Epic ice and snowy adventure: What it’s like on the first winter expedition cruises to Canada

It is a scene that would fit right into the great tales of polar exploration.

From my perch on the ice-caked bridge of Le Commandant Charcot, the world’s only luxury icebreaker, I am looking up a frozen fjord of truly epic proportions. A mile wide in places, with towering snow-covered cliffs to each side, it stretches inland beyond the horizon — more than 60 miles, I am told. And it’s entirely covered from side to side in a thick sheet of solid ice.

A thick sheet of ice that, in a remarkable display of the ship’s power, we are plowing through as if it were butter.

It is a feat that no other passenger vessel in the world could pull off. And it’s part of an adventure-focused voyage — an expedition cruise, as they’re called — the likes of which no other passenger vessel has done before.

Yet, in contrast to similar experiences that I have had on rare expedition voyages into the ice of Antarctica and the Arctic, it isn’t taking place in one of the world’s most remote polar regions.

As I watch, mesmerized, as Le Commandant Charcot’s massive bow smashes ice into smithereens before my eyes, I am just 130 miles northeast of Quebec City in the Canadian province of Quebec.

This is Saguenay Fjord, long a destination for outdoor enthusiasts who come in the winter for ice fishing, snowmobiling, snowshoeing and other wintry pursuits.

We are pioneers, but not in where we are going. It’s how we are getting there.

In making this trip and several others like it this year, Le Commandant Charcot, operated by the France-based expedition cruise company Ponant, is breaking new ground — or ice, to be more precise — with the first-ever expedition cruises into the wintry wonderland that is Canada in the winter.

Specifically, it is sailing into the frozen-over Gulf of St. Lawrence, the massive body of water on the eastern end of the country that leads into the St. Lawrence River and touches five of its 10 provinces.

Crunching through the ice

Aimed at the same sort of adventure travelers who love expedition voyages into the polar regions, the “St. Lawrence River in the Heart of the Boreal Winter” sailings, as Ponant is calling these trips, are as much about the journey as the destination.

During winters, just getting from place to place in this region, where ice clogs nearly every waterway and snowfalls are sometimes measured in feet, not inches, is an adventure — as we see during our voyage up the Saguenay Fjord.

For nearly four hours, we ice-break our way inland, leaving a path of broken ice in our wake that quickly closes up and begins to refreeze.

We are heading to La Baie, a small town more than 40 miles up the fjord, where we will stay for two days of outdoorsy adventure.

Our arrival in La Baie, part of a bigger municipal area called Saguenay, is its own sight to behold. Crunching our way into the town’s frozen-over harbor in the midst of a sudden snow flurry, carefully avoiding hundreds of ice fishing huts along the way, we stop just short of a white tent on the ice flying Saguenay Fjord banners.

It is a temporary “cruise terminal” set up just for us, complete with snowmobile-pulled sleds that will take us into town.

Within a few minutes, we are bounding down a ramp from a small door on the side of the ship straight onto the ice, which is covered in newly fallen snow — some of us to head into town, others to just romp in the snow.

With dusk turning to dark, our lit up ship has become a magical-looking monument at the center of a snowy “playground,” as our captain, Patrick Marchesseau, has called this stop — one where the predinner activities include making snow angels and firing off snowballs at our traveling companions.

It is just the beginning of two days of wintry fun, with passengers heading off on a succession of outdoorsy adventures that include snowshoeing in nearby forests, dogsledding and ice fishing.

For the latter, we set off straight from the ship on snowmobile-pulled sleds to a small village of ice fishing huts in the distance, where we split into small groups of four to ice fish for several hours in a row of huts reserved just for us.

The dogsledding outing to a forested area outside of town is the real deal. We don’t just ride in dogsleds but break off into two-person teams to drive the five-dog-pulled sleds ourselves down a trail in the woods — taking turns doing the exhausting but thrilling work of the musher.

Snowshoe outings in the area’s snowy woods are just as tiring — and invigorating.

By the time we head out of the fjord two days later, retracing our route through the frozen ice, we are old pros at the many ways to play in the Great North Woods of Canada.

A rare adventure

Never before attempted by an expedition cruise company, this 12-night itinerary into the Gulf of St. Lawrence in the winter would be hard for any vessel but Le Commandant Charcot to do.

Unveiled in 2021, the 245-passenger ship is a true icebreaker of the sort that only governments have operated until now — a vessel capable of cutting through even the thickest multiyear ice that is found across the north polar ice cap.

For now, it is the only one, and it is likely to remain that way for years to come. The cost of building such a ship, reportedly more than $400 million, is such that no other expedition cruise company is likely to launch something similar.

As a result, Ponant currently stands alone in being able to offer expedition cruise itineraries to the most ice-clogged areas on Earth, whether that be the iciest parts of the Arctic (including the North Pole) or iced-over parts of Canada in the winter.

Related: The most epic cruise ever? What it’s like traveling to the North Pole on a luxury icebreaker

For Le Commandant Charcot’s first few years in operation, it was mostly assigned to sailings to the most remote parts of the polar regions. But with these new trips into the Gulf of St. Lawrence, Ponant is expanding its offerings — a bold bet that adventure travelers will be as interested in seeing the ice-bound parts of Canada in the winter as the polar regions.

A different sort of expedition cruise

As I am seeing firsthand, a cruise into the Gulf of St. Lawrence in the winter is a chance to experience an otherworldly landscape that most people never get to experience — a hallmark of expedition cruising.

It also has a we’ll-play-it-by-ear-when-it-comes-to-stops sort of vibe, as is common on expedition cruises to remote areas with extreme weather. On this sailing, our initial starting point at the hard-to-reach French-owned island of Saint-Pierre is switched at the last minute to Quebec City due to stormy weather, and a stop at the Magdalen Islands is canceled.

Still, these cruises aren’t really expedition cruises in the traditional sense.

Unlike in iconic expedition cruise destinations like Antarctica and the more remote parts of the Arctic, we aren’t landing by Zodiac boats along uninhabited stretches of coastline to explore. This isn’t a voyage to a place devoid of people and the infrastructure for visitors that comes with them.

Instead, for the most part, we are accessing the snow-blanketed forests, lakes and mountains of the region by docking at small port towns along our way and heading out on locally organized tours — an experience that has more in common with traditional cruising.

Our first outings, for instance, come after we dock at Sept-Iles, a low-lying town of 26,000 people located along the northern shore of the Gulf of St. Lawrence, an area known as the North Coast.

Situated at the point where the St. Lawrence River meets the sea, it has long been an important port for Canada, a hub for shipments of regionally mined iron ore and locally made aluminum to countries around the world.

For us, it is a jumping-off point for a snowshoe adventure in the seemingly endless miles of snow-painted forest that begin where the town ends, a few miles from the dock.

Whisked into the wilderness on a local school bus, a local guide along to narrate, we soon stomp our way through thick stands of spruce, birch and balsam fir trees weighed down by freshly fallen snow. The snow is at least a foot deep, which is nothing unusual, we’re told. This area typically gets more than 13 feet of snow a year.

It is brutally cold, as it often is in the winter in these parts — the temperature for the day bottoms around minus 4 degrees Fahrenheit. But bundled up in super-warm Ponant-provided parkas, and warmed by our movement, it’s nothing but invigorating. Plus, the scenery is stunning, particularly when we pop out of the forest onto a frozen lake ringed by evergreens.

Our second destination on the voyage, the remote Gaspe Peninsula, is also accessible via a dock — albeit one that can only be reached in the winter by an icebreaker like Le Commandant Charcot. Located in the small town of Gaspe (with a population of 15,000) on the tip of the peninsula, the dock is completely iced in as we arrive.

We spend two days in the Gaspesie, as the local Quebecois call this region, heading out to the vast snow-covered evergreen forests and mountains that stretch for miles in every direction for more exploring by snowshoe, ice-cleated boots and cross-country skis.

Slightly larger than Belgium but home to just 140,000 people, the Gaspesie is — like the Saguenay Fjord area — an outdoorsy playground that, at this time of year, at least, seems to be waiting just for us. We encounter few other visitors.

A voyage through history

To venture into the Gulf of St. Lawrence by ship at any time of year is to follow in the wake of some of the first European explorers to head westward to the Americas. And this itinerary, in particular, is as much about taking in the history of that early exploration as taking in the region’s natural wonders.

As we learn during a series of onboard lectures, it was along the waterfront of Gaspe in 1534 that a European explorer — the Frenchman Jacques Cartier — first laid claim to what is now known as Canada. A giant granite cross marks the spot where Cartier, sailing on behalf of King Francis I of France, planted a more modest wooden cross with the king’s coat of arms.

Cartier also landed at our previous stop, Sept-Iles, giving it its name, which is French for “seven islands.” He named it after its most distinctive feature, a ring of islands just offshore. But as one of our local guides in the town pointed out with a laugh, it turned out he wasn’t nearly as good at counting as he was at navigating. There are only six islands.

Just a few decades later, in 1608, another French explorer, Samuel de Champlain, would follow the St. Lawrence River even deeper into the interior to found Quebec City — the first permanent French settlement in the New World. It remains one of the oldest settlements in North America, having been started just a year after the English landed at Jamestown. It is the last stop on this itinerary.

Of course, all these places were already inhabited when the first French explorers arrived, and the often troubling story of how waves of European settlers treated these original inhabitants is also part of the history we learn.

In Sept-Iles, during one of several outings from the ship, we meet with members of the Innu, an Indigenous nation that has inhabited the north shore of the Gulf of St. Lawrence since long before the first Europeans arrived.

Welcoming us into a large Innu ceremonial tent known as a shaputuan, members of the Innu Nation tell us of efforts to stamp out their culture that, for some of the elders in the group, were still happening in the early part of their lifetimes. In a particularly moving moment, one 65-year-old woman recalled being separated from her family as a child and sent to a government-funded boarding school where she wasn’t allowed to speak her native Innu language or practice Innu customs.

It was such a traumatizing experience that 10 of the 15 children sent to the school with her died by suicide before they could return home to their community, she said, as tears welled up not just in her eyes but in the eyes of many in the room.

Another woman younger than the first spoke upliftingly of recent efforts to revive the Innu language and culture, something we saw firsthand during a visit to an adjacent Innu school where we joined an Innu grammar lesson for Innu children.

Our stop in Gaspe brought more interactions with members of the First Nations — the people who were living in this part of North America before Europeans arrived. In the Gaspe region, these are the Mi’kmaq, who welcomed us at the Micmac Interpretation Site of Gespeg, home to a reconstruction of a traditional 17th-century Mi’kmaq village. A representative of the Mi’kmaq Nation also came on board Le Commandant Charcot in the evening to share Mi’kmaq stories and songs.

Luxury in a frozen land

From Gaspe, Le Commandant Charcot headed east across the Gulf of St. Lawrence and into the sort of massive winter storm that is typical in this region in the winter. Winds of nearly 60 mph whipped up waves 15 feet high, and blizzarding snow covered the ship’s outer decks. But for the passengers on board, it was little more than a novelty to watch from the warmth of the vessel’s glass-walled lounges.

Inside the ship, we remained enveloped in a cocoon of comfort and luxury.

Unlike almost any other vessel capable of sailing in such harsh wintry conditions, Le Commandant Charcot has all the elements of the most upscale hotels on land: spacious accommodations, elegant lounges, fine dining and a spa.

The cabin in which I am staying — a deluxe stateroom that is far from the priciest accommodation on the vessel — is among the most stylish I have seen on an expedition ship, with a sleek, contemporary feel. Lovely light faux wood paneling envelops the bed area, covering not just the wall behind the bed but the ceiling above with a curvy transition between the two. The bathroom has an expensive look with dark granite countertops, gray stone shower walls and faux wood walls.

Additionally, my cabin comes with a balcony, which isn’t something you always find with cabins on expedition vessels. Indeed, every cabin on Le Commandant Charcot has a balcony — a rarity for expedition ships.

Among other standout features of Le Commandant Charcot is the main restaurant (Nuna), with a menu designed by famed French chef Alain Ducasse. It’s one of the best eateries I have experienced at sea.

Amazingly, given the spectacular price points of Ducasse’s restaurants on land (several of which have Michelin stars), meals at Nuna are included in the cruise fare, and you can dine there as many nights as you like.

Le Commandant Charcot also has a high-end spa where, in addition to treatment rooms, you’ll find a blazing-hot sauna where you can bake out the chill of the day while overlooking the ice outside through a wall of glass. It also features a snow room, just in case you haven’t had enough of the white stuff, and an indoor saltwater pool with plush lounge chairs facing the ocean through floor-to-ceiling windows. A super-heated outdoor wading pool beckons at the back of the vessel.

There is roughly the same number of crew members on any given voyage (nearly 200 when I sailed) as passengers. That translates into very attentive service.

A pricey voyage

As you might expect for such a high-end vessel, sailings on Le Commandant Charcot aren’t inexpensive.

The new winter voyages in the Gulf of St. Lawrence start at an eye-popping $25,850 per person, based on double occupancy (in other words, $51,700 or more per couple for a cabin). That’s for a series of 14-night trips planned for 2027 that are slightly longer than the initial itineraries in the region Ponant offered this year.

While a princely sum, for sure, such a fare is not all that unusual for a voyage on a top-of-the-line luxury vessel, particularly one as one of a kind as Le Commandant Charcot. And it’s not the priciest of Ponant’s expeditions. The trips the line offers to the North Pole are even pricier, starting at $45,000 per person or more.

Luxury icebreakers, it turns out, are extremely expensive to build, and Ponant needs to recoup its cost. Part of what you’re paying for is where this ship can get you.

An entree to ice travel

As I’ve learned on many trips to Antarctica and the Arctic over the years, there’s something magical about traveling to the iciest parts of the world.

There’s a sublime beauty to the seemingly endless stretches of ice and snow that you’ll often find in such locations. The stillness and emptiness can be mind-clearing in a way that I have experienced in few other places.

Ponant’s new sailings to the Gulf of St. Lawrence, while not as off the beaten path as trips to the polar regions, offer a taste of this magic. Some might even call it the perfect entree to the world of ice-zone travel.

Featuring elements of both expedition cruising and traditional cruising in an environment that only an icebreaker can access, it’s essentially a new type of exploration voyage that no ship other than Le Commandant Charcot can do.

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