The Daily Telegraph - Saturday - Travel
‘Turned away by every port – this could be a record!’
On a Covid-hit ship rejected by each destination on its Mediterranean itinerary, Jan Etherington discovered the unexpected joys of the ‘mystery cruise’
Everyone was instructed to take an LFT then return to their cabins to await results
It was April 12, and we were heading for Gibraltar – our final port of call on Saga’s two-week Flavours of the Western Mediterranean cruise aboard Spirit of Discovery – when Captain Kim Tanner announced that the port wouldn’t let us in, due to a number of Covid cases on board, adding: “We can now claim the dubious distinction of not achieving any of the ports on our itinerary. I have to say this is the most challenging cruise of my career. It could be a record for Saga, or indeed, the entire cruise industry.”
It should have been a moment of solemnity, anger or tearful despair but, in fact, most of us just smiled and many laughed. This spirit was greatly aided by our captain’s deadpan, Roger Allam-esque delivery, and by the fact that, during the entirety of what he had officially re-named “A Mediterranean Mystery”, Captain Tanner had kept us fully – and often entertainingly – informed about the complications he was facing.
Tannoy messages had included “Well, just three cases today, so you’ll only be inconvenienced for about 20 minutes”; “Sorry it took a while but a number of our guests continued wandering round the ship, which held things up”; and even “The delay was caused by a guest testing positive who refused to go into isolation.”
I had signed up as a speaker (on comedy) six months before, believing that by the time we sailed, just before Easter, masks and infections would be a distant memory. However, a persistent “new variant” that coincided with restrictions being lifted had sent infection rates soaring in the UK, meaning that pre-boarding PCR tests and masks were mandatory.
No matter – we had a wonderful itinerary to look forward to: Lisbon, Cartagena, Valencia, Barcelona, Sète, Roses, and finally Gibraltar. We set sail, and began to dream of Portuguese custard tarts and vinho verde.
But just as I stepped offstage after my first talk, on the British Sense of Humour, there was an announcement. It was a phrase that would become hauntingly familiar – “Code Quebec! Code Quebec!” came the officer of the watch’s cry.
We had no idea what it meant – other than it being a crew alert – but another announcement quickly followed: the captain explaining that a number of Covid cases had been detected and we must return to our cabins while the infected passengers were moved into the isolation area.
OK. No panic. This would surely be quickly contained and sorted, then on with the cruise.
We were “cabin-bound” while they did test and trace and were released just in time for a quick meal, before Jools Holland took to the Playhouse Theatre stage. The pianist is “godfather of the ship” and is the namesake of Saga’s “Club by Jools”. He was joined by three singers, including the amazing Ruby Turner, and performed an hour of uplifting (and much needed) entertainment.
But the next day, there were more “Code Quebecs” and more cases. Everyone was instructed to take an LFT then return to their cabins to await results. With life in the UK largely back to normal, this came as quite a shock – it felt as though we’d gone right back to the height of pandemic restrictions.
At his second night’s performance, Jools observed: “After three Code Quebecs, I’ve eaten everything in my fruit bowl. But our captain is very positive, isn’t he?”
He certainly was. Many cruise lines were having similar problems, but I think we were alone in having a captain who was committed to keeping us updated, giving us the full picture. This included explaining that, while Spain and Portugal’s maritime laws allowed our ship to dock, each port city was being allowed to create its own regulations – based on quotas of infections on board – even though we were in the ship’s “bubble”, and could only go ashore escorted anyway.
News that Lisbon wouldn’t let us into port came as a bit of a shock, but we assumed it would be an isolated occurrence. Alas, it would become a familiar story as we floated around the Mediterranean, looking for a port – any port – that would have us, mostly in vain.
We were hoping to celebrate my husband’s birthday in Valencia but, after an exhausting night of negotiating from our stoic skipper (who hardly slept for two full weeks), the morning announce
ment came: “No entry to Valencia. But we’re going to Malaga tomorrow!” Thus, Gavin’s birthday was spent watching my presentation on Funny Women. “I’m celebrating my birthday listening to my wife talking,” he sighed – though spirits were buoyed by a bottle of bubbly from the captain and a lovely meal at the East to West restaurant.
We hardly believed our luck stepping onto shore in Malaga, which was welcoming and delightful, while back on the ship the tireless (and now somewhat Covid-depleted) crew continued to provide us all with wonderful food, service and entertainment. Things were looking up, and we had Barcelona to look forward to!
Oh, no we didn’t.
We docked at dawn in the port, the Sagrada Familia tantalisingly shimmering in the distance; but it was “no, gracias” from the port authority.
Yet all was not lost. On we sailed to the little town of Castellón de la Plana, where they welcomed us with paella, dancing and sangria on the quayside.
We sailed from there in the dark – to where, no one could say – until at last came the captain’s reassuring voice once more: “I am delighted to announce we’re approaching Mallorca!” Another surprise port of call, another lovely day ashore spent travelling around the island, drinking in the views and exploring the pretty town of Valldemossa.
By now, the captain had assured us that most Covid patients were asymptomatic and those with symptoms were mild, so – for most, if not all – the apprehension of a serious Covid outbreak was replaced by a thrilling “Where to next?” sense of adventure.
Of course, with almost 1,000 passengers on board, not everyone went with the flow. Some Covid cases disembarked and isolated in hotels before flying home, while a few passengers departed, unhappy with the strict regulations and the erratic itinerary of the ship, in spite of persuasive cruise director Shane Fortey recommending the delights of the Puffy Eye Seminar in the spa, Carpet Bowls and Killer Darts.
The “saga” continued. We were refused entry to the next two ports on the itinerary, Sète in France and Roses in Spain – quelle surprise. However, the small Granada town of Motril was so pleased to see us they sent a brass band to greet us.
The truth is that though a collective groan echoed around the ship each time we heard, “This is your captain speaking…” it really was routinely followed by laughter. We knew this was nobody’s fault, and though there was the occasional bout of fury and resentment, most of us simply resolved to enjoy our beautiful “floating hotel”. When you can while away an afternoon sitting on your private balcony, spotting dolphins and even a fin whale, what’s to complain about?
There were lovely surprises, too – I was particularly thrilled when the stunning Andalucian city of Cadiz welcomed us in, after Gibraltar,
our scheduled final port of call, refused us entry.
Our ship certainly lived up to its name – Spirit of Discovery. We saw places we had never expected to see, and were informed on the final day by the CEO of Saga, Nick Stace, that we would be reimbursed 50 per cent of the cost, “because we didn’t deliver the itinerary we promised”. There was a shout of dissent (“Should have been 100 per cent!”) but it was a lone one. OK, so I discovered more about the humour and resilience of my fellow passengers than the western Mediterranean, but for a seasoned cruiser, this was truly a magical mystery tour: surprising, delightful, and utterly unique.