For two months, these workers remained at sea with no clear end in sight
After nine months anchored in the sheltered waters of Torbay, Holland America Line's Oosterdam departed for Southampton on a March evening in 2021, her horns answered by the sister ships she left behind. The vessel had become an emblem of the pandemic's disruption to human movement — most acutely when 800 crew members from 100 countries were held aboard for two months in 2020, unable to disembark in Los Angeles as the world closed around them. Her departure was neither triumph nor resolution, but something quieter: a first step back into motion for an industry that had learned, at great human cost, what it means to be stranded between worlds.
- A ship that once symbolised confinement finally moved — her departure horn answered by four other vessels still waiting in the same bay.
- The human toll lingers: 800 crew from 100 countries spent two months trapped at sea in 2020, their home nations unreachable and their futures suspended by a CDC order.
- Torbay became an accidental museum of the pandemic's wreckage, hosting dozens of luxury liners that had nowhere to go and no passengers to carry.
- The Oosterdam's sailing to Southampton signals cautious industry momentum, but the Queen Mary 2, Arcadia, and Ventura remain anchored — the waiting is not yet over.
- The broader question — when passengers will return and these ships will sail full again — remains unanswered as vaccination rollouts and travel restrictions continue to shift.
On a sunny evening in early March 2021, ship horns rang out across Torbay and carried as far inland as Shiphay Hospital. The Oosterdam, Holland America Line's 936-foot liner, was leaving at last — bound for Southampton after nine months at anchor. As she moved, her sister ships still in the bay — the Eurodam, Volendam, Zaandam, and the Marella Explorer — answered with their own blasts. It was a farewell between vessels that had shared a long, involuntary stillness.
The Oosterdam's story had begun a year earlier in crisis. In March 2020, nearly 800 crew members from 100 countries found themselves unable to disembark in Los Angeles after the CDC refused to allow it. Cooks, engineers, entertainers, and cleaners remained at sea for two months, their home countries closed to them, their families unreachable. The ship had last carried passengers on March 14, 2020 — the day before the world changed.
By June 2020, Torbay had become an unlikely sanctuary for the cruise industry's stranded fleet. Dozens of luxury liners anchored in Devon's waters, waiting for governments to act and for the world to decide it was safe to sail again. The Oosterdam — her name meaning 'eastern,' a sister to the Noordam, Westerdam, and Zuiderdam — joined them, a ghost ship in a bay full of ghost ships.
The departure carried weight beyond logistics. The crew who had been stranded were long since home. The ship had been cleaned and prepared. But as she sailed out, the larger question remained: when would passengers return? The Queen Mary 2, the Arcadia, and the Ventura stayed behind, still waiting. The Oosterdam's movement was a step forward — uncertain, hopeful, and incomplete.
On a sunny evening in early March, the sound of ship horns echoed across Torbay and inland as far as Shiphay Hospital—a farewell salute that carried the weight of nine months of waiting. The Oosterdam, Holland America Line's 936-foot luxury liner, was finally leaving the bay at 5 p.m., bound for Southampton. The blasts came not just from the departing ship but from her sister vessels still anchored there: the Eurodam, Volendam, and Zaandam, along with the Marella Explorer. It was a moment of release, of movement returning to a fleet that had become synonymous with stillness.
The Oosterdam had become a symbol of the pandemic's chaos when it first made headlines a year earlier. In March 2020, as the coronavirus began to overwhelm the United States and Britain, nearly 800 crew members from 100 countries found themselves trapped aboard the ship. The American Center for Disease Control and Prevention had refused to allow them to disembark in Los Angeles, where the vessel had been headed. For two months, these workers—cooks, cleaners, entertainers, engineers—remained at sea with no clear end in sight, their home countries closed to them, their families waiting on the other side of the world.
By June 2020, Torbay and the neighboring Babbacombe Bay had become an unlikely refuge for the world's stranded cruise ships. Dozens of luxury liners anchored in the Devon waters, waiting for the industry to restart, for governments to allow passengers to travel again, for the world to decide it was safe to sail. The Oosterdam, built in 2003 and designed to carry 1,964 passengers, had last carried them on March 14—the day before everything changed. The ship is 285 meters long and 32 meters wide, with entertainment venues including the Lincoln Centre Stage and BB King's Blues Club. Before the pandemic, she spent winters cruising the Mexican Riviera and summers in Alaska.
The departure on this March evening represented something larger than one ship leaving a bay. It was a signal that the industry was beginning to move again, that the months of anchoring—of being a ghost ship, as the press had called them—might finally be ending. Torbay had become a temporary home for vessels with names derived from compass points: the Oosterdam (eastern), sister to the Noordam, Westerdam, and Zuiderdam. The Queen Mary 2, the Arcadia, and the Ventura remained behind, still waiting.
The horns that residents heard that evening were not celebratory in the traditional sense. They marked an ending, yes, but also the beginning of an uncertain return. The crew members who had been stranded aboard the Oosterdam had long since disembarked and gone home. The ship itself had been cleaned, maintained, and prepared for whatever came next. As it sailed out of the bay, the question hanging over the entire industry remained unanswered: when would passengers return? When would these ships be full again? The Oosterdam's departure was a step forward, but the path ahead remained unclear.
Citas Notables
The American Center for Disease Control and Prevention refused to allow the crew to disembark in Los Angeles— CDC policy, March 2020
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
Why did the CDC prevent those 800 crew members from leaving the ship in Los Angeles?
The pandemic was in its early, most terrifying phase. No one knew how the virus spread, how many people were infected, or what the consequences would be. The CDC saw a ship full of people from 100 different countries and saw a potential vector for catastrophic spread. They locked it down.
But keeping them aboard for two months—that seems like it would have been its own kind of crisis.
It was. Imagine being a cook from the Philippines, unable to go home, unable to leave the ship, watching the world shut down around you. The ship became a prison, even though no one had committed a crime.
What changed between March and June that made Torbay safe?
Not much, really. But by June, the industry and governments had figured out that ships needed somewhere to be. Torbay became that place—a holding pattern for the entire cruise industry. It was pragmatism, not safety.
The horns blasting across the bay—was that meant to be celebratory?
It was a ritual. Ships do this when they leave port. But in this case, it carried something else: relief, maybe. The acknowledgment that at least one ship was moving again, that the paralysis was breaking.
Does the Oosterdam's departure mean the industry is recovering?
It means one ship is leaving. It doesn't mean passengers are coming back, or that the uncertainty is over. It's a beginning, but a fragile one.