Into the Northwest Passage Cruise

Your journey begins in Kangerlussuaq, a broad glacial valley on Greenland’s western coast, once home to a U.S. Air Force base. After a charter flight from Toronto, Zodiacs carry you toward your ice-class expedition vessel—your floating home for the weeks ahead.

As we sail southwest through Kangerlussuaq Fjord, one of the longest fjords in the world, the scenery unfolds in layers of blue, white, and stone. Glacial tongues slide slowly down the valleys, their meltwater turning the shallows a milky turquoise. Mountains rise from still waters as we cross the Arctic Circle, marking the start of our passage toward the open sea.

The Sisimiut coast reveals Greenland’s west in all its complexity: a weave of islands, fjords, and communities framed by mountain silhouettes. Zodiacs trace the shoreline; hikers climb for sweeping views. The air smells of salt and tundra moss, and the sea carries a low, constant murmur.

Here, layers of time overlap. The Saqqaq, Dorset, and Thule peoples lived and travelled these lands for more than 4,500 years—each leaving traces that speak of endurance and adaptation. Learn from local Inuit voices about how these histories remain alive within the fabric of modern life. The West Greenland Current brings relative warmth to these waters—a reminder that here, the sea and seasons do the teaching.

At Ilulissat Icefjord, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, the world distills to ice and light. The vast Sermeq Kujalleq glacier sends its creations—crystalline cathedrals of blue and white—into Disko Bay, where they drift, groan, and fracture. Ilulissat means “iceberg,” and here the name feels earned.

Walk the boardwalk above the fjord as thunder echoes from the ice below. Visit the Icefjord Centre to trace the stories held within this landscape: scientific, cultural, and deeply human. In town, wander through museums, cafés, and craft shops alive with colour and conversation—a vibrant contrast to the hushed immensity of the ice itself.

Along Greenland’s western coast, fjords open like mirrors between mountain and cloud. The tundra rises in gentle folds—moss, stone, and the bright trace of late-summer flowers. From the ship or by Zodiac, we explore sheltered bays and narrow inlets, watching as weather and light shape the day.

Where conditions allow, we step ashore to walk the tundra, guided by Inuit expedition team members who share stories of the plants, animals, and ancestral presence that knit this landscape together. Every encounter—whether with the quiet rhythm of waves on rock or the sudden lift of a seabird—becomes a lesson in attention.

As we sail westward, Greenland falls behind and Baffin Bay opens ahead. The sea stretches to the horizon, vast and still, carrying us toward the Canadian Arctic and the next chapter of the passage.

Between Greenland and Baffin Island lies Davis Strait, a vast expanse where ocean and ice mingle in a dance of shifting light. The ship glides through open water, the horizon moving gently with each breath of wind. This is a day for pleasure as much as discovery—for letting the rhythm of the sea relax the mind, for feeling joy in the quiet act of watching and listening. Here, learning unfolds not as effort, but as delight.

From the decks, scan for minke and humpback whales, their sleek backs cutting the surface before vanishing again. Fulmars and kittiwakes wheel above the ship, while murres and dovekies gather on the water in small, dark rafts, rising and dipping with the swell. Inside, join workshops and presentations that deepen understanding of the Arctic’s ecology, culture, and story.

Here, in the heart of Inuit Nunangat, learn directly from Inuit educators and cultural ambassadors. Through shared games, food, and conversation, they offer insight into daily life and the enduring relationship between people and place. Knowledge, like the sea itself, flows in every direction—connecting past and present, traveller and host.

We enter Tallurutiup Imanga, the great inlet known to many as Lancaster Sound—a place where rare Arctic wildlife concentrates. Glaciers feed the cold, clear water; tides carry nutrients that sustain the region’s intricate web of life. Narwhal, beluga, and bowhead whales move through the channels, while fulmars, kittiwakes, and ivory gulls wheel above the cliffs.

Travelling by ship and Zodiac, we explore these protected waters, guided by naturalists and Inuit expedition team members who share how this vast marine environment has sustained Inuit and their ancestors for millennia. Their deep knowledge continues to shape how Tallurutiup Imanga is cared for today, ensuring the rhythms of the sea endure for generations to come.

To the north lies Devon Island, the largest uninhabited island on Earth—its tundra carved by ice, wind, and time. Hiking across gravel plains and glacial valleys, we find traces of ancient dwellings and the resilient plants that colour this austere landscape: purple saxifrage, Arctic willow, moss campion. Here, stillness is its own story.

At Beechey Island, history lies close to the surface. In 1845, Sir John Franklin set out from England aboard HMS Erebus and HMS Terror, seeking a navigable route through the Northwest Passage. His crew overwintered here, where three men died and were laid to rest on the stony shore.

In the years that followed, Beechey became a landmark for the searchers who came after—Amundsen, Bernier, Larsen, and many more. Supplies were cached, ships anchored, and in 1854 another grave was added: Thomas Morgan, of the HMS Investigator, buried beside Franklin’s men. The remains of Northumberland House, a rough stone depot, still stand as witness to those long years of searching and loss.

For Inuit, the story of Franklin has long been part of the living memory of the land. Their knowledge of routes, ice, and survival helped reveal the fate of the expedition—understanding carried not by charts, but by experience. To walk among these graves today is to feel that confluence of history and knowing, and the vastness that holds them both.

We reach Ikirahaq, known to many as Bellot Strait—a narrow, two-kilometre channel where the currents of the western and eastern Arctic converge. Threading between Somerset Island and the Boothia Peninsula, it marks the northernmost point of continental North America. The currents here are swift and precise, changing direction with the breathing of the tides.

From the deck, granite walls rise close on either side, streaked with snow and shadow. Beluga whales, narwhals, and seals might surface in the swirling water; seabirds flock to feed on the small creatures swept through by the currents.

For Inuit, Ikirahaq has long been a place of passage and gathering, known for its moving ice and the life that travels with it. In the 1850s, Joseph René Bellot, a French naval officer, joined the search for Franklin and lent his name to the strait—though its story runs far deeper than any map.

To pass through Ikirahaq is to feel that meeting of worlds: east and west, land and sea, past and present. The water quickens beneath the hull, and the voyage turns once more toward the heart of the Passage.

We sail west into the Kitikmeot Region, the heart of the Northwest Passage. Sea ice drifts in quiet mosaics; the coastline unfolds in muted browns and silver blues. Though sparsely populated, these lands and waters hold life—muskoxen and caribou on the tundra, seals and whales in the shifting sea.

This is the setting of many historic journeys. Roald Amundsen overwintered nearby for two years while completing the first full transit of the Passage. His success rested on knowledge learned from Inuit—skills of survival and navigation born of generations living with ice and weather.

Each day brings new light and new waters. We move steadily westward, carried by the rhythm of the sea and the enduring presence of those who know it best.

We arrive at Iqaluktuuttiaq, or Cambridge Bay, a welcoming community on the southern coast of Victoria Island. Its name—“place of many fish”—speaks to the abundance that has long sustained life here.

Join a guided tour to learn about daily life in the Kitikmeot Region, where tradition and innovation meet. Visit the Canadian High Arctic Research Station (CHARS), a state-of-the-art facility operated by Polar Knowledge Canada, dedicated to studying Arctic ecosystems and climate through collaboration between science and Indigenous knowledge.

Explore local arts and crafts—carvings, prints, beadwork—each carrying stories of skill, connection, and endurance. As evening light settles over the tundra, the sea glows with the last warmth of summer, and the voyage begins to turn toward home.

Our voyage ends at Kugluktuk, the westernmost community in Nunavut, where the Coppermine River meets the sea. Its Inuinnaqtun name means “place of moving waters,” a fitting farewell after weeks spent following the rhythms of ice and tide.

Step ashore to explore this warm and welcoming community, known for its artistry and deep connection to the surrounding land. Here, stories flow as steadily as the river itself—threads of history, language, and belonging carried forward through generations.

Depending on sea, ice, and weather conditions, Iqaluktuuttiaq (Cambridge Bay) may serve as an alternate disembarkation point. From either location, guests will board a charter flight to Yellowknife, Northwest Territories, marking the final leg of the journey south.

In the soft northern light, we say goodbye to shipmates and newfound friends, carrying with us the quiet understanding that the Arctic does not end—it continues to move, to teach, and to remind.