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Let’s start with some pictures.
Text to follow..
Let’s start with some pictures.
We woke up at dawn for a journey that will forever be etched in our memories. There were many discussions about the decision to depart. The weather in Iqaluit was not in our favor, with a low cloud ceiling and predicted icing conditions at altitude. While ice isn’t a problem for airliners, it is a significant concern for general aviation aircraft, which mostly lack de-icing systems. Avoiding ice is paramount.
The psychological aspect of the journey was ever-present. We could feel the excitement building. The thrill of such a crossing was palpable, and flight safety was constantly on our minds. We had about 700 km of overwater flying ahead of us.
We reviewed the latest forecasts over breakfast. The departure was confirmed. Low clouds were expected in the valley right after takeoff from Iqaluit, but conditions should improve after an hour of flight. To avoid icing, we planned to fly at 3,000 ft (1,000 m) above ground level.
At the airport, we donned our dry suits. We focused on the flight but were also excited to reach this milestone in our journey. We put on life jackets and placed the life raft in an easily accessible spot. The fueler had just finished filling the tanks. After a final walk-around to ensure everything was in order, we were ready to go!
We departed at a limited altitude. The landscapes in the Iqaluit valley were stunning. The water hadn’t completely thawed yet, creating spectacular scenes. Shortly after an hour of flight, we exited the fjord and the ocean stretched out before us. All engine parameters were in the green, and fuel was not a concern for this first major crossing. We headed towards Greenland with great emotion!
The scenery, though similar, was endlessly fascinating. Water stretched to the horizon in every direction. The reflection of clouds on the ocean created a surreal atmosphere. The music in our headsets allowed us to disconnect from the world below during the flight. We constantly monitored engine parameters: “Temperature and oil pressure in the green.” A sense of freedom enveloped us, despite knowing we were at the mercy of the weather, potential mechanical failures, and out of radio contact with land due to the distances involved.
A long crossing means the need to eat. Don’t worry, we had it all planned! Though we weren’t flying in business class, all services were included (almost). We enjoyed a good sandwich, and the meal ended with an espresso from our portable Nespresso machine (What else?). Yes, we could enjoy good coffee even in the middle of the ocean.
After a few hours of solitude over the water, we finally heard a human voice. Nuuk Information, Greenland’s air traffic control, contacted us. We were getting closer to the coast. A few minutes later, we began to see land in the distance. The mountains of Greenland’s west coast came into view, giving us chills. An extraordinary landscape unfolded. The water was a mix of navy blue from the ocean depths and almost turquoise from the melting ice. Hundreds of small islands passed beneath us, and we finally saw Nuuk, the capital of Greenland.
WE ARRIVED! We finally landed on the tarmac of the airport, where we were warmly welcomed. Surprisingly, there were no customs officers… the controller told us, “I notified them; it’s their problem if they don’t come.” The quickest border crossing ever! We went up to the control tower, enjoying a panoramic view of this small airport that will welcome Airbus aircraft next year. The impact of mass tourism was becoming evident even in these remote, previously protected areas.
Once we reached the hotel, our day was not over. Flying was great, but we also needed to move! We went for a run, each at our own pace (and yes… the story doesn’t say who is faster). The fresh coastal air of Nuuk was invigorating. Colorful houses were scattered everywhere, with views of the fjord.
A total change of scenery to end a day that will undoubtedly remain memorable.
A departure to the Great North is a completely new experience. Successfully done on Saturday, June 22, 2024. A departure early in the morning for Kuujjuaq (CYVP), with two intermediate stops in Chibougamau (CYMT) and La Grande Rivière (CYGL).
Above all, it’s a journey into the unknown, so emotions are high when saying goodbye to loved ones. It’s not easy, it was planned of course, but nothing can prevent teary eyes.
Last loading of luggage, we spent a few hours the night before weighing and preparing everything, so it’s an almost normal pre-flight before starting up.
We leave the bad weather gradually settling over Montreal as we fly towards an azure blue sky to the north! The aircraft’s performance is exactly as measured many times, with even slightly lower fuel consumption!
Uneventful stop in Chibougamau, heading towards La Grande Rivière. We’re not racing, so a small detour to tease Hudson Bay between Eastman River and Wemindji to enjoy the small islands within ‘swimming’ distance from the shore. Some isolated houses still, access tracks to logging sites as far as the eye can see, a few high voltage lines making the trip from La Grande’s dams to the metropolis. The vegetation becomes sparser, gradually giving way to the tundra scenery.
Flying over the La Grande dams before landing 2 minutes ahead of the Air Inuit cargo 737, greeted by a strong north wind. But at 25 degrees, we’re not yet putting on the tuque.
Lunch break at CYGL, with an unforgettable homemade clafoutis made with freshly picked cherries from home! The Air Inuit staff tells us another flight from Puvirnituq is scheduled to arrive around 3 pm. It lands, passengers disembark, and I find my cousin, a doctor in the Nunavik communities, among them! First improbable encounter of the day.
Departure to Kuujjuaq for a planned 3.5-hour flight. On instruments because northern weather is expected for the last 200 nautical miles. Sometimes above, sometimes within, sometimes between two layers, with views below of the bare northern landscapes, granite rocks, a few small streams, and above all, no signs of life.
Testing our HF radio setup, V antenna as per WWII lessons, and miraculously, we catch Gander Radio and the VOLMET providing weather for Luxembourg, London, and Reykjavik… very useful 
Visual approach to Kuujjuaq over the village and river without incident, and we park near our 100LL barrel waiting for us! No pump in the north, so we use our siphon, refueling for the next day!
The fuelman kindly lends us his pickup for the evening, no need to return it before tomorrow! Immediately we feel welcomed into a supportive community. An Air Inuit pilot comes to greet Julien and wish us a good flight!
Nearby inn, a haunt for northern workers. The bar is open, we drop by despite our growing fatigue. A man at a table comes up to me and says he recognizes me. Indeed, it’s none other than our neighbor from Montreal on Hampton Street! I understand why I saw him less often lately, 8 months based in Kuujjuaq, managing Nunavik’s social housing! He offers to show us around the village the next morning, see the infrastructure, and talk about his first months here. It’s fascinating, no doubt about it.
Here you will find a few more details about the airports we will be visiting, as well as what is current weather for those you know how to read METARs and TAFs!
