The difference between the Scioto River and the St. Lawrence River is almost as great as the difference between Worthington’s Antrim Lake and the Atlantic Ocean. Similarly, my canoe experience with my father on the Scioto described in my last post was a world apart from the cruise I recently took with my wife on the St. Lawrence. The cruise, which began in Montreal and ended in Portland, Maine, left me with three impressions.

First, the 166 passengers aboard the Ocean Voyager were in no way a reflection of the diversity within contemporary American society. Aside from two or three who appeared to be of Asian descent, there were no people of color in our group, and there were no children or adolescents either. In fact, at 66, my wife was among the five or six youngest passengers aboard. Even at 74, I was below the average age. It’s also a safe bet that the Ocean Voyager passengers were better educated and more affluent than the average American citizen. The four-figure cost of even the cheapest cabin made the latter fact obvious.

A second impression concerns the size and complexity of cruise ships. In many ways, they are like floating villages. The Ocean Voyager, which could carry up to 202 passengers, was actually small compared to other vessels of its type. Even so, it featured a sizeable dining room, a lounge with a stage, a tavern, a workout room, a spa, a grill for informal dining, and (though we didn’t use it), an outdoor observation deck. The ship’s staff numbered about 80. Probably at least half of them worked in food service, but there were also cabin attendants, navigators, maintenance workers, and even entertainers. This last group included a historian who specialized in rivers, a “lakelorean;” he provided presentations on everything from whales to lighthouses. For their part the captain and his navigational team managed much more than the speed and direction of the ship. They always had at least one person looking out for obstacles in the water. Others kept track of nearby vessels and possible changes in the weather. Sometimes, when approaching a port, the Ocean Voyager brought on a pilot, who was knowledgeable about the local area, to guide the ship to a safe arrival.

My final impression is actually an illusion. Being on a voyage like this where all the basic necessities of life are provided, and where you can squirrel away in your cabin gives you the illusion of being safe from all the pressures, problems, and hazards of your normal day-to-day world. This illusion is reinforced at times when land is far away or maybe not visible at all. No need to fight through traffic jams or find a place to park. No need to deal with telemarketers or Internet scams. Bigger problems like crime, war, and pandemics also seem out of sight — and out of mind.

But like any illusion this one can and did come to an abrupt end. After leaving Quebec City, a storm came along and rocked the Ocean Voyager from side to side and up and down. Motion sickness struck many voyagers, including my wife, who barely made it back to our cabin before “losing her lunch.” The storm eventually became so violent that metal plates were fastened across our cabin windows in the event the windows were broken by wave-tossed debris. At one point, it appeared as many as three shore visits would have to be canceled. Fortunately, the storm subsided enough to allow two of those visits to remain on our schedule. But when the angry clouds and tossing waves died out, the illusion of safety died with them.

Because of the disruptions in our St. Lawrence River cruise, the owners of the Ocean Voyager offered us another cruise at no cost. The only stipulation was we had to take advantage of this offer before the end of 2024. Becky and I decided to take our cruise up the Ohio River next July. We’ll start in Louisville and finish in Pittsburgh. I’ll probably have some totally different impressions about this cruise, and — who knows? — maybe one or two new illusions.