In Search Of The Northwest Passage - cruising Greenland and the Arctic regions

Cruise Travel, Sept, 2000

An Eclectic Adventure To Greenland And The Arctic

Polar expedition-style cruises have taken off in the last decade, and the people who are attracted to them bring aboard wide-ranging interests and expectations, most having little connection to mainstream cruising. Antarctica may be the best-known destination, identifiable by its clear-air beauty, bird life (including ever-popular penguin species), toothy walrus, elephant seals, whales and, or course, humongous icebergs--some the size of small states.

Its Arctic opposite is much less understood, but no less fascinating, and many of the same ships trade to both regions. But right off the bat, one has to honestly say that Arctic wildlife takes second place to the starkly beautiful landscape, iceberg-choked fjords, Inuit culture, and the fascinating history of the search for the elusive Northwest Passage, a water route across the top of North America.

We chose Marine Expeditions, an experienced Canadian firm with moderately priced trips scheduled in July and August. Charter flights to and from the ship, sailing from either Greenland or the Canadian Arctic, leave from Ottawa, Canada's capital, where overnight stays are required in both directions (see sidebar on page 56 about how to take advantage of this attractive stopover).

Our four-hour flight set down on a gravel runway alongside the Sondre Stromfjord, a long arm of the sea slicing deeply into Greenland's West Coast. School buses hauled us to a deep-water landing where inflatable Zodiac landing craft sped out to the anchored ship, ready to sail because of a rapidly falling tide.

Our ship, the 117-passenger Marine Adventurer, and its replacement, the 128-passenger Marine Discovery, both offer suitably comfortable ice-strengthened conveyances for exploring remote parts of the world. All cabins are outside, and the lounges provide a lecture hall, bar, and library with reference books and videos--and aboard the Marine Discovery, a top-deck observation solarium.

The crew is Russian, and the British chef serves well-prepared North American-style meals at a single open-seating. The expedition staff hails from the United States, Canada, and Great Britain, as do most of the passengers. But what really makes this trip fly is the enrichment program, the lectures, the guided shore excursions, and the camaraderie between the staff and the passengers.

Sailing up the west coast of Greenland, with a high following sea, we first anchored off the fishing port of Illulissat, boasting populations of 6,000 people and 60,000 sled dogs. We walked through the brightly painted town--its wooden houses in hues of blue-gray, deep green, maroon, red, and mustard--passing yapping sled dogs straining at their leads and impatiently waiting for winter, when they would again go seal hunting.

The main attraction here is the Jakobshavn Glacier, the world's fastest moving ice flow, advancing 65 feet per day and calving a new berg every five minutes. Upon hearing the characteristic crack and thunder, eyes quickly sought the spot where falling ice would send up fountains of spray and ripples across the water. Chances are pretty good, according to one of the naturalists, that the prolific Jakobshavn Glacier spawned the infamous iceberg that cruised south with the cold Labrador Current to sink the Titanic.

While the first day had been damp and drizzly, the second dawned crystal clear as the ship dropped anchor off Umanaq, a small island town nestled at the base of two impressive granite peaks. Zodiacs headed over to the mainland shore for a climb up a spongy slope--carpeted with Arctic cotton and heather, blue harebells, Labrador Tea, and wintergreen--to a hillside cave where well-preserved 500-year-mummies of seven women, two boys, and an infant had been discovered. Several are now on display in a museum in Nuuk, Greenland's capital city.

Most passengers stayed as long as time allowed to take in the magnificent view--white bergs drifting on a blue sea under blue skies flecked with white clouds and rimmed by snowcapped mountains, one closely resembling Japan's Mt. Fuji. Reboarding the ship, we moved closer to Umanaq, and then went ashore to visit the colorful fishing port with its wooden Lutheran church, original log and sod houses, and hotel terrace with a million-dollar view and four-dollar Arctic beers. About 10 years ago, a succession of calving bergs just outside the port sent destructive waves sweeping into the harbor and overturning dozens of boats and smashing docks. A local resident caught the high drama in a video shown in the town's gift shop; surprisingly, no one was killed.

During the 24-hour passage across Baffin Bay, we passed close to huge tabular bergs marching south with the strong current, behind which rose a coastal mountain range draped with a half-dozen glaciers feeding into the sea. We then made several landings on Baffin Island, a major component of the newly created Inuit territory of Nunavut, hived off from the vast Northwest Territories on April 1, 1999.