In Greenland’s Remote Fjords and Tiny Settlements, a New Sense of Connection

Our vessel, Le Lyrial, a glossy 245-person expedition ship from the esteemed French line Ponant, serves as our luxurious floating base. Far from a typical cruise liner, Le Lyrial is purpose-built for exploration, boasting not only sophisticated amenities like a rooftop pool but also an invaluable team of expert naturalists whose knowledge transforms every vista into a living lesson. Onboard, the atmosphere balances refined comfort with an insatiable appetite for discovery. Each day is meticulously planned to maximize immersive experiences, whether it’s a Zodiac excursion through glacial waters or a trek to an ancient historical site.

Indeed, our morning had already unfurled with a wind-whipped hike around Hvalsey, an abandoned Norse church that stands as a haunting sentinel to a bygone era. Dating back to the 14th century, Hvalsey Church is the best-preserved Norse ruin in Greenland, its sturdy stone walls defying centuries of harsh Arctic weather. It was here, around 1430, that the last known documented event of the Norse settlements in Greenland occurred—a wedding. Soon after, these resilient Norse communities, who had thrived for nearly 500 years, mysteriously vanished, leaving behind only their stone structures and unanswered questions. To stand amidst these ruins, feeling the biting wind that once swept over Norse settlers, is to connect with a deep vein of human history, a stark reminder of life’s precariousness at the edge of the known world.

It is this kind of unparalleled access to Greenland’s remote history and vibrant, albeit sparse, contemporary culture that initially drew me to this 10-day itinerary. The journey traces a magnificent U-shaped path along the island’s coastline, commencing in Tasiilaq on the wild eastern seaboard and navigating northward and westward to the renowned Disko Bay. This ambitious route, traversing diverse landscapes from jagged fjords to colossal icebergs, highlights Ponant’s decade-long expertise in these challenging waters. The French line, known for introducing new itineraries and ships almost every season, is a pioneer, though it’s not alone; other luxury expedition lines such as Viking, Silversea, and Scenic have also recognized the allure of this Danish territory and now offer their own unique voyages through its icy labyrinth.

Greenland, once considered a frontier for only the most intrepid explorers, is rapidly emerging as a coveted destination in the booming Arctic cruising market. This growing popularity is further propelled by significant infrastructure developments. The territory is poised to inaugurate the new Nuuk Airport in 2025, which will feature a direct four-and-a-half-hour flight to Newark. This crucial connection promises to dramatically enhance accessibility for North American travelers seeking an authentic and intrepid polar experience, reducing travel times and opening up new possibilities for land-based tourism. What sets Greenland apart from its icy counterpart, Antarctica, is its vibrant human tapestry. While Antarctica offers pristine, untouched landscapes, Greenland provides something profoundly different: a living, breathing culture. For thousands of years, Indigenous Inuit and later, European settler communities, have carved out lives in defiance of the extreme elements, adapting and thriving in conditions that would daunt most. To meet these communities, to witness their resilience, and to learn of their unique ways of life, feels not just like a privilege but a crucial lesson in an era marked by rapid global change and environmental shifts. It’s an opportunity to understand sustainable living and cultural fortitude firsthand.

However, navigating Greenland’s vastness and extreme conditions presents considerable logistical challenges. A staggering 80 percent of the landmass is perpetually shrouded by the Greenland ice sheet, the second largest ice body in the world after Antarctica. This colossal ice cap means that conventional overland travel between settlements is virtually impossible; to get from one side of the island to the other, one must journey by sea or air. Unlike more established Arctic tourism hubs such as Svalbard or Iceland’s Reykjavik, which boast well-developed tourism infrastructures, Greenland exudes a palpable sense of being a destination still in its formative stages of offering extensive traveler amenities. The charm, for many, lies precisely in this raw, unpolished authenticity.

Recognizing the burgeoning interest, small, dedicated tour operators within each port are diligently rolling up their sleeves. They are working tirelessly to accommodate the increasing number of international arrivals, which reached an all-time high of 150,000 visitors in 2024—nearly triple the nation’s entire population. This rapid growth necessitates a proactive approach, with locals creating innovative new land excursions and in-town cultural experiences designed to deepen traveler engagement while respecting local customs and environments. Despite these commendable efforts, expedition cruise vessels remain the most practical and often only viable means of navigating the intricate nooks and crannies of Greenland’s 27,000-plus miles of coastline. Their inherent ability to adapt to swiftly changing weather conditions and to push through formidable thick ice sheets allows them to connect tiny, isolated communities where conventional roads and airports simply do not exist. These self-sufficient ships serve as vital conduits, bridging vast distances and enabling cultural exchange in ways that no other mode of travel can.

Our arrival in Igaliku further illuminated this unique interplay of isolation and community. With more historic buildings and grazing sheep than its current human population of just 30, Igaliku is a testament to perseverance. Most of its residents are direct descendants of Anders Olsen, a Norwegian merchant, and his Greenlandic wife, Tuperna, who established their home here in the 1780s, laying the foundations for a unique blend of Nordic and Inuit heritage. Igaliku is also part of the Kujataa Greenland UNESCO World Heritage Site, a cultural landscape that testifies to the Norse and Inuit farming cultures that have developed in the region over millennia.

Disembarking from our tenders, we, a line of curious travelers, filed ashore and made our way toward the UNESCO-anointed site of Garðar. Situated on the picturesque outskirts of present-day Igaliku, Garðar was once the episcopal seat of Norse Greenland, a center of power and faith, housing a bishop’s residence, a cathedral, and numerous farm buildings. Its stone remains, now gently reclaimed by tall grasses and vibrant dandelions, whisper tales of a complex medieval society. Awaiting us was Garðar’s official tour guide, Arnajaraq Bibi Bjerge, a local schoolteacher and a mother of three. With a warm smile, she led us through the historic site, sharing poignant historical points of interest about the robust, self-sufficient Norse community that thrived here for centuries. She pointed out the foundations of what was once the first cathedral on the North American continent, dating back to 1126, a truly astonishing historical landmark that predates many European cathedrals.

As we absorbed the history, our most burning question, a common thread among visitors to such remote outposts, surfaced: What is daily life truly like in a town of so few people, a place accessible only by boat? Arnajaraq Bibi Bjerge paused, her gaze sweeping across the fjord, before offering a succinct, yet deeply insightful, response. Her days, she explained, are a rhythm of readiness: preparing her children for school, teaching the local youngsters, tending to the farm animals, taking a moment to rest, and then repeating the cycle. When asked about free time, her reply was delivered with an almost disarming simplicity: "We play cards," she said, as if it were the most obvious and natural answer in the world. Her words painted a vivid picture of a life deeply rooted in community, tradition, and the quiet joys found in shared moments, far removed from the relentless pace of urban existence.

Another morning found our ship gently docking amidst bobbing ice floes for a landing in Tasiilaq, a larger community with a population of around 1,850, situated on Greenland’s dramatic east coast. Here, we embarked on a walking tour guided by local residents who proudly showcased the town’s essential hallmarks. We visited the local supermarket, a vital hub that relies on biweekly deliveries of fresh produce and goods from Iceland and mainland Denmark. This lifeline, however, faces a critical disruption during the harsh winter months when relentless sea ice renders Tasiilaq virtually inaccessible by conventional cargo ships. This vulnerability highlights the profound challenges of living in such an isolated environment.

Yet, a new breed of expedition vessels is beginning to bridge these very gaps. Last year, Ponant’s formidable icebreaker ship, Le Commandant Charcot, demonstrated its critical value beyond tourism. Equipped with advanced ice-breaking capabilities, it managed to push through the frozen conditions that had trapped other delivery vessels, successfully bringing essential supplies to Tasiilaq during a moment of genuine need. This extraordinary act underscores a crucial aspect of responsible Arctic tourism: just as expedition teams must be exquisitely attuned to the quick-changing weather and ice conditions to ensure the safety and comfort of their passengers, being nimble and adaptable to the needs of local communities is of paramount importance. As these small towns gracefully accommodate a swelling number of travelers seeking to connect more deeply with their unique cultures, the symbiotic relationship between visitor and host, often facilitated by the very ships that bring them, becomes an increasingly vital part of sustainable development in this fragile region.

Our day in Tasiilaq culminated in a deeply moving experience at the local recreation hall: an Inuit qilaut drum performance. The room slowly filled with the resonant, meditative thuds emanating from caribou skin drums, expertly played by local men and women. These primal rhythms were interwoven with haunting, throaty vocals, a style unique to Inuit throat singing, creating an atmosphere charged with ancient power and cultural depth. As the performers shared their ancestral music, I felt a profound sense of connection to the countless generations who have lived in this remote corner of the world. These beats, these voices, have transcended time, carrying stories, traditions, and the very spirit of the Inuit people through centuries of challenge and change. To be present, quietly nodding along, was to become, however fleetingly, the latest bead in a long, unbroken string of people who have been touched by this enduring cultural heritage. It was a moment of deep reverence, a powerful reminder of the human spirit’s ability to thrive and create beauty even in the harshest environments.

Seven-day sailings into Greenland onboard Ponant’s Le Lyrial start from $10,970; further details can be found at ponant.com. This article originally appeared in the April 2026 issue of Condé Nast Traveler. To subscribe to the magazine, please visit here.