Rock the Boat pool deck sunset crowd. Photo / Supplied
From cruise sceptic to superfan, Sarah Maree Cameron reveals how a music festival at sea changed her mind about cruising.
One of my closest friends is what I call a thrifty traveller, always sniffing out bargains, especially on cruises. Over the years, I’ve politely declined more last-minute invitations than I can count, even when the fare was cheaper than staying home. I’d decided cruising wasn’t for me.
As I locked myself in for my first cruise – solo, no less – I wasn’t picturing hours on a sunbed with a book. I’d always assumed being at sea with “nothing to do” would feel like being boxed in. No lazy cafe mornings, no wandering side streets, just the same deck day after day. Stuck. Or so I thought.
What finally tempted me aboard was the line-up for Rock the Boat. The Living End, Jon Stevens, The Screaming Jets, Dragon, Baby Animals, Chocolate Starfish, Bachelor Girl, Boom Crash Opera, 1927… it read like the ultimate Down Under rock playlist. I was sold, ready to set sail, albeit with some reservations.
Boarding in Sydney was an event in itself. With the Harbour Bridge and Opera House behind me and towering Carnival Luminosa ahead, the buzz was undeniable. It was early morning, and though I hadn’t had my usual coffee, the excitement had me wide awake. Fans in band tees mingled with musicians lugging their guitars and drum cases, everyone ready for seven days of music and sea.
We cruised north to Cairns and back again. The weather was mostly perfect, though I’d been anxious about rough seas. As soon as people heard I’d booked a cruise, they were quick to share their horror stories of being knocked around by waves, spending entire holidays horizontal in their cabins. By boarding, I felt like I was tempting fate. My first-aid kit was overflowing with Kwells, ginger tablets and acupuncture wristbands. In the end, I barely needed them. Smooth waters, a little ginger and perhaps luck kept me steady.
What surprised me most was the freedom. Far from feeling “stuck”, I discovered space – both physical and mental. My balcony became a sanctuary. I’d bring a book, but often ended up just watching the horizon roll by. Sometimes I skipped gigs to sit in silence and let the ocean do its thing.
The ship itself was a floating city, the kind where you could easily forget you were at sea. There was karaoke that ran late into the night, a nightclub with a packed dance floor, a spa, salon and duty-free shopping to tempt even the strongest willpower. I got a head start on Christmas gifts.
By day two, the barista already knew my order: a long black with a dash of cold water on top. That small detail summed up the service across the ship. The food was far better than I had expected: fresh, plentiful and surprisingly varied. However, it was the crew who elevated the experience. With over 2000 passengers on board, I half expected to feel anonymous. Instead, they remembered my name, where I was from, and even that I was gluten-free. Every meal, every coffee, every casual hello came with a sense of recognition.
The social side was just as rewarding. Within hours, strangers became friends, the kind you’d happily share a table, a laugh, or a late-night singalong with, and some of those connections have continued on land. Having mates in Chocolate Starfish onboard added familiarity, but the real magic was how quickly the ship built its own community, as if everyone had agreed to become neighbours for the week.
And then came the heart of it all: the music. The pool deck morphed into a festival stage, with every level of the ship packed with fans singing day and night. When the first chords rang out, it was clear this wasn’t just a cruise – it was a festival with no curfew.
Some moments felt like magic: Boom Crash Opera performing Dancing in the Storm during an actual downpour; Tania Doko melting hearts with Buses and Trains; Chocolate Starfish pulling Dave Gleeson from The Screaming Jets, Dale Ryder of Boom Crash Opera and Tania Doko from Bachelor Girl on to the stage for a raucous cover of What’s Up – a singalong so big it shook every deck.
The Living End catapulted me back to high school days, when their tracks were a constant soundtrack. In Cairns, Jon Stevens delivered a powerhouse set on the pool deck, commanding the crowd with trademark rock star presence.
I’d gone on board for the music. What I found was so much more. Between endless sets, meeting strangers who became friends, and unexpectedly great food, I discovered peace at sea I never thought possible.
Seven days later, with a hoarse voice from singing, a shopping bag of gifts, and friendships that lasted beyond the cruise, I realised I’d misjudged this kind of holiday.
Cruising, especially at 90 decibels, might just be my perfect escape.