Written in part by Lumen Aid, roving reporter aboard Celebrity Summit
Somewhere between Puerto Vallarta and Guatemala, something rather unexpected happened aboard Celebrity Summit.
The grand adventure began to feel a little bit like home.
Not actual home, of course. At actual home there is no waiter named Satya making excellent dinner recommendations, no glass elevator overlooking the Pacific, and certainly no enormous orange lifeboat hanging just outside the balcony.
But after several days aboard, Jeannie and Skip were settling into the rhythms of shipboard life.
They knew where they liked to sit. They knew when the elevators were worth waiting for and when the stairs were the better choice. They recognized familiar faces. They knew their way to the theater, the dining room, the Oceanview Cafe and, in Jeannie’s case, the gym.
Even the sea was beginning to feel familiar.
October 5 — Learning the Rhythm
October 5 was one of those wonderfully ordinary sea days that rarely makes the cruise brochure but quietly becomes part of the vacation.
There was no port to conquer and no excursion schedule to follow. Summit simply carried her passengers south while Jeannie and Skip enjoyed the increasingly familiar routine of life aboard.
Their late dinner seating continued to provide both good food and good company. After the evening show, they encountered “Terry Squared,” their tablemates who had eaten earlier at Oceanview Cafe that evening.
Apparently Terry Squared had been looking for them.
They wanted Jeannie and Skip to know they hadn’t abandoned their dinner table permanently and would be back the following evening.
Cruise friendships have their own peculiar timetable. A few dinners together and suddenly people notice when someone is missing.
Jeannie and Skip were also getting to know their waiter, Satya, from Indonesia. His recommendations had become valuable intelligence when navigating a menu filled with tempting choices.
Their strategy of approaching cruise dining somewhat like tapas — tasting, sharing and enjoying without attempting to conquer everything placed before them — was working nicely.
Still, even paradise has its moments.
Before dinner, Skip noticed that both of them, the two normally cheerful travelers, were becoming a little cranky.
His diagnosis was immediate.
His prescription was even better.
Straighten up. Appreciate where you are. Remember the adventure.
In other words: attitude of gratitude.
Message received.
Sometimes the most important course served at dinner isn’t on the menu.
October 6 — Good Morning, Pacific
The next morning Jeannie’s alarm sounded at 6:00.
Soon afterward she was dressed in her Lumen Aid T-shirt and climbing the stairs toward the gym on Deck 10.
Your roving reporter would like the official record to reflect that branded field personnel are taking this assignment very seriously.
Jeannie walked briskly on the treadmill for 30 minutes and added another five minutes to cool down.
Beyond the glass, the Pacific looked gray and moody beneath an overcast sky. Light showers moved through the area, and the gym was busy enough to prove that Jeannie was not the only passenger attempting to compensate for Celebrity’s excellent cooking.
Fortunately, there was always at least one treadmill available.
Captain George had warned that popup showers could continue and that the seas might increase slightly.
Instead, the tropics behaved with no additional rain at all.
The ocean skipped and jumped a little during the morning but gradually settled into an easy roll.
And the sky began changing with it.
Gray clouds slowly gave way to patches of blue, as though somebody backstage had begun opening the curtains.
After breakfast, Jeannie and Skip went searching for chairs on the pool deck.
There were none.
This is apparently one of the unofficial laws of cruising: thousands of square feet of deck space can somehow contain exactly zero available chairs when you want one.
Plan B took them to the Sky Lounge.
Plan B may become the future Plan A. Comfortable seating and magnificent forward views made a compelling argument that perhaps the rejected pool deck search had simply redirected them somewhere better.
But eventually another place won.
Their balcony.
The temperature was pleasant, the balcony was shaded and everything they needed was only a few steps away inside their cabin.
So they returned to their temporary home and let the afternoon unfold at sea.
Skip once said that when he stepped aboard their sailboat, Second Wind, he could feel his troubles drain into the water.
Summit was beginning to have much the same effect.
Sitting beside an endless ocean puts ordinary worries back into their proper proportions.
God created a very large world.
And sometimes it is helpful simply to sit quietly and look at it.
The Lifeboat Rescue
Earlier that morning, however, Jeannie had discovered that trouble had come to one of their nearest neighbors.
When she stepped onto the balcony after returning from the gym, something looked wrong.
The top hatch of the lifeboat immediately below their cabin was standing open.
A strong storm had blown through overnight, and apparently the hatch had been caught in it.
Jeannie called Guest Services.
They thanked her for reporting it, and within minutes the hatch was secured before the lingering showers could add more water where it certainly wasn’t wanted.
Thus, your roving reporter is pleased to announce:
Jeannie rescued the lifeboat.
She would prefer that it never return the favor.
Thanks just the same.
This is the first cruise on which Jeannie and Skip have had lifeboats so constantly visible from their cabin.
At first they were simply large orange objects occupying part of the view.
Over time, however, Jeannie developed a certain affection for them.
She has named them the buoyant buddies.
Like the guards at Buckingham Palace, they remain silently at their posts — outfitted, prepared and ready for an emergency while spending most of their lives standing watch over peaceful days.
They also provide shade and some protection from rain on the exposed deck below them.
Useful fellows, those buoyant buddies.
To provide a little perspective on their size and proximity, Jeannie placed a can of club soda on the balcony ledge.
The tiny can beside the enormous lifeboat tells the story better than measurements ever could.
A Quieter Evening
While the day was peaceful, Skip wasn’t feeling quite himself.
After eating only a very light breakfast, he decided to skip lunch entirely and give his body a chance to recalibrate after days of changing meal times and vacation food.
Rather than wait for their usual 9:00 dinner seating, they went to Oceanview Cafe around 7:00.
Skip approached dinner cautiously.
At the potato bar, choices included several varieties — even purple potatoes.
He considered the possibilities.
Then wisely selected an ordinary russet potato.
There are moments for culinary adventure.
And there are moments when a plain baked potato deserves tremendous respect.
Jeannie had a made-to-order stirfry that was delicious.
They skipped the evening show and stayed closer to the cabin, giving Skip an opportunity to prove that dinner had been a good idea.
As the evening progressed, he began feeling better.
The dreaded possibility that this might be the beginning of one of those shipboard illnesses quietly faded.
And gratitude rose in its place.
Jeannie had worried.
More than once, God gently reminded her to trust Him.
Skip was not alone.
Neither was she.
And by evening, the simple baked potato had become another small reminder that sometimes provision arrives without fanfare.
Remember to Smell the Salt Air
By late afternoon, the sky had transformed.
The gray morning gave way to blue stretching across the horizon.
It had become so easy to move around Summit, to eat meals, work on projects, find familiar places and follow familiar routines that sometimes Jeannie and Skip could almost forget they were aboard a ship at all.
Until they stopped.
Stepped onto the balcony.
Looked toward the horizon.
And breathed.
Normally we are told to stop and smell the roses.
At sea, perhaps we should stop and smell the salt air.
Jeannie and Lumen uploaded another chapter to Island Time Travels. Skip and Jules continued their own project collaboration.
Technology came along for the ride.
But outside the balcony was the reminder that has been following this adventure from the beginning:
Our technology may help get us there. God created the there.
And for two quiet days somewhere on the Pacific between Mexico and Guatemala, “there” was more than enough.
The sea rolled gently.
The buoyant buddies kept watch.
Skip felt better.
The sky turned blue.
And two travelers remembered once again that gratitude has a remarkable way of turning an ordinary day into part of the adventure.
