An island of seabirds at the edge of the open Atlantic

South of Nuuk, where the fjord opens to the sea, a small island comes alive every summer. Hundreds of Atlantic puffins return year after year to the same cliff burrows, joined by razorbills and black guillemots fishing the cold, rich water around them. The colony has shaped this island for decades. Every ledge worn smooth, every burrow used for generations.

Guided from the deck of our closed Targa, you'll travel about an hour south through wide horizons and drifting icebergs to reach the colony. At the island, we slow the boat and drift quietly, letting the puffins go about their day, diving, returning to chicks, calling across the cliff face. Encounters tend to be closer than expected.

The journey back is the same wide water, but the light is usually different, the low sun catching the bergs, the seabirds heading out to feed for the evening. By the time we reach Nuuk's harbour, the small island and its busy population already feels like a different country.