In Part 1 of this series, I shared how one innocent question—“What’s next?”—ended with me booking two solo trips within about 14 hours.
In Part 2, I explained why Disneyland Paris felt like the right place to try truly solo travel for the first time.
Now we have reached the second confirmation email—the one for a 12-night transatlantic cruise on a ship I did not particularly love.
Apparently, one impulsive solo booking was not enough.
The cruise appeared while I was planning something else
The original plan was to explore small-group European tours designed for solo travelers. Then I started seriously considering Disneyland Paris. At that point, I was thinking about one solo trip—not two.
That changed when friends mentioned that they planned to book Disney Cruise Line’s westbound transatlantic for the following year.
It was the first day of booking for Pearl Castaway Club members, so they could reserve their cruise before I could. I casually—or perhaps not so casually—said that I was looking at solo trips and might crash their transatlantic.
Their immediate response was, “Please do!”
That was apparently all the encouragement I needed.
I am Platinum, so I had to wait until the next morning to book. In the meantime, I booked Disneyland Paris at around 6:00 Monday evening.
Fewer than 14 hours later, I was trying to secure a stateroom on the Disney Wish.
Booking morning was more stressful than I expected
Disney advertised Platinum booking as opening at 8:00 AM Eastern, but reservations became available slightly earlier.
Fortunately, I was already checking.
Unfortunately, there were very few staterooms left.
The cruise was extremely popular, and availability had already disappeared quickly during the Pearl booking window. By the time Platinum members could reserve, I was not calmly comparing dozens of rooms across every deck and category.
I was looking at a very limited selection and trying to decide before those rooms disappeared too.
I briefly considered booking a verandah. I love having private outdoor space on a cruise, especially during long stretches at sea.
But this is a North Atlantic itinerary. The weather will probably be cooler, and there is no guarantee I would spend enough time on the verandah to justify the additional cost.
Instead, I booked a Category 8B Deluxe Family Oceanview Stateroom on Deck 9 Forward.
I will still have natural light and an ocean view, along with the extra interior space of a Deluxe Family room. Saving some money felt like the more sensible tradeoff for this particular itinerary.
Well, as sensible as booking a 12-night solo transatlantic less than 14 hours after booking another solo international trip can be.
The itinerary was the reason I said yes
The cruise sails from Southampton to New York, with stops in Greenock, Reykjavik, and St. John’s.
There is an overnight call in Reykjavik, which gives us substantially more time to experience Iceland than a typical single-day port visit.
The itinerary will also take me to three countries I have never visited: Scotland, Iceland, and Canada.
Then there are the seven sea days.
You already know how I feel about sea days. I genuinely love them, and a long transatlantic gives me the kind of unhurried cruise experience that shorter itineraries cannot.
There is time to attend activities, read, play trivia, linger over meals, and—if I can find some willing players—play Mahjong, all while enjoying the ship without constantly preparing for another port morning.
This year’s Disney Dream transatlantic also begins in Southampton, but the two itineraries are otherwise very different. Next year’s northern route, the overnight stay in Iceland, the new countries, and the New York ending made this feel like an entirely new trip—not a repeat of the cruise I was already planning to take.
The route was compelling enough to overcome one fairly significant issue.
The cruise is on the Disney Wish.
I did not love the Disney Wish
I have only sailed on the Wish once, on a four-night cruise.
My overall impression was that the ship had many venues, but too many of them felt small compared with similar spaces on the classic and Dream-class ships.
That matters when you love activities as much as I do.
Trivia was a particular frustration. You often needed to arrive very early if you wanted a seat. I do not mind planning ahead for something important, but I do not want every casual activity to require the strategy of securing concert tickets.
The ship sometimes felt as though it had plenty of things happening without enough space for the number of guests who wanted to participate.
That said, my opinion of the Wish is based on one short cruise—and it was not a normal exploration-heavy sailing for me.
We stayed in Concierge, so I spent a meaningful amount of time in the Concierge Lounge and private outdoor spaces. I never made it to the Quiet Cove pool or Cove Café. I do not think I ate at any of the ship’s quick-service restaurants even once.
There are entire parts of the Wish experience that I barely touched.
A 12-night cruise with seven sea days will give me a much better opportunity to understand the ship. I will have time to try the quick-service options, explore the adults-only areas, revisit the entertainment spaces, and see whether the ship feels different when I am not trying to experience it during a compressed four-night itinerary.
I may finish the transatlantic with a new appreciation for the Wish.
I may finish it convinced that my first impression was correct.
Either outcome will make for an interesting article.
The solo price is painful—but the comparison matters
My total fare for the Category 8B Oceanview Stateroom is $5,782.54.
That is effectively close to what the same room would cost for two adults.
Disney Cruise Line bases its single-occupancy pricing on double occupancy, so solo guests generally pay the equivalent of two cruise fares. The total can be slightly lower than the price for two actual guests because I only pay the applicable taxes, fees, and port expenses for one person.
There is no meaningful solo bargain here. I am paying for almost an entire second person who will not be eating dinner, attending shows, or taking up space in the stateroom.
But price is always relative.
When I compare this fare with the amount I typically pay for my share of a Concierge stateroom—even when I am sharing that room with someone—the cost feels much more comparable.
For roughly what I am accustomed to spending on a Concierge cruise, I get a 12-night transatlantic itinerary, my own Deluxe Family Oceanview Stateroom, seven sea days, and visits to three new countries.
I will give up the Concierge Lounge and amenities, but I will gain complete control over my space. I will not need to coordinate sleep schedules, negotiate thermostat settings, or drown out a roommate’s snoring with white noise. I can turn off the lights when I want, wake up when I want, and spend an hour doing absolutely nothing without feeling guilty.
Viewed purely as a solo supplement, the fare is painful.
Viewed against what I already choose to spend on Concierge cruising, it feels much more reasonable—and the independence is genuinely valuable.
I will be solo—but not completely alone
Unlike Disneyland Paris, where I will truly be traveling by myself, this cruise comes with a built-in safety net.
My friends will be onboard.
I will have my own stateroom and the freedom to make my own plans, but there will be familiar people nearby when I want company.
We will link our dining reservations, even though they prefer late dining and I really do not.
I usually want to eat earlier. However, linking dining guarantees that we will spend time together every evening. On a long cruise, that feels worth adjusting my preferred schedule.
Based on how we traveled together on our South Pacific cruise, I am sure we will naturally end up spending time together during the day too. We may attend activities, play trivia, or meet for meals without needing to coordinate every hour in advance.
We are also likely to discuss excursions. On this year’s transatlantic, we already have the same excursions booked on a couple of port days. I know they would welcome me if I wanted to join their plans next year.
The difference is that I will not have to.
I can book the excursion that interests me most, spend a port day with them, or decide that I want to explore independently. I can be social without surrendering the freedom that made solo travel appealing in the first place.
That combination may be ideal for my first solo cruise: my own room, my own decisions, and people I trust somewhere on the ship.
A cruise may be the easiest place to travel alone
In some ways, a cruise removes many of the logistics that make solo international travel intimidating.
Once I board the Wish, my hotel moves with me. I do not need to navigate between cities, find a new restaurant for every meal, or determine how I am getting back to my room at the end of each day.
There are organized activities when I want something to do and quiet spaces when I want to be alone. Dinner is already arranged. Entertainment is steps away. Crew Members are available if something goes wrong.
Even the sea days—which might sound lonely to someone else—are one of the biggest reasons I am excited.
I already enjoy reading, writing, wandering the ship, and attending activities. I will also bring my travel Mahjong set and hope I can find a few willing players during those seven sea days. None of that requires arriving with a built-in travel companion.
The harder part may be resisting the feeling that I should constantly be doing something simply because the cruise is long and expensive.
Solo travel gives me the freedom to spend the day exactly how I want. I need to remember that choosing an afternoon nap or several quiet hours with a book is using that freedom—not wasting the trip.
I still have an escape hatch
There is one particularly convenient detail in the timing of these two trips.
Disneyland Paris happens before the cruise’s paid-in-full date.
If I return from Paris having discovered that I absolutely hate traveling alone, I can cancel the transatlantic before final payment.
I do not think that will happen.
I suspect I will love solo travel—possibly a little too much.
But knowing that I do not have to make an irreversible decision before completing my first solo trip makes the second booking feel less reckless.
The cruise is reserved. The stateroom is mine. I can spend the next several months planning and looking forward to it without pretending that I have already proved solo travel works for me.
This trip is both solo and social
When I first described these as two solo trips, I knew the experiences would be very different.
Disneyland Paris will be the purest version of traveling alone. I will be responsible for every decision from the moment I leave home until I return.
The transatlantic will give me more flexibility.
I can join friends for dinner, excursions, trivia, or a random afternoon drink. I can also go back to my own stateroom, choose a completely different activity, or spend a sea day alone without affecting anyone else’s plans.
That feels less like being alone and more like having autonomy.
Perhaps that is what I am really looking for in solo travel.
I do not need to prove that I can avoid other people for 12 days. I want to discover what travel feels like when I can choose company because I genuinely want it—not because every decision must be made as a group.
The itinerary won
I did not book this cruise because the Disney Wish was calling to me.
I booked it because the itinerary was.
Scotland. An overnight in Iceland. Canada. Seven sea days. A transatlantic crossing that ends in New York.
The route offered too many things I wanted to experience to dismiss it because of one four-night impression of the ship.
Maybe the Wish deserves another chance. Maybe a longer sailing will reveal the things I missed the first time. Maybe I will learn how to navigate those undersized venues and finally discover the quick-service food, adult pool, and Cove Café.
Or maybe I will spend 12 nights collecting highly specific evidence about why I prefer the other Disney ships.
Either way, I get to cross the Atlantic, visit three new countries, spend seven days at sea, and find out what it feels like to cruise with friends while still traveling on my own terms.
That seems worth waking up early—and paying for an invisible roommate—to book.
Would you book an incredible itinerary on a ship you did not love, or would the ship be a dealbreaker?
Comments