I’d say to Dave Schilling that misfortune is part and parcel of life (The hantavirus debacle raises a key question: why would anyone go on a cruise?, 16 May). Is driving too much of a risk for him? Eating out? Boarding a plane? I fractured my left wrist in 2019, four days before embarkation on a cruise to Iceland. This entailed a 12-hour night shift of indescribable purgatory, along with hordes of other stricken souls at A&E. I joined endless queues, was shunted from pillar to post and eventually emerged the next morning, traumatised and with my wrist plastered. I cancelled the Icelandic cruise.
Fast-forward to 2025, and I board a ship to set sail to Iceland at last, Covid preventing it in the meantime. And guess what – I fall and break my left wrist, this time while admiring a geyser. I am ushered to the ship’s medical centre post-haste, and immediately examined by two charming doctors in naval uniforms, far more impressive than the NHS’s boring scrubs. X-rays confirm that my wrist is fractured, and I come to the conclusion that Iceland doesn’t want me there!
The wrist is manipulated by these charming gentlemen to bring it back into shape, with me under the effects of ketamine, AKA (to me) travelling over endless undulating deserts with purple skies. I doubt if anybody else on my cruise will have this privilege. I am then taken to my cabin by wheelchair, free to enjoy the rest of my wonderful cruise.
Schilling would do well to make lemonade when he’s bombarded by lemons. However, he seems to be the sort of person who stays in bed all day to minimise any risk to himself. I hope he doesn’t fall out.
Christine Gawthorpe
Stafford
• My husband and I developed Covid on a Fred Olsen cruise just after restrictions were lifted, even though we’d tested negative before embarking. The treatment we received was fantastic. We were isolated in a cabin with a balcony and all the trimmings – TV, free wifi, library books, bathrobes, binoculars. The chef rang us every day to ask us what we wanted to eat, which was delivered to the cabin, with our choice of wine if we wanted. The medics rang us regularly to see how we were and came round to test us. We were far better looked after than if we’d been at home, and by the time we arrived back in the UK we’d recovered.
Pauline Cowen
Crich, Derbyshire
• First, not all cruises are the same – some are on large ships, some small. Second, hygiene is stressed on cruises. I was recently on a Disney cruise with 1,000 other guests. Before serving a meal, handwashing was arranged. With instructions. Third, for some, the idea of travelling and packing every morning is not appealing. The idea of staying the night in the same place while you move from location to location is very much easier. Fourth, Dave Schilling should learn to swim. Many others who have similar fears as he does have become swimmers, overcoming their fear.
Mary Graham
Gaithersburg, Maryland, US
• Dave Schilling, at the risk of pointing out the obvious, the one thing that a cruise offers you right now, probably unavailable on dry land, is extended time with your mother, who, as you say, is in her 80s. I’d go. In fact, I’d book it now.
Claire Reynolds
Pirton, Hertfordshire
• Billy Connolly once described cruises as “prison, with the option of drowning”.
Stuart Samuel
Rhyl, Denbighshire
