Sweat, Sail Away, and Shank: A Lazy Day on the River

Morning Gym Guilt (and Redemption)

Docked in Pauillac until 1pm, we had grand ambitions for an early start. I woke up at 8am full of intention—ready to conquer the onboard gym. Five minutes later, I decided that intention could wait, and rolled over for another 90 minutes of blissful snoozing.

By 9:30am, Ros was dressed and ready to hit the gym, the guilt from Ros was enough to drag me into gym gear. The fitness centre, while compact, had everything needed to work off last night’s indulgences—and possibly tomorrow’s as well. I jumped on the rowing machine, pumped a few weights, and sweated buckets. And I mean buckets—the gym was basically a tropical greenhouse with dumbbells. A combination of bright sun pouring through the windows and minimal airflow had me wondering if I’d stumbled into an experimental spa treatment instead.

Still, a workout is a workout—and I left feeling both virtuous and overheated. Ros was totally worn out and wanted breakfast.

Banana Pancakes and Iceland Dreams

Freshened up (still sweaty) and slightly more awake, we headed to Azure Café for a casual mid-morning brunch. I went straight for the banana pancakes—soft, sweet, and stacked with zero regret. Ros, being more sensible, had poached eggs on toast, although I noticed her eyeing my syrupy tower more than once.

We ended up talking at the table with a lovely couple we’d chatted to earlier in the trip. Conversation turned to Iceland, and they absolutely lit up—throwing out more travel tips than a Lonely Planet guide on speed. Waterfalls, glaciers, hidden lagoons—you name it. If we follow even half their suggestions, we might need to extend the trip by a few weeks (and invest in more thermals).

Bye Bye Pauillac: Bow Time

At 1pm, we began our gentle glide away from Pauillac. We joined a cheerful group of passengers at the bow for the traditional Scenic sail away—cocktails in hand, music playing softly in the background, and the French countryside slowly sliding past.

The Garonne River was like glass. No swell. No wind. Just calm water reflecting the sky and vineyards as we made our way toward open sea. It was the kind of moment that makes you pause, look around, and realise: yep, this is the life.

Later on when we were out in the Atlantic Ocean proper, it was eerily calm. The water was a deep dark blue/black and was flat. It reminded us of a scene from Pirates of the Caribbean.

A Massage Menu Worth Repeating

The afternoon was reserved for a little onboard pampering. I went for a hot stone massage—a blissful hour of warm basalt stones gliding across sore muscles. Somewhere around minute 20, I reached a semi-conscious state. Ten out of ten, would do again.

Ros booked in for the Inner Calm massage—equal parts aromatherapy and zen—and followed it up with a Therabody session on her legs to help with ankle swelling. Watching her get space-age recovery therapy while sipping crystal-soaked water oddly futuristic. She’s now lobbying for a home version.

While waiting for Ros to finish her leg therapy, I opted to see what dessert had. Would today be the day I find the chocolate dome mousse? Nope. I did find an apple mousse dome though that was great too.

Sunset Cruising and Butler Dining

With the ship continuing toward Concarneau, we opted for a private dinner in our room. Our butler, who makes everything look effortlessly elegant, set the table for two near our balcony. It felt like we were dining in our own floating fine-dining suite—with better views and zero need to wear shoes.

Ros started with a “shrimp cocktail” that looked like it came straight from a retro cookbook in the best possible way—plump, tangy, and nicely chilled. Her main was a perfectly cooked salmon, flaky and full of flavour.

I leaned into the lamb: kofta to start, tender and spicy, followed by a fall-apart lamb shank with mustard mash that might have stolen the whole show. Honestly, I’d book the cruise again just for that lamb shank and mash.

Dessert wasn’t subtle: a decadent red velvet cake paired with Black Forest gelato. We weren’t sure whether to eat it slowly or face-plant into it. We chose slowly. Mostly.

Drift Mode: Activated

As the sun dipped below the horizon, we left Pauillac behind and began gliding gently toward Brittany. The river turned to sea, the countryside slipped away, and the sky softened into shades of lavender and gold.

No excursions. No alarms. Just a warm evening breeze, some post-massage serenity, and the hum of a ship steadily carving its way through the Atlantic.

Tomorrow, we arrive in Concarneau. But today was all about catching our breath—and maybe, just maybe, trying to figure out if we could get one of those butlers at home.