As I walked to the office, excited to finalize more itineraries, a What’s App message from Sara stopped me in my tracks. The WHO had declared a pandemic and travel advisories were being issued. There was nothing more we could do; we were done. Shortly after, Scott sent an email formalizing the inevitable. Our voyage would end in Cape Town. There would be no field classes or programs, and voyagers would be asked to disembark and fly home as soon as possible.

Suddenly, and for the first time on the voyage, there was nothing pressing to do. I wandered, soaking in the sun and the activity on the ship. The fatigue, fear, adrenaline and anxious anticipation welled in my eyes, occasionally escaping to my face. At the top of the stairs on Deck 9, the floor to ceiling map of our route that had been lovingly redrawn with every diversion by Madam’s staff would need to be whited out one more time.

Memories of the next few days blur. In-country plans had been thwarted, but even more significant was the loss of time to experience traditions and rituals on the ship. There would be no crew talent show or alumni ball. No time for barbecues and ship family gatherings or for games, karaoke and sing-a-longs in the Fritz, and we wouldn’t get to hear Ben, political science faculty, former Christie’s auctioneer, and delightful human being lead the fundraiser auction Mom and Kathy had worked so hard to develop. There were so many conversations I had planned to have, and evening seminars I’d hoped to attend.

The stress impacted the crew as well. They were worried about their families across the globe. They would all sail on to Las Palmas, and beyond that the future was uncertain. They too faced loss — of the joy of sharing their talents with the shipboard community, of their own time off in port, and of relationships cut short. Yet, they went about the business of making sure we were all well, offering their characteristic smiles and genuine kindness.

Voyagers processed their grief in silence and in conversation, alone and together, and gradually, organically, began to take action to create a meaningful end of voyage. Students shared smoothies and sundaes on the pool deck and lay on the floor reminiscing and signing maps. We shopped for last minute souvenirs as an excuse to spend time with Percy and Tom in the bookstore. We gathered on Deck 9 to savor the views of unending blue water and deep oranges and reds as the sun rose and set on an undisturbed horizon. We took group selfies and ship family pictures, trying in some way to capture the value of the relationships we’d built. We welcomed the familiarity of Daniel’s continued calls to attention at 11 a.m. and 5 p.m. when he announced the all-ship picture, invited us all to wear our alumni ball formal wear to a barbecue in the dining hall, and updated us on disembarkation instructions. Students and the shipboard community created an impromptu graduation ceremony, and staculty and lifelong learners organized sing-a-longs in the Fritz.

Chris, Ciara and I went about the business of emailing apologies and gratitude to community partners, taking inventory, and packing up the field office. Chris prepared and Ciara proofread the final voyage “green sheet.” Our final “Logistical Pre-port” in the Union brought laughter and tears. Daniel led with humor and grace. Messages from Scott and Deans Sue, Gene and Mari were heartfelt and on-point, Dr. Mark danced, and Chris, in his typical, unselfish leadership style, invited Ciara and me on stage, so we could also share our gratitude and love and take a whole-ship selfie. As always, Captain Kostas was charming as he announced the close of the voyage to applause and declarations of love from the crowd.

Early on the morning of March 14, the fog was thick, obscuring any view of land as we gathered on the deck attempting to watch us come alongside one more time. It slowly lifted as we rounded the Cape of Good Hope, and just as we were trying to identify a fin circling the ship that turned out to be a very large ray, we slowed to a halt. It was impossible not to speculate. Was South Africa denying us entry? Shortly, Daniel announced we were only being delayed by wind and fog; a phenomenon not uncommon when sailing into Cape Town. Later, during a small window of calm, the engines rumbled, and we made our way to the dock.

One of the advantages of working in the field office is getting off the ship early in order to dispatch trips. While there were no excursions planned for this port, ISE did provide airport shuttles, so Chris, Ciara and I were able to meet Cherylee, our remarkable tour operator, and stand outside directing students to the shuttle or their Uber cars. I was grateful for the opportunity for last minute hugs and good-byes.

Mom and I planned to stay on the ship until the 16^th so I could continue to help with dispatch and to give us time to pack and mentally prepare to leave. My Chris at home helped change our flights from Amsterdam to Cape Town, and we decided that since we may not ever get back to South Africa, we would stay and enjoy Cape Town for a week before returning home. Unfortunately, and yet again, the virus had other ideas. Alerts rolled in via text and email about borders closing and flights being cancelled. As it was becoming less and less certain how and when we would be able to get home, ISE was strongly urging everyone to leave as soon as possible. Throughout the voyage, every decision they had made to date, though doubted and questioned by others, had proved to be spot on, so it made no sense to doubt them now. We might be able to spend a week in South Africa, but what if flights were cancelled and we couldn’t get home? What if we got sick while there? The uncertainties were too big. With the support of Scott and Bruce, and some scheduling support from Chris, Mom and I made the decision to change our flight to depart with Scott on the 17^th.

Though short, our time in Cape Town was special. Mom and I stayed in the Victoria and Alfred Hotel on the V & A Waterfront with a beautiful view. We savored a spectacular lunch with local fish and wine at Baia and explored the area, enjoying musical performances and a ride on the Cape Wheel. While waiting for the draw bridge to close, an African family handed their baby to Mom and reveled in taking their picture together. John and Herbert, who were staying at the same hotel, took us to dinner at the Harbor House for a last chance to laugh and reminisce. Several of us SASers also ended up at breakfast together the next morning. We lingered as long as we could over coffee and sweet breads, made a quick purchase of an extra duffle bag, repacked our bags and headed to the airport.

We were grateful to be flying with Scott and to learn that Scott Denning and Jennifer Crane were also on our flight. The Cape Town airport was still busy and our flight was full, but precautions such as hand sanitizer and some distancing were in place. After a long flight, we slept quite well on benches in the Dubai airport, awakened only by an early morning call to prayer, and were grateful when the first coffee shop opened. Aside from a lot of turbulence, the U.S. bound flight was comfortable. There were eerily very few people in the Seattle airport and many open seats on our flight to Denver. We were surprised by the lack of questioning or security about where we were coming from or if we had been exposed to the virus. Forty plus hours after we left Cape Town, we set foot in Colorado, met at the airport by Chris and Tate.