“I took a group trip to Greenland with absolutely no idea what to expect: here’s what I learned”

Go to Greenland, they said. It’ll be unforgettable, they said. Well, in this instance, I’d have to agree. 

Never in a million years would I have considered Greenland as a dream destination, yet here I am. Embracing my outdoor girl era, with a bag full of practical gear and no idea how this trip will pan out.

I’m joining an Intrepid Travel expedition to the world’s largest island (situated between the Arctic and North Atlantic Oceans) and I’ll admit, I’m feeling a little out of my depth. 

Largely covered by sheets of permanent snow and ice, this is a terrain I’m unfamiliar with – yet, I’m filled with a sense of adventure. Thinking about doing something similar? Here’s what I learned from taking a 10 (ish) day trip to Greenland, and everything you need to know if you’re up for doing the same…

“In Greenland, time can be a bit… fluid,” says local leader Neils Arkaluk with (what’s to become a signature) wry smile. 

I’m sitting with my expedition group in a local Nuuk hotel and Neils is briefing us on the journey ahead. He’s young, but has been leading tour groups since he was 16 years old. 

A north Greenland native, boat skipper, dog sledder and experienced guide, Neils is passionate about his homeland and experiencing its ruthless, rugged beauty as a collective.

“I can’t speak for thousands of mouths, I can only share my story” he adds. “I may sound vague at times, but that’s my purpose as there isn’t just one narrative here in Greenland.”

While largely made up of travel professionals – we’re one of the first groups trying out this Greenland Expedition itinerary – this crew of photographers, writers and content creators embodies the true ethos of an Intrepid trip: smaller groups make for more meaningful connections, with fellow travellers and with your surroundings.

There are also practical benefits to this mindset. Smaller groups help counteract the effects of overtourism – a huge concern for the Greenlandic people, Neils explains. 

There were personal implications for me, too. As a traveller and a single woman, I’m used to flying solo. I was curious about how the group dynamic would affect my experience and perception of Greenland. 

Little did I know that over the next 10 days, these eleven randomers would become like family, complete with quirks, isms, walking poles and dietary requirements.

But right now, we’re in Nuuk, it’s day one and everyone is being overly polite. Neils is about to lead a walking tour of Greenland’s capital and he’s keen to keep to the itinerary (however ‘fluid’ time may be).

Situated on Greenland’s south-west coast, Nuuk is a relatively small city, defined by the brightly coloured wooden houses that cling to its choppy shoreline and the Sermitsiaq mountain overlooking the bay.

Neils is taking us to the Nuuk Museum downtown to meet Maria Bach Kreutzmann, local author, storyteller and self-proclaimed monster hunter. Born and raised in Nuuk, Kreutzmann tells us that monsters are ‘part of her identity’.

“When we talk about Inuit mythology, it’s a huge area that needs to be covered,” she says as we take our seats around her, like excited kids waiting for a campfire ghost story. 

Monsters, Maria explains, represent the beauty and hostility of Arctic nature. “It’s dangerous to live here,” she says. “To survive, you have to be able to talk to and personify nature.”

“We are a vivid and modern community, but with roots in something really, really old,” she says. “Luckily, Greenland is currently experiencing a rebirth of Inuit spirituality, which will in turn help inform the next generation of storytellers.”

A gifted storyteller herself, Maria is clearly dedicated to keeping these traditions alive, while also recognising that they’re constantly evolving – much like the Greenlandic people.

A couple days later in Ilulissat, the next leg on our Greenland adventure, we are invited to a traditional kaffemik at Pauline Jenson’s house. 

A grandmother, foster mother and ex-addiction counsellor, she’s been hosting kaffemik – an open house celebration with coffee, tea and cake – for over 30 years.

She explains that kaffemik, like family, is an important part of Greenlandic culture as it brings the community together – and today, she has extra reason to celebrate. 

It transpires that all four of Pauline’s grandchildren won gold medals in this morning’s local kayak competition. “She says she’s not in her body right now,” Neils laughs. It’s going to be a busy day in the Jenson house.

Located about 300km north of the Arctic Circle on Greenland’s western coast, Ilulissat (which literally translates as ‘iceberg’) becomes our de facto basecamp for the rest of the trip. 

Home to the UNESCO World Heritage-listed Ice Fjord (and roughly 1,500 sled dogs), the town sits on the edge of adventure, with plenty of land and sea-based activities to keep travellers busy.

Today’s itinerary includes a visit to the Icefjord Centre. Following that, a hike into the mountains with Neils.

Although fairly fit, I’m not an experienced hiker and this was the one part of the trip I was feeling most anxious about. I was making friends within the group and didn’t want to be ‘that’ person holding up the trek because I had no clue what I was doing.

I needn’t have worried. There are two clearly marked hiking routes from the Icefjord Centre, yellow (3km) and blue (7km). We opt for the blue route. 

Moving as part of a long line, we clamber and scuff through rocky inlets from Nakkaavik (which translates as “the place where you fall”) to the Seqinniarfik hilltop which looks out over the icefjord. The view is breathtaking. A vast white landscape where ice giants and frozen fairytale palaces meet. 

The group passes around a pack of biscuits while getting some great ‘back’ landscape shots for the ’Gram. (Three days in and I’ve already got two Instawives and some pretty sick new Hinge pics). Again, these are the kind of moments that are best shared.

Slippy rocks and boggy swamp puddles are frequent. So are expletives. Thankfully, my boots are waterproof and supportive of my ankles when scrambling over boulders. 

After about five hours of hiking, we drop back into Ilulissat and reward ourselves with burgers and cold beers at a local café. Despite the midnight sun and the mournful cries of the sled dogs tethered on the rocky ledge across from my hotel room, that night I sleep like a log.

The latter part of the Intrepid itinerary involves a trip to the volcanic island of Qeqertarsuaq or Disco Island. 

Located in Disco Bay, this flora- and fauna-rich location is only accessible by boat from Ilulissat – and, of course, probably wouldn’t have ever been on my radar (save for its epic name) if it hadn’t been on the itinerary.

We meet up with Danny Molgaard, Disco local and good friend of Neils, for a walking tour of the town (also called Qeqertarsuaq). With only 850 inhabitants, Danny tells us that everyone knows everyone’s business and that’s the way residents like it.

The following day, Danny escorts us to the black sands of Qeqertarsuaq beach for a kayaking excursion in the bay. Again, this was another part of the trip that was making me nervous, but I couldn’t have felt safer. 

Steering the kayak around the sloping, sparkling curves of the icebergs is nothing short of awe-inspiring, with the bruised, kittiwake-peppered sky hemming us in between ocean and ether. 

An iceberg starts calving within 100m of us. The sound is like nothing on Earth. Part thunder, part leviathanic rumble, the cracked shard slips from the icy mass into the ocean like a sinking ship.

One for the memory bank, I’m suddenly aware that I probably wouldn’t be doing this if it weren’t for Intrepid. I wouldn’t have the first notion about how to book a kayaking trip, let alone get to Disco Island in the first place.

This is evident yet again when, during another excursion to Ilimanaq (a tiny municipality in western Greenland) I decide to swim out to an iceberg in the bay. 

Accompanied by an equally insane travel journalist from the USA, we brave the Arctic waters, shrieking and splashing until we make it to the small little glacial mound poking out of the water.

She manages to lift herself up onto it (“Holy shit, I just sat my ass on an iceberg”) whereas I paddle alongside, skin burning, in its frigid bluer-than-blue wake. 

Later that evening, I hear the whoosh of a whale breaking the surface of the bay I’d just swum in, making it to the balcony in time to see its tail descend into the depths. Unforgettable stuff.

The word ‘immaqa’ in Greenlandic means ‘maybe’, Neils explains – it’s very much a word to bear in mind when travelling in Greenland because, quite literally, anything can happen.

We were lucky to be graced with warm, glorious sun and blue skies for most of the time we were there. However, towards the back end of the trip, the weather turned and we found ourselves grounded in Ilulissat for 48 hours. 

The less-than-predictable Arctic weather forces travellers to be flexible and adaptable, so, like the Greenlandic people, it’s worth preparing yourself for these kinds of eventualities.

I would advise to always have some local currency (Danish Krone) on you, as well as a credit card to secure accommodation in case you find yourself stranded. 

Equally, make sure you’re packing well. I’d read about the Arctic mosquitoes (who knew) in Greenland, but wasn’t at all prepared for how REAL they are. 

We’re talking swarms of biting, relentless little monsters that will ruin your hike if you don’t have adequate bug repellent or skin coverings. My buff came in super handy (to cover the lower half of my face). A cap or hat will also keep them at bay.

As previously mentioned, invest in a good pair of boots, hiking trousers and a decent packable down coat. Everything else is just layers (merino is always best). 

My velcro sandals also came in handy when I wanted to give my feet a break in the evenings. Yes, I wore them with socks – it’s a strong look, but needs must. 

Pack a beanie and gloves for frigid boat trips, sunglasses for daytime sun and a sleeping eye mask for the midnight sun. Earplugs are essential if you don’t want the sled dogs to keep you awake at night (although, I was really quite fond of their soulful howls by the end of the trip).

Ultimately, Greenland needs to be approached with an open heart and an open mind. There’s a reason its people have lived so long within its icy confines. Like the locals, once you make ‘immaqa’ your mantra, you’re guaranteed to have the trip of a lifetime.

Click here to explore the Greenland Expedition itinerary at Intrepid Travel now