There is something slightly mad about getting on a ship in Southampton and casually sailing off towards Greenland. Not Spain. Not France. Not somewhere warm where the biggest risk is sunburn, sand in your shoes and paying too much for a bottle of water. Greenland. Actual Greenland. The place that sounds like it should be on a school geography worksheet rather than a cruise itinerary.
This was a 16-night cruise on Emerald Princess, departing Southampton on 31 July 2025 and returning on 16 August 2025. I went with my grandparents and my auntie, which made it a proper family trip, but thankfully not one of those matching T-shirt situations.
I shared an outside cabin with my grandad, which turned out to be a good choice. We had a window, natural light, and just enough room to exist without needing traffic lights installed between the beds. It was not balcony luxury, but it was much better than an inside cabin where you wake up with absolutely no idea whether it is morning, midnight, or 4pm on a Tuesday.
Before the ship bit, there was the small matter of getting from Wakefield down to Southampton. Rather than driving all the way, dealing with parking, traffic, motorway services and the general joy of British roads, we went by coach. Good decision, really. It saved a lot of hassle and made the start of the trip much more straightforward.
There is something quite nice about not having to think too hard before a cruise. No airport faff, no driving for hours, no working out where to leave the car for 16 nights, and no one having to pretend they are “fine to drive” after being awake since stupid o’clock. Just get on the coach, let someone else deal with the road, and slowly make your way south.
By the time we got to Southampton, the hard part was basically done. Luggage, check-in, boarding, and then suddenly we were on Emerald Princess, heading off towards Greenland. Which is quite a big upgrade from the M1.
Starting a cruise from Southampton is weirdly satisfying. There are no airport security queues, no worrying about suitcase weight, no tiny plastic bag for liquids, and no sitting at a gate wondering why the plane that is meant to be taking you on holiday is still clearly somewhere else.
You just arrive at the port, hand over your luggage, walk onto a massive ship and pretend you are now a proper traveller. Emerald Princess felt big straight away. Not “little expedition ship full of people in matching waterproof trousers” big. Proper cruise ship big. Restaurants, bars, pools, theatres, decks, lifts, corridors, cabins and lots of people wandering around trying to remember which way was forward.
Leaving Southampton was brilliant. There is something about sailing out of the UK that feels better than flying. It is slower, but in a good way. You actually see yourself leaving. Land slowly disappears, the ship gets moving properly, and suddenly the holiday has started without anyone having to take their shoes off at airport security.
Emerald Princess became home for just over two weeks, which is long enough to start having opinions about lifts, buffet timing and which bit of the ship feels quietest. The ship had all the normal cruise things: food, entertainment, lounges, bars, shops, decks, pools, and people walking laps like they were training for something important.
This was not a cruise where every morning meant waking up in a sunny Mediterranean port and immediately melting. Some days were about scenery. Some were about distance. Some were about walking around the ship, eating something, looking at the sea, then somehow eating again two hours later. Cruising is dangerous like that.
Sharing a cabin with my grandad was part of the trip too. We got into our own little routine: wake up, check where we were, get ready, head out, walk miles, come back tired, eat, repeat. Very simple. Very effective.
The plan was to sail from Southampton to Falmouth, then Cobh in Ireland, across to Greenland, through Prins Christian Sund, then on to Iceland, before heading back home. It was one of those routes that sounds calm when written down, but then you remember there is quite a lot of North Atlantic in the middle.
And as we found out very quickly, the sea does not care about the itinerary.
The first planned stop was Falmouth in Cornwall. Unfortunately, Falmouth did not happen. It would have been a tender port, which means the ship anchors offshore and passengers are taken to land in smaller boats. That sounds quite fun until the sea decides it is not in the mood. The water was too rough, so the tender operation was cancelled.
So that was it. First stop gone. It was a shame because Falmouth would have been a nice gentle start to the cruise. Harbour, Cornish streets, sea views, maybe a pasty. Very civilised. Instead, the sea basically looked at the schedule and said no.
That is cruising though. Ports are planned. Weather is not always interested. It was disappointing, especially because it was meant to be the first stop, but missing a port is better than being bounced around in a small tender boat looking like luggage with legs.
So Falmouth became an unplanned sea day. Not ideal, but also not exactly suffering. We were still on a cruise ship heading towards Greenland, so it was hard to complain too dramatically. Still annoying though. First stop cancelled is not exactly the dream start.
Because Falmouth was cancelled, Cobh became the first proper port of the trip. And honestly, it was a good one. Cobh looks like a cruise port should look. Colourful houses on the hill, boats in the harbour, streets that immediately make you want to wander, and St Colman’s Cathedral sitting above everything like it has been waiting for someone to take a photo of it.
My grandad and I explored it mostly on foot, which became the theme of the whole cruise. No massive overplanning. No trying to tick off every possible attraction. Just get off the ship and walk until the place starts to make sense.
Cobh is famous as the final departure point of the Titanic, which gives it more depth than just being a pretty Irish town. There is history everywhere, but it does not feel like a museum. It still feels lived in. That is usually better.
We walked around the town, took in the harbour views, looked up at the cathedral and generally did what we do best: kept walking until our legs started asking questions. The nice thing about Cobh is that the port is right there. You do not need a complicated transfer or a full-day excursion to feel like you have seen somewhere. You can just step off the ship and start exploring.
After missing Falmouth, Cobh felt like the cruise had properly begun. And to be fair, Ireland is not a bad place to start.
After Ireland, there were several sea days as Emerald Princess headed across towards Greenland. This is where the trip started to feel less like a normal cruise and more like an actual journey.
Sea days on a route like this are not just filler. You are crossing a proper stretch of ocean. Greenland is not exactly around the corner. It takes time to get there, and that time makes the destination feel more important.
There is also something quite peaceful about being at sea for a few days. The ship becomes its own little world. You eat, walk around, look outside, check the map, lose track of what day it is, and repeat. It should be boring, but somehow it is not.
The weather and sea also reminded everyone that this was not a floating hotel heading to Ibiza. This was the North Atlantic. It has moods.
My grandad and I still walked loads on sea days. Around the decks, through the ship, up and down stairs, along corridors, back outside again. It is surprising how many miles you can do on a ship when you are not really trying. Cruise ships are basically walking machines with restaurants attached. Very clever design. Suspiciously close to entrapment when the buffet is involved.
Then came Nanortalik in Greenland. This was one of those places where you get off the ship and immediately know you are somewhere different. Not different in a “slightly different high street” way. Properly different. Remote, quiet, rugged, colourful and surrounded by huge scenery.
The houses looked tiny against the mountains and water. The whole place felt like it had been placed carefully between rock, sea and sky. Nanortalik was not polished or overdone, which is exactly why it was interesting. It did not feel like somewhere built for cruise passengers. It felt like a real place where a cruise ship had temporarily appeared, looking slightly ridiculous because it was so massive compared with everything around it.
My grandad and I explored on foot again, walking through the town and taking in the views. There was no need to rush. Nanortalik is the kind of place where just being there is the main attraction.
You notice small things: the colours of the buildings, the quietness, the air, the way the landscape makes everything human-made look temporary. It is not a place that needs huge attractions. The setting does most of the work.
Greenland is funny because the name suggests green fields and rolling hills. What you actually get is rock, ice, mountains and weather that clearly has no interest in tourist expectations. Bit of false advertising, really. Still brilliant.
Nanortalik felt like one of the first moments where the cruise properly became an adventure rather than just a holiday. It was the kind of place where you do not need to do loads to remember it. You just need to stand there, look around, and realise you are very, very far from Wakefield.
The next Greenland stop was Qaqortoq, and this was another highlight. Qaqortoq felt a bit more colourful and lively than Nanortalik, but still very Greenland. Bright houses, rocky paths, water, hills and that same feeling of being somewhere most people will never casually visit.
Again, my grandad and I walked. Miles, probably. We explored the town properly on foot, which is the best way to do places like this. You do not need to be herded around. You just follow streets, look down side roads, climb a bit, stop for views, then keep going because there is always something else around the corner.
One of the interesting things about Qaqortoq is the artwork carved into rocks around the town. It makes the place feel like the town and the landscape are connected, rather than separate. Not a big shiny attraction, just something woven into the place itself. Much better.
There was also that classic cruise moment where you look back at the ship from land and realise how massive it is. A cruise ship next to a small Greenlandic town looks completely absurd. Like someone has parked a block of flats in the harbour and everyone is pretending that is normal.
Qaqortoq was not about doing one big thing. It was about wandering, looking, noticing, and feeling very far from home. Those are usually the best stops. The places where nothing is trying too hard are often the ones that stick with you most.
After the Greenland ports came Prins Christian Sund. This was scenic cruising rather than a normal port day, so there was no getting off and walking around. The ship itself became the viewpoint.
And what a viewpoint. Prins Christian Sund is exactly the sort of place where everyone suddenly becomes a professional photographer. Mountains, fjords, water, ice, cliffs, and the ship slowly moving through it all. It is ridiculous scenery. The kind that makes people go quiet for once, which on a cruise ship is impressive.
This was one of the most memorable parts of the whole trip. Not because there was loads to do, but because there was loads to see. You just had to stand there and take it in.
Photos never really do places like this justice. You take a picture, look at it afterwards and think, “yes, that is technically what it looked like,” but it does not capture the scale. In real life it feels huge. On a phone screen it looks like a nice screensaver. Very annoying.
It was cold, dramatic and properly scenic. The sort of day where the destination is not a town or a city, but the route itself. No ticket barrier. No attraction entrance. No gift shop required. Just Greenland showing off.
After Greenland, the ship headed towards Iceland. By this point, the cruise had found its rhythm. Port days meant walking for miles with my grandad. Sea days meant eating, wandering around the ship, looking at the ocean and pretending we were not tired.
The sea days also gave time to actually think about where we had been. Greenland is not like visiting a normal tourist city. It is more about the feeling of the place. The scale. The remoteness. The fact you are standing somewhere that feels genuinely far away.
That is one of the things I liked about this itinerary. It did not rush everything. There was space between places. You had time to get there, time to see it, and time afterwards for it to sink in.
Also, by this stage I had probably eaten more bread rolls than medically advisable. Cruise ships do this thing where food is always available, and somehow that becomes your problem. You are not hungry, but you are near food, so apparently that counts.
Then we arrived in Reykjavík, Iceland’s capital. After Greenland, Reykjavík felt busy. Not massive, but definitely more city-like. There were proper roads, shops, cafés, museums, street art, buildings, people, and prices that made you briefly consider whether breathing might also be charged separately.
Iceland is not cheap. That is not a secret. But Reykjavík is still a brilliant place to explore. My grandad and I walked around as much as possible. Again, miles. That was basically our method by this point: get off the ship, pick a direction, walk, look at things, keep walking, then eventually admit we should probably head back.
Reykjavík is good for that. You can walk along the waterfront, see the mountains across the bay, visit the big church, look at the colourful buildings, browse shops and generally get a feel for the place without needing to do some massive organised trip.
There is a clean, open feel to the city. It is modern but still has character. It does not feel like other capitals. It feels smaller, calmer, and more connected to the landscape around it.
You can use Reykjavík as a base for bigger excursions like geothermal pools, volcano landscapes, waterfalls and the Golden Circle, but we mainly explored on foot. That felt right for the trip. Walking gives you a better sense of where you are than sitting on a coach half-asleep while someone points at rocks.
Reykjavík was a good contrast after Greenland. Less remote, more practical, but still very much Iceland. And yes, everything did feel expensive. But at least looking at mountains is still free. For now.
The final Icelandic stop was Ísafjörður, in the Westfjords. This was one of the most scenic port arrivals of the trip. Mountains, water, small-town streets, and that slightly wild Icelandic feel where the landscape seems to be in charge and humans have just politely built around it.
Ísafjörður felt smaller and more rugged than Reykjavík. Less city, more edge-of-the-map. That made it more interesting in some ways.
My grandad and I explored it the same way we had explored everywhere else: on foot, walking for miles and seeing what we found. That was probably the best decision of the whole trip. You do not always need an excursion to experience a place. Sometimes walking around properly gives you more.
The town had a quiet, remote charm. The setting did most of the talking. Mountains around you, water nearby, and streets that felt calm rather than crowded.
The Westfjords have that dramatic Iceland look, but without feeling as busy as the more famous tourist areas. It felt like the kind of place where the weather could change its mind every ten minutes and everyone just gets on with it.
Ísafjörður was a strong final port because it did not feel like a soft ending. It still felt adventurous. Still cold, scenic and slightly wild. Exactly the kind of place you want on a route like this.
By this point, walking miles with my grandad had become less of a plan and more of a lifestyle choice. A questionable one, but still.
After Iceland, Emerald Princess began the journey back to Southampton. The last sea days were different from the first ones. At the start, sea days feel like anticipation. You are heading towards something. At the end, they feel more reflective. You start looking through photos, working out what happened where, and slowly accepting that normal life is waiting.
The ship still had plenty going on, but the mood changes a bit. People talk about what they saw, what they missed, what they liked, and how many desserts they can realistically fit in before the cruise ends.
I liked having sea days at the end. Flying home straight after Ísafjörður would have felt too sudden. Sailing back gave the trip a proper ending. It let everything settle.
It also gave my legs a chance to recover from all the walking, although we still somehow kept walking around the ship. Apparently that was just who we were now.
Eventually, Southampton appeared again, which felt strange. After Greenland and Iceland, coming back to the UK felt both normal and slightly disappointing. Not because Southampton did anything wrong. It is just hard to compete with fjords and glaciers.
Then it was back onto the coach from Southampton to Wakefield, which again saved the driving hassle. After 16 nights away, not having to immediately drive home was definitely a win. Let someone else deal with the motorway. I had done enough miles with my feet.
One of the best parts of the cruise was exploring each destination with my grandad. We walked everywhere. Not a little stroll and then back for lunch. Proper walking. Miles through towns, up streets, along harbours, around viewpoints, through places we did not always fully understand but wanted to see anyway.
That made the trip better. Cruise excursions can be good, but walking gives you a different experience. You see the normal bits as well as the obvious bits. You notice side streets, small signs, odd buildings, local shops, views you were not expecting, and the general feel of a place.
It also means you earn your food back on the ship, which is important because cruise ships are basically designed to undo exercise as quickly as possible.
Walking with my grandad made the trip feel less like ticking off ports and more like actually exploring them. We were not trying to make everything perfect. We just got off and went. That is usually how the best travel happens. No huge plan. No overthinking. Just walking, looking, talking, getting slightly lost, and eventually finding the way back.
This was not a normal sunny cruise. It was not beaches, sun loungers and “which Greek island are we on today?” It was colder, longer, quieter and much more unusual.
Greenland was the part that made it feel special. Nanortalik, Qaqortoq and Prins Christian Sund were not normal cruise stops. They felt remote and memorable in a way that is hard to explain without sounding like a travel advert. Which is annoying, because travel adverts are usually awful.
Iceland added a different kind of drama. Reykjavík gave us a proper city day, while Ísafjörður brought mountains, water and the wild Westfjords feeling.
The balance worked well. A bit of UK and Ireland at the start, then the big remote section, then Iceland, then the long sail home. Even missing Falmouth became part of the story. Annoying, yes. But very cruise. The sea had other plans, and the sea won.
Would I do this cruise again? Yes. But I would pack properly.
This is not a cruise for just shorts, sliders and blind optimism. You need layers, waterproofs, decent shoes and the ability to accept that the weather may be doing its own thing.
It is also not a trip where every port is about big attractions and obvious tourist sights. Some of the best parts were quieter than that. Walking around small places. Looking at the scenery. Standing on deck during Prins Christian Sund. Exploring with my grandad. Watching the ship arrive somewhere that felt miles away from normal life.
That is what made it good. It felt like a proper travel story, not just a holiday. It had missed ports, long sea days, ridiculous scenery, family moments, cold weather, miles of walking and a cruise ship full of food waiting at the end of each day.
Hard to complain really.
Final verdict: a brilliant 16-night cruise from Southampton to Greenland and Iceland on Emerald Princess. Not perfect, because Falmouth got cancelled and the weather had opinions. But it was memorable, unusual and properly worth doing. Best bits were Greenland, Prins Christian Sund, Iceland’s Westfjords, and walking miles with my grandad in places I probably would never have reached any other way.
Planning a similar cruise? These are the main links worth having before you go, rather than pretending you will “sort it later” and then trying to research Greenland using dodgy ship Wi-Fi. Not ideal.
Emerald Princess ship info: Princess Cruises Emerald Princess
Princess Cruises UK: Princess Cruises UK
Greenland travel information: Visit Greenland official guide
Nanortalik guide: Nanortalik travel guide
Qaqortoq guide: Qaqortoq travel guide
Nanortalik local tours: Nanortalik Tourism Service
Qaqortoq local tours: Greenland Sagalands
Reykjavík city guide: Visit Reykjavík official guide
Things to do in Reykjavík: Reykjavík activities and attractions
Ísafjörður and the Westfjords: Visit Westfjords Ísafjörður guide
Ísafjörður local information: Ísafjörður official town information
Cobh visitor information: Visit Cobh
Titanic Experience Cobh: Titanic Experience Cobh
