Cruise Like Royalty: Uncover the Secrets of the Royal Family's Luxurious Seafaring Adventures

The Honeymoon Suite

Ah, the Royal Yacht Britannia! An exquisite vessel that once served as the British monarchy’s floating palace, now tethered permanently to the historic Port of Leith in Edinburgh. As fate would have it, I found myself traipsing through the Ocean Terminal Shopping Centre, contemplating a modest snack while basking in the charm of my surroundings. That was before my gaze fell upon the grand, gold-rimmed, red, white, and blue ship silently docked nearby—like a royal apparition reminding me of the glamour I hadn’t quite packed in my suitcase.

In the spirit of serendipity, I sauntered up to the Visitor’s Centre, such a convenient pit stop to secure my boarding pass and audio guide. A luggage-free day? Cheers to that! Can one truly complain while standing before the monarch of floating palaces? “I name this ship Britannia,” declared Queen Elizabeth II, a proclamation sealed with a bottle of Empire wine back in 1953. Over the course of her regal service, Britannia sailed more than a million nautical miles, embodying not just a ship but a storied vessel that glided into the hearts of over 600 ports across 135 countries.

As I stepped aboard, I found myself at the commanding heart of the ship—its bridge, where only the admiral had the luxury of a chair. The others? Well, let’s just say they were always on high alert, akin to sailors in a maritime ballet. Playing with a replica wheel taken from King Edward VII’s racing yacht was an oddity that made me feel like I had slipped into a royal time warp, where the past mingled freely with my current state of awe.

Wandering into the Drawing Room, I was met with a delightful irony; Queen Elizabeth had sought not opulence but a “country-house-at-sea” vibe. Chintz-patterned lounges gathered around a naval-regulation electric fireplace, family photographs were enshrined upon walls, each frame overflowing with stories. The baby grand piano—a steadfast source of family entertainment—seemed to hum with notes of Noel Coward’s legacy, every ivory key adorned with the traces of Princess Margaret's clandestine cigarette—butt-out marks. And yes, the grey carpet had secrets of its own, capable of unrolling to unveil a dance floor that once twinkled under the steps of Princess Anne during her 21st birthday bash.

Ah, but the State Dining Room! What an opulent transformation this space embodied, where every feast twinkled like the stars in a royal sky. The glittering 56-seat table set with crystal glassware, silver service, and candelabra sang tales of royalty. Gifts from around the world clothed the walls, offering a glimpse into the expansive social circles that adorned Britannia’s guest list—from Nelson Mandela to Frank Sinatra.

Then came the sacred spaces—the royal bedrooms that shattered my visions of grandeur. Did I dare to peek? What I found were modest quarters: the Queen’s floral-softened haven and Prince Philip’s no-nonsense russet refuge, each boasting single beds that seemed a far cry from luxury. The Honeymoon Suite, boasting the only double bed onboard and hosting royal honeymoons, still echoed with whispers of romance, including that of Prince Charles and Princess Diana. There was an untold poetry in the mundane that had flourished in these rooms.

Descending to the lower deck, I marveled at the gleaming engine room—a cacophony of brass, chrome, and enamel. Imagine the Queen hosting after-dinner excursions here, stuffing her guests with stories. The crew’s quarters stood in stark contrast, where tripled bunk beds elicited a sense of camaraderie but scant personal space. Yet mercifully, they had a bar, vigorously celebrating the union of working sailors and Fosters on tap.

Pursuing the industrial laundry led me to the galley—home of not just food, but a glass garage that housed a Queen’s Phantom V Rolls Royce or her beloved 1950s Land Rover. Because, darling, what is a royal yacht without a grand entrance? Protecting the vehicles from salt spray was a royal endeavor, with the vehicles triumphantly winched aboard in harness-like contraptions.

Amidst the many anecdotes—like the gracefully curved mahogany windbreak meant to shield regal skirts from mischievous gusts—one stood out: the Queen once received a baby crocodile in a biscuit tin that had the audacity to take a bath in her secretary's tub. Who knew the finer points of royal life included such scaly surprises?

But alas, the sightseers must eat! I found refuge at the Royal Deck Tearoom, with glass walls offering a view of the Firth of Forth, my selections dancing between the warmth of soup and sandwiches or the sweet seduction of tea with scones—freshly baked, of course. And what’s this? A Britannia G & T, infused with the essence of sixteen botanicals collected from ports touched by the ship during her illustrious lifetime? Count me in! I slipped a paper serviette bearing the H.M.Y. Britannia insignia into my pocket; a little keepsake from one splendid afternoon.

As my royal tour came to a close, I couldn’t help but notice the clocks adorning the walls, all frozen at 3:01 PM—marking the last moment Queen Elizabeth was piped ashore on that bittersweet October day in 1997. It was here, under the weight of nostalgia and a few tender tears, that the Queen waved goodbye to a ship that had been a cherished home.

And as I prepared to board my modern cruise ship—less royal, perhaps, but bursting with 21st-century promise—I took one last glance at Britannia, a majestic tribute to history, love, and all things wonderfully human.