Only the ice and weather decide.
The North Pole is at 90°. We are heading to Shannon Island, deep within Northeast Greenland National Park, to see the remnants of the hut built from the wreckage of the Alabama. Shannon is where Danish explorers Ejnar Mikkelsen and Iver Iversen waited through two brutal winters before being rescued.
Well, seeing it was the plan but, as Captain Charbel Daher of Le Commandant Charcot often told us in Greenlandic (Kalaallisut), the most widely spoken Inuit language in Greenland, “Silarsuaq sikullu kisimi naagalavoq” — “Only the ice and weather decide.”
Captain Charbel Daher on the bridge of Le Commandant Charcot.
(Brian Berkman) We reached as far as Sabine Island, named after the British general and physicist who carried out pendulum experiments there in 1823, roughly 90km south of Shannon.
On Steward Island, we trekked across the tundra. It was mid-June and much of the land ice had already melted. The provided knee-high Dunlop boots had excellent grip, even on slippery ground, but sometimes I’d sink 5cm into the tundra and have to use the supplied hiking poles to pry my foot out. At first glance, Steward looks barren, but soon small pink blossoms and arctic willows appear — rather than growing vertically from the ground, the willow sends its branches horizontally along the rocky shore.
Walking on the tundra — compacted organic matter above the permafrost — is rather like walking in a bog. What appears solid may not be.
Ponant Explorations’s Le Commandant Charcot is the world’s only purpose-built luxury icebreaker, combining Polar Class 2 engineering with Michelin-starred cuisine and spa facilities. At most stops, it offers a selection of activities: exploring on inflatable zodiacs, kayaking (an activity invented by the Greenlandic Inuit), walks of various durations, polar plunging, dog sledding and polar hiking.
I’d signed up for the medium walk, which involved taking the zodiac from ship to coast and exploring on foot. Typically, activities are planned for the mornings and afternoons, with an all-aboard call for lunch at 1pm. But that day’s polar hike was different. Conditions allowed for a full-day hike up the face of Steward’s mountain. Eleven souls had signed up, including José Manuel Mendoza, a Venezuela-born 40-something now living in Italy. He was part of our extended group of non-French speakers who sometimes dined together.
A glacier is a frozen yet still flowing, albeit very slowly, river of ice.
(Brian Berkman) A HELICOPTER RESCUEIndulging in yet another superb lunch at the Sila buffet restaurant with the kind of self-congratulatory gusto that follows an excursion, we noticed the ship begin to move — very slowly at first. She soon gathered momentum. Le Commandant Charcot doesn’t drop anchor while at sea, so a bit of drifting is usual, but now we were motoring. “What about José?” someone at the table asked.
If you’ve ever stared into a whisky on the rocks, you’ll recognise how ice behaves and how it changes as it melts and the surrounding liquid dissipates. The Arctic is the same.
The increasing wind had compressed the sea ice between ship and coast, making it impassable by zodiac. Perhaps the ship was seeking another area from which to launch the zodiacs to collect the hikers.
The writer, Brian Berkman, drinking Champagne and feasting on caviar on Greenland’s sea ice.
(Brian Berkman) Seeing the polar bear is a highlight of a visit to Greenland. This one was photographed at 1.30am after the captain woke passengers to see her.
(Brian Berkman) Le Commandant Charcot has advanced safety equipment and a helicopter on board. We’d seen the helicopter in action twice by then — first during a safety drill and then, days later, used for scouting the ice conditions further north. We wondered among ourselves about the polar hikers until, what seemed like a while later, the captain announced that the hikers had completed their walk. Rather than having to wait until the ice conditions improved enough for them to be fetched by zodiac, they’d be collected by helicopter.
Many of us gathered on deck five’s promenade to watch the heli start up while others looked down from deck nine. José was among the first three to return to the ship by air. Soon after, with an espresso martini in hand, noshing on skewered olives and mixed nuts in the Anori observation lounge, I was disappointed at the lack of drama in his telling. No, he hadn’t been afraid. No, they’d never been at risk. Yes, he had enjoyed the heli-ride. But for those of us witnessing the truth of the captain’s words — only the ice and weather decide — it was one of the two-week trip’s highlights. Even the slightest taste of what Mikkelsen and Iversen might have experienced seemed, for a brief moment, within grasp.
AN ICY PLUNGEArctic sea water freezes at -1.8 degrees Celsius and the brave take a polar plunge into the frigid -1.6 ocean. (Brian Berkman) The first polar plunge into a minus 1.6°C sea was witnessed from the comparative warmth of the fifth-floor promenade. It was by a 50-year old Belgian woman celebrating her birthday, followed by her husband moments after. The crew had set up a tented and heated ice camp and lowered steps into the water in the ship’s wake. The doctor and many other staff were at the ready. We cheered them on from the decks.
At Kap Parry on Traill Island, after an exploration on skis — a personal first, which I found much less tricky than expected — the brilliant F&B team had set up a white-cloth-covered table directly on the ice with elegantly arranged tins of Kaviari Paris and flutes of Henriot Champagne. We were offered white porcelain spoons with around 15g of Osciètre caviar in each and a glass of Champagne. That day I relished several hundred euros’ worth of these delicate, large, amber-coloured briny sturgeon-roe orbs. On another occasion, caviar was again offered, but this time served on blinis with salmon and cream cheese and paired with vodka. Vodka is better than Champagne at stripping the mouth of the oily residue so that each new bite tastes virginal.
Le Commandant Charcot is the only ship with an Alain Ducasse restaurant, Nuna. With 33 restaurants worldwide and a combined count of 21 stars, the Frenchman has more Michelin notches on his belt than any other active chef. With a maximum of 245 passengers (and 215 crew), everything on the ship is on point. You can’t sit in any of the public areas without someone offering you a drink or snack within seconds. And after a few days into the trip, you will be offered what you ordered previously and be addressed by name.
A WALL OF ICEOn clear days the still Arctic Ocean reflects the mountains and the surrounding snow.
(Brian Berkman) At Henry Land, a peninsula-like land mass in East Greenland, we got really close to the glacier wall. In the ice-scapes, distances are deceptive. Because the 24-hour light is so bright and reflected off the surrounding whiteness, and because the air is extremely clean, what looks nearby isn’t. As we approached the glacier, its size was overwhelming. We kept at least 100m away as ice can carve off at any time, yet were still dwarfed by its towering presence.
On Kap Borlase Warren, a headland in Northeast Greenland there are stone circle remains that might have secured the sealskin tents of Inuit hunters, and other, now-dilapidated structures made from driftwood.
Le Commandant Charcot also features two science laboratories on board, and I interacted with scientists, including one linked to the University of Cape Town, diving through the ice to photograph and collect samples — adding a fascinating research dimension to the luxury travel experience.
Science Officer Jean-Philippe Savy taking an ice-core sample. (Brian Berkman) Signs of previous habitation in structures built, likely by Inuit hunters or whalers, from driftwood and stones. (Brian Berkman) We spotted around four of the world’s 26,000 Ursus maritimus — polar bears — at different times, including one with a seal kill. On our voyage, we saw many seabirds: kittiwakes, little auks, and pink-footed geese among them. On our return journey to Reykjavik, a pod of orca whales appeared within reaching distance of our ship, swimming with their dorsal fins out like sharks or dolphins might in a gentle waveform.
While only the weather and ice will decide where you can go, like me, you will be deeply affected by exploring this remote and rapidly shrinking world of ice. In a place where Viking explorers once spun tales to lure settlers, where many adventurers have perished, where the Inuit people still live extremely isolated lives, you too will discover that the Arctic doesn’t simply reveal its wonders; it changes you in the process.
In areas where the sea ice is sufficiently broken up passengers explore on inflatable zodiacs. (Brian Berkman) YOUR TURN … Book early for Ponant Explorations’s 14-night “Northeast Greenland’s Unexplored Sea Ice” sailing roundtrip from Reykjavík in May 2027 for a special rate from €22,750 (about R468,200) per person sharing. May 2026 also available from €26,180 (about R510,500). Find them on Ponant’s website here or Everything Cruising here.
• Berkman was a guest of Ponant Explorations and Everything Cruising.
THE ALABAMA EXPEDITION: A SURVIVAL STORY IN ICEEjnar Mikkelsen and Iver Iversen in 1910 on the day before they left the rest of the Alabama expedition. (Wikimedia Commons) In 1906, Danish explorer Ludvig Mylius-Erichsen led the Denmark Expedition to map the northeast coast of Greenland — but he and his team perished, and their maps and scientific data were lost.In 1909, Ejnar Mikkelsen launched the Alabama Expedition to recover those records and help disprove the US’s claim to the territory. Mikkelsen and a small team set off from the Alabama using dogsleds to retrace Mylius-Erichsen’s route but had to return to the ship when a crew member developed severe frostbite and had to have his toes amputated.In the spring of 1910, Mikkelsen set out again — this time with only Iver Iversen, the ship’s mechanic.The pair eventually located the missing documents in a coastal cairn.Meanwhile, a passing whaler rescued the rest of the Alabama crew, who, believing Mikkelsen and Iversen had died, abandoned the ship. The Alabama, trapped in ice and slowly crushed by pressure ridges, became unusable.Returning to find themselves stranded, Mikkelsen and Iversen built a hut from salvaged timber and survived two Arctic winters before being rescued in July 1912 by a Norwegian whaling vessel. Having preserved the recovered records that helped Denmark solidify its claim to Greenland, they returned to Denmark as heroes.Mikkelsen later wrote about it in his book Two Against the Ice.The story was adapted into the Netflix film Against the Ice in 2022.