Ponant’s Le Commandant Charcot Cruise Ship Review

It’s 16 degrees in La Baie, Quebec, the wind is howling, and our ship is stuck in the ice. In other words, things are going exactly to plan.

On my recent weeklong adventure along the St. Lawrence river, aboard Le Commandant Charcot, embracing bad weather and leaning into the cold were par for the course. That included sailing into frigid gusts and plowing through ice floes. By the third day of the journey, the vessel had entered the Saguenay River, a tributary of the St. Lawrence. As the ice grew thicker, we entered a cove known as Ha! Ha! Bay, the edges of which were frozen solid. The crew of the Charcot drove the ship firmly into the fast ice—we came to a stop about a mile from shore.

It was as exciting as I had hoped it would be, if a bit demented: Why would anyone go to the northern reaches of Canada in the depths of winter? The expedition cruise company Ponant is banking on travelers embracing the cold—as long as they’re comfortably looked after. The 123-cabin Charcot is chock-full of creature comforts—such as the only Alain Ducasse restaurant at sea—and among the world’s most cutting-edge expedition vessels, with an ice-reinforced hull that makes it possible to go just about anywhere.

Built at a reported cost of $600 million, Le Commandant Charcot has ventured to the true north pole, sailed the iceberg-strewn Southern Ocean, and explored the coasts of Greenland. It travels the world with a staff of highly experienced naturalists, guides, photography ambassadors, scientists, and seafarers. To take one example: the captain for my sailing was Patrick Marchesseau, who’s well known in France for surviving a pirate assault off the coast of Somalia in 2008.

Not that we expected anything like that in Quebec.

Much of the trip, which Ponant had described as “a journey into Boreal winter,” focused on the cultural and natural riches of Francophone Canada. It’s a fitting choice for Ponant, which is based in Marseille and draws a large share of its guests from the Continent: French is the lingua franca on board—expect to hear bonjour and comment ça va—though all the crew members I interacted with spoke English as well. Announcements were given in both languages and, during my trip, participants were split into groups based on their primary tongue.

Whatever our linguistic leanings, my fellow passengers and I spent our days exploring by snowshoe, by dogsled, or on foot, traveling alongside local guides who would point out animal tracks, detail the nearly 500-year history of French activity in the area, and share the perspectives of the First Nations people who were the original inhabitants of these lands. (“The name ‘Quebec’ comes from the Algonquin word for ‘narrow passage’ or ‘strait,’” according to the Government of Canada.)

It was fitting, then, that my trip kicked off in Quebec City, where the St. Lawrence River narrows. On the day I arrived, a number of intrepid athletes were running a winter pentathlon, involving skating, snowshoeing, Nordic skiing, biking, and running. I was happy to watch before meeting up with a local guide, Marie-Christine Huot, who wove together long-ago history like the founding of Quebec City, in 1608, and more contemporary issues, like the 1970s-era redevelopment of its historic waterfront and now-famous shopping quarter, Petit Champlain. Huot’s family has run a silk scarf shop in Petit Champlain for more than 40 years.

When we sailed into the Saguenay River, one of the natural treasures of Quebec, the Charcot broke out its party trick and plowed through the ice until coming to a rest in a shelf some two-feet thick. The crew lowered a gangway and local port staff came to greet us on electric snowmobiles.

It was as wild as it sounds and was one of the most memorable moments I’ve ever had over my years working as T+L’s chief cruise correspondent. Other passengers were equally awed.

“The ability to park the ship on ice and walk out into a river is so cool,” said Barkley Hickox, a member of the T+L Travel Advisory Board who was aboard the Charcot with me. “I’ve been getting Instagram pings from engineering geeks because there’s nothing else like it. This feels like a once in a lifetime experience.”

From our base in Ha! Ha! Bay, we were shuttled ashore in snowmobile-driven aluminum sleds built by local craftspeople, four at a time, which lent the whole enterprise a Mission Impossible vibe. One afternoon, I had the chance to snowshoe the Bec-Scie nature preserve, alongside naturalist and guide Monique Tremblay. Another day, one of Ponant’s expedition team led a three-mile, snowshoe-and-crampon trek along the shore of the bay that ended with a march across the ice back to Charcot.

After a few days in the Saguenay, we pressed farther north, to the village of Sept-Îles and its neighboring First Nations reserves. I didn’t have high hopes for the port, which is a major transshipment point for aluminum and iron ore, the kind of out-of-the-way harbor that people who aren’t industrial engineers couldn’t find on a map.

But it was there I had the most affecting experience of my week in Quebec, on a guided visit to Uashat, an Innu settlement that borders Sept-Îles. Inside a canvas tent behind a community center, one of our hosts related her own personal history as a metaphor for her community’s: a victim of Canada’s residential school system, she has today become a keeper of Innu language and tradition, and an advocate for her culture. Our small group, with the help of a local guide arranged by Ponant who translated between French and English, had a chance to listen and learn. We also picked up a few phrases of Innu-aimun, as the Native language is known, and enjoyed some traditional drumming and dancing performed by a few members of the community.

I’d come north expecting wild landscapes and mountains of snow and ice. The surprise was in the vivid connections I was lucky to make on a frosty morning, sharing some bannock and cloudberry jam with people I’d only just met, who welcomed us like friends.

The Staterooms

The Charcot has 123 staterooms in seven categories. I stayed in Deluxe Suite 702, a spacious, 301-square-foot room near the front of the ship on the port side, with a balcony, sitting area, and a bathroom with a peekaboo window that made it possible to watch the scenery from the shower. Like many luxury hotels these days, it had a muted color palette, with wood and leather accents; the dark stone in both the entryway and bathroom felt very chic.

Standard-issue rooms on the ship are equally sumptuous if slightly smaller, at 215 square feet; they still have verandas, of course.

More opulent are choices like Prestige and Grand Prestige suites. Duplex Suites are, to my mind, the most impressive on the ship with double-height windows overlooking the stern, private hot tubs, soaking bathtubs, water-vapor fireplaces, and huge beds that face the horizon. A single Owner’s Suite, at the stern on deck eight, is an impressive study in contemporary luxury that, on a typical 12-night polar cruise, goes for about $93,000 per person.

Bars and Restaurants

There are two restaurants on the Charcot, the more formal Nuna and the more casual Sila. Nuna is billed by Ponant as the only Alain Ducasse restaurant at sea, and the food served during my trip was worthy of the chef’s endorsement. The ever-changing menus mixed classic French techniques with contemporary flavors, with many plant-forward choices that I ended up skipping in favor of dishes such as lobster with beets and hibiscus; veal tartare with haricot verts; prawn ravioli with carrot and ginger.

The other dining option is Sila, where food is displayed buffet style but served by a marvelous crew, on custom porcelain from the French brand Pillivuyt. In fact, to call it a buffet at all might unfairly malign just how good the food on offer is: Thai curry, roasted pork pluma, stir-fried noodles, French classics like pommes Anna and tartiflette, fresh salads, and an assortment of cheeses every evening. One highlight at breakfast: a French toast so rich that it seemed to tip from morning staple into custardy last-meal-on-Earth territory. Adjacent to Sila is an outdoor grill where guests can order more casual items including burgers, sandwiches, and bites like arancini and spring rolls in the afternoon.

There are two bars on board, one in the Observation Lounge and the other in the Main Lounge on deck 5. Both serve traditional and contemporary cocktails, plus beer and wine; the menu has a section of non-alcoholic cocktails, a growing trend among cruise lines, plus Nespresso coffee and other soft drinks. Near the spa, there’s a Detox Bar that serves smoothies and teas—but no spirits.

Whatever the venue, small details spoke volumes: a bite of Valrhona chocolate served with every espresso, rich French Maison Bordier butter on every table, fun wines like an easy-drinking rosé called, naturally, Brise Maritime. Additionally, Charcot offers 24/7 room service at no additional cost, plus in-room minibars stocked with beer, spirits, and non-alcoholic options.

Shore Excursions

Nice as Charcot may be, this is why you’re aboard. Unique in the world, this icebreaker can take passengers to the North Pole, the far reaches of the Antarctic, and, as I discovered, to the frozen bays and rivers of Boreal Canada.

And while the ship has a fleet of Zodiacs, they don’t factor into the experience on Canada sailings, which offer a mix of more traditional cruise shore excursions arranged in partnership with land-side operators and more sporty nature-focused activities managed by the Ponant crew.

One afternoon, for example, a team from the port of Saguenay ferried 10 of us by snowmobile to the Eucher trail head, where they left us in the care of a ship’s naturalist, Antoine Lala-Beaufils. He’d scouted the snowshoeing route a few weeks prior, and our party reeled off a few kilometers uphill to a breathtaking viewpoint nearly 500 feet above the fjord that was, for me, reminiscent of Norway. Several guests then turned back to the trailhead while he and I powered ahead, just the two of us, descending to the ice-strewn shore and trekking across the frozen bay back to the ship. It was exactly everything I had hoped for when I signed up for the trip.

Other excursions were less successful, either because group sizes were a bit too large for comfort (a snowshoe trip with 22 participants) or because they featured a ton of sizzle and not enough steak (a five-hour dogsledding activity had about 20 minutes of actual sledding, mixed with a good bit of standing around). Some of this can easily be chalked up to the off-season nature of my trip, as well as the novelty of the itinerary: never before has a cruise ship visited these ports in winter, because never before has a ship, like the Charcot, been capable of operating in the ice.

“Exploration in these remote areas is, by nature, an adventure, and we appreciate our guests’ spirit of discovery,” a Ponant spokesperson shared with T+L. “Despite all the scouting work and preparation, operating in remote and extreme environments such as northern Canada inherently involves logistical complexities.”

“This particular voyage was part of the very first cruises ever operated in this region at this time of year, making it a pioneering experience,” the spokesperson added. “We have established a continuous feedback loop with our local partners to refine operations, add new activities, and enhance the guest experience based on real-time insights.”

During my week aboard, I spoke with numerous guests who were, on the whole, impressed by the excursions in spite of some snags they experienced here and there.

Amenities and Entertainment

Due to its size, Charcot doesn’t have the innumerable bells and whistles that are common on mega-ships. But it does have just about anything you’d want, particularly in higher-end suites that feature things like private hot tubs, space and equipment for in-room workouts, and lounge areas whether you’re curling up with a book. (Speaking of, internet on board is included and powered by Starlink.)

The spa has all the services you’d expect, with Biologique Recherche products, and was hugely popular with guests on my trip. The sauna is a highlight with a huge window to the outdoors alongside an ‘ice room,’” is how Natalie Cherry, a travel advisor I met on board, put it. Near the spa, there’s also a wellness bar serving juices, a gym, and an outdoor heated pool. That’s in addition to a smaller indoor pool with a lap-swimming feature.

Elsewhere on board are two lounges, which often have live music, plus a cigar room stocked with a humidor and at-extra-cost premium spirits from the likes of Christian Drouin and Port Ellen. A theater plays host to evening concerts and talks from the ship’s team of naturalists and other visiting experts. Several musical artists travel aboard the Charcot; on my sailing we had a few cabaret singers, a pianist, and even a saxophone player.

One behind-the-scenes amenity is a fully functioning science lab on deck three. Not typically open to passengers, the lab has a suite of equipment for studying things like microplastics in the sea, the turbidity and dissolved carbon dioxide levels of sea water, and atmospheric conditions. Scientific coordinator Daniel Cron supervises the lab—which funnels data to organizations including the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration—and collaborates with visiting scientists who use the Charcot as a research platform before publishing open-source results of their studies. One recent example? A forthcoming paper in the journal Nature that will detail the impact of nanoplastic particles on Arctic ecosystems.

Family-friendly Offerings

The atmosphere on board isn’t geared toward children, with active excursions, lectures on scientific topics, cocktails in the evening, and plenty of dressy dinners. That may work for some mature teens, but I wouldn’t call the Charcot particularly family friendly. (As a matter of policy, Ponant officially allows children as young as 8 years old to travel on Charcot.)

On the other hand, the ship would be ideal for multi-generational groups traveling with adult children, particularly if different members of the party have different interests: there is more than enough to see and do by day, and everyone can dine together in the mornings and evenings.

Accessibility

During my trip on Charcot, I didn’t notice anyone using mobility devices of any kind; most of our days were physically demanding, with significant amounts of walking, often over uneven, slippery, and unpredictable surfaces. And that was before we strapped on snowshoes. The official line on accessibility from Ponant is that Charcot was “designed for people with reduced mobility in mind,” according to the company. Among its features are three wheelchair-accessible cabins: 626, 628, and 818. “Despite these arrangements,” a Ponant spokesperson says, “each passenger should be able to be independent or travel with a close family member or friend who can give them whatever assistance they require during their trip.”

In terms of traveling in Quebec, many places I visited appeared to be readily accessible. However, the prodigious amounts of snow and ice that are common in the area in winter can make even notionally accessible places far less so during several months of the year.