The Dempster Highway extends from the Klondike Highway near Dawson City over 500 miles into the Arctic Circle and the Northwest Territories beyond. In 2014, I passed the turnoff for this remarkable gravel road but a broken front wheel bearing left me to continue to Whitehorse instead. It was in my mind to return and attempt to travel up into the great North of mountain, taiga, steppe and tundra. A Card lock gas station sits at the beginning of the road and I fueled up my tank and additional two fuel cams for the 370km without services until Eagle Plains.
A Yukon Govt work truck with a flat was pulled to the side of the lot and when I noticed the younger worker wasn't making much progres, I rode over and offered to help. We supported the truck with a scrounged 12x12 just quick enough to reposition the jack before the wood split and he was able to complete the tire change. A little good Karma can go a long way, especially at the start of a journey such as this.
The gravel was loose in places with disturbing windrows of small pea gravel which dragged the front wheel and sent plumes of tan dust billowing behind me. It was clear that 25mph would be my average speed for the next few days off pavement. Climbing into the Tombstone Mountain Park, I was taken by the varied geological formations, some volcanic, limestone caps and glacial valleys. The forests of willow, alder and birch began to diminish climbing up toward the 4200ft Engineer Pass. The vistas afforded by the carefully planned road are striking, amplified by the clinging white snow contrasting against the darker cliffs. Sphagnum bogs and deep blue lakes cover the broad valleys with groves of willow tucked into shallow windbreak and streambeds. Here too I see evidence of moose, bear and signs indicating Caribou herds travel through on their seasonal migrations. Turning off the already quiet engine, the chorus of songbirds carries on the northeastern winds that never cease to blow. A rich nesting sit and habitat here draws millions of birds each spring from as far off as Africa and South America. Not long after setting up my tent in the shelter of some willows, a huffing noise stirw the hair on the back of my neck. With pepper spray in hand, I give a loud woop or two and gaze out from my tent only to see the fading rear end of a moose disturbed from a nearby puddle.
The sunny days are hampered only by the relentless north easterly winds which coincide with my direction of travel. When gusts are normal, I can hold about 25mph but on one of the man hills or open ridgelines, speeds sink into the teens and the fatigue on my neck strains the muscles. Now this is what I call summer fun! Passing through the east-west arranged Ogilvie Mountains takes the better part of a morning mostly due to the Alpine vista's and unique terrain drawing my lens. Engineer Creek flows an unusual muddy red color likely due to recent flood and disturbances to the silt layer. The rivers here flow northward to the Beaufort Sea and Arctic Ocean.
From the Ogilvie River, the road climbs over 1000 feet to the Ogilvie Ridge marking the western territorial border of the local Gwichin tribe. Maintaining this exposed position on the drainage divide allows for incredible sweeping views of the Ogilvie River valley but fierce blasts of wind carried for miles to this high spot. The miles tick away but arriving at the top of each rise, I'm greeted by the serpentine ribbon of gravel reaching on to the horizon like the great Wall of China. Finally reaching the halfway point of Eagle Plains, I quickly fuel up paying $15 for three gallons or so. Making camp down at Eagle River, I meet two Germans who inform me the Peel River ferry is not yet crossing due to a missing part. That takes the pressure off arriving there early tomorrow. The picnic table in camp is inexplicably covered in Ritz crackers, a sign I take to make dinner and collect the free food into a used zip lock bag for later.
The following day is gusty and cooler approaching the Arctic Circle rest area. 20 mph winds relentlessly comb the low grasses and mosses and I imagine a warm and pleasant day relaxing at the picnic table here. Instead, I can barely keep the bike upright on the stand due to gusts and feel like the freshly replaced roof on the outhouse was from a day much worse than this. An exposed ride northward into the taiga landscape made me happy for the relative shelter of the spruce from rested Rock River campground where I refueled and had lunch. The boiled creek water tasted strongly of iron reminding me of my time spent in north Alabama where a red ring of iron fell to the bottom of the glass. It was here that I discovered a nail in my rear tire, likely one I had before starting this road. 20 minutes later and it was patched and refilled - good to go.
Crossing into the Northwest Territories the wind gap offers no respite. Twisted piles of metal off to one side of the hill reveal themselves as the contorted remains of steel streetsigns wretched from their flattened and gnarled posts. A blanket of tiny purple flowers endures on the road embankment and I appreciate their perserverence against this unforgiving land. Descending toward the Peel River, I notice difficulty in coasting downhill and a sluggishness associated with surge of power. My mind races through the familiar complexities of the ruckus and I settle on a belt/Variator related issue. A brief cleaning of my air filter first reveals my 62mpg was the result of a dust plugged paper element. Continuing on, the variator I replaced in Teslin Lake had some tacky residue leftover from the tape holding it together. This sticky glue has heated and worked onto the variator roller shaft causing it to bind and slow when riding downhill. As the few passing motorists stopped to help, I polished the drive face clean and hoped that my repair would carry me out of this desolate place over 25 miles from the nearest house. I kept an eye out for a curious bear too as this was their territory evidenced by the paw prints and piles along the shoulder. With the final drive back together, I smiled at my success and pushed forward toward the Peel River.
At the ferry crossing a line of trucks, RV's and cars lined the roadside. A small get together of stranded travellers had formed as everyone reiterated the news that it may be running tomorrow and they were waiting for a new bearing. Aaron had already camped here one night and was preparing for another evening on the road's edge. Two retired veterans from Haines had just prepared pasta with halibut and served a heaping serving onto a paper plate from the back of the pickup bed camper. The meal was just what my frazzled nerves needed and we laughed over their fishing stories and colorful jokes. The night moved on but without darkness as car seats reclined and folks settled in for another night waiting on the highway.
Come morning, Aaron and I gladly accepted Manfred and Rosalie's offer for breakfast inside Maggie, their 1983 Maguras 4x4 adventure truck. Hot coffee and a mouthwatering plate of potatoes, onions, bacon and poached egg on top. The delightful morning meal is occasionally interrupted by the crunching of rocks and metalic clang of the caterpillar equipment grading the ramp and preparing the ferry cables. By 3pm, the horn sounds and to everyone's astonishment, the ferry begins loading. La Tortuga is the last vehicle on board the first crossing and I smile knowing I'm that much closer to fuel and a fresh air filter blowout. I have a brief albeit rewarding conversation with an elder from the village of Alklavik, formerly the original town before resettlement to Inuvik. He tells me of his 1962 membership as a gentleman adventurer for the Hudson's Bay Company, buying and selling furs in season and convincing the locals to use snowmobiles over dog teams in order to save the slaughter of a dwindling caribou herd for dogfood.
Back on the road, I hoped for better mileage with my cleaner air filter. Reaching the MacKenzie River Ferry, I boarded and once the other traffic had passed, enjoyed a relatively quiet and pleasant afternoon ride toward Inuvik. It was sunny and warm well into the evening as I pulled in to Inuvik at the end of the Dempster Highway. The town of 4500 people was much larger than in anticipated with a paved road leading to the airport, the main link t the outside world. I fueled up, took a few snapshots around town then checked the weather forecast. Woah, temps were forecast town plummet to freezing in less than 24 hours. Rather than hang around town for a day, I used my energy and good weather window to turn south down the highway and work back toward the Yukon. The infuriating headwind was now a welcomed asset as I hurdled over some of the best gravel of the highway at 35-40mph. A cloud of dust trailed behind me but I kept a few feet ahead hoping the air filter wouldn't be comprimised. It was just around midnight as I realized I was chasing my shadow south, a first in this land of the midnight sun in the north. At roughly 2AM, I arrived at the MacKenzie River and put up my tent for a few hours sleep.
taken around midnight
In the morning I was one of two vehicles on the MacKenzie ferry and the sole vehicle on the Peel River ferry around noon. The return trip was markedly more enjoyable with the added propulsion of the Arctic winds. Mileage was in the upper 80s so I knew there wouldn't be risk of running out of fuel between Eagle Plains and mile zero. I stopped to help the two men from Haines who had the misfortune of their fifth flat tire. My puny slime air compressor was no match for their loaded truck tires but soon a loaded f550 work truck arrived and gave them the pressure they needed. The last I saw of them was balking at the exorbitant cost of a new tire that didn't exactly fit their truck in Eagle Plains garage. Hopefully they made it back to Haines safely.
Arctic Lupine
It was another late night of riding until midnight but the barren ridge and high winds were no place for my scooter and tent. Descending to the Ogilvie River, I found a wind sheltered pullout and set up my tent for a few hours of shut eye. The morning was somewhat cooler but not uncomfortably cold. It was already 9:45am before I woke up, a new habit of waking late and riding later fit with the warmer times of the day.
moose ahead
Joe and Susie, local legends
young porcupine
The remaining ride through the mountains and into Tombstone Park was pleasant and warm under blue skies. The feeling of accomplishment began to set in as the kilometers ticked down and the scooter plodded along. Dust clouds from passing vehicles blocked visibility sending the chalky taste into my closed helmet and for the first time in months I thought to myself "we could use a good rainstorm around here".
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