The Cruise: A day at sea, and perspective from on high

The North Star gondola in action (Royal Caribbean)

Day 7, a full day at sea for Barbara, me, and 5,000 or so our of shipmates on the Anthem of the Seas.

This is a day for us to catch our travelers' breath, and inhale, full-lunged the breezes coming off the Atlantic. The ocean is choppy this day, its energy stirred by the vestiges of yet another tropical storm further to the south. The play of white, gray and slate clouds, darting seagulls, the roar of the water as the ship plows onward, and the intermittent sunlight dancing on the whitecaps are mesmerizing.

Barbara and I get in our Fitbit steps, and then some, walking the top deck circuit, joyfully exposed to the elements. By late-morning, we queue up for our reserved ride in the ship's North Star observation gondola.

North Star: 300 feet up

The glass-enclosed capsule fits about a dozen people, including our host, a tall young Scot who amiably chats with us.

He also gives us the facts: Adding in the 150 feet or so of the ship itself from ocean to top deck, the North Star -- rising on its steel arm above the deck -- will give us a view of the ocean from 300-feet plus above sea level.

 Heights are not my thing. Elevators are fine, as long as it doesn't involve looking through a glass floor; observation decks on tall buildings, which sway in the wind, or the precipice of the Grand Canyon, however, again -- not my thing.

Heights: Barb loves, me not much

The things we do for love. And Barbara loves this stuff. So, there I was, gripping the handrails and moving ever-so-carefully as the North Star growled to its apex. The view from on high was impressive (when I was able to suspend visions of cracking glass, a wailing, hard, short fall, and the crunch of spine and skull just before The Darkness).

Barbara? All smiles,"ooohs" and "ahhs." Had the gondola been open, she'd have been leaning out and laughing.

Back on deck, it was another stroll, pausing to claim deck chairs for quiet and the Atlantic horizon. Then we took a few minutes to watch other seniors relive childhood behind the wheels of electric bumper cars.

Seeing a silver-haired octogenarian burst into laughter after hunting down and slamming into another bumper car driver is . . . uniquely amusing, as it is something of a tear in the Time-Space Continuum.

Dinner, conversation with others in our group, a leisurely amble back to our room, and sipping a glass of red wine (that was for one; Barb does not imbibe) on the patio as darkness fell.

I watched the light fade to where only the white caps fluttered into view, touched briefly by moon beams. Such are the moments best expressed with a simple, deep sigh.

(*Next: New Brunswick, the Bay of Fundy and the case of the reversing waterfall).

A day at sea