Cruising Svalbard and Greenland: Ordinary people can now enjoy this astonishing place

This is a marvel of modern achievement. During the cruise, a team of expedition experts gives lectures in Arctic history that reveal what a mental and physical struggle this environment has always been for humans. The Arctic is about obsession and determination, the need to conquer and the desire to experience nature in all its hostile magnificence. I feel like a charlatan to be travelling with such ease, but incredibly fortunate. Never before have ordinary people been able to enjoy such an astonishing place.

The Arctic is a daily marvel. I awake to see Svalbard's mountains slumped under snow beyond my cabin window. Over the next days, we sail beneath 500-metre cliffs dense in nesting puffins and guillemots, and hillsides where reindeer nibble on Arctic moss. Mind-boggling glaciers slide down every valley. Fjortenda Julibreen Glacier is 16 kilometres wide and scatters a vast bay with chunks of ice. The wall of Lilliehook Glacier looms far above the ship in a spellbinding evening scene of greys and blues. Five glaciers meet at the head of Liefefjord, embraced in a ring of mountains.

By day five, we've passed 80 degrees and 31 minutes north and are approaching the edge of the Arctic icepack. The surface of the ocean is slick and dark as oil, with a fine cling-film skin of ice. Chunks of ice with vivid blue underwater tutus do a slow ballet of twirls as they're pushed away by the ship. Then the icepack appears, blue-edged and undulating. It heaves gently like the hide of a great sleeping animal. It continues for a thousand kilometres to the North Pole, and more again beyond, growing and shrinking with the seasons.

Our 1500-tonne steel ship hovers timidly at the edge of this seemingly fragile frozen world. I don't expect the noise. The icepack clanks and groans like a vast machine as it shifts and contorts and throws up pressure ridges. It melts and releases pockets of air, a champagne hiss multiplied to the roar of a waterfall. Tiny birds skim the icepack's surface, unintimidated by the frigid vastness.

Later we see polar bears at binocular distance, hunting for seals. Next day a polar bear spends a half-hour just 50 metres from the ship, an extraordinary encounter beyond my wildest hopes. Even the Arctic-experienced expedition leaders are buzzing with excitement.

You wouldn't want to be this close to a polar bear on land. On Zodiac excursions ashore the expedition team goes first, casting a perimeter manned by sentries with flares and guns. We see walruses up close at Sarstangen, though. They've hauled out onto a sandy point, where they occasionally roll over with a ripple of blubber and flash of toothy tusk. And the bird life is extraordinary: kittiwakes thick as snow, nesting guillemots so dense their guano makes our eyes water, a pair of rare ivory gulls.

The Abercrombie & Kent team comprises ornithologists and whale experts, botanists and geologists. There's always someone nearby, when ashore, to expound on their curious niche research into Arctic saxifrage, sedimentology or humpback migration. This human curiosity is reassuring. We're otherwise just a few blobs of red in our company-supplied polar jackets against a green-grey landscape of jagged hills, rearing cliffs and frigid ice.

Only a few people have been here before. On a shoreline in Prins Karls Forland we come across an abandoned trapper's hut. Rusting bolts and bullet casings litter the moss. Sometimes I find bleached reindeer antlers or storm-tossed logs, white as the bones of a dinosaur. But there's nothing in Alkefjellet. It seems like the loneliest place on Earth. Rock columns rise from a pounding ocean. Waterfalls spume off the icecap that sits heavy on the hilltops, pierced by jagged peaks. It's sullen but magnificent scenery. Hard-core and cold, happily tempered by soft beds and hot meals.

SHIP SHAPE

Abercrombie & Kent exclusively charters luxury ship Le Boreal for this cruise. It's a relatively small expedition vessel, more yacht than cruise ship, usually carrying 264 passengers but confined to 199 on A&K journeys. There's little razzmatazz. Indeed, the decor is rather minimalist, with cream-and-brown decor and eye-catching rather than flashy artworks that depict sailboats and maritime scenes.

The atmosphere and quality levels are akin to a boutique hotel. There are three lounges, a full-service spa, a theatre that hosts lectures on Arctic themes from expedition experts, and two dining venues. The main restaurant offers upmarket, French-influenced fine dining. The buffet venue is more relaxed but has the same excellent breads, pastries, cheese selections and complimentary wines. No need to give up your burgundy in this remote spot.

Le Boreal's nimble size allows it to sail indented bays and get close to the icepack, while its quiet engines don't seem to trouble whales or polar bears. Schedules are adapted to weather and wildlife. Daily excursions are made by Zodiac, with passengers efficiently boarded off the marina at the rear of the ship. An open-bridge policy means you can learn more about the challenges of Arctic sailing from the navigation team.

TRIP NOTES

CRUISE

Abercrombie & Kent runs expeditions to the Arctic between July and September. There are four in 2020, including one that sails the Northwest Passage. Brian Johnston travelled on a 15-day "In Search of the Polar Bear" cruise on Le Boreal, which next departs on July 31, 2020, visiting Svalbard before continuing on to Greenland and Iceland. Prices, from $21,720pp, include meals, drinks, gratuities, airport transfers, Arctic clothing and daily excursions with the expedition team. Phone 1300 590 317. See abercrombiekent.com.au

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Brian Johnston travelled as a guest of Abercrombie & Kent.