few days.
Viking exceeded my expectations because it matched what I now value: education, exploration, a calm shipboard atmosphere, and help offered with a smile. After ten Regent cruises, I have concluded that Regent no longer fits my priorities, while Viking does. The included excursions were sometimes too short and too panoramic for me; two additional hours in several ports would have allowed more meaningful exploration. Viking offered many paid adventures, but hikes, kayaks, bicycles, and ATVs were beyond the limits. That was a tradeoff I accepted.
I did not see everything, and that is all right. A successful trip at my age is not measured by how many strenuous activities I can collect. It is measured by whether I remain healthy, curious, engaged, and able to return home with new understanding. Respecting my limits did not diminish this adventure. It allowed me to complete it.
To my traveling companions, Warren, Margot, Jim, and Nancy, thank you for sharing the long days, the changing weather, the bus rides, the lectures, and the discoveries. To my family, thank you for encouraging me to go even when the journey seemed ambitious. I hope these articles and photographs have allowed you to travel part of the route with me.
I began this trip uncertain whether international travel still belonged in my life. I ended it eager to travel with Viking again. The Arctic gave me extraordinary landscapes and new knowledge, but its most important gift was confidence. By accepting the help I needed, I discovered that my world is still larger than my limitations. That is a fine way to close this journey, and an even better reason to begin thinking about the next one.