Part 4: Gory, Glorious, Uproarious—Amundsen and His Successors in the Modern Northwest Passage

By the dawn of the twentieth century, almost all the world was mapped. The only geographic feats remaining were the poles, both north and south, as well as navigating the Northwest Passage. The man who conquered them all was Roald Amundsen.

Amundsen grew up near Oslo, where he was perversely inspired by stories of Franklin’s suffering. His childhood was spent hardening himself for the polar tests to come. He mastered skiing, sailing, and magnetic observations. In 1903, he and a small crew headed out on a sloop called the Gjoa, entering the Northwest Passage. Two years later they came out the other end.

The trip was almost easy. By far the most noteworthy occurrence was wintering with the Inuit in “the finest little harbour in the world,” at the present-day community of Uqsuqtuuq (Gjoa Haven), Nunavut. It was from Inuit that Amundsen learned to run sled dogs, make igloos, and wear skins. Employing this knowledge, he would go on to outrace Scott to the South Pole in 1911. Then, in 1926, travelling by dirigible, he was on the first journey to decisively reach the North Pole.

After Amundsen’s pathbreaking adventures, the romance of the Northwest Passage all but faded. For at least the next half century, journeys through the archipelago were mostly undertaken in the name of national defence.

The first two Canadian transits were led by Henry Larsen, an inspector with the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, piloting the legendary St. Roch. In 1940, concerned the Nazis might seize Greenland, Larsen and his crew left Vancouver and endured two winters in the Arctic before emerging into the North Atlantic. This was the first west-to-east passage conducted by non-Inuit. Two years later, with World War II ending, Larsen returned the St. Roch to the West Coast, navigating the passage in an unprecedented single season.

Later, in the Cold War, militaries figured out an easier way around the ice—by going under it. The American submarine USS Seadragon got through the passage in 1960, but was it the first? For decades, Inuit have shared stories about seeing mysterious periscopes. And, curiously, for years the best bathymetric charts of the passage were not American or Canadian, but Russian.

Since the late 1960s, the Northwest Passage has returned to public prominence. It has been travelled by a diverse array of vessels. In 1969, the U.S. oil tanker Manhattan infamously transited the passage on a journey decried by Inuit, Canadian officials, and environmentalists. In 1984, the first cruise ship, the MV Explorer, sailed through. Two years later, Adventure Canada staff member Mike Beedell and skipper Jeff McInnis boarded an eighteen-foot catamaran and became the first sailors to navigate the passage in a non-motorized vessel.

As the ice has thinned, more journeys have been undertaken—by kayak, an “ice catamaran,” a Humvee, kite-skis, a bulk carrier, and even a floating condominium complex.

And yet, for the most part, the Northwest Passage is quiet, pristine, and untouristed. Except for the occasional coast guard vessel, and for “sea lift” barges that bring supplies and fuel to Arctic communities, ships remain rare. Inuit are still by far the most common travellers through the waterway. Even today, more than 700 years since their forebears first came this way, the Northwest Passage remains theirs.