BIDDING FAREWELL TO THE ‘LINDBLAD EXPLORER’

By: John G. Nash

ALTHOUGH I never sailed aboard her, I felt a strange per-sonal loss upon seeing the images of the M/V Explorer lying on her side, sinking amidst ice flows in the Bransfield Strait on November 23rd, 2007. I first met the “most famous adven-ture-travel cruise ship in the world” far from the Antarctic, which was its normal cruise destina-tion.

It was in the early 70s when Lars-Eric Lindblad decided to use his ice-hardened Explorer to open the essentially un-heard of, tropical islands of the Seychelles to cruise tourism. I was in Seychelles at the time, and was fortunate enough to meet Lindblad, who’d rather nice home built on the side of the mountain overlooking Victoria Harbor, where his pride and joy would tie up when visiting the islands.

I enjoyed many cocktails there, by the side of the first swimm-ing pool in Seychelles, while listening to Lars detailing his exciting plans for adventure travel. There then also were opportunities to visit aboard what we called the “Lindblad Explorer”. Most often, those were dinner invitations, but occasionally we were there just for cocktails and conversation.

In any event, in the process, I believe that I saw more of that special little ship than did most of its regular passengers. Because I had been a crew member on ocean-going steam ships in the 1940s, I had long ago developed a special love for the sea and the ships that sailed across it. It was therefore easy for me to become personally involved with that brave, “little red ship.”

“Little” was certainly the operative word when describing the Explorer. If you think that your cabin during your cruise in the Caribbean was cramped, you’d consider it to be spacious compared to those on the Explorer, where it wasn’t reasonably possible for both occupants to dress for dinner at the same time, and where a corpulent traveler might have trouble using the “complete bath.” The ship did advertise a swimming pool, but it was about the size and utility of one of those inflatable models made for the kiddies. Public rooms, while also necessarily small, were attractive and comfortable.

The cozy dining room, while appropriately small in size, offered 5-star meals and service. The only thing not “small” about the Explorer was the well-justified prices of its unique, adventure cruises, which, figured on a daily basis, were among the highest in the business. Yes, I felt a personal loss upon hearing about the ship’s having been holed on ice while off the west coast of the Antarctic Peninsula, but I was also amused to read the related statement by Susan Hayes, of G.A.P. Adventures (operator of the ship at the time), in which she mentioned that “This has never happened to us.” Well, golly gee, could it really have been possible for a ship to have previously sunk? Although past, related incidents may not have taken place while the adventure vessel was being operated for G.A.P., the Explorer has had a history of near disasters. In December 1971, it was grounded on rocks in the Gerlache Strait, requiring rescue of the passengers by the Chilean Navy.

A few months later, it went aground again, this time in Admiralty Bay, by King George Island. Then again, in Decem-ber 1979, it hit the rocks off Weinche Island. So, Hayes’ public display of surprise at the ship’s collision with another immovable object is naïve, at best. It opera-ted in dangerous waters, which are part of that “adventure-travel” label.

God rest the Explorer and its creator, Lars-Eric Lindblad, who passed on to his reward some 14 years ago.

(John G. Nash is a widely traveled journalist and photographer, currently based in west-central Florida)

Editor’s Note:
In 1983 Times Books, a division of the New York Times Book Company published the story  of Lars-Eric Lindblad, the ebullient Swedish- American voyager, showman and scholar who revolutionized travel turning it into ‘travel adventure’ and opening-up the world where tourists had never been before. Against this philosophy, Lars-Eric Lindblad was the first person to bring international tourism to Seychelles (1968) when Seychelles had no airport and was almost cut-off from the rest of the world. In his book, ‘Passport to Anywhere’, Lars-Eric Lindblad has told his story about promoting the Seychelles and about the two political leaders of that time – Mr James R. Mancham and Mr France Albert Rene. Please see relevant excerpts from the book on pages 32, 34 & 35.