Every year, millions of Brits go on cruise holidays, sailing between sightseeing hotspots on some of the largest passenger ships in the world. For some, they are the ultimate break from reality, a self-contained society with everything you could want to forget the world back home.
But there are serious questions about the environmental impact of cruise ships, and the ruinous effects thousands of day-trippers can have on the communities which cruise passengers pour into and out of. And, after the hantavirus outbreak on one cruise ship which left three dead and dozens infected, they seem the worst place to be if illness sets in.
Are cruise holidays really worth it? Cruise ship veteran Mary Stuart-Miller and sceptic Rhiannon Picton-James give their perspectives.
When I saw the headlines about the hantavirus outbreak on board the MV Hondius cruise ship, it confirmed everything I already suspected about cruise holidays: they are hell ships with slides. You could not pay me to go on another one.
I’ve been on three cruises in five years, each more disastrous and costly than the one before. The first was supposed to be a trip around Northern Europe, but a storm meant we were diverted and had to go to Western Europe. The second made it to the correct ports, but my toddler caught an ear infection from the pool and needed antibiotics. And my husband caught pneumonia.
My final voyage in 2024 was the worst of all: a two week trip around Europe. I contracted both Covid and norovirus. I vomited everywhere, all over my cabin and family, uncontrollably. My husband was powerless to help. All he could say was, “I’ve never seen anyone projectile vomit before”. I spent the remainder of the holiday between the ship’s hospital and in isolation in my cabin.
I wasn’t allowed to leave the room to get food or water, let alone disembark at any of the ports. I was instructed to isolate in my cabin, and to call for room service for anything I needed: food, drinks, snacks. It would all be free (including the treatment I received). They also gave me a free WiFi package, and TV and movies which you otherwise had to pay for.
If I hadn’t been so ill, I might have enjoyed this part. But the room service line was always busy because of how many passengers were sick, which left me sending desperate texts to my husband on land, begging him to return because I had run out of water.
I was stuck there, effectively in a cell, like a captive. I watched Ghostbusters: Frozen Empire three times, because there were only about six movies to choose from on the TV. I was in that room 24 hours a day for an entire week of a two-week cruise, while my family skipped merrily off the ship to enjoy Spain without me. They did not need to quarantine, or even get tested. It made no sense. Luckily my four-year-old didn’t get any symptoms until we were in the car on the way home.
The trip cost £10,000 before any extra spending or fun. I wasn’t eligible to collect any compensation from the insurance either, even though I missed half the ports through no fault of my own – they called it “lack of enjoyment”, which did not count, apparently. To be fair, the cruise line did give me a voucher – but only redeemable against my next holiday with them. Needless to say, I won’t be using it.
Cruise enthusiasts insist “you can get sick anywhere”, but I have never been ill like that in my life. It’s not like getting a flight for a few hours or sharing a resort. If you spend a week or two in the same enclosed environment as thousands of other people, you’re almost bound to pick up any illnesses they’ve brought along with them, however diligent the cleaning on board.
Norovirus really ripped through the ship; everyone had it. I overheard parents telling their children not to use the handrails when going down the stairs because of how bad the outbreak was. The hospital was full. There was vomit everywhere. The shop sold out of immodium. The pools were emptied more than once because someone was ill in them.
People say it’s “the best way to travel,” and it absolutely is not. Think you can explore Lisbon in six hours before you have to be back on the ship? You can’t. You’ll spend an hour disembarking, another stuck in passport control, and then the entire day becomes a countdown to getting back onboard in time, unless you fancy paying to fly to the next port to catch up with your ship.
They say your holiday starts as soon as you step on the ship, and that’s a lie too. It’s the worst day aboard. You might think you can kick back with a cocktail and start enjoying yourself, but you can’t, because everyone else has the exact same idea, and all of the bars and restaurants are packed. Think you can get a seat on the deck instead? Think again. There are about 500 sunloungers and 5000 people.
None of it appeals to me. The drinks are too expensive and the rooms are too small. They’re environmentally indefensible, too. In 2022, the 214 cruise ships operating in Europe pumped out more than four times the sulphur dioxide that all of the continent’s 250 million cars produced.
Everything about it is so gimmicky. Oh, the cruise has dodgems? An F1 racing simulator? A slightly worse version of a West End show? None of these are things we would be interested in if we were actually enjoying ourselves.
Perspectives
Are cruise holidays really worth it?
