Despite fascinating ports of call, crisp service, and a fleet of beautiful ships, boutique French cruise line Compagnie du Ponant still has room for improvement, discovers Nick Walton.
Small, sexy, and with a raked bow and a sleek red racing stripe down each flank, our ship, Le Boreal, looks more like a Ferrari than a cruise ship – although being a distinctively French vessel belonging to an oh-so-French cruise line, I suppose it would have to be a Bugatti. Nevertheless, the effect is the same on the Neva River in the heart of St Petersburg, where we berth, dwarfed by other “small” cruise liners, within a shot glass’ throw of the world-famous Hermitage museum.
The French are known for their flair and their sense of style, and both are found on the vessels of Compagnie du Ponant (today known simply as Ponant) a small ship cruise company that’s blurring the lines between luxury and expeditionary cruising. Le Boreal, catering to just 264 passengers, splits its endless summers between adventure cruising to the Arctic and Antarctic circles, and more conventional destinations like the Baltic, where she offers French cruisers the comforts of home and non-French a unique take on small ship cruising.
Le Boreal’s distinctive lines and charcoal-on-cream paint job come in handy in Stockholm, where my wife Maggie and I are set to join the ship on an eight-night cruise clockwise around the Baltic to Copenhagen. I spy the ship berthed beside the fashionable restaurants at Skeppsbrokajen, some distance from where the cruise ticket and our hotel concierge’s confirmation says it should be, leading to a small debate in the back of the taxi. The logistical dilemma isn’t a great way to start a cruise in a strange town (and when we mention the discrepancy to the ship’s officers we are met with a smile and congenial sigh reminiscent of a maritime pepe le pew), but we’re soon on board and enjoying the view from our cabin over the red, yellow, and terracotta dollhouses of the Old City.
Le Boreal has everything you would expect from a luxury cruising yacht. Cabins are smaller than other ships positioning themselves in the boutique luxury segment, but are distinctly more contemporary in their décor, with flatscreen televisions mounted on ash-colored walls, and silver, white, and red linens on the bed. Our Premium Stateroom’s bathroom, always an exercise in efficiency on any ship, is split, meaning more privacy but airplane-esque confines. However, the balcony is spacious, there’s plenty of storage space, and the room is more than comfortable for a couple on a week-long cruise.
Our cabin shares deck five with a modern fitness center and a small spa that offers salon treatments and indulgent scrubs and wraps, while deck six boasts the Grill Restaurant, a buffet eatery with alfresco seating, and at the bow, an elegant if rarely used cocktail bar with access to a forward open deck that’s perfect for port departures and arrivals. On deck four is an intimate theatre, with the main bar on deck three and the fine-dining Gastronomic Restaurant on deck two, dressed in champagne and cream.
We watch Stockholm glide past from an observation deck on level seven to get the best view as the ship makes its way east into the Stockholm Archipelago, a 30,000 strong clutch of wooded islands that is very much a cruising destination in its own right. We pass towering brick mills that have been converted into luxury apartments, sleepy coastal communities of brightly painted homes, and the grand estates of Stockholm’s dynasties, before entering the wild scenery of Ängsö National Park. The evening sunshine, bright well towards midnight at this time of year, glistens off the water and onto the sleek lines of the ship. It’s a magical experience.
We’re not alone on our first night cruising to Helsinki, with a trio of towering cruise liners following in our wake, weaving their way between the tiny rocky islands and into sea mists that form as we enter Finland’s Archipelago National Park. The thick fog slows our progress and we arrive in cool, grey Helsinki a little behind schedule, leaving us just three hours to discover the Finish capital.
It proves to be time enough to soak in the simplistic beauty of the Helsinki Cathedral, which stands watch over the city’s port district, and to visit the lively fish markets on the quay, where visitors can buy everything from local caviar and cured salmon to meringues the size of softballs.
The weather has cleared as we navigate the entrance to St Petersburg’s Neva River, a fascinating industrial landscape of brutish-looking icebreakers and battered-looking submarines. We berth at the Blagoveshchensk Bridge, the first permanently straddling the city’s main river and one of 800 that span its many canals and tributaries. Beside us is the C-189, a floating submarine museum, and across a street crowded with commuter traffic, a stunning Russian Orthodox church studded with gold-dipped domes that catch the morning sun.
Excursions are where Compagnie du Ponant seems to struggle. At each port, guests not on official excursions have to fend for themselves, with nothing in the way of signposting or ground staff to help point the way. While this initially leads to a little camaraderie and plenty of confusion (four guests almost missed the ship the Helsinki trying to find their way back, the gangway already lifted from the dock when they arrived), it also gave the sense that Le Boreal is simply a floating hotel, its staff having little interest in what happens beyond the ship’s gleaming hull.
Once through passport checks in St Petersburg (guests on cruise excursions don’t need a Russian visa but are restricted to the approved itinerary) our group of four English-speaking passengers and a group of eight French guests are hustled into a minivan we promptly nickname “the ashtray”. The French guests insist on using the microphone, despite the cramped confines, and after several knife-sharp glares and bouts of “shhhh!” from the French contingent, our sheepish guide Gregory gives up trying to give any commentary as we brave the afternoon traffic. The camaraderie, it seems, is gone.
The stunning beauty of The Church of the Savior on Spilled Blood, a St Petersburg icon marking the spot where Tsar Alexander II was assassinated in 1881, helps make up for the discomfort en route. Despite its gilded interiors being packed with summertime cruise passengers from across the globe, the intricate craftsmanship of this mesmerizing chapel, with its 7,500sqm of bright blue mosaics and its deep-set domes towering above the crowds, is a highlight of any visit to this beautiful city. Across town, St Isaac’s Cathedral is equally busy but equally astounding. The largest Russian Orthodox cathedral in the city and the fourth largest basilica in the world, its interior is ablaze with golden light, the air filled with the resounding echo of a thousand excited visitors. Gregory whispers the history of the Auguste de Montferrand-designed cathedral to our little group as we stand 100 meters below the gold-plated dome and pose for photos before the towering bronze gates.
Back at the dock, the few staff on the ‘Russia’ side of the passport office know nothing of the ‘free time’ described in the itinerary, of the ‘nearby flea market,’ or the ‘shopping opportunities on the banks of the Neva’, all prescribed in the tour details. Reluctant to be caught ashore where we shouldn’t be without a Russian visa, we head back on board disheartened.
We have better luck the next day; the Ashtray is replaced with a modern coach with room enough for linguistic cohabitation, and our party of four is led by a fearless young guide named Larissa, who answers all our questions during the 40-minute drive out to the royal village of Pushkin. After the narrow confines of the city, the countryside opens up around us in a patchwork of green and yellow under a blazing summer sun. The ornate, regal homes of Tsarskoye Selo, the royal commune at Pushkin founded in the 18th century as a summer residence, peek out through copses of silver birch trees as we arrive at the Catherine Palace.
Designed by architect Francesco Bartolomeo Rastrelli in 1752 for Empress Elizabeth, the Palace’s 300-meter long baroque façade is almost as impressive as the equally long line of cruise passengers waiting to enter. Fortunately, Larissa weaves our tiny group through the queue, whispers to a host at the entrance and we’re in ahead of everyone, to explore the Palace’s cavernous, gilded ballroom with its towering mirrors and ceramic chimneys; intimate drawing rooms filled with fascinating antiques; and to bathe in the warm hues of the famed Amber Room, a tiny chamber decorated with semi-precious stones.
We’re greeted with clear skies and glorious sunshine in Tallin, the ancient and picturesque capital of Estonia, where we join our last booked excursion, a fun but clumsily-led bicycle tour through the Old City that quickly has us as public enemy number one among drivers and pedestrians alike. In beautiful, intimate Visby, on the Swedish island of Gotland, we soak up the sun at a local beer garden, Le Boreal looking right at home among the superyachts berthed in the tiny harbor nearby, but in Gdansk, in Poland, we’re again marooned at an industrial pier far from the city, with no information on the destination or how to reach it. Fortunately, the local cab drivers love to play tour guide.
Of course cruising the Baltic, with so many historic ports in close proximity, is all about the destination, and life aboard Le Boreal reflects that. There are few activities on offer when the ship is sailing, and even fewer announced in English (only about 60 percent of all announcements on our cruise are translated to English). The post-dinner dance troop performances are not bad considering the confines of the theatre and main bar, but the lounge acts that play during the day are agonizing, ensuring we make the most of our comfortable cabin, the gym, and the spa between meals and shore visits.
Dining also plays a central role on a Compagnie du Ponant cruise, as you might expect of a French line, which is why it was so surprising how average the food of the Grill Restaurant was. Despite great service from a band of charming Balinese waiters, loosely-themed lunch and dinner buffets (the food on the “Asian” night even made the crew snicker) reminiscent of a boarding school dining room or corporate cafeteria play a very poor cousin to the more refined cuisine of the Gastronomic Restaurant downstairs, with its chatty sommelier and crisp service. Although the culinary team does very little to reflect the destinations we’re visiting in the evening fare, dinner in the elegant dining room is always a highlight of the day.
As a committed cruising fan, the Baltic’s thriving ports of call are the perfect destinations to experience by ship, and Compagnie du Ponant’s sleek Le Boreal is an elegant vessel on which to do it. But if the company is truly intent on attracting more passengers – including non-French speakers and loyal cruisers from other lines – it might want to take a leaf from French finance minister Laurent Fabius, who recently told the French people they need to be more hospitable to foreigners.
And in the case of Le Boreal, that means on and off the ship.
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