June 8 — Iqaluit, Nunavut to Ilulissat, Greenland
The crossing begins
Ferry pilots (people who deliver airplanes) fly from Iqaluit to Kangerlussuaq, which is what I did when I flew to Europe from Atlanta in 2003. It’s the shortest distance across on the northern route to Europe (as opposed to the route from Goose Bay to southern Greenland). But I was fortunate enough to talk to an Air Greenland pilot after landing in Kangerlussuaq in 2003, and he told me that one hour north of there I would find one of the wonders of the world, the ice fjord at Ilulissat. It was the highlight of my trip. This time, I skipped Kangerlussuaq entirely and headed straight toward the iceberg paradise.
We donned our immersion suits (which are to keep you warm enough to get into your raft; the water is so cold that hypothermia would otherwise make your muscles incapable of that job). Danny had rented a fitted one; I own a far bulkier generic one that makes me look like an orange Gumby.
Hans, the Danish ferry pilot who was ferrying the turbo Cirrus we first saw in Thunder Bay, had engine problems and was going to fly home via airlines because getting a mechanic to Iqaluit and fixing the problem could take more than a week. You don’t want to cross if there’s anything wrong. My friend Janice Ribaudo, who parked her turbo Mooney two spots from mine at Santa Monica Airport, has a great video of experiencing engine trouble between Canada and Greenland. I didn’t want a similar experience.
So when I thought the engine was slow to get going on the takeoff roll and running a bit rough when it did get going, I aborted the takeoff roll and taxied back to the ramp for some diagnosing. My brother got out. I restarted the engine, waited for an airplane to land, then did a high-speed taxi to see if things were normal. All went well, so I taxied back, my brother got in, and off we went.
We got brief peeks of Baffin Island and then the water, but most of our almost four-hour flight was in or above clouds, but safely at an altitude with above-freezing temperatures so no ice on our wings.
Ilulissat was as glorious as I remembered it. We took a late-night cruise among mountainous icebergs, followed by a day hiking along the ice fjord, and we took a lot of pictures, none of which capture the icebergs’ size, beauty, colors, and dramatic effect. My pilot friend Joan Carroll took much better photos than mine in August 2025.