Arriving in Reykjavik a day ahead to recuperate was a very good idea. Going from the airport directly to the ship would have left us more exhausted than we already were.
The Skarfabakki Harbor Cruise Terminal is about three miles from the hotel, and a much cheaper cab ride. We were fortunate that our ship, the Viking Mars, docks at Skarfabakki 315. Other ships dock down the street at Skarfabakki 312, a long hike from our drop-off point The old terminal was demolished to make way for a new terminal scheduled to open in 2026..
The ship’s crew took our luggage after the cab dropped us off; Viking has set up a temporary facility that made boarding (“embarkation” if you want to be formal) efficient and easy. We entered this building, showed our passports and boarding passes, and walked outside to the boarding ramp. High tide made for a steep climb, but one of the crew took Peg’s Rollator ahead while she grabbed the railing.
Once inside the ship, the staff scanned our boarding passes, which put us into their system, gave us our room keycards, and offered us a hot, wet washcloth and glass of champagne. Then, they directed us down the hallway to The Restaurant where another crew member went through the mandatory safety evacuation protocol: how to put on the life vest and where to go if needed.
(At this point, I recommend getting a lanyard for your keycard. Otherwise, you’ll be fishing in your wallet or purse for the damned thing and risk losing it, as I did.)
We had to wait until 1p.m. before we could get into our rooms, so we went up to the World Café, a self-service buffet, on Deck 7 for a bite to eat.
After lunch we made our way to our stateroom, a long walk almost to the end of the narrow hallway. Our cabin steward, a friendly Indonesian man, greeted us by name. “Dr. Rivera and Mrs. Sullivan.” (All future greetings were an enthusiastic “Dr. David and Mrs. Mary!”) Our suitcases sat outside our stateroom door. He pushed them into the room and then hefted one of them onto the large vinyl pad covering the foot of the bed to protect the bedding while unpacking before orienting us to our room.
The large sliding glass door at the end of the room opens onto a veranda with two chairs and a small table. An armchair sits just inside. There’s a couch to the right of the chair; a large wooden tray with Viking brochures and a copy of The Viking Daily – with a synopsis of the port stop, a morning-to-evening list of the day’s onboard activities, departure times for shore excursions, the dining hours, and a ship services directory with phone numbers – sits on a coffee table in front of the couch.
The long desk has drawers for storage at the near end and a mini fridge at the far end stocked with Sprite, regular Coke and Coke Zero; Carlsberg beer; tonic water; travel bottles of Bacardi Rum, Beefeater Gin, Smirnoff Vodka, and The Famous Grouse Scotch; two small milk chocolate bars, and two bags of nuts, all replenished once a day. (Our steward switched out the regular coke for Coke Zero after Peg left him a note saying we didn’t drink sugared pop.) We had a complementary bottle of champagne and two flutes waiting for the right time to celebrate.
The middle of the desk opens up to a lighted mirror, a pair of binoculars and abundant storage for cosmetics and toiletries. The devices next to the hair dryer are QuietVox audio receivers used for self-guided tours or for one’s tour director to herd the cattle back to the bus.
The king-sized bed has four pillows (Peg asked and received an extra), a comforter, sans top sheet, and a “Traditional Norwegian Marius-weave blanket.” Each side has a night stand with 110/220V outlets, two USB charging ports and a wall lamps. The switch just above the electrical bar turns on the nightlight for bathroom trips. The two little silver circles are reading lamps.
A credenza with even more drawers and two shelves sits across from the bed. The ship supplies a large carafe of water and two lovely blue drinking glasses, along with a card that said, “if you like these items, they are available for purchase.” Subtext, “if you steal these glasses, we’re gonna add $200 to your tab!”
A 42” television is mounted on the wall above. There are several programming options: movies, TV series, news channels (Fox, CNN, BBC), a variety of music choices whose categorization left much to be desired, broadcasts of previous lectures (which is how I found out Bluetooth was named after Harald Bluetooth, a 10th century Danish and Norwegian king), and the perpetual view from the bridge camera, overlaid with classical music. My Cousin Vinny was one of the movie selections; however, we didn’t think showing Lifeboat and Titanic on a cruise ship was a wise choice.
The bathroom was superb! It has a heated floor which is so efficient I had to turn it off because the temperature became stifling. There are drawers on each side of the sink and toiletry racks for Viking’s “Premium Freyja® toiletries” on either side of the anti-fog mirror. We found large, fluffy towels and washcloths under the counter.
The wall-mounted toilet is very efficient and very loud when flushed. I’d like these in my retirement house because cleaning the bottom of a floor-mounted toilet is a colossal pain.
The shower is more than adequate despite appearing rather narrow in this picture. The knob on the left turns the water on; the one on the right controls the temperature. I discovered a button on the back that overrides the water temperature limiter if one wants hotter water. The water flow decreases if one opens the shower door while the water is running. I should note that showering while the ship is sailing requires some caution. Peg only showered when the ship was in port to avoid being hurled out the shower door in rough seas.
There’s abundant closet space opposite the bathroom with a lot of wooden hangers on one side and more than sufficient drawer space on the other, hidden by sliding doors with magnetic catches. There are two decent sized robes on hangers, and a wooden box on the floor holds two pairs of complementary slippers (I could only get half of my foot into one) and a bright red Viking umbrella for rainy shore excursions.
A shelving unit next to the closet houses a Nespresso coffeemaker, a safe behind a cabinet door, and more drawers, one of which housed a horse hair lint brush, a shoe shine brush and instructions for complementary clothes pressing, returned the next day.
After unpacking, putting drawer things in drawers and hanging things on hangers, it was time for another nap. We woke up around 5:30pm and arrived at The Chef’s Table just before it opened for dinner.
There was a line of people waiting at the restaurant desk to make reservations for the ship’s two specialty restaurants: The Chef’s Table and Manfredi’s Italian Restaurant., (Our booking class had allowed us to make reservations 70 days before the cruise departed, so we were all set.) Our host took us to a table in a bright corner near the back, next to the windows.
Our four-course menu started with the “Amuse Bouche,” a fancy name for appetizer that conjures an image of Beavis saying, “funny bunghole.” The Goan Potato Chop was a light vegetable and cheese stuffed croquette, served with Soave Classico, an Italian white wine. The first course was Chili Soft-Shell Crab in a light tomato-chili sauce, paired with a nice glass of Pinot Grigio another Italian white. (You can probably guess where this is headed.)
I’m not into food porn; I started taking pictures when our palate cleanser, a lychee, guava and cranberry juice granite named Red Lotus arrived.
Our main course was Thai Spiced Rack of Lamb with eggplant, sweet chili and my sister-in-law’s nemesis, the dreaded baby corn, served with a ruby-red Rioja Tempranillo.
Dessert was a delightful Yuzu Cheesecake, whose namesake fruit provides a lemon flavor, along with fine ruby port.
An amateur restaurant critic seated with a foursome just behind us weighed in on the main course. I thought he might be a Texan, but he mentioned being from Oklahoma in passing. “Well, the lamb was very good but I’m kind of a meat and potatoes and beer guy.” Icelandic animal protein sources are largely lamb and fish, although beef would be available on the cruise.
He and his wife were celebrating their 40th anniversary; the waitstaff presented them with a chocolate ganache-covered mousse, the size of a small curling stone, along with a glass of champagne. The couple at the table next to us were celebrating their 50th anniversary and must have married young, because they didn’t appear to be terribly old; their mousse and champagne arrived shortly after.
Not to be left out, our waiter brought us a berry mousse covered with a strawberry ganache. And a glass of champagne. By this time my photographic skills were sorely lacking.
Fully sated and slightly toasted from the wine we had with dinner, we headed back to our room for bed. Our waiter graciously offered to send the leftover mousse to our room for us to enjoy over the next couple of days.
There’s no chocolate on the bed with the turndown service, but neither did we find the whimsical towel creations on the bed which are popular with other cruise lines that seem intent on forcing your happiness. I hung the room service request for breakfast outside door and sank into our nice soft bed. The Southern Coast of Iceland bus tour started 7:30am, an ungodly hour to be doing anything.
The best thing about dinner? Peg didn’t need time to “wind down” while fighting sleep. A few minutes under the covers and she was out.
Next: Touring the Southern Coast of Iceland by bus. Geothermal power plants, black sand beaches, waterfalls everywhere and a stop at the Lava Centre.
