What happens when cruise ships retire

Hundreds of cruise ships usually traverse the world's waters, but right now -- with the cruise industry on an indefinite hold due to the coronavirus pandemic -- they're mostly laid up at sea with no passengers.

Last month, cruise giant Carnival Corporation announced plans to remove at least six cruise ships from its fleet, with 23-year-old Costa Victoria earmarked for demolition.

When the cruise industry tentatively restarts, it'll likely be on a smaller scale -- and vessels that were once star players could end up bowing out early.

But what happens when a cruise company decides to retire a ship?

Prior to 2020, the cruise industry was booming and ships could have a seafaring life spanning decades.

If a major company decided a ship was no longer needed, it would likely sell the vessel on to a smaller corporation. Rebranded and perhaps refurbished, the ship would then continue operations for many more years.

Some ships are repurposed and become tourist attractions. "This is rare but does happen," says maritime history author Chris Frame, who points to the famous QE2 ocean liner, which sailed the seas from 1969-2008 and later opened as a floating hotel in Dubai in 2018.

But if there's little demand for ship buying, vessels will be sold for scrap -- a fate that could become more common in the wake of the pandemic.

"I don't know that many cruise lines in the world are looking to buy ships right now," Bill Miller, a prolific cruise ship historian, tells CNN Travel. "I would say that would be very unlikely. The next best buyer would be the scrappers."

Breaking down a ship

Cruise ships, especially in recent years, have become giant floating cities, chock full of features from casinos to swimming pools, rooftop bars and spas.

It's hard to imagine, but most will eventually end up in breaking yards such as Gadani, near the Pakistan port of Karachi, or Alang, India, where they'll be systematically torn apart.

When a ship's been earmarked for scrapping in somewhere like Alang, its operator will first remove anything it wants for salvage.

"Then a small crew, maybe about 50, will take it out to India," says Miller. "It's a very lonesome last voyage, because the ship is empty, no passengers, but yet it has the feel as if it's still a cruise ship, because all the furniture would still be in place. That's all sold in parcel with the ship itself."

In Alang, explains Miller, the crew will wait until tidal conditions are right and then deliberately run the ship aground on the beach.

When the vessel is stuck in the sand, final papers are signed, and the dismantling begins -- a process that can be fraught with risks both for the workers involved and the environment surrounding the scrap yard.

Freelance cruise journalist Peter Knego has visited Alang nine times and has also traveled to another shipbreaking yard in Aliaga, Turkey. Knego developed a fascination with ocean liners and cruising as a kid when he read about the Lusitania, the British ocean liner that sunk in 1915, and the interest extended into his adult life.

He first visited Alang in 2004, telling CNN Travel he spotted "10 historic former liners and first generation cruise ships" on the beaches on that one trip alone.

"On the 10-mile stretch of beach, up to 200 ships can be demolished at one time, making it look like Armageddon or something out of a science fiction movie," says Knego. "Tankers share the sands with cruise ships, ferries, container ships and even outmoded oil derricks."

Once the cruise ship arrives at its final destination, everything inside must be removed, from the grand chandeliers to the toilets.

Knego says that many assets, such as furniture and lighting, will be resold locally.

Then begins the dangerous and involved process of dismantling the ship's superstructure. Some of the steel will be melted and reused in construction.

Knego's reasons for visiting Alang aren't just to witness the dismantling process in action. He's a collector, and his trips have been timed with the arrival of significant ships in the hope of claiming interior assets for himself.

With the aid of a local agent, Knego gains access to the vessel, often climbing up a ladder, to scout the items he wants, then makes deals to buy them. These are then packed into a container and shipped back to his home in the United States, which he describes as an "ocean liner museum."

"Every door, light fixture, railing, (almost) every bit of furniture and artwork is from a classic mid-20th century ship," says Knego.

Step inside his house and you might spot artwork that once graced Carnival's first ship, the Mardi Gras, which first set sail in 1972. There's also paneling, lighting, ceramics and railings from ships including the 1950s-era MV Augustus and the 1980's Stella Solaris.

Knego has got a particular place in his heart for vessels from post-war through to the mid-70s.