In A Realm Of Ice And Silence: Sailing Through Greenland’s Untamed Wilderness

The immenseness of the jagged coastline, stretching more than 44,000 kilometres, humbled our human superiority. There are landscapes so immense and raw that they seem to resist even the idea of being mapped.

In an era of hyper-connectivity and overtourism, Greenland remains one of the last great wildernesses. The glacial and impossibly remote coastline is the longest in the world, and yet very few people have ever seen more than a fragment. With over 80 per cent of its ground covered in ice, cruising in Greenland is about surrendering to the rhythm of ice, sea and sky. The only way to experience beauty here is by being a silent observer.

From the deck of our expedition vessel Ocean Albatros, run by Albatros Expeditions, the view felt almost otherworldly. With 96 comfortable cabins, a lecture lounge, observation deck, dining hall, library, sauna and gym, it was the perfect home to brave the wilds. We flew from Copenhagen on a chartered flight, landing in Kangerlussuaq, in Western Greenland. Located on the edge of the Greenland ice sheet, the second largest body of ice in the world after Antarctica, the region was a US Air Force base in World War II.

With our expedition team of experts, ranging from geologists to biologists and conservationists, we climbed into great lumbering Tundra trucks, bumping across frozen ground where, against all odds, patches of crimson wildflowers burned like sparks, and lichens clung stubbornly to stone. On the ridges above us, a group of musk oxen stood shaggy and prehistoric, their wool eight times warmer than sheep’s wool, according to our guide.

Each day aboard brought a new revelation: a glacier tumbling into the sea, a fjord threaded between towering cliffs of striated grey, or a scattering of brightly painted houses marking a tiny settlement. Our mornings started with lectures on glaciology, marine biology, or Inuit folklore, which deepened our sense of place. Zodiac landings delivered us onto beaches and tundra so pristine, they felt untouched since the Ice Age. But then again, we also saw streams of meltwater gushing stronger than they should, moss winking green where there had only been snow once. Here was immensity, but also fragility.

Wildlife Encounters

One afternoon, an announcement from the expedition leader and captain brought us to the deck to see spouts in the distance, signalling a pod of humpback whales surfacing, their flukes sliding into the water with balletic grace. “The patterns on their tails are like human fingerprints and are used by scientists to identify and monitor individual whales,” explained Sanne Paarman, a teacher and author of school textbooks, from South Africa, on the team. Pods of fin whale, the second largest animal on Earth, appeared beside the ship, their sleek bodies breaking the surface before vanishing again. Seals lounged on slabs of drifting ice, their liquid eyes following our Zodiacs with mild curiosity.

At times, the deck fell into hushed reverence as binoculars were passed from hand to hand, the simple act of witnessing a moment of wildness binding strangers together.

Settlements at the Edge

Greenland’s scattered settlements added flashes of human warmth to the stark grandeur. Aappilattoq, a village in Southern Greenland, whose name means “red” in Greenlandic, clung to a granite peninsula, its brightly painted houses spread like Lego toys across stone. Clotheslines fluttered in the wind, a small red church stood beside a graveyard of simple wooden crosses, and jagged peaks towered all around. A hundred souls lived here, bound to fishing and hunting, their survival stitched to the land, their lifeline a supply ship that arrives once in a few months. Inside the church, the choir sang, and I reflected on how faith offered warmth in the shadow of such harshness.

Nuuk, the capital, in contrast, offered sleek cafés spilling warmth into the harbour, street art splashing bright colours across concrete walls, and galleries that celebrated Inuit traditions in modern forms. At the National Museum, fragile kayaks were displayed, ingenious vessels once crafted from driftwood and stretched with sealskin, designed to fit the very body of their owner. The kayak, I learned, is Greenland’s gift to the world.

Into the Elemental East

Sailing through Prins Christian Sund, we threaded a 100-kilometre corridor of cliffs rising 2,000 metres from the water, glaciers cascading like frozen waterfalls into turquoise bays. Sermilik Fjord resembled a frozen city adrift in the sea, with its many icebergs sculpted into arches, spires, and towers. In Queen Marie Valley, soft summer moss glowed in luminous green, and as we hiked through the rugged terrain, permafrost felt like a spongy carpet. One of the expedition team members stood guard with a rifle, as this was officially ‘polar bear country.’ “The focus is always on protecting the animal and us moving away from their territory,” he explained.

A Fragile Frontier

As the ship pressed further east, the skies themselves began to shift. One morning, we were woken up early to gather on deck, drawn by whispers of light. At first, it was a faint arc, pale against the stars, and then suddenly the heavens unfurled. Curtains of green and violet shimmered across the night sky, rippling and twisting as if the universe itself had caught fire. The northern lights danced for nearly half an hour, a reminder that here, even the darkness is alive.

As we slowly wound our way to Reykjavik, Iceland, from Tasiilaq, the largest town in East Greenland, I realised that cruising along Greenland’s wild coast was an immersion into an elemental world that felt almost untouched by time. And yet, it was also a reminder of fragility. To drift through it, quietly and reverently, is to be reminded of the true scale of the planet—and of your own small place within it.

The Information

When to Go

Summer (June–September) offers the mildest weather, with long daylight hours, open fjords, and higher chances of wildlife sightings. September brings the added bonus of the Northern Lights.

How to Get There

Most voyages begin in Kangerlussuaq or Nuuk, both accessible via connecting flights through Copenhagen or Reykjavík. Charter flights are often bundled with cruise itineraries. Albatros Expeditions ( Polar Latitudes Expeditions) starts with a chartered flight to Kangerlussuaq for its 11-day cruise around Greenland, ending in Reykjavik.

Cruising Essentials

Pack layers—thermal base, fleece, waterproof outer shell, sturdy boots, and a good pair of binoculars. Expedition ships like Ocean Albatros provide mud boots, but personal gear matters for comfort.

FAQs

Q1. What is the best time to visit Greenland for a cruise?
The ideal time is between June and September, when the weather is milder, fjords are open, and wildlife sightings are frequent. September also offers the best chances to see the Northern Lights.

Q2. How do I reach Greenland for a cruise expedition?
Most Greenland expeditions begin in Kangerlussuaq or Nuuk, accessible via connecting flights through Copenhagen or Reykjavík. Many cruise operators include charter flights in their itineraries.

Q3. What kind of wildlife can you see on a Greenland cruise?
Expect to spot humpback whales, fin whales, seals, musk oxen, and numerous seabirds. Occasionally, polar bears may be seen in the eastern regions.

Q4. Are Greenland cruises suitable for all travellers?
Expedition cruises such as those run by Albatros Expeditions offer comfortable cabins and guided landings suitable for travellers with moderate fitness levels. Zodiac excursions and lectures make it both immersive and accessible.

Q5. What should I pack for an Arctic cruise?
Layered clothing is essential: thermal base layers, waterproof shells, sturdy boots, gloves, and binoculars. Most expedition vessels provide mud boots and cold-weather gear for shore landings.

Q6. Why is Greenland considered one of the last great wildernesses?
With over 80 per cent of its surface covered in ice and limited human habitation, Greenland remains a rare place where visitors can witness the planet’s vast, untamed beauty — yet feel its climate fragility up close.