An Unforgettable Night on the Greenland Ice Sheet

Snowflakes hit me as I trudge up the icy terrain, each stone more slippery than the last. The temperature hovers around a frigid 14 degrees Fahrenheit. The wind? A mix of sharp stings and relentless gusts—but our group’s smiles tell a different story.

Just a few steps away from witnessing our home and hiking haven for the next 24 hours: the Greenland ice sheet, the largest ice expanse on Earth after Antarctica. Many of us traveled across oceans and ventured above the Arctic Circle to reach this spot. Once we conquer this moraine—a mound of rocks pushed outward by the ice—we’ll catch our first glimpse. Or we would, if this snowstorm hadn’t intensified beyond control.

From the ridge’s summit, I can barely make out the path ahead, let alone the vast 660,000-square-mile ice field that stretches to the horizon and far beyond. We’re surrounded by an unending white void, with no clear end in sight. Well, tonight is sure to be an adventure. I carefully descend the moraine, balancing a backpack filled with camera gear and a duffel packed with tents to rejoin the others.

“Let’s load the sleds,” Klaus Larsen, an experienced trekking guide from Albatros Arctic Circle, shouts over the howling wind. I jump into the fray, securing duffels to the sleds while trying to maintain warmth. It’s a scene of chaos. Just hours ago, we were eight hesitant strangers: a pair of friends, an older couple, a trio of college students, and me traveling solo. Now, we’re tethering our sleds together, gearing up for a challenging 40-minute trek across the ice field to set up camp.

Just to clarify, when I say “camp,” I mean true camping—no glamping on the Greenland ice sheet. We drag our gear across the ice, feeling the wind intensify with each step. Once we arrive at our site—a clear patch of snow—we dive into setting up: driving in ice stakes, pitching tents, and organizing our supplies. I find myself squeezing my single lukewarm hand warmer during every spare moment. It’s losing heat, and honestly, so am I.

However, cold fingers, chattering teeth, and relentless gusts are all part of the ice sheet’s first lesson: To explore where few have ventured, you must undertake what few will attempt. In other words, on this ice, you truly earn your experience.

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The moment I learned about Camp Ice Cap—the official name for this unique experience—I knew I had to camp on Greenland’s ice sheet. The idea first struck me during my inaugural trip to Greenland in 2019. As an outdoor enthusiast and passionate aurora seeker, the Arctic had always captivated me. During that visit, I explored the west coast via cruise, which was mesmerizing, but I yearned for the freedom and thrill of the tundra instead of a structured itinerary with the comforts of a cruise ship.

At Kangerlussuaq airport, our cruise’s last stop, I spotted a flyer on a bulletin board promoting Albatros Arctic Circle’s night on ice. This local outfitter, an independent arm of Denmark-based Albatros Travel, opens up these wild and often harsh stretches of Greenland’s landscape to adventurous travelers.

The Kangerlussuaq outpost—a settlement situated on the island’s western side—serves as an ideal launch point for those heading to the ice sheet. It’s the only town in Greenland with a road leading directly to the ice, albeit a rough one where reindeer and musk oxen can often be seen. Traveling from other locations typically requires a helicopter ride or sailing. Most expedition cruises only visit the ice sheet where it meets the ocean, such as the iceberg-laden Ilulissat Icefjord, at the mouth of the Sermeq Kujalleq glacier. For the more adventurous, some trips combine sailing and hiking on the ice sheet. A few daring souls embark on a full month-long journey across the ice with an expedition team.

I spent the pandemic dreaming about that bold ice adventure. In October 2022, I finally made it a reality. What drew me in was the rare opportunity to experience expedition life. Nights spent on the ice sheet are typically reserved for those on permitted, multi-week adventures or scientific expeditions. Camp Ice Cap offers a taste of this life. It’s a two-day, one-night camping experience where you carry all your gear, live, and sleep on the ice like true explorers, before heading back to the warm hostels in Kangerlussuaq and enjoying the island’s hearty fish stews the following day.

This journey is about more than just adrenaline; it’s a profound humbling experience. The immense ice sheet covers 80 percent of Greenland’s landmass and is over 50 million years old, reaching depths of around two miles at its thickest point. At the edges where our camp is situated, the landscape is characterized by rolling white mounds, with glimpses of powder-blue ice peeking through the fresh snow. Teal meltwater lakes create a mesmerizing pattern, resembling abstract art more than actual geography. The ice sheet is riddled with thousands of hidden moulins, some extending over 3,000 vertical feet deep, functioning like wells in the ice. Meltwater from the surface cascades down these shafts before eventually flowing out to the ocean, contributing to rising sea levels.

This is why the Greenland Ice Sheet has become a symbol of climate change. Last year marked the 26th consecutive year of net ice loss. Experts now warn that its rapid melting, accelerated by human-induced climate change, could lead to a one-foot rise in sea levels by 2100, potentially displacing up to 200 million people worldwide.

Let’s be clear: camping on the ice won’t solve this crisis. Travel won’t resolve it either. Even with Camp Ice Cap’s leave-no-trace principles—all that arrives must depart—air travel inevitably leaves a significant carbon footprint.

However, travel can contribute to the conservation of this vital resource. As climate change reshapes Arctic industries, Greenland is increasingly leaning on tourism and is making substantial investments in it. Currently, the territory boasts two primary international airports: Kangerlussuaq, the main hub, and Nuuk, the capital, which connects to Iceland. By next year, Greenland may see new major international airports in Nuuk and the popular tourist destination of Ilulissat, both equipped with runways suitable for international flights, potentially linking them with North America.

Tourism is vital in Kangerlussuaq, as the majority of residents are employed in the industry. Land-based activities like guided hikes benefit the local economy, supporting outfitters, restaurants, grocery stores, and accommodations. This is why adventure travelers are a focal point in Visit Greenland’s 2023 strategic vision, emphasizing that this type of traveler provides “the most value for the local community, minimizes environmental impact, and respects local culture.” These factors are crucial in a territory that must now weigh the advantages of mining natural resources like uranium, nickel, and copper against the need for conservation.

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Climate change and the future of travel—these are just a few of the topics we explore while sipping steaming licorice tea in the cozy mess tent, warmed by the camp stove that evening. As we share freeze-dried meal options, our silver-bearded guide, Larsen, whose previously stern camp demeanor has transformed into laughter and warmth by the stove, briefs us on what’s ahead in the next 12 hours. Unsurprisingly, the weather has nixed tonight’s planned sunset hike, our chance to witness the milky-white ice transition colors with the setting sun. It has also dashed any hopes of seeing the northern lights, as you need clear skies, not a blinding snowstorm, for that quintessential Greenland experience. We worry that tomorrow’s long ice hike might face a similar fate.

“The ice is constantly evolving,” Larsen explains, highlighting the hazards of trekking in this pristine wilderness. Crevasses and moulins can emerge unexpectedly, and the intense snowstorm raises the stakes. Having served in the military, including a deployment in Afghanistan, Larsen knows this region like the back of his hand. For over a decade, he’s dedicated his life to outdoor guiding, spending most weeks during the camping season—from March to October—on the ice in Greenland. Still, despite his extensive experience, the risk of hidden dangers beneath the fresh snow is ever-present.

Our mission: Fuel up with hearty camp meals, like my steaming bag of pasta primavera, and hope that the weather turns in our favor by morning.

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As dawn breaks, I seriously consider abandoning everything to start anew within the cozy warmth of my sleeping bag. It’s that inviting. Unfortunately, my tent isn’t quite as welcoming. My hiking boots, waterproof but evidently not water-resistant, my ski gloves, and yesterday’s damp wool socks are all frozen solid. A quick glance through the tent window reveals even more of the wintry landscape outside.

But wait: Has the snow stopped? I leap from my sleeping bag, performing acrobatics to layer up in my outfit for the day—every piece I’ve packed, including wool base layers, snow pants, and two jackets—before wrestling with the frozen zipper. Stepping outside, I brace for the icy morning wind, but it never arrives. The harsh blizzard has given way to gentle flurries of powdery snow.

The atmosphere buzzes with excitement in the mess tent as everyone comes together. We’ve conquered the tough part; now it’s time to have some fun. We down cups of coffee and strap on our crampons for the long-anticipated ice hike. Larsen goes over the rules: “Stay close to me, use your trekking poles, and for the love of all that’s good, please don’t wander off the trail.”

He has little reason for concern. The storm from last night left a thick layer of snow, calf- to knee-high; his footprints mark the only safe route. We fall in line, our breaths forming a symphony of heavy exhales, oohs and ahhs, accompanied by the crunching of crampons on ice.

With yesterday’s snowy void behind us, the ice reveals its extraordinary formations. This is what we came to see. Look one way: hills of snow rolling like dunes in the Sahara. Glance the other way: shimmering peacock-blue lakes. Straight ahead, the ice stretches out endlessly, and while hidden from view, we know beneath this frosted surface lies a maze of crevasses and moulins.

Thankfully, Larsen knows the terrain well, and he’s determined to find us the bird’s-eye view we missed from the snow-covered moraine yesterday. “Hang tight for a moment,” he instructs as we approach a tall ice mound. “I’ll check if it’s safe up there.” Before we can ponder the risks—what if he gets up there and it’s not safe?— he reaches the summit. “Come on up!”

In a forest back home, this 500-foot climb would be a walk in the park. But here, on the steep and slippery ice, where we high-knee march through layers of deep snow, it’s a heart-racing 30-minute struggle. Every bit of effort is worth it. When I finally join Larsen and take in the stunning white vista, I can hardly breathe. This time, it’s not just the wind.

I’ve imagined this moment countless times since that first brief trip to Greenland: me, a mere speck, awed by the ice sheet’s otherworldly beauty. It’s just as breathtaking as I had envisioned, yet so much more profound. After the ups, downs, and bone-chilling shivers of the last 24 hours, the ice has transformed from a mere backdrop into a central figure. And she’s a formidable, moody, and delicate presence—much like every wild place we’re fortunate enough to experience.

I arrived with a pre-scripted story, a whimsical tale of myself, the shimmering ice, and a clear night under lime and lavender auroras. Instead, I depart with something far more rewarding: a how did we just do that badge of honor. The ice challenged me, chilled me to the bone, and launched me far beyond my comfort zone. Then came my reward. Not only did I earn my keep, but I also earned this breathtaking view—and the sun’s snow-kissed rays that appeared moments later.

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Essential Information

How to get there: Copenhagen International Airport offers the most straightforward access, with several direct and year-round Air Greenland flights to Kangerlussuaq each week. Be sure to allow at least one day for possible weather delays in Kangerlussuaq before embarking on the Camp Ice Cap tour, which departs close to the airport.

Accommodation options: Hotel Kangerlussuaq

Field guides: Albatros Arctic Circle

Packing tips: Albatros Arctic Circle supplies essential camping gear including sleeping bags, pads, tents, food, crampons, water, trekking poles, and sleds. You’re allowed one backpack—no duffels or rolling bags; it must be carried on your back. Your gear will vary based on the camping season. For spring and fall (approximately March to May and September to October), pack base layers, ski gloves and liners, a neck gaiter, a wool hat, warm socks, snow pants, a warm ski or down jacket, a waterproof shell, waterproof hiking boots, and several hand warmers. In the milder summer months, with temperatures ranging from 40 to 60 degrees Fahrenheit, fewer layers will suffice. A headlamp, sunglasses, and dry bags are advisable in every season.