Date: Thursday, August 21, 2025
Location: Victoria, British Columbia
⚓ Opening
HP was already awake, standing by the balcony, watching the shoreline come into view.
“We’re here,” she said.
I stepped out beside her. The city was quiet in the early light, just beginning to stir — like it had been waiting to greet us.
Our last full day arrived with that bittersweet mix of excitement and reluctance — the feeling you get when you know something wonderful is ending. the feeling you get when you know something wonderful is ending. After days of open sea and distant horizons, Victoria felt warm and familiar, like the world welcoming us back to shore.
🌅 Morning: A Clear Canadian Welcome
A stunning morning in Victoria — 63° at sunrise, climbing to 73° with not a cloud in sight. After a quick snack at the Windjammer Deck 14 (three eggs, toast, potatoes, and Diet Coke), we grabbed coffee and even fit in a short nap. Sometimes pacing yourself is part of the trip.
By 11:30, we finally stepped off the ship and into Canada, ready for our last big adventure.
🚴 Afternoon: Touring Victoria by E-Bike
At noon, we joined our electric bicycle excursion. It took a little practice for everyone to get the hang of the e-bikes — a few wobbles, a few laughs, a cautious start — but once we did, we were flying.
I remember the moment it clicked. A small hill ahead, the kind you’d normally brace for — and instead, the bike just carried me up it. Effortless. I caught myself laughing, a little surprised at how easy it felt.
For 2.5 hours we cruised through Victoria’s highlights:
- Historic downtown architecture
- A castle with fairy-tale charm
- A quiet, shaded cemetery
- Lively streets buzzing with flowers and people
The ride was easy, fun, and the perfect way to soak in the city. Easily one of the most enjoyable excursions of the trip.
🍽️ Evening: A Farewell Feast
Our final dinner was back in the main dining room with Saif and Francis, who made the evening unforgettable. Their kindness, humor, and hard work carried us through the week — and while we may be fleeting passengers to them, they’ll always be part of our memories.
Dinner highlights:
- Lamb and Lobster for the carnivores
- An Indian vegetarian curry meal for me, Lentils, potatoes, spicy but not too spicy.
- Soup, main, and dessert as always—capped by a Baked Alaska that was absolutely phenomenal. HP and Scott both asked for an extra lobster tail, and with a quiet nod, Saif reappeared not just with another tail, but with an entire plate each.
It was the perfect dinner to a week of meals, laughter, and new friendships.
As dessert plates were cleared and coffee cups settled back onto the table, the dining room shifted in a way that felt both spontaneous and rehearsed at the same time. Someone near the center of the room stood and began twirling a white napkin overhead.
A moment later, another joined in.
Then more.
The staff formed a long conga line — dancing, singing, drawing cheers as they wound their way from one side of the ship to the other and back again.
I’m not even sure what we were celebrating. Maybe the end of the trip. Maybe the week itself. Or maybe just the fact that, for a little while, we had all been part of the same small world.
Within seconds, the entire dining room had erupted into motion — dozens of white napkins spinning in the air like small flags of celebration. The crew clapped along, laughing and cheering as music filled the room.
Saif and Francis grinned beside our table, clearly used to the ritual but enjoying it just the same.
For a few minutes, the whole room felt like a shared victory lap. Strangers from the first night now laughing together, waving napkins, raising glasses — a floating little world that had found its rhythm for one brief week.
And just as quickly as it started, the music faded. The napkins settled back onto the tables.
Tomorrow morning we would all scatter again — to airports, highways, and ordinary routines. Suitcases would roll through the corridors again, and the quiet rhythm of the ship would give way to the noise of departure.
But for that moment, the ship was still home.
⭐ Quick Ratings (1–5 stars)
- Food: ★★★★★
- Service: ★★★★★
- Cleanliness: ★★★★★
- Activities: ★★★★★
- Excursion Value: ★★★★★
📝 End-of-Day Reflection
Best part of today: Dinner was great, but if I had to pick one — cruising through Victoria on e-bikes. Seeing the city up close in the sunshine and fresh air made it feel alive in a different way.
Something unexpected: How easy and fun the e-bikes were once we got the hang of them. I enjoy riding my regular bike, so I was surprised by how heavy that back wheel is — close to 70 lbs. You don’t feel it at all while riding, but you definitely notice it when you’re manhandling it before getting on.
Tip for future travelers: Save your energy for the last port — Victoria is worth exploring fully, and an e-bike tour is a great way to do it.
These people — the cruise staff — have become more than just friendly faces. They’re genuinely kind, hard-working people who looked out for us in every way. They kept us safe, fed us well, and made sure we laughed along the way. They’ve become part of the story, part of the heart of the trip.
🌙 Closing Reflection
As the ship pulled away from Victoria and the city lights faded behind us, I felt that familiar ache — the quiet kind that only comes when something beautiful is ending. The week had been full: glaciers, music, laughter, good friends, and endless sea.
Travel always ends the same way — not with distance, but with gratitude. Hard to believe the week is over; part of me still wishes the ocean would never run out.
We’ll travel through the night and arrive in Seattle tomorrow — and this little world will be behind us.
At the Forge
Day 7 felt like the sunset of the voyage—bright, content, and a little reluctant to end. Between the hum of e-bikes, the laughter at dinner, and the quiet grace of the crew, it struck me how travel isn’t really about the places at all. It’s about the people who make those places feel alive.
Maybe that’s why goodbyes at sea feel heavier. You don’t just leave the shore behind—you leave a version of yourself that only existed out there, in motion, under all that sky.
— Dennis D. Montoya
Stories Forged in Ink and Ash
Dennis D Montoya 