There are trips where you know exactly what you're going to see.
You have an itinerary. You know where the ship will anchor. You know where you'll land and, barring weather, you have a pretty good idea of how each day will unfold.
And then there are expeditions like this one.
As we stood on the deck of the National Geographic Resolution watching Reykjavík disappear behind us, we knew only one thing for certain:
For the next ten days, we were heading toward Greenland.
After that?
Well… that was the exciting part.
Leaving the Map Behind
This wasn't going to be a typical expedition cruise.
We were joining Lindblad Expeditions on a new itinerary exploring the remote eastern edge of Greenland's ice cap, an area filled with fjords that see very few visitors and, in some cases, waters that still needed to be mapped as we sailed through them.
There would be no other ports after Reykjavík. No string of towns waiting for us. No predictable series of landing sites.
The captain and expedition team would make decisions based on what Greenland gave us: ice, weather, wildlife and conditions.
There wasn't really a script.
And that was exactly why we were there.
Our first 36 hours were spent crossing the Denmark Strait, and although technically it was a sea day, expedition sea days have a way of keeping you busy.
There were Zodiac safety briefings and polar bear safety training. Responsible tourism presentations. Photography workshops. A National Geographic storytelling lecture.
And then came biosecurity.
Every pair of boots, every jacket, every pair of ski pants, mittens, hats, backpacks and hiking poles had to be inspected and cleaned so we wouldn't accidentally introduce seeds or other foreign material into Greenland's environment.
In between all of that, we started exploring our home for the voyage.
And we quickly fell in love with the Resolution.
There were windows everywhere. Huge outdoor viewing areas at the bow. Expansive aft decks. Quiet places where you could simply stand and watch the ocean go by.
Even crossing open water, the ship was remarkably smooth and quiet.
But none of us really cared about the Denmark Strait anymore.
Because sometime during the night, we would cross it.
And when we woke up, we'd be in Greenland.
Our First Morning in Greenland
At 6:00 a.m., we arrived at the entrance to Bernstorff Isfjord.
And suddenly this expedition became very real.
For the next four hours, the Resolution sailed deeper and deeper into the fjord while the expedition team mapped the waters ahead of us.
Think about that for a moment.
We weren't simply following the same route dozens of ships had traveled before us.
We were exploring.
Around every bend there seemed to be another glacier. Another stretch of sea ice. Another enormous iceberg.
Some of the icebergs were among the largest we'd ever seen.
Captain Martin Graser maneuvered the Resolution around, and sometimes seemingly right through, this frozen maze until eventually the sea ice became too thick.
The ship couldn't go farther.
So we changed vehicles.
The Zodiacs went into the water.
We bundled up, climbed aboard and headed out among the icebergs, suddenly viewing this enormous landscape from water level.
Then Greenland gave us one of those absolutely perfect afternoons.
Sunshine.
Calm water.
Almost no wind.
The kayaks came out.
There is something very different about seeing Greenland from a ship and seeing Greenland from a kayak.
Everything becomes quiet.
Your world shrinks to the sound of your paddle dipping into the water and the tiny pieces of ice floating around you.
We watched a glacier calve several times.
Then a giant iceberg began to roll.
Slowly, this enormous piece of ice turned in the water before rocking back and forth as it found its new balance.
It was mesmerizing, and a pretty dramatic reminder that these frozen landscapes aren't actually frozen in time at all.
They're constantly moving and changing.
We couldn't reach the very end of the fjord because of the ice, but the visibility was so extraordinary that we could see all the way toward the vast Greenland Ice Cap.
We had spent nearly twelve hours exploring a single fjord.
And somehow, that was only our first day.
Somehow, Greenland Kept Getting Better
The next morning we sailed south into Schested Fjord.
We had assumed nothing could top Bernstorff.
Greenland apparently took that as a challenge.
Schested was completely different.
The fjord was narrower. There was more ice. And the icebergs seemed even larger.
Again, Captain Martin maneuvered us astonishingly close to a glacier before the sea ice finally stopped our progress.
Along the way we spotted harbor seals and bearded seals resting near the shoreline.
Then I photographed something I'd never seen before: a polar cod swimming beside an iceberg.
Eventually the expedition team found a place where we could land.
We were finally going to step onto Greenland.
Chris and I immediately chose completely different adventures.
Chris joined our Greenlandic naturalist, Lars, for a challenging three-mile hike that climbed nearly 600 feet above the fjord.
I grabbed my camera.
Veteran National Geographic photographer Ralph Lee Hopkins was leading a photography walk, and there was absolutely no way I was passing that up.
We spent the afternoon looking at Greenland differently, studying reflections, scale and tiny details that are easy to overlook when you're surrounded by scenery this enormous.
Later that evening, we thought the adventure was finished.
We were wrong.
Captain Martin decided to investigate one more branch of the fjord.
There was very little ice blocking the way, so the Resolution slowly continued toward another glacier.
We got so close that even members of the crew started appearing on deck with their cameras.
On the way back out, waterfalls cascaded down the mountainsides in the evening sunshine. Eider ducks passed by. Harbor seals appeared along the shoreline.
Two days in Greenland.
Two completely different worlds.
And Then Someone Whispered, "Bear"
By our third day of exploring, we entered Timmiarmiit Fjord.
It was wider than the fjords we'd visited before, splitting into countless branches that seemed to disappear into the mountains.
We started with another landing.
Again there were choices: a challenging hike, a shorter scenic hike or a photography walk.
Again, I picked photography.
And almost immediately, we discovered something special: a rock ptarmigan nest containing seven eggs.
The parents watched us carefully from nearby while the expedition team maintained polar bear watch around the landing site.
That sentence alone pretty much sums up expedition travel in Greenland.
Back aboard the Resolution, the culinary team had set up an outdoor barbecue.
And I found myself facing one of the great dilemmas of expedition travel:
Do you photograph the towering granite walls surrounding the ship…
…or the spectacular display of gourmet doughnuts?
I did my best to appreciate both.
Then Captain Martin took us into an uncharted branch of the fjord toward a huge waterfall.
The ship moved astonishingly close.
And as we slowly backed away, an announcement came over the ship.
"Bear."
Everything changed.
People quietly began moving toward the bow carrying cameras and binoculars.
In the distance, a polar bear was swimming toward us.
The captain stopped the ship and even backed away slightly, giving the bear plenty of room.
But the bear kept coming.
Maybe it was curious.
Maybe it smelled lunch.
Maybe it had somehow heard about the doughnuts.
We'll never know.
It swam closer, climbed onto an iceberg, looked around and then stretched out for a short nap.
Eventually, it slipped back into the water and continued on its way.
We were still trying to process what we'd just seen when we spotted another polar bear.
And then four sperm whales surfaced.
At the same time.
For a few minutes, nobody knew where to look.
The whales rested at the surface before taking deep breaths and lifting those enormous tails into the air as they disappeared beneath the water.
Nearby, the second polar bear swam and dove through the sea.
Eventually the engines started again.
Surely that was enough excitement for one afternoon.
Apparently not.
The ship stopped again.
This time there wasn't an animal in sight.
Instead, sitting in front of us was the strangest iceberg we'd seen on the entire trip: a massive horseshoe-shaped formation larger than the Resolution itself.
It looked almost as though we could sail straight through it.
Later, after recap and dinner, we finally sat down for dessert.
Dark chocolate mousse.
And then the engines stopped.
Again.
At this point, everyone laughed.
We abandoned our mousse and headed back outside.
Polar bear number three.
This one was asleep on the sea ice.
The ice was too thick for the ship to get very close, which was perfectly fine with us. We stayed back and watched the bear sleeping peacefully in this enormous frozen landscape.
Three polar bears.
Four sperm whales.
A ptarmigan nest.
A waterfall.
Icebergs unlike anything we'd ever seen.
One day.
How exactly was Greenland supposed to top that?
The Day the Expedition Changed
The answer came the next morning.
And it was a reminder that true expedition travel isn't only about the exciting surprises.
Sometimes plans change for much more serious reasons.
During the night, a guest experienced a medical emergency requiring access to an airport.
When we woke up, instead of continuing deeper into Timmiarmiit Fjord, the Resolution was traveling north along Greenland's coast at 15 knots, heading for the airport at Kulusuk.
Our itinerary had changed completely.
In remote parts of the world, that's reality.
The Resolution has a doctor and a nurse aboard, but there are circumstances where someone needs care ashore.
Watching the captain and crew respond so quickly was reassuring.
And something unexpected happened as a result.
We got to experience another side of expedition life.
We attended presentations about polar bears, East Greenlandic culture and the engineering behind the Resolution.
We toured different cabins, including the ship's dedicated solo cabins, each with a private balcony and a bed facing the ocean.
And that evening we experienced the Cook's Nook Zero Waste Dinner, an intimate seven-course tasting menu built around the idea of using ingredients as completely as possible and reducing food waste.
Then, as we departed Kulusuk, humpback whales began lunge-feeding beside the ship.
The day hadn't gone according to plan.
Yet somehow Greenland had still given us a remarkable ending.
An Unexpected Day in Tasiilaq
Because we had traveled north for the medical evacuation, we were now close to Tasiilaq.
So the expedition team did what good expedition teams do.
They turned a change of plans into an opportunity.
Instead of sailing immediately south, we would spend the day visiting the largest community in East Greenland.
Colorful houses climbed the hills above the water as we approached Tasiilaq.
Once again, Chris and I chose different adventures.
He headed into the mountains for a hike through valleys filled with wildflowers, waterfalls and birdlife.
I stayed in town.
And I'm so glad I did.
I visited the local museum and church, watched an artisan carving reindeer antler, wandered through the grocery store, photographed wildflowers and colorful houses and met some ridiculously adorable Greenlandic sled-dog puppies.
More important, we had an opportunity to see a little of everyday life in East Greenland and meet the people who call this extraordinary place home.
It was never supposed to be part of our expedition.
Yet it became one of my favorite experiences.
Later, sailing away from Tasiilaq, fog rolled across the water.
Wildlife viewing seemed finished for the day.
So we headed for another very important expedition activity:
Afternoon tea.
Technically, yes, there's tea.
But really, we were there for the treats.
Throughout the voyage we'd encountered Belgian waffles, gourmet cookies, tarts, enormous charcuterie displays, cheeses, cured meats, fruit and chocolate truffles.
We were happily ruining our appetites when someone noticed more and more seabirds outside.
The fog was lifting.
We went back to the bow.
First came a humpback whale.
Then harbor seals.
Then roughly thirty pilot whales appeared.
They traveled together across the water, surfacing and porpoising in rhythm.
It was our first time ever seeing pilot whales in the wild.
And we weren't seeing one or two.
We were surrounded by them.
That evening we settled around the fire tables on Deck 6, heaters warming the cool Arctic air while everyone swapped stories about the day.
Somewhere along the way, the strangers we'd boarded the ship with had started becoming friends.
That's another thing expeditions do remarkably well.
One Last Day in Greenland
Eventually we reached Skjoldungen Fjord.
And Greenland changed again.
There was very little sea ice here. The water was crystal clear. The mountains were jagged and dramatic.
We launched our kayaks in Dronning Marie Dal.
The water was almost perfectly still.
We paddled through the silence, surrounded by mountains reflected in the glassy surface.
Later we landed and wandered along the shoreline, exploring tidal pools and hillsides covered in grasses and wildflowers.
It was beautiful.
The mosquitoes and flies were also extremely enthusiastic about our arrival.
By lunchtime, the sun had burned away the fog.
Then came the announcement.
Polar Plunge.
Chris and I had never done one together.
There is a first time for everything.
We stood side by side and jumped into the freezing Greenlandic water.
It was cold.
Very cold.
But under the bright Arctic sunshine, it was strangely exhilarating.
So naturally…
We did it again.
After thawing out in the sauna, we sailed toward Thrym Glacier.
It towered above the fjord, easily one of the most impressive glaciers we'd seen during the entire voyage.
We climbed into the Zodiacs for one final afternoon adventure.
We cruised beneath waterfalls and past hanging glaciers.
We even received our official "Greenland Baptism" by sticking our heads beneath an icy waterfall.
Then, as we floated in front of the glacier, another Zodiac approached.
They had brought hot chocolate.
There we were, sitting in a tiny boat in a remote Greenlandic fjord, drinking hot chocolate while staring at a glacier.
Sometimes luxury isn't a five-star hotel.
Sometimes it's a mug of hot chocolate handed to you from another Zodiac at the edge of the world.
The Igloo
When we returned to the ship, we learned we had one more surprise waiting.
We'd been chosen to spend the night in one of the Resolution's two rooftop igloos.
These glass domes on the upper deck can be transformed into little Arctic glamping retreats, complete with a proper bed and panoramic views.
But Greenland wasn't finished with us quite yet.
The engines stopped.
One last time.
At the mouth of the fjord stood the largest iceberg we'd seen during the entire expedition.
It was shaped almost like a cathedral, with two enormous spires rising from the sea.
Waves crashed against its base.
The iceberg barely moved.
And as huge as it looked, we knew most of it remained hidden beneath the water.
If Greenland wanted to give us one final image to remember, this was it.
That night, after dinner, recap and a hilarious crew talent show, we climbed into our rooftop igloo.
The crew had tucked fuzzy hot-water bottles beneath the blankets.
We crawled into bed surrounded by Greenland.
The next morning, someone delivered fresh espresso, hot chocolate and pastries to our little glass dome.
I can't think of a better ending.
The Long Way Home
Our final day was spent crossing the Denmark Strait back toward Reykjavík.
And for once, we were grateful for a quiet day.
We talked.
We laughed.
We looked through photographs.
We replayed the moments that had already started becoming stories.
Captain Martin shared drone footage from the voyage, and seeing Greenland from above somehow made everything we'd experienced feel even bigger.
The glaciers.
The fjords.
The mountains.
The ice.
The enormous emptiness between them.
When we booked this expedition, we expected Greenland to be beautiful.
We expected glaciers and icebergs.
We hoped for wildlife.
What we didn't expect was how much this place would get under our skin.
It was the silence.
The scale.
The unpredictability.
The moment someone whispered "bear" and an entire ship seemed to hold its breath.
It was paddling a kayak while a glacier calved in the distance.
It was discovering a ptarmigan nest.
Watching sperm whales disappear beneath the water.
Walking among the colorful houses of Tasiilaq.
Drinking hot chocolate in front of a glacier.
Jumping into freezing Arctic water.
Abandoning chocolate mousse because someone spotted another polar bear.
And standing outside late in the evening because you simply couldn't bring yourself to go inside yet.
But maybe most of all, it was the feeling of not knowing what was coming next.
That's the difference between simply visiting somewhere and truly exploring it.
We arrived in Greenland with an itinerary.
We left understanding that the best parts were the things nobody could have put on it.
As Reykjavík grew closer, Chris and I were already talking about coming back.
That's usually how we know a destination has really gotten us.
We haven't even left yet…
…and we're already planning the return.
Somewhere behind us were the glaciers, icebergs and fjords of East Greenland.
And I had a feeling a little part of us was going to stay there.