An expedition cruise to Greenland and Iceland
Navigating the fjords, icebergs and unforgiving landscapes of Greenland on a small luxury ship is an Arctic immersion with a ritzy twist.
The polar plunge is not on the official itinerary, but thrilling, chilling rumours of the chance to swim in the Arctic circulate Seabourn Venture almost immediately on embarkation in Greenland. When, how and, mostly, why anyone would volunteer to snap-freeze themselves in the meltwater of the world’s second-largest ice sheet becomes a hot topic. Caviar is another source of whispers. It’s not on any menu but among Seabourn newcomers there’s delicious gossip that it can be ordered anywhere, 24/7, and makes surprise appearances at other times.
Temptations abound on a 15-day voyage through the storied sea route between Greenland and Iceland, a rugged place once only traversed by hardy explorers. At midnight a few days into our itinerary, the expedition leader rouses us from sleep to alert us to the aurora borealis. From the suite’s verandah I observe the milky green light show generated by the collision of shape-shifting particles with the Earth’s upper atmosphere. I’m mesmerised, and the moment is so fleeting I have only a single frame on my phone to prove I saw it.
Venture, the year-old expedition ship designed to access far-flung regions, is arrayed with ingenious technology, including a 3D mapping tool used for reconnaissance. Rigged to the front of a Zodiac, it prints a three-dimensional chart and beams the information back to the bridge. It allows the 170-metre polar class 6 vessel to explore remote inlets typically accessed by locals in much smaller boats. As we sail along fjords, past statuesque icebergs and picturesque villages, we get updates on what’s ahead. Nature is in charge, but Seabourn does things with a flourish – like complimentary expedition jackets and drying racks for wet clothes in every suite.
The trip begins with a hotel stay in Iceland’s coolest city, Reykjavik. A charter flight then takes us to Greenland and, after a sea day, our first port stop is the country’s capital, Nuuk, where houses in various rainbow hues dot the coastline like outsize Lego pieces. The bright colours once indicated the building’s purpose or its owner’s occupation – yellow for healthcare, red for education or religion, blue for fisheries, green for telecommunications – but are now chosen for aesthetics and to charm people like me, whose biggest paint risk is a shade of off-white. Nuuk’s population of 20,000 is positively bustling compared with other towns we visit, where 100 to 1000 people are the norm, and it’s the last place in Greenland where we can dock right next to the port instead of using Zodiacs.
The morning is as brooding as a Nordic noir when we set out on foot near the base of Sermitsiaq mountain. Visibility is poor and, though we’re given the option to turn back, I continue on with my flock of avid hikers. An hour in, the foggy veil lifts to reveal enormous formations of ragged Amîtsoq gneiss, one of the oldest metamorphic rocks on Earth, patched with green and black lichen. The landscape is primal and mystical and impossibly beautiful.
At the small but meticulously curated Greenland National Museum we get an introduction to Inuit history, especially the kayak, which is critical to understanding the culture. Timber frames covered in seal skins and reinforced with sinew, tusks, bones or baleen, kayaks were once the main vessels for fishing and hunting seals and whales for food, clothing, trade and other means of survival. Confronting the unpredictable ocean in near-zero temperatures, while trying to capture an animal considerably bigger than a human, meant the hunters learned 35 rolls to right a capsized kayak. We’re given demonstrations of the dexterity needed to master the vessel and are quietly relieved our sea-life encounters are significantly less challenging.
Over two weeks, all from the safety of a small luxury ship, and occasionally with a liquor-spiked hot chocolate in hand, we encounter an estimated 50 whales. Greenland has around 15 species, including humpback and minke, and we spot them solo and in pods, nose-diving to show off their famous flukes or spouting water like dancing fountains at a Vegas casino. On board and off, photography buffs armed with long lenses and bird nerds who accessorise every outfit with a pair of binoculars engage in an ongoing game of wildlife bingo. Bearded seals, the stealth Arctic fox and the musk ox are three standout sightings, and there’s constant lookout for the supremely photogenic puffin and the world’s fastest bird, the peregrine falcon. There’s hope for polar bears, too, but they’re usually further north and are a no-show.
The Bow Lounge, equipped with weather radars and navigational charts, and the deck in front are my go-to locations for scenic sailings. Since it’s my first time on Seabourn, and the cruise line’s purpose-built expedition ship, the whole vessel is a daily source of stimulation. The décor gives modern wilderness-lodge vibes, with earthy tones and warm woods, while the considered art collection explores variations on the theme of nature. Leather, timber, faux fur, velvet and cotton, in shades of khaki with occasional flashes of orange and blue, inform the sharp interiors conceived by designer Adam D Tihany. The ship’s forest-green exterior is particularly handsome in situ.
If I’m not getting expedition-ready, I’m unwinding in the ship’s many convivial spaces. I enjoy barista-made coffee and bundt cake at Seabourn Square, ever-changing buffets in The Colonnade, and stellar renditions of classics like prawn cocktails and angel-hair pasta at The Restaurant. At The Constellation Lounge, the ship’s highest viewing point, revellers imbibe crushed-ice cocktails while studying passing glaciers. A round-the-clock room-service menu allows guests to sample from all the above on nights when your battery is too low for socialising.
The food is reliably fabulous, a blend of French flair and American know-how, but I confess to having ice-cream every day – even at morning tea, when I discover that mint choc-chip is an instant refresher after strenuous morning activity. Venture’s size and capacity for 264 passengers makes it more intimate and homely than the larger ships I’m used to sailing on. The two guests to one crew ratio means service is impeccable from the macro (my travelling companions and I challenge ourselves to find a criticism but fail) to the micro (on the evenings I’m wearing dark trousers, they swap out my white cloth napkin to black to prevent lint).
During evening updates, the expedition team adds a scientific or historical perspective to what we see. It helps that each night comes with a new cocktail, and the team, 24 in total trained in marine biology, submersible piloting, wilderness first response, astronomy and technical diving, put an entertaining spin on each lecture and the mood is always jolly. The ice is my number-one reason for choosing this itinerary, and the glaciology session details Greenland’s criticality to the world’s climate. It’s one of only two places, the other being Antarctica, with an ice sheet – an air-conditioner for Earth made up of fresh water that’s been frozen for eons.
Greenland’s 1.7 million-square-kilometre ice sheet covers some 80 per cent of the island, and is the source of the icebergs that make the coastline unique. Initially the ice is infrequent and the largest bergs appear like apparitions on the horizon. But as we sail south from Kangerlussuaq on the west coast to Tasiilaq and across the Denmark Strait the sightings become commonplace. At Prince Christian Sound, the sapphire water mirrors skyscraper cliffs on our way to an audience with Sermeq Kujalleq, the world’s fastest-moving glacier. We board zippy inflatables and head off for a close-up, threading our way through bergy bits and growlers, the smaller icebergs scattered on the surface like glassy confetti. The glacier calves more ice than any other in Greenland and waiting for it is like watching a slumbering giant who may wake at any moment. We listen for the crackling and popping that precedes a thunderous boom as the wall of compacted snow crumbles and hits the water.
Amid Zodiac wonders like this are opportunities to get moving on land. After Nuuk there are multiple opportunities to lace up hiking shoes – notably in two eight-kilometre treks on the same day in the World Heritage site of Brattahlid followed by pastoral Itilleq – and the standout is in the Dronning Marie Dal in Skjoldungen Fjord. There’s no path and the terrain is plush with moss carpeted with buttercup and pink dwarf fireweed, the national flower. Like most of Greenland, there are no trees, only scrub a metre high at best, and the scale of the glaciated valley and mountains serrating the sky is hypnotic. It’s a contrast to the formations we see at the end of our trip in Iceland, where volcanic rocks make the edges more undulating and lava fields create epic sights such as the Hraunfossar waterfalls.
A few days later, we arrive at Umivik Bay, a Pixar-perfect version of the Arctic. We hop into kayaks to get closer to the icebergs that form a vast 360-degree aquatic sculpture garden around the ship. Some look pretty and as smooth as polished marble or have the powdery texture of icing sugar or glossy meringue, soft peaks swirling upwards, while others appear sharp or rough with pockmarks or corrugation. The most precious shimmer like cut crystal, the iridescent topaz created by tens of thousands of years of compression.
The water is just above 2˚C, the air only a little warmer. An announcement is made that the polar plunge is actually happening. The “should I?” debate is over and I’m all in. Tethered to the ship, with the Greenland ice sheet in the foreground, I leap into the frigid water. The bubbles against my skin are like electric icicles. It’s shocking and exhilarating and later photos will reveal my face looks like The Scream as I come up for air, but once back on deck my dopamine levels skyrocket.
By now I’ve confirmed some guests have a standing daily delivery of caviar, and it seems a fitting day for me to put in a call to room service. It arrives under a gleaming cloche with all the traditional accoutrements of blini, finely chopped boiled egg whites and yolks and onion. In a genius culinary move I encourage everyone to try, I also order French fries, which I load up with salty black roe and sour cream for the poshest snack of my life. Champagne in hand, standing on my verandah kitted out for warmth in my polar shield jacket, I round off my induction to Seabourn and expedition cruising in breathtaking style.
The writer travelled as a guest of Seabourn. Seabourn Venture will return to Greenland for its 15-Day Glaciers, Fjords & Indigenous Cultures sailing, August 30 to September 14, 2024. seabourn.com