Day at Sea : Exploring the Inside Passage

 “I did not wish to take a cabin passage, 

but rather to go before the mast and on the deck of the world. ...”

 

Thoreau, Henry David. Walden

 

Finding our Way on board Queen Elizabeth

 
Our first full day at sea felt both familiar and new. Cunard ships carry a strong sense of continuity across the fleet. Certain traditions, routines, and design choices repeat themselves from vessel to vessel, creating a shared atmosphere that seasoned passengers quickly recognize. After many voyages aboard Queen Mary 2, much of Queen Elizabeth immediately felt understandable.
 
Yet familiarity only goes so far.

 
Each ship ultimately develops its own character, shaped by its design, its size, the waters through which it sails, and the people who are on board. Queen Elizabeth shares many visual and cultural echoes with Queen Mary 2 – the polished wood, the quiet lounges, the rhythm of daily programs and evening formality. At the same time, she possesses a personality that is distinctly her own.

 
You quickly begin to see that, despite their core similarities, these ships are not interchangeable.   Much feels recognizable, but little feels identical.   As such, we are still finding our footing on board as we explore and enjoy our time here on QE.
 

Land Habits on Board

 
This morning, our bodies were still tuned to trail time - the drive to wake early, pack up, and move on had put us on autopilot.  Even now, far from any forest trail, that instinct remained.  As a result, today we were out of bed before sunrise more out of habit than because of an alarm clock or any actual need.

 
In truth, those land habits followed us onto Queen Elizabeth more closely than we expected. Even though we had come aboard hoping to rest and enjoy the voyage north, we found ourselves drawn to the exterior decks. The sunrises at sea, the salty air, the wind on our faces, and the open horizon felt far more natural than sitting indoors.  It also meant that we were often up early to enjoy them.

 
Rather than be in our room, get breakfast or sit in a lounge, we were standing on deck, at the railings watching the water slide past, scanning the waves, watching the ship’s wake and hoping to catch the sight of a seabird or plume of a whale’s spouting exhale.

 
In short, what became clear today was that we were not especially good at relaxing. After so long on trails and so many days spent constantly moving forward, stopping entirely proved surprisingly difficult.
 

Notes from the Navigator

 
Speaking of not resting - for once, my morning began earlier than Sean’s – mostly because I didn’t go to sleep last night.  This wasn’t out of any discomfort or from feeling unsafe on board – it was because of my own excitement.  Instead of sleeping, I spent most of the night and the early hours this morning sitting on the window ledge watching the ocean through our porthole window. 

 

Believe it or not, this is not an unusual thing for me to do when on the water. 
 
Before the sun was up, Sean got out of bed.  As he freshened up for the day, I read through the daily program - At Sea, En route to Ketchikan, Alaska, USA.
 
“After letting go her lines yesterday afternoon, Queen Elizabeth set westerly courses to pass through Burrard Inlet, a relatively shallow-sided fjord formed during the last Ice Age.  Burrard Inlet opens west into the Strait of Georgia between Point Atkinson and Point Grey.  After passing Burrard Inlet, Queen Elizabeth continued her voyage sailing through the start of Georgia, and afterwards through Johnstone Strait, a 110 kilometre channel along the north east coast of Vancouver Island in British Columbia.  The straight is between 2.5 kilometres (1.6 miles) and 5 kilometres (3.1 miles) wide.  It is a major navigation channel on the west coast of North America.  It is the preferred channel for vessels from the Strait of Georgia leaving to the north of Vancouver Island through the Queen Charlotte Strait bound for Prince Rupert, Haida Gwaii, Alaska, and the North Pacific Ocean, and for southbound vessels from those areas bound for the ports of Vancouver, Seattle, and Tacoma.”
 

While we had every hope of continuing our routine from QM2 on QE, it turned out that the amazing vistas and nature predominated our time every day from 5 or 6 AM until sunset.  Regardless, there was no denying that there were a number of wonderful activities offered each day on Queen Elizabeth.
 
10:00 AM Cunard Insights : Naturalist Rachel Cartwright  - Royal Court Theatre
11:00 PM Cunard Insights : Polar Explorer Caroline Hamilton  - Royal Court Theatre
12:15 PM Ballroom Dance Class : Beginners Waltz  - Queen’s Room
3:00 PM Afternoon Tea with Guitarist Leo William John  - Queen’s Room
8:45 PM Ice White Ball Gala  - Queen’s Room
 
In addition, according to the nature notes today, we are cruising the waters of Queen Charlotte Sound, where Dall’s porpoises, mink and humpback whales and a variety of pelagic birds can be sighted!
 

On Deck

 
Having left our cabin, we found that for all the subtle differences of Queen Elizabeth, the general rhythms on board were recognizable from previous voyages.   Our morning began with a quiet walk along the promenade deck, followed by a relaxed breakfast and a day at sea punctuated by warming cups of coffee or tea as well as a few snacks.  Amid it all, we found ourselves drifting the large windows back or to the outer decks. 

 
At these times, we have a habit of staying longer than necessary at the railing outside, coffee in hand, watching the light move across the water, hoping to sight a bird sore past or see marine life nearby.   

Today, however, began in fog.

 
When we stepped outside, the promenade deck was slick with a fine mist of rain and ocean spray. A dense bank of fog surrounded the ship, though the rising sun was already beginning the work of burning through it.   Until it did, however, the world of our ship felt strangely quiet and suspended. Out on the water, small flocks of Common Murres bobbed on the surface before diving beneath the waves.
 
We were clearly not far off the coast as the faint outlines of the coast continued to appear and disappear alongside of us – like islands in the sky – giving way to a magical feeling to the morning.

 
Amid this quiet scene, a sudden burst of activity unfolded.
 
Without warning, a small yellow and white pilot boat came racing toward Queen Elizabeth, cutting sharply through the water. From our vantage point on deck, it seemed to surge directly toward the bow before slowing abruptly alongside the ship. A hatch opened along the hull and, in a maneuver that appeared both practiced and precarious, the harbour pilot who had guided us through the coastal waters climbed down from the ship and transferred onto the waiting vessel.

 

Within moments, the small boat had turned and sped away again, leaving Queen Elizabeth to continue northward on her own.  Watching the exchange, we were reminded once again that even on a voyage that feels leisurely from the deck is still part of the larger working world of the sea.
 

Britannia Breakfast

 
After spending much of the morning on deck, pausing occasionally at the Lido buffet for cups of coffee and a few cookies, we eventually made our way down to the Britannia Restaurant for breakfast.
 
On QE Britannia sits at the aft of the ship, and we had enjoyed its counterpart on other Cunard vessels and stepping inside felt immediately familiar. With that said, the dining room on Queen Elizabeth is not quite as vast or architecturally dramatic as the great dining hall on Queen Mary 2, yet it is beautiful in its own way.

 
The space reflects Cunard’s long-standing affection for Art Deco design. Clean lines, warm wood tones, and elegant lighting give the room a sense of refinement. Like much of the ship, the emphasis is not on spectacle but on comfort and tradition.
 
Service, as usual, was exceptional. Our breakfast was generous and carefully prepared, though the experience came with one small complication. It took nearly an hour and a half before our omelettes finally arrived.  On most voyages, that leisurely pace would be part of the pleasure. Cunard dining is meant to unfold slowly, encouraging conversation over morning tea and coffee. Yet on this particular voyage, we found ourselves slightly restless, glancing occasionally toward the windows and thinking about the sea outside.

 
For travellers who were increasingly drawn to the railings in search of whales and seabirds, a ninety-minute breakfast might prove difficult to repeat every morning. Still, the meal was excellent, and for the moment we were content simply to sit, eat well, and watch the passing waters (and birds) beyond the glass.
 

Cunard Insights

 
With the fog still thick outside, hiding the birds and coastlines beyond the mist, we decided to head to today’s Insight lecture. Cunard has long offered enrichment talks during its voyages, and these programs often add another dimension to travel at sea. On this voyage, the resident naturalist was Dr. Rachel Cartwright, a marine biologist who has spent her summers studying whales and marine life in Alaska since the early 1990s.

 
On this Alaskan voyage, her role and goal was to help passengers better understand the waters through which we were travelling.  Throughout the voyage, she hosted talks on whales, seabirds, and the ecosystems of the Inside Passage and Alaska’s coastal regions. She had also set up a small information station in the Garden Lounge where passengers could learn how to identify different whale species and where sightings were most likely to occur during the journey.  Which was amazing to visit.
 
That morning’s lecture served as an introduction to Alaska itself. Through photographs, maps, and stories drawn from decades of field work, she described the region’s wildlife hotspots and the remarkable marine ecosystems that stretch along the coasts of British Columbia and the Alaskan Panhandle.

 

Listening to her speak about whales had a curious effect. It reminded us how easily a single piece of knowledge can transform the way you see the world.  In short, learning about whales makes you think about the world differently!
 
One detail in particular stayed with me: the idea that the waters we were sailing through are connected to places as distant as Hawaii by the annual migrations of humpback whales. The same animals that feed in the cold northern seas each summer travel thousands of kilometres south to breed in the warm Pacific before returning again the following year. It is a simple fact, yet once you know it the ocean begins to feel very different. Suddenly, the vast waters around the ship are not empty at all, but part of an immense and invisible network of journeys unfolding beneath the surface.

 
After the lecture, we stopped by the Garden Lounge and purchased Dr. Cartwright’s Wildlife and Wilderness guide and the nature map she had produced for the voyage. With those in hand, we now had something new to study whenever the weather or the fog forced us indoors - though, as it turned out, we rarely stayed inside for long.
 

Afternoon on Deck

 
Armed with our new naturalist guidebook and map that we had just purchased, we did exactly what anyone might expect - we went straight back outside.
 
Years spent hiking long trails had conditioned us to spend most of our waking hours outdoors, and that habit proved surprisingly difficult to break. Sitting quietly at a table or lingering in one of the ship’s lounges felt strangely unnatural. Instead, we wandered the decks, slowly circling the ship, watching the sea and sky as shifted around us.

By early afternoon, the fog that had surrounded the ship during the morning had begun to lift. As the mist burned away, the world beyond the railings gradually revealed itself.
 
Almost immediately, the wildlife appeared – or rather, we could see it – I’m sure it didn’t need us there to appear. 

 
Jellyfish drifted just below the surface of the water, their translucent forms pulsing slowly beneath the ship’s wake. Further out, we began spotting the tall spouts of whales rising briefly from the sea before vanishing again into the horizon. And weaving across the waves were seabirds -Tufted Puffins and Rhinoceros Auklets among the gulls – moving low over the water in quick bursts of flight.

 
The whales were particularly mesmerizing to watch. Humpbacks frequent these waters throughout the summer months, feeding in the rich marine ecosystems of the Inside Passage. After listening to the naturalist’s lecture that morning, we found ourselves paying closer attention to their movements.

 
The first sign of a whale was usually the blow - a tall plume of mist rising sharply from the water. This initial spout tended to be the most dramatic, followed by several smaller breaths as the whale surfaced again. After a short time, the animal would arch its back, and occasionally its broad tail would lift high above the surface before disappearing beneath the water as it dove.

 
According to Dr. Cartwright, roughly fifteen hundred humpback whales now spend their summers in the waters of British Columbia and Alaska’s Inside Passage. Knowing that number made each distant spout feel less like a random occurrence and more like a glimpse into a much larger world moving quietly beneath the sea.
 
From time to time, we stepped back inside the ship to warm up or to check the navigation channel displayed on the screens in the Garden Lounge, where the ship’s position and course were continuously updated. Yet even those brief visits indoors never lasted long.

 
Our attention kept drifting outward – back to the waves and wake.
 
Throughout the afternoon, Cunard’s daily program offered its usual array of activities - dance classes, high tea, lectures, and performances. On most voyages, we would happily take part in many of them. But not today.

 
Instead, we stayed outside, occasionally grabbing a plate of cookies (no judging) from the Lido before heading back toward the railings.  For us, the real excitement was unfolding outside in the waters around the ship.
 
And if the whales held our fascination, it was the Tufted Puffins that ultimately dominated our attention.  Watching them dart across the water and vanish into the waves made the entire afternoon feel perfect.  At the same time, however, a realization began to take shape.
 

Voyaging North

 
Just as no two trails are the same - each demands different things from the mind and body, so too does each voyage carry its own perspective. Already, we knew that this voyage felt different from the crossings we had made before.

Most of our previous voyages had been transatlantic crossings aboard Queen Mary 2. Those journeys offered their own pleasures: long days at sea watching birds and waves from the decks, balanced by evenings that naturally turned to lectures, dinners in Britannia, and the formal elegance of Cunard’s gala nights.  This voyage through the Inside Passage seemed already to be working in the opposite direction.

 
Instead of drawing us into the ship’s routines, the landscapes and wildlife outside continually kept our attention on the water. Already, we found ourselves skipping some of our favourite activities -  dinners, evening dances, even the occasional lecture - simply because the world beyond the railings was too compelling to leave.

 
Though there was no shortage of activities on board, it felt as though the real experience of the voyage was taking place beyond the ship. The mountains, islands, and open water passing beside us created a sense that something remarkable might happen at any moment. At times, it even felt risky to step away from the deck, as though doing so might mean missing something extraordinary.
  

Afternoon Interlude

 
With that said, we did actually spend a little time inside the ship. 
 
Part of the pleasure of long voyages is the small routines that gradually develop over the course of the days at sea. One of ours involved the daily crossword puzzle, which we collected each morning from the library. Our goal, ambitious though it might have been, was always to complete the puzzle without consulting the answers printed on the back. More often than not, we failed, but we enjoyed them regardless.

 
Today, the afternoon Insight lecture was given by polar explorer Caroline Hamilton. Her talk recounted an extraordinary expedition in which she helped lead a team of women nearly seven hundred miles across Antarctica to the South Pole - sixty days travelling through the coldest and windiest continent on Earth. The presentation was filled with striking images and stories of perseverance that left us both entertained and inspired.

 

After the lecture, we stepped outside once more and made our way toward the aft railing, drinks in hand, to watch the wake behind the ship.  I had a pint of Cunard Black, while Sean chose Cunard Red. Between sips, we scanned the sea for movement. Occasionally, a seabird skimmed low across the waves, or a tufted puffin appeared briefly before disappearing again into the water. At one point, we spotted the small dark curve of a fin breaking the surface - perhaps a minke whale passing through the channel.  Unfortunately, in truth, it was gone almost as soon as we spotted it.

 
Though land was often hidden beyond the distant haze, the wildlife made it clear that we were never far from shore. These waters form part of what is sometimes called the “Whale Trail,” a region along the coasts of British Columbia and Alaska where whale sightings are frequent and where citizen science groups help document marine life moving through the Inside Passage.
 
Later in the afternoon, we attended the ship’s scheduled port talk for our upcoming stop in Ketchikan. Having never been on a voyage with ports, we were uncertain what to expect in each of the places we were about to visit.  Unlike the insight talks, however, these port talks proved less informative than expected.  Rather than offering much insight into the town itself, the presentation leaned heavily toward shopping recommendations and tourism promotions, which for us were unappealing.

 
Before long, we found ourselves heading back toward the decks once again.  The sea outside was far more interesting.
 

Evening on Cunard

 
By early evening, the ship gradually shifted into one of Cunard’s familiar rituals. From around 5:30 onward, particularly on gala nights, the dress code moved toward what the line calls “Smart Attire.” For men, this meant collared shirts, trousers, and clean shoes, while women were encouraged to wear dresses or slacks paired with dress shirts. Those who preferred a more casual evening could still remain in relaxed clothing, though their options were limited to spaces such as the Lido, the Golden Lion pub, and the casino.

 
We returned to our cabin to freshen up before dinner. I reluctantly changed into a more formal dress and shoes for the evening’s gala night, though I made sure to bring my binoculars along with me.
 
Dinner itself was quick.  Rather than enjoying a long meal in the Britannia Restaurant - after a long breakfast this morning - we instead chose to eat in the Lido buffet. On most Cunard voyages, we would rarely miss an evening in Britannia, where the dinners take place over several courses. On this voyage, however, the world outside the ship felt too compelling to leave for long.  We finished our meal and returned to the open decks.
 
As the evening settled in, the sky's colours began to soften into shades of orange before the sun slipped slowly toward the coastal waters. For a moment, it seemed to pause along the horizon before descending in a brilliant blaze of colour.  Slipping, it seemed, into the ocean.

 
I think that both of us could look at these landscapes forever  - the colours of the waters, the stunning sunrises and equally brilliant sunsets, the evergreen forests and mountains that span across the horizon  - the sheer immensity of nature’s grandeur on constant display.   
 

Ice White Gala in the Queen’s Room

 
Tonight, the ship hosted one of Cunard’s signature Galas – fittingly given our northerly destination – the Ice White Ball in the Queen’s Room.

The great ballroom had been transformed for the occasion, with long white curtains cascading from the upper balconies while the lighting glowed in soft shades of blue and white meant to suggest the glaciers and icy landscapes of Alaska. Around the room, passengers embraced the theme, appearing in elegant combinations of white, silver, and pale blue.
 
Gala evenings have long been part of Cunard tradition, and over the years, we have attended many of them – Black and White balls, Masquerade evenings, and the familiar Red and Gold galas aboard Queen Mary 2. This was our first Ice White Ball, and as always, the formality of the occasion encouraged passengers to dress accordingly. Tuxedos, three-piece suits, and evening gowns filled lounges and public spaces of the ship as couples gathered beneath the chandeliers and dancers began to glide across the polished floor.

The Queen’s Room on Queen Elizabeth may not be quite as grand or architecturally imposing as the legendary ballroom on Queen Mary 2, yet the atmosphere still carries echoes of the golden age of ocean liners. Watching couples move gracefully across the dance floor remains one of the true pleasures of a Cunard Gala evening, and the room itself seemed to glow with the excitement of the occasion.
 
As always, reactions to gala nights varied widely. Many passengers embraced the formality wholeheartedly, while others chose to avoid it entirely and remained in the more relaxed spaces of the ship. A small number seemed almost surprised that such traditions still existed, occasionally appearing at the entrance of the ballroom in decidedly casual attire before being gently reminded by staff of the evening’s expectations. For our part, we remain grateful that Cunard continues to preserve these traditions, even as modern cruise culture often moves in a more casual direction.

 
That said, we may also have been the only people in the room attending the gala with binoculars. While others arrived carrying elegant clutches or sparkling jewellery, I stood there somewhat self-consciously in a formal dress with my Bushnell binoculars in my hands.   There was no point in denying the fact that I knew that from time to time we would slip quietly out of the ballroom, leaving the music and dancing behind so that we could step onto the open deck and scan the horizon.
 

Pacific Sunsets

 
As the evening went on, and after a few dances, we drifted back out onto the open decks.  Beyond the warmth and music of the ballroom, the western horizon was putting on a spectacle of its own.  Slowly, the sky began to change. Deep blues softened toward the horizon before giving way to layers of pink, orange, and amber. Each passing minute seemed to reveal another subtle shift in colour as the sun slipped lower toward the distant mountains.

 
Standing at the railing with binoculars still in hand – somewhat incongruously paired with a gala dress – we watched the evening settle across the Inside Passage. The water below reflected the fading light while distant islands and coastal peaks slowly dissolved into silhouettes against the glowing sky.

 
The sun, in its final stages of setting, hung low over the coastal waters of British Columbia, its light stretching across the calm surface of the sea in a shimmering path of reds and golds.

 
Sunsets at sea have a way of holding my attention longer than expected. What begins as a quick glance over the railing quietly becomes half an hour, then an hour.  In the end, we remained outside far longer than the cool evening temperatures suggested was sensible.  Though chilled, both of us were nonetheless still reluctant to head back indoors.   
 

Evening Reflections on Heading North

 
Eventually, as the evening grew cooler and the last colours faded from the sky, we made our way back inside the ship and up to the Commodore Club. From its position high at the bow of Queen Elizabeth, the lounge offers sweeping views through its broad windows, and even after sunset, the horizon remained visible as the ship continued north through the coastal waters of British Columbia.
 
Evenings in the Commodore Club was another part of our regular routine on board a Cunarder – an elegant, quiet lounge where you can sit, listen to the music drifting from the piano amid the gentle murmur of conversations from passengers enjoying an evening drink while watching the sea slip past. 
 
Yet sitting here, it was equally clear that, even after only a couple of days on board, this voyage was unfolding differently from our previous journeys aboard Queen Mary 2.

 
While Queen Elizabeth carries the same traditions - the elegant galas, the formal dinners, the High Tea in the Queen’s Room - and much of the atmosphere feels instantly recognizable. At the same time, the world outside the ship was proving impossible to ignore. The abundance of marine life, bird species, the changing coastlines, and the constant movement of sea and sky meant that what might normally become the centre of a Cunard day increasingly felt secondary.
 
In the waters of Canada’s Inside Passage, as we continued our slow approach toward Alaska the world beyond the railings held our attention more than the ship’s daily program.  Given the choice between sitting indoors, taking in an Insight lecture, or stepping out onto the deck, the decision was proving an easy one.  It was clear ot us that the further north we travelled, the more the natural world would continue to shape our time on board.
 

Future Voyage Possibilities

 
Later that evening, while we sat in the Commodore Club enjoying a quiet drink and watching the last outlines of the coastal mountains fade into the darkness, we overheard a conversation at the neighbouring table. A couple seated nearby had sailed these waters several times before and were reminiscing about other northern voyages they had taken.

 
At one point the conversation turned to Alaska’s landscapes, and one of them made an observation that immediately caught our attention. They began describing how these same dramatic coastlines reminded them strongly of another place entirely - the fjords of Norway. They spoke of steep mountain walls plunging directly into dark waters, of ships threading their way through narrow channels between towering cliffs, and of long northern evenings where the light seems reluctant to disappear.
 
“If you like this,” one of them said, gesturing toward the dim coastline sliding past the windows, “you should see Norway.”
 
It was a casual remark, almost an aside in the conversation, yet it lingered in our thoughts. Sitting there with binoculars still close at hand, watching the fading silhouettes of islands and mountains drift past as Queen Elizabeth continued north through the Inside Passage, the idea quietly settled onto our growing list of future journeys.

 
In truth, this voyage had already begun to feel slightly different from what most people imagine when they think of an Alaskan cruise. Queen Elizabeth does not present itself as an expedition vessel. Cunard frames these sailings as elegant voyages - journeys that combine scenic cruising with the traditions and comforts of ocean liner travel.  And yet the landscapes and wildlife around us suggested something more. From whales surfacing beside the ship to seabirds tracing the horizon and distant mountains rising through the mist, the experience often felt remarkably close to what many expedition voyages promise.
 
The difference, perhaps, was simply one of style. Here, the exploration of northern waters unfolded alongside the quiet elegance of Cunard traditions - gala evenings, live music, and polished lounges. It was, in a sense, an expedition wrapped in the atmosphere of the golden age of ocean liners.

 
From time to time, we even spotted vessels belonging to well-known expedition companies and National Geographic sailing through the same waters. Watching them pass only reinforced the feeling that we were all sharing the same remarkable landscape - simply experiencing it in slightly different ways.
 
Eventually, we made our way back to our cabin.  The night had not settled fully across the sea outside.  Amid it, QE continued steadily northward through the dark waters, carrying us onward toward Alaska and our first port of call in the morning – Ketchikan
 
See you on board!
 
Nautical Term of the Day - Square Meal - Meals were served on square wooden plates that wouldn’t slide in rough weather. Today it simply means a proper, satisfying meal.