Glimmers of ice and tomorrow
In the remote landscapes of West Greenland, where towering icebergs drift through ancient fjords, a delicate balance is being struck between the allure of its untouched beauty, the stark realities of climate change and the imminent rise of tourism
Words & Photographs George Kipouros
On the edge of the world, where the Arctic’s silent whispers carve ancient secrets into ice, I found myself seated before nature’s grandest stage. Ahead, towering icebergs, sculpted from millennia-old snow, drifted with solemn grace through Ilulissat’s UNESCO-listed icefjord.
They moved with a deliberate, almost reverent, pace, as if acknowledging their role in a timeless play where winds and currents, rather than human hands, directed their fate.
The icebergs, luminous in the Arctic glow, revealed a breathtaking spectrum of blue, turquoise, sapphire and, occasionally, streaks of deep, shadowy grey, before dissolving gradually into the crystal-clear waters below.
For a moment, I wondered if these monolithic sculptures might have been the work of some ethereal artist, perhaps channelling the surreal genius of Salvador Dalí or the bold minimalism of Constantin Brâncuși.
“Sermeq Kujalleq is one of the fastest-moving and most productive glaciers in the world”
“This is Greenland’s artistic nature for you,” remarked my local guide, Michael, with a knowing smile, his eyes tracing the path of a colossal iceberg as it continued its slow journey towards eternity.
The spectacular scenes unfolding before me were the result of the mighty Sermeq Kujalleq glacier. This is one of the fastest-moving and most productive glaciers in the world; it travels at more than 40m per day and produces around 10% of all the icebergs in Greenland.
“We’ve heard that the ’berg that sank the Titanic started right here,” added Michael. Even the area’s name, Ilulissat, means ‘icebergs’ in Greenlandic.
We hiked around the southern end of the fjord, and I was surprised to hear that this icy, rocky and seemingly inhospitable outpost had been settled by humans as far back as 2500 BC. As we visited the historical Sermermiut settlement, Michael explained this was one of the reasons given for justifying the area’s World Heritage designation. The modest remnants of the Saqqaq, a nomadic Paleo-Inuit people who arrived here from Siberia via Alaska, may pale beside the surrounding natural beauty, yet the area has yielded rich archaeological finds that greatly enhance our understanding of Greenland’s human history.
As I travelled slowly across West Greenland, I was eager to understand humanity’s journey here and its impact on the world’s largest and most unforgiving island. The more I saw, the more I realised that its story is written all across the magnificent landscape.
The postcard-perfect town
Following an easy half-hour walk, we were back in Ilulissat’s historic centre. The town’s heart is dotted with colonial-era buildings, many still standing from 1741, when the Danes first began colonising this area.
This was the postcard-perfect Greenlandic town of my imagination. Vibrantly coloured houses sat perched on the cliffside, seemingly under siege from an armada of never-ending icebergs approaching from almost every conceivable angle.
Michael explained how these wooden houses – which had to be shipped in from Scandinavia since there are no native forests in Greenland – had once been painted in colours according to their function. These days, life here isn’t so rigid. “Today,” Michael told me, “you can paint them any colour you like.”
Minke and fin whales drawn to its waters to feast on the large groups of krill
Minke and fin whales drawn to its waters to feast on the large groups of krill
But I was still curious as to how these colonies came about. Why were these settlers so eager to accept such harsh conditions, living some 300km north of the Arctic Circle?
Michael explained that Ilulissat had always been rich in fish, seal and whale populations. In 18th-century Europe, these suddenly became valuable commodities.
“For the local Inuit, whale and seal were our source of food and heat for centuries. But the Europeans had their eyes on whale oil, which was used for lighting lamps in cities like London,” he explained.
Today, Ilulissat is no longer a place of seal and whale hunters. With a population of 5,000, it is Greenland’s third-largest town and most popular visitor destination, boasting six hotels. It is also an indispensable stop on the itinerary of many an expedition cruise.
Michael was eager for me to meet his uncle, Joorut, who works in the craft workshop beside the town’s harbour. An accomplished artist, he is known for his intricate carvings of tupilaks, traditional Greenlandic figures made from bone, ivory and wood, often depicting mythological creatures.
Joorut explained how the art of tupilak carving became a highly refined skill, passed down through the generations, with each figure telling a different story. As he spoke, I recalled wondering about what inspired the mythical hand that sculpted the Icefjord’s ’bergs. It was not Dalí or Brâncuși, but rather a Greenlandic artist like Joorut, I realised, smiling in awe at the local artistic prowess.
As the day drew to a close, Michael and I climbed to a viewpoint above the town to watch the midnight sunset. For those few that make it this far north, the long days are one of the highlights.
Guide Michael is full of facts about the ancient peoples who lived around Ilulissat Icefjord
Guide Michael is full of facts about the ancient peoples who lived around Ilulissat Icefjord
“Tourism is becoming increasingly important here, but Ilulissat remains primarily focussed on fishing – much like Greenland’s economy as a whole,” Michael said, gesturing towards an imposing building that houses the world’s largest cold-water shrimp factory. But things are changing.
“We want to be more self-sufficient, and tourism can play a crucial role in that, helping to reduce our reliance on fishing and Denmark as our main sources of income,” he reflected thoughtfully.
“After all, where else can you find such beauty,” Michael mused, pointing towards the golden hues of orange and peach that spread across the sky, welcoming the Arctic sunset. Another stunning masterpiece of Greenland’s natural artistry was on display.
The thundering glacier
The following day, a scenic two-hour boat ride among countless icebergs and humpback whales brought me face to face with the infamous Eqi Glacier. The grand façade of this ice behemoth spans 5km and towers some 200m above the waters of Disko Bay.
Eqi’s renown is based on more than just its size, though; it stems from the frequency and intensity of its calving events. Despite having previously visited spectacular glaciers in Alaska, Patagonia and Antarctica, I was still mesmerised by its audiovisual spectacle.
With my eyes closed, the constant soundtrack of sharp cracks, booming echoes and rolling reverberations, paired with the deep, roaring wind, felt like being at the heart of an Arctic thunderstorm. Yet, on this bright summer day, as temperatures neared 17 degrees Celsius, it was the sun, rather than bad weather, that was causing large chunks of ice to theatrically somersault into the fjord, sending waves that rhythmically rocked our boat to its dramatic symphony.
This same warmth, however, carries a deeper, more troubling impact. Our ship guide, Soren, explained that Eqi, like many other glaciers in Greenland, is retreating rapidly due to rising temperatures.
“Our glaciers were expected to eventually disappear, just not so fast,” he affirmed.
Over the past century, Eqi has retreated several kilometers, with calving events becoming more frequent and intense in the last decade. The loud beauty of Eqi was tinged with a sense of urgency, a realisation that this incredible landscape is changing before our eyes and may not remain for future generations. I left with plenty to ponder.
From the dramatic landscapes of Eqi, my journey took me to Ilimanaq, a small settlement just a half-hour boat ride from Ilulissat but a world away in atmosphere. Its name means ‘it is possible’ in Greenlandic, and it offers a rare glimpse into traditional life here, far removed from the modern conveniences of larger towns. I was surprised to find a sustainable luxury lodge in the village, which is now beginning to draw more and more visitors each summer.
Dwarf fireweed (Chamerion latifolium) is the national flower of Greenland
Dwarf fireweed (Chamerion latifolium) is the national flower of Greenland
Local guide John greeted me at the harbour, and we set off on a day-long hike through the tundra, eventually climbing Inusuk Mountain. Passionate about his country’s nature, he pointed out the delicate wildflowers that bloom during the short Arctic summer and explained the traditional uses of plants for food and medicine.
As we hiked, we spied ancient Inuit graves marked by simple stones. Some dated back to the 17th century, offering a poignant reminder of human endurance in this harsh environment.
Ilimanaq’s current reality contrasts sharply with its history. It was once home to 300 residents; now the settlement has just 54, reflecting the ongoing challenges here.
“Eqi has retreated several kilometers, with calving events becoming more frequent and intense”
“Our long winters are harsh. When the port freezes, access is limited to helicopters, weather permitting,” John explained. “Fishing and hunting become difficult, and we lack the plumbing and winter-proofed pipes for running water.” He described to me how the tough conditions and limited economic opportunities had driven many people to migrate to larger towns, or leave Greenland behind entirely.
Yet, despite all these challenges, I still found a strong sense of community alive and resilient in Ilimanaq, and saw the people’s determination to preserve their way of life for future generations.
I was fortunate to attend the village’s first baptism in five years, and a huge buffet of Greenlandic delicacies was set up in the community centre. I tried dried whale (like thick beef jerky), seal (a slimy, oyster-gone-bad-like taste) and musk ox (tasty, gamey beef). John was impressed that I didn’t shy away from the “menu”.
The old fishing village of Ilimanaq is one of the closest settlements to Ilulissat
The old fishing village of Ilimanaq is one of the closest settlements to Ilulissat
“Foreigners often don’t understand why we hunt whale and seal, but these have been our lifelines for generations,” he shared with me.
I learnt that whale skin is full of vitamin C, which helps the locals avoid scurvy, and whale blubber is a great source of vitamin D, which is crucial during the long winter nights. The oil from whale blubber was once the Inuit’s main source of heat in the winter, working in tandem with the unique insulation provided by the sealskins used to make clothing and shelters.
“The Inuit are the only people to have traditionally lived above the treeline, and it’s thanks to whales,” John noted. “Yet it was the European ‘explorers’ who brought these creatures to the brink of extinction to light up places like London and Paris. We’ve never taken more than we needed; nature never suffered from us.”
The coastal lifeline
I had chosen to explore the world’s largest island slowly, and without the ease of an expedition cruise, making travel between destinations a lot more challenging. With 80% of Greenland covered in ice, and no roads connecting its scattered settlements, navigating this remote landscape required careful planning and a very Wanderlust sense of adventure.
Enter the Arctic Umiaq Line ferry, my route between Ilulissat and Sisimiut. More than just a tourist vessel, the Umiaq ferry is a lifeline for remote communities along Greenland’s West Coast, delivering mail, goods and essential services to isolated towns. It also offers a unique way to explore Greenland’s remarkable coastline in the company of locals, making unusual stops along the way.
This library and cultural centre on Aasiaat was once a girl’s school
This library and cultural centre on Aasiaat was once a girl’s school
During the voyage, I played countless games of cards with local people I met on the ferry. In Qeqertarsuaq, my new friends even convinced me to join them ashore for a quick game of football, made exceptionally memorable thanks to the massive icebergs serving as our only spectators.
A three-hour stop in Aasiaat, Greenland’s fifth-largest town (with over 3,000 residents), included a complimentary guided tour of its historic houses and the library and cultural centre, a local highlight set within a majestic building that once housed a girls’ school.
Back onboard the ferry, I was treated to an incredible display of whale watching, with humpbacks frequently surfacing close to the boat. The captain’s announcement of each new sighting would send everyone scurrying to the deck for a closer look.
Anette Grønkjær Lings of Hotel Sisimiut & Tours
Anette Grønkjær Lings of Hotel Sisimiut & Tours
About a day and a half after leaving Ilulissat, the ferry arrived at Sisimiut, Greenland’s adventure capital and second-largest town, located just 40km north of the Arctic Circle. At the harbour, I was welcomed by Anette, a pioneer in community tourism and the manager of Hotel Sisimiut and Tours.
“Community is the cornerstone of tourism here,” she emphasised, highlighting Greenland’s tight-knit social ecosystem. The hotel supports local artists by purchasing their work year-round, providing stable income and preserving traditional crafts. Additionally, a local greenhouse supplies much of the hotel’s produce, reducing its reliance on Danish imports and supporting the sustainable operations.
Julia showing her the author her Inuit tattoos
Julia showing her the author her Inuit tattoos
Anette and her daughter, Julia, also run the Greenland Dog Adventure programme, aimed at preserving the sled-dog population, which has fallen dramatically across the country in recent years. While its dogsledding trips thrill visitors in winter, their main goal is educating younger generations about this tradition, which is at risk due to urbanisation.
“We’re proud to maintain a stable dog population here in Sisimiut,” Julia noted.
She and Anette took me on a tour of Sisimiut’s charming open-air museum, showcasing historic buildings from the 18th-century onwards. But they were most eager to introduce me to Sisimiut’s real treasure: the great outdoors. This is Greenland’s adventure capital after all, offering activities like fly fishing, dog sledding, cross-country skiing, and hiking on iconic routes such as the Arctic Circle Trail.
“So much of this stunning land is easily accessible, and the landscapes are otherworldly,” Anette exclaimed.
Sisimiut harbour is the gateway to the area’s rugged fringes
Sisimiut harbour is the gateway to the area’s rugged fringes
I opted for the half-day Inuit Trail, which is both scenic and culturally significant. It traverses grounds where the Inuit have lived for 4,000 years. And to enrich my experience, Anette arranged for a special guide, Anna, who was revealed to be the great-great-granddaughter of the famed explorer Knud Rasmussen, a key figure in the understanding of Inuit culture and revered throughout Greenland.
Anna, who is also deeply passionate about Inuit culture, led me to a burial site from the 18th century, before stopping by the ruins of historic pit houses, originally constructed with turf roofs.
“This is where the Inuit lived seasonally, driven by the rhythms of fishing and hunting,” Anna explained. “Nature here is unpredictable, so moving around was essential.”
Anna Rasmussen is the great-great-granddaughter of the Greenlandic-Danish explorer and anthropologist Knud Rasmussen, who once crossed the Northwest Passage on a dog sled
Anna Rasmussen is the great-great-granddaughter of the Greenlandic-Danish explorer and anthropologist Knud Rasmussen, who once crossed the Northwest Passage on a dog sled
I would experience that unpredictability firsthand when my stay in Sisimiut was unexpectedly extended due to the weather cancelling my flight. But it gave me the perfect excuse to return to the water. Anette and her family took me on their boat to picturesque Assaqutaq, once a thriving fishing village. It was gradually abandoned from the 1960s onwards, as residents sought jobs and modern services in larger towns like Sisimiut, until it was finally left empty.
The settlement stands as a poignant symbol of Greenland’s broader urbanisation trend, which has seen many small, remote communities left behind as its people migrate to larger centres, such as capital Nuuk. I recalled John’s fears of Ilimanaq facing a similar fate.
Capital futures
With the Greenlandic weather gods finally smiling on me, my flight landed two days later than planned at Nuuk’s brand-new international terminal, which officially opened this November. This is just the first in a series of upgrades to Greenland’s airports, enabling larger jet aircraft to land here. It will be a real game changer, and not only for the transport needs of locals, but also for Greenland’s overall tourism potential.
With the future in mind, I met Anne, who heads up the country’s tourism board, for dinner in Nuuk. She was quick to emphasise the key challenges they face: balancing economic development with the need to protect the
environment and preserve Greenland’s traditional way of life.
“The new airports need volume; the airlines need volume,” Anne stressed, recognising the need for a growth in tourism numbers. “But we want quality visitors. Our tourism experience focuses on authenticity and local knowledge, so we want locals to lead the conversation,” she affirmed.
With mention of the introduction of larger aircraft, I raised the issue of the limited accommodation options across Greenland.
The imposing statue of the Lutheran missionary Hans Egede, who founded Nuuk, is an uncomfortable reminder of the country’s colonial history
The imposing statue of the Lutheran missionary Hans Egede, who founded Nuuk, is an uncomfortable reminder of the country’s colonial history
“As you saw, most hotels are locally owned and operated,” Anne countered, arguing that while growth is inevitable, it must still be on the terms of local people and with the aim of keeping Greenland’s nature pristine.
The following day, I wandered Nuuk with Anne’s words still ringing in my head. I was to be guided by local singer and artist Amarok Petersen, who met me in front of Katuaq Cultural Center, a building whose unusual design was inspired by the northern lights. Straight away, I knew this would be no ordinary tour.
Amarok was holding a traditional frame drum when I met her. She explained that katuaq means ‘drumstick’ in Greenlandic. She then proceeded to demonstrate its use, singing so beautifully that a small crowd gathered.
Next, she wanted to introduce me to one of the town’s “heroes” – though I soon saw the irony in her words. She took me to visit the statue of Hans Egede, the Norwegian Lutheran missionary who founded Nuuk (then known as Godthåb) in 1728.
“Our tourism focuses on authenticity and local knowledge; we want locals to lead the conversation”
“He actually forbade the drum, my drum, and all of our culture. He told the Inuit they had to believe in God and that our mythology was evil,” she lamented.
His statue stands near the town’s historic church. “Much older than this church are our own beliefs,” she continued. “We believe in nature – the mother of the ocean, the spirit of nature – that is what my dad taught me. We grew up trusting and connecting with nature. My mom, however, was a devout Lutheran Christian. I think I have a bit of both in me,” she smiled. It is a duality shared by many Greenlanders today.
Amarok then took me to the excellent National Museum of Greenland, where she provided a crash course in Greenlandic history and culture, starting with the peoples that inhabited this land, including the Inuit. We saw many fine examples of ancient qajaks (kayaks), an Inuit invention, and the “first-ever” sunglasses, used for surviving the sun’s harsh reflection on the ice. She also pointed out Inuit sealskin underwear – “Look, the world’s first G-strings,” she laughed.
As we moved into more recent history, I was surprised to learn that Greenland was largely made up of small, independent colonies until the 20th century. In 1953, Denmark changed its constitution, upgrading Greenland’s status from a colony to a province. In 1979, it gained home rule, and its autonomy expanded further in 2008, with the official language changing from Danish to Greenlandic the following year.
Amarok singing in Nuuk harbour
Amarok singing in Nuuk harbour
“But we will have more, we need more,” Amarok affirmed. It’s a desire prompted not just by an understandable need by Greenlanders for greater control of their own land and destiny, but also because the Danish have not always treated the Inuit well. “There are dark moments in our history, especially for us women and children.”
As we exited the museum, we saw a large cruise ship enter the fjord, which visibly upset Amarok. “My father always said: ‘Never put them in the fjord’ – they pollute, make noise and disturb the animals, especially our whales,” she exclaimed.
“We want visitors, we love visitors, but only when nature does not get hurt. That’s what you call sustainability,” she added. “It’s not all about money. As we say here: you cannot eat money.”
To emphasise her point, Amarok took me to our final stop: the statue of Sassuma Arnaa, the Mother of the Sea. She first sang and then narrated her version of this central Greenlandic myth, telling the story of the giant woman who lives at the bottom of the sea, who is both mother and guardian of all sea life. When people do bad things, like overfish or fight, she gets angry and stops the sea life from interacting with humans, causing starvation. It’s an apt metaphor for today, I thought.
“You could say she symbolises climate change and sea pollution,” Amarok reflected. “Both matter for our future in Greenland.”
Her parting words seemed especially relevant as I set off for my last stop, an even starker symbol of Greenland’s uncertain future.
A receding wall of wonder
The flight from Nuuk to Greenland’s international gateway, Kangerlussuaq, was perhaps the most scenic I’d ever embarked on. Beneath a radiant blue sky, I soared above a procession of majestic icebergs, their peaks rising like ancient sentinels from the deep-blue Arctic Ocean. Below me, colossal glaciers shimmered with a blinding brilliance, while narrow fjords cradled hundreds of glacial lakes, each one a turquoise jewel so vivid that it seemed as if they’d been transplanted from a Polynesian atoll.
Greenland offers a rare opportunity to witness ice in its myriad awe-inspiring forms, from towering ’bergs and sprawling pack ice to drifting floes and stoic glaciers, culminating in the sight of Greenland’s legendary ice cap, the island’s vast inland Ice Sheet, which was now tantalisingly within reach.
A caribou (reindeer) spotted on Russell Glacier
A caribou (reindeer) spotted on Russell Glacier
In Kangerlussuaq, access to the edge of the Ice Sheet is via Greenland’s longest road – a mere 37km. Shortly after leaving the airport settlement, I was driven into the Aasivissuit–Nipisat World Heritage area, and the two-hour road trip became an unexpected highlight in itself. Driving in the early evening offered some incredible wildlife encounters: dozens of caribou, playful foxes, bounding Arctic hares, and even a fleeting glimpse of the elusive musk ox.
“It’s elusive because it’s hunting season, and they’re taking good care to hide from humans,” my driver and guide, Hill, explained with a wry smile.
We passed by no fewer than four glaciers, including the photogenic Russell Glacier, which flows from the ice cap.
“[The Ice Sheet] has moved back over a kilometre in the last decade alone,” Hill sighed as we paused to take in the views. He was eager to highlight the effects of climate change on the land, and told me that as recently as 2008, you could park and walk almost right onto the Ice Sheet. Now it required a 15-minute hike to set foot on the second-largest body of ice in the world.
The Greenland Ice Sheet measures around 1.8 million sq km
The Greenland Ice Sheet measures around 1.8 million sq km
I made the journey myself and discovered an unearthly landscape as breathtaking and surreal as I’d imagined it to be, yet my dominant feeling was one of ‘last-chance tourism’.
“Where you stood today, there won’t be any ice at all in a few years time,” Hill confirmed as we prepared to leave. “But we know that we need to act now, and hopefully, we all will,” he added, his tone shifting to one of cautious optimism.
The challenges facing Greenland are immense, from the accelerating impact of climate change to the pressures of modernity and globalisation. As my plane ascended above the receding ice, I reflected on the hope that lingers here.
There is belief that the people of Greenland can navigate these seemingly insurmountable challenges while forging a future that is both sustainable and rooted in their heritage. You certainly wouldn’t bet against them. If they can thrive on the frozen edge of the world, they can do anything.
Need to know
When to go
The majority of Greenland’s few visitors (more people visit Antarctica on expedition cruises than visit Greenland) arrive in the short summer season, between June and mid-September. October and November are cooler, wetter and mushier, but offer great opportunities for seeing the northern lights. Winter activities include dogsledding and cross-country skiing, but note that travel can be extra challenging at this time of the year.
Getting there & around
Domestic flights here are monopolised by Air Greenland, with high fares often accompanied by last-minute cancellations and delays.
Kangerlussuaq was the prime international airport, but this has now changed as of November 2024 with the opening of Nuuk Airport, which will now be the main aviation hub.
Air Greenland currently offers the only year-round regular international service, flying to Copenhagen (under five hours). Summer connections, via Reykjavik, are also provided by Icelandair, while United Airlines is also launching flights from New York City to Nuuk in the summer of 2025.
The opening of Nuuk’s new airport could change all this, attracting more airlines and destinations. Ilulissat’s new airport is delayed until 2026, while Qaqortoq’s airport is scheduled to open in 2025.
A great, and sustainable, way to travel around the west coast of Greenland is the seasonal Arctic Umiaq Line. This passenger and cargo ferry route runs from the southern town of Qaqortoq up to Ilulissat, with stops including Nuuk and Sisimiut. You can book anything from a bunk bed to a suite, and prices are very reasonable.
Carbon offset
A return flight from London to Nuuk via Copenhagen produces 706kg of carbon per passenger. Wanderlust encourages you to offset your travel footprint through a reputable provider. Learn more here.
Where to stay
The good news is that most hotels in Greenland are locally owned and operated, though prices are high and standards may not always match the cost, thanks to the harsh conditions and short tourism season. Highlights include the Hotel Arctic in Ilulissat, which is perhaps the best address in Greenland; the unique World of Greenland lodges in Eqi Glacier and Ilimanaq; and the exemplary community hub that is Hotel Sisimiut.
About the trip
The author’s trip was supported by Greenland Travel, the country’s leading tour operator, which offers various itineraries. Mention Wanderlust when booking for special offers and suggestions. The country’s tourist board, Visit Greenland, also supported the trip.
Glass Igloo cabin at Hotel Arctic Ilullisat
Glass Igloo cabin at Hotel Arctic Ilullisat
A glacial lake spotted from the air while flying between Greenland capital Nuuk and the town of Kangerlussuaq
A glacial lake spotted from the air while flying between Greenland capital Nuuk and the town of Kangerlussuaq
The decreasing numbers of Greenland sled dogs are a result of their expensive upkeep, climate change and an influx of other forms of transport
The decreasing numbers of Greenland sled dogs are a result of their expensive upkeep, climate change and an influx of other forms of transport
