Dispatches from Greenland, Part One: Touching Down on the Edge of the Arctic
United Airlines offers the first new commercial flight from the U.S. to Greenland in nearly 20 years.
By Natalie Compagno and Greg Freitas August 27, 2025
Icebergs drift past in improbable forms: a crouching sphinx, a Viking ship, a chess game abandoned by giants. Fog and midnight sun blur together until hours lose their meaning. From the deck of the MS Fridtjof Nansen, time hangs suspended—a mesmerizing, shifting stage set for whatever happens next.
Suddenly, the voice of our expedition leader cracks over the loudspeaker, first in English, then in German: “Polar Bear! Polar Bear! Eisbär! Eisbär!” Cabin doors fly open, tables empty, and passengers scramble up to the Explorer’s Lounge. On the wall of giant screens stretches a picture-perfect bear, just a shade darker than the endless white behind it.
The Fridtjof Nansen carries a $581,000 gyro-stabilized camera, with a lens so powerful it can probably track a ladybug in a hurricane. As with everything else on this HX (formerly Hurtigruten Expeditions) ship, it is tuned for adventure. But as we stare at the broadcast image, one question electrifies the room: can we actually see this Arctic icon with our own eyes?
Greenland itself inspires the same disbelief. A labyrinth of glacier-cut fjords, muskox grazing on improbable patches of green, seabird colonies so dense they lift off from the cliffs like helicopters. Communities where language, tradition, and seasonal rhythms stay synchronized with nature. For travelers it feels less like going on vacation and more like stepping into an alternate reality.
Which is why the new direct seasonal flight from Newark to Nuuk, launched this June on United Airlines, marks a tectonic shift. For the first time since 2007, Americans can reach Greenland in just four hours—with no layovers and no connections. When the New York Times slotted Greenland onto its “52 Places to Visit in 2025,” the momentum felt inevitable: the world’s largest island was opening the door to its most populous neighbor.
Instead of kowtowing to foreigners by extracting resources buried beneath its fragile ice sheet, Greenland is channeling its resources into enticing travelers. The capital city, Nuuk, opened a revamped airport last year, with a longer runway to accommodate larger planes. Another international airport comes online next year up the coast in Ilulissat—home to seductive fjords, massive glaciers, and iridescent icebergs as far as the eye can see. The strategy is deliberate: to protect culture and nature and build an economy strong enough to resist the seductions of intruders. Talk to locals and one theme repeats—what they want most is self-determination. Tourism is the means to get there.
And the polar bear? Yes, we see it—first in binoculars, then unmistakably with our own eyes. A solitary figure on the ice, peeking at the visitors as we slowly drift away. As the ship moves, so does the bear. Slipping into the water then jumping powerfully onto another iceberg, paws on the ledge with a quizzical face. A first contact filled with mutual curiosity, and it will not be the last.
Greenland holds more stories than one fleeting encounter. The capital offers immediate treasures for new arrivals: locally owned hotels and tours, museums, cafés, and a destination swimming pool. A thousand miles farther north in Qaanaaq, the northernmost indigenous town on Earth continues to hunt with dog sleds and harpoons, living by traditions as old as the pyramids. That is where Greenland’s past and future collide—and where the next story awaits.