Steamboating On The Mississippi - Delta Queen Steamboat Company's voyages

Accent on Living, Winter, 2000 by Andy Vladimir

How does it stack up to other cruises?

Arguably, the best cruise for anyone with a mobility problem of any kind is one of the Delta Queen Steamboat Company's voyages down the Mississippi River. There are so many things that these cruises have going for them that the negatives are inconsequential. That's about the strongest recommendation I've ever given to any cruise line, but I'm prepared to stand behind it. Here's why.

To begin with, these aren't really cruises at all. They don't venture out into the sea so there's less chance of experiencing motion sickness. The vessels aren't even cruise ships -- they are genuine steampowered, paddle-wheel riverboats. We took our first one in September, a seven-day cruise from St. Paul to St. Louis. Like other steamboaters, I expect we'll be back.

Unlike traditional cruises, with their elaborate check-in procedures, our cab pulled up to the dock in St. Paul and we literally just strolled aboard the American Queen. At 7 p.m. with our full complement of 436 passengers and an all-American crew of 180, we pulled away from the pier to the accompaniment of a calliope playing "Dixie."

The ship takes a little getting used to. It wasn't like anything we'd ever seen. Although the American Queen is a new vessel, built in 1995, it is a close reproduction of an earlier grand steamboat, the J.M. White, that sailed up and down the Mississippi in the late 1800's. That means Victorian decor -- all the way. The ship is a colossal floating Victorian palace that the company rightfully refers to as a trip back in time. There are no television sets in your cabin, expect instead brass beds with floral spreads and lacy dust ruffles, tiffany-style lamps attached to rich mahogany cabinets, crystal chandeliers hung from pressed tin ceilings, plaster Victorian reliefs and genuine antiques or period reproductions. Get the picture?

There isn't a piece of modern furniture anywhere except for the plastic deck chairs. The decks themselves are unique -- every outside room on the ship opens out onto the deck -- you just throw open your doors and you're sitting on what feels like a front porch floating down the river.

The ship has two decks, chandeliers, stained glass halls, and the dining room looks like it came out of the St. Louis Louisiana Purchase Exposition of 1904. We found the menu somewhat ordinary but wholesome and well prepared.

There's also a Grand Salon, which is designed to replicate a river town opera house which most of the larger settlements had. It's a fine showroom and theater, somewhat reminiscent of Ford's Theater in Washington, D.C. There's no flesh and feathers entertainment on this ship -- expect Broadway show tunes sung by a small groups of young and enthusiastic entertainers, jazz ensembles, sing-along nights, and the kind of entertainment Mom and Dad used to enjoy. In fact Mom and Dad undoubtedly would enjoy it today, if you decide to bring them along. Therein lies the secret of why this ship is so accessible. The steamboat voyage experience appeals most to the senior generation and the ship was designed with that in mind. There are wide passages and easy doors to open throughout. The two elevators are adequate for the small number of passengers and the traffic flow -- there was never a long wait in the seven days we were aboard. Because this is a small ship -- only 418 feet (about half the length of a modern cruise ship), even persons with walkers or canes can get from one end to the other easily. The American Queen has nine wheelchair accessible bedrooms in all categories from outside superior cabins to inside cabins. Ours had ample room to maneuver my Amigo scooter, a wide bathroom with a tub and shower seat, and two entrances -- from the deck or from the passageway.

One of the best parts of the voyage for me was the port of call. As a veteran cruiser I am resigned to the fact that most foreign ports are not wheelchair accessible and I either stay on the ship or make special arrangements. The steamboater has no such constraints. Every morning we would pull alongside a new town, lower the gangplank (which was always a gentle slope either up or down) and we would just walk off. In most cases, our ship's landing was right in or within a few blocks of the center of town so it was no problem to visit some of the attractions. Every town we stopped in had ramped curbs and sidewalks.

Where the town was a little further away the ship ran free shuttles back and forth. And of course there were tours. At every stop the ship offered a variety of tours. Some of these tours were more accessible than others. But given advance notice the line can make individual arrangements so that if you can't transfer to a bus or sightseeing trolley, an individual ramp van can be rented with a guide for a few hours. At Winona, Minnesota there was a city tour. Winona was founded in 1851 and became a thriving lumber town. It's the kind of pretty small town in America's heartland that could be a movie set for an Andy Hardy movie.