After two decades cruising in Alaska, Europe, Mexico and the Caribbean, I felt giddy about embarking on an adventure from my hometown, no flights required. Despite the cramped quarters inside my brother-in-law’s Ford Mustang as he drove my husband, Tony, and me the 1.9 miles from our home to the dock at the Port of Milwaukee, nothing could bring me down, not even his soundtrack of choice for the ride: Gordon Lightfoot’s “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.”
I grew up along Lake Michigan, and the Great Lakes are familiar. So while I was looking forward to this excursion onboard the Viking Polaris with ports of call in Michigan (Mackinac Island and Sault Ste. Marie); Canada’s Ontario province; Algoma, Wisconsin; and Chicago, I didn’t expect to be wowed. But when I returned to Milwaukee nine days later, it was as if I had seen the Great Lakes for the first time.
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As the 378-passenger boat left the dock, I zipped our cabin’s retractable window down and breathed in non-salty Great Lakes air as we curled behind Santiago Calatrava’s soaring white wings at the Milwaukee Art Museum. The cabin was comfortable and smartly designed, but Tony and I quickly realized the view would be better from the bow’s two-level deck. With the wind whipping my hair, I felt like I was on a private yacht as I waved Milwaukee goodbye.
With our hometown fading from sight, we took some time to explore the ship. Nearly every wall is a window, so whether we were dining in a restaurant or lying in bed, there was always a view. Viking was founded by Torstein Hagen (a Norwegian), and the Scandinavian influence is evident – think light woods and clean lines. The design felt thoughtful and elegant.
Things To Know
I was on Viking’s new, nine-night “Great Lakes Treasures” itinerary (round-trip out of Milwaukee, between May and October in 2026 and 2027, $10,995+). The company offers other Great Lakes tours, as well as tours that extend beyond the Great Lakes, like a bucket list, 62-day journey, embarking from Milwaukee, with stops in Canada, the Bahamas, Peru, Chile and Antarctica, before culminating in Argentina.
Five other cruise lines operate Great Lakes cruises out of Milwaukee: Victory, Pearl Seas, Hapag Lloyd, Ponant and American Cruise Lines.
It was already evening, and our focus turned to food. We chose the ship’s Manfredi’s, which was billed as Italian but also global – case in point, my linguini ai fruitti di mare folded in Norwegian lobster, a tiny-but-spiny cousin to the Maine lobster. After tiramisu, it was off to a lecture about Viking’s science partnerships – so deep is the company’s commitment to science, that a portion of passengers’ fares goes to funding research. If you’d told me that after dinner I’d be seated in a lecture hall, not at a bar, I’d have called you crazy. Yet each topic enthralled, with Ph.D.-level scientists and historians telling you about the upcoming port. Case in point: On an excursion in a part of Lake Huron, I peered over the side of our Zodiac boat and saw the China, a two-masted schooner that sank in 1883. I could hardly believe it – It looked just like the slides in the previous evening’s lecture about Great Lakes shipwrecks.
On our first full day, we slept in, rousing just in time to see the Mackinac Bridge in the Straits of Mackinac. We threw on our puffy vests and headed to the bow. As we sailed underneath the “Mighty Mac,”we listened to a captivating talk about its history, presented by a Southern New Hampshire University associate professor.
Riding around Mackinac Island on rented bicycles was our DIY shore excursion and allowed a glimpse of more than fudge shops. At The Inn at Stonecliffe, we learned of a familial connection to Milwaukee’s own Michael Cudahy: Cudahy’s great uncle (also named Michael) founded the property in 1904 as his private home.
Back on the ship, the food was decadent. At the World Cafe (code for “the buffet,” but no one called it that), I quickly became hooked on all-you-can-eat sushi. I delighted in Mamsen’s, a serve-yourself cafe that offered many Norwegian pastries, including their version of a kringle (sorry, Racine, this one was thicker). In the evenings, when I wasn’t in the lecture hall, a bar with a speakeasy vibe was my favorite haunt. Hidden behind what looked like a crew door, it hosted intimate talks by expedition guides.
Tony and I quickly fell into a rhythm. After each day in port (“all aboard” was always before dinner), we’d visit the glass-enclosed wellness center, where a pool-size hot tub was among the features. It was a hard “no” to the Snow Grotto, though – as Upper Midwesterners, why would we want to rub snow over our bodies?
Sailing was smooth throughout, sometimes so smooth that I had to look out the window to see if we were moving! Shore excursions ranged from outdoorsy (kayaks, Zodiac boats and special- operations boats are stored in the ship’s hangar) to cultural (in Chicago, you can take a deep-dish pizza tour or learn about the 1893 World’s Fair). At a fish fry in Killarney, Ontario, we were greeted with live music, as well as Canadian wine and beer. In a few ports, the ship’s two submarines (“George” and “Ringo”) took passengers below the surface. One woman who tried it called it a life-changing experience.
Throughout the journey, the views from the ship were spectacular. A narrow passage through the St. Marys River after Sault Ste. Marie reminded me of a river cruise in France. But that was nothing compared to dropping anchor in Lake Michigan, just beyond Navy Pier, and seeing Chicago from the water for the first time. As a Chicago-area native, I don’t need a map to get around its streets, but this was uncharted territory. I watched from my cabin as the sun rose and storm clouds rolled across the skyscrapers. Soon, these buildings were bathed in golden light. By the time we disembarked, it was 80 degrees. After walking the Lakefront Trail and through The Art Institute of Chicago’s Impressionist galleries, I yearned to return to the ship early – to enjoy this newfound perspective.
The next morning, Tony and I were back in Milwaukee, ready to disembark. The nine nights on board had taught me a tremendous amount about these lakes I thought I knew: the underlying science, why Indigenous people view them as sacred, their unique microclimates and so much more.
As we said our goodbyes to the crew, it felt like an episode of “The Love Boat,” with warm feelings all around. Back at my house a half hour later, I already missed them.
