M/S Diana (Kids Stuff)

Jamie preceded me as we gingerly wavered our way up the gangplank of the M/S Diana.  The climb was short but rather steep and the gentle movement beneath our feet reinforced the realization that we would be spending the majority of the next six days on the water.  The centerpiece of our trip to Sweden was on the cusp of pulling away from the cobblestone capped, concrete seawall separating Stockholm's Old Town (Gamla Stan) from one of the Baltic Sea's many fingers.  And our anticipation was on edge as well as 12 months of research combined with planning were about to become reality.  Surreal in the moment - vivid today.  Now Jamie stepped aboard the teakwood deck with casual grace while my pursuit of a dignified entrance was betrayed by a last-step, toe-stick and lurch.  But the First-mate, a blond man in the prime of life, provided a steadying hand along with a knowing smile that assured me I wasn't the first voyager whose vanity had outlived his lithe of foot.  Introductions in perfect english.  Firm handshakes and words of welcome.  Then we were shown to our cabin by one of the deckhands - a young lady, not far removed from a classroom.  A smile-on-her-face, help-with-anything, jack-of-all-trades named Britt who gave us a brief orientation to the Diana as we descended to the deck below.

The M/S Diana was launched from the Finnboda Shipyard on the outskirts of Stockholm in the spring of 1931.  Designed and built for the sole purpose of passenger travel along the Göta Kanal, her specs where dictated by the size of the smallest of the canal's locks.  Those choke points had in turn been sized a tad smaller than the era's state-of-the-art Russian warship.  For in 1810, when the dream of a southern waterway embraced first shovel scoop, fear of the "menace from the east" trumped both engineering savvy and economic logic.  Smaller locks ensured an invading force less ominous.    

I digress.  Let's see: Length 31.66 meters, beam 6.79 meters, draft 2.72 meters.  Originally powered by steam, she was retrofitted to diesel in 1969.  But her persona remains true to a more tranquil age when relaxation and serenity took precedence over speed and entertainment.  With only 25 small cabins which accommodate approximately 50 passengers, she is quite modest by today's standards.  Also, neither toilet nor shower are to be found in any room.  Prerequisites on today's behemoths.  Instead, there are seven-total communal albeit single occupancy washrooms scattered about the boat.

Soon after Britt had dropped us off at our cabin, Jamie and I were unpacked and settled.  So, we set out to explore the ship on our own.  Three decks connected by two steep, nearly vertical staircases.  Our cabin was nestled down below on the port side of the Main deck and our self-guided tour began as we stepped into a passageway running with the keel of the vessel.  About half of the cabins-total rested on either side of this corridor and towards the aft four of those communal bathrooms resided.  Two of the four toilets were combined with showers.  Further back resided the galley and crew's quarters but these were off limits.  Reversing course, we climbed to the Shelter deck and surfaced between a cozy lounge towards the bow and a dining area amidships.  Continuing back to the stern of our ship we found a few more passenger cabins as well as the second "staircase" ladder ascending to the Bridge deck.  As the name implies, a command center and helm up front with the final complement of cabins just behind.  But the majority of space dedicated to outdoor seating with promises of a ringside seat as the countryside would soon be rolling by at six miles per hour.    

As you might imagine, our little reconnoiter didn't take long.  So we found a quiet nook on the Bridge deck where we would witness the ships departure.  An "energy" encompassed the ship now as departure time rapidly neared.  No sooner had we set down, than Jamie enthused:

"This is exciting.  This is fun.  I'm so glad we chose to do this trip.  Do you remember what we'll see today?  Where will we dock for the night?"

"It is fun, isn't it?"  I commented and began to stand while adding. " I've forgotten already.  I left the itinerary down in our cabin.  I'll go get it.  Be right back."  

With that, I earnestly headed to the ladder.  As I approached from the port side, the First Mate was converging quickly from the wheelhouse along the starboard deck - almost at a run.  He glanced me a smile and nimbly descended.  Face forward.  His feet never broke stride.  Then, only a breakneck "tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap" gave witness of him as he disappeared from view down the hatch.  

Now, that image contrasts sharply with my approach to the ladder.  The view to the Shelter deck looked a lot farther down than the ascent in the opposite direction had seemed mere minutes before.  I hesitated.  I stopped.  I nonchalantly pretended to be viewing the sights as my mind raced in an effort to recall what the First Mate had used for handholds mere seconds before.  However, that was simply a blur.  Indeed, brass handrails offered a steadying influence but little consolation.  A mental picture quickly developed of a tag team event - arthritic joints teaming with wobbly balance vs. devilish inflection points paired with the laws of physics.  It occured to me that I might have to crawl down backwards on all fours.  Mercy no!  Pride bonded immediately with embarrassment and quickly vetoed that idea.  No.  Face forward was mandatory.  Deliberate and steady were demanded.  A three point technique was required.  Easy.  Peasy.  Done.  And by the grace of God, I'm pleased to report that descent was achieved.  Very slow.  Somewhat shaky.  A tad humbling.  But upright and feet first nonetheless. 

My relief was short lived as I began to pivot before my focus lifted from the decking.  I smacked directly into someone approaching the ladder from the other way.

"Oh!  Sorry.  Sorry.  Sorry."  I flustered.

"Too much excitement.  I should watch what I'm doing."  All the while wondering if my victim could understand a word I was saying.  But as my fixation rose from the deck to his face, eye contact found an understanding gaze in return and a slight nod.

For unknown reasons the ladder down to the Main deck was always less intimidating than the descent from the Bridge deck.  So, the itinerary was found right where it had been left and I hurried back to Jamie without further incident.

The Diana was about to cast off.  Her whistle howled.