Trust an old lady to kick up a stink. In the middle of my cruise on the
steamboat Delta Queen – the “Grand Old Lady” of America’s rivers, as she is
known by her many fans – she turned up in The New York Times. There I was,
chilling out among the Mark Twain groupies, and suddenly I’m in the middle
of a political hullabaloo.
Save the Delta Queen! Y’all sign this here petition now! Wear this big shiny
button! Write your congressman and shake your walking stick and rah-rah-blah
and... oh, it’s time for a nap.
You see, the Delta Queen is not just the last authentic steamboat offering
proper live-aboard cruises in the USA, she is also, according to some, an
accident waiting to happen. She’s made mostly of wood, she falls foul of
fire-safety regulations and she can operate only with a special exemption
that will expire in November 2008. So, if you want to experience a piece of
American history, and plenty of luxury of the brass, wood and varnish
variety, you’d better get a shuffle on.
Built in 1926, two years before Mickey Mouse started shaking his thang in
Steamboat Willie, the Delta Queen was designed to be a floating palace of
jaw-dropping luxury. She was to be to America’s rivers what the Titanic was
to the Atlantic, but without the sinking bit, of course. People with
discerning tastes and deep pockets would flock aboard to enjoy slow-moving
sophistication and a discreet bonk on the car deck.
Cabins still creak and gleam, with original timber shutters on the windows,
shiny brass taps and light switches, lamp shades made out of somebody’s
knickers and plenty of period furnishings. Everything is either very solid
or very plush. Each cabin has its own collection of furniture, quirks and
charms. One even has a resident ghost.
It’s in the common areas, however, that the rich wooden luxury reaches its
peak. The floors curve gently downwards at the sides of the boat, and up
towards the bow. There’s a subtle elegance, an understated pigeon-chested
pride. Stained-glass decorations top the windows. A sweeping staircase
beckons you up to the bar.
It’s all very graceful and grand, but it’s not the headline appeal of the
Delta Queen. What makes this boat special is the feeling of intimacy that
develops among the passengers. For a start, she accommodates only 174
guests, so you get to know everyone pretty quickly. And more than half of
those guests tend to be frequent visitors. It seems this boat belongs to an
extended family of regular passengers. It is woven into people’s lives.
Children who stood on the shore and watched the Delta Queen fizz by 50 years
ago are now cruising on her. One of my dinner companions had first boarded
in 1959. Another old dear was clocking up cruise number 136 – assuming her
ability to count can be relied on. But don’t worry: it’s not hard for
newbies to fit in.
You’ll soon be sensing the history of the ship soaking into you, and hearing
stories of times gone by: the deck hand who drove a Volkswagen overboard; a
wedding in the wheelhouse. I was also told, on more than one occasion, that
Hoover, Truman and Carter had cruised on the boat.
It’s certainly the case that the mingling and chatting on board provide a
contrast to the dullsville little towns that the boat visits. We explored
lifeless places such as Savannah, Tennessee, where any sense of community
has disappeared up the collective exhaust pipes of residents who seem to be
reluctant to get out of their SUVs.
You can watch people queuing at drive-through slop shops to get their
paper-cup coffee and slab-o’-lard breakfast burger. Then you wander around
wondering why there are no cafes, and why the only things for sale on the
high street are empty shops.
Back on board, the gentle joviality cranks up in the evenings. Scrabble and
puzzles are put away as dinner is served. While the food is both plentiful
and excellent, the service and cheeky-chipper banter of the staff are the
real highlight. There is a 2:1 ratio of passengers to staff, so, once again,
there’s a friendliness and intimacy that quickly develops and ensures that
you’re going to get milk with your tea without having to ask for it.
After dinner, Dueling Banjos is about as action-packed as it gets, although
somehow they make do with only one banjo.
It’s Dixieland, foot-tappin’, sing-along kind of stuff: fine if you’re into
that kind of thing, but it didn’t float my boat, so I headed straight for
the bar. Which was empty by 10pm.
Perhaps the oldies were all worn out by the thrilling sense of history and
occasion that the Delta Queen carries with her. Each time the boat arrives
at or leaves a port, there’s a sense of something happening. People come out
to watch. Sure, they’re the sort of people who are perhaps undiscriminating
in their choice of what they might attend, but they’re still people, and
they’re still there. Some wear period dress and perform impromptu
country-music concerts. Some set up stalls to sell things they made earlier.
They hang around near the boat all day, hoping to flog a CD of twangy music
or a stone painted to look like a ladybird, and waiting for the momentous
departure of the Delta Queen.
The departure of the ship is kind of a big deal. The historic bell clangs, to
let any passengers who are still on shore know that they are about to be
left behind. And, once the big red paddle wheel has started hypnotically
thrumming the water, and the boat is under way, a calliope concert kicks
off. The calliope is a steam-powered pipe organ. It’s mounted on the top
deck at the back of the ship, so everyone for miles around can hear it
choo-tootin’ away. It pumps out chipper ditties that would make Messrs
Disney and Wonka squeal and clap like teenage girls. Then the Delta Queen
paddles off to her next destination.
Clearly, the 81-year-old Delta Queen offers an experience that is best suited
to those of, shall we say, similarly advanced years.
But if you want inescapable calm, or wish to spend your children’s
inheritance, or hook up with a cashed-up widow – and, most important, if you
want to grab your last chance to experience authentic steamboat history –
get aboard while you still can.
Andrew Quested travelled as a guest of British Airways and Majestic America
Line
Travel brief
Getting there: British Airways (0870 850 9850, www.ba.com)
flies to Atlanta, New Orleans and Cincinnati; from £450. For onward flights
to other river-port cities, including Nashville, Memphis and St Louis (from
about £30, one-way), try Sidestep (www.sidestep.co.uk)
or Opodo (www.opodo.co.uk). Cruises:
Majestic America Line (www.majesticamerica.com)
operates the Delta Queen; tickets can be booked through Cruise Portfolio
(020 7292 2387). A three-night round trip from Cincinnati starts at £890pp,
including all meals.
Packages: North America Travel Service (0845 122 8899, www.northamericatravelservice.co.uk)
has three nights in Nashville and a sevennight cruise to Cincinnati on the
Delta Queen from £3,565pp, including flights from London to Nashville and
back from Cincinnati (with Delta via Atlanta), and all meals on the boat. Or
try Kuoni (01306 747002, www.kuoni.co.uk).
Heads of steam: a campaign to save the Delta Queen is under way. For
details, visit www.save-the-delta-queen.org
