I am The Road Trip Guy.
I love driving, the more isolated the conditions the better. There is nothing more relaxing and satisfying to me than driving for hours upon hours on an empty road and never seeing another vehicle.
Somehow, the enjoyment derived from that eliminates any concerns of breakdowns or requirements for assistance from my mind.
So, it was only natural that the entire dirt and gravel 747-kilometre Dempster Highway from near Dawson City to Inuvik plus a new 148-kilometre extension Tuktoyaktuk Highway to the Arctic Ocean would attract me – unquestionably one of the best road trips in Canada if not the world.
Although wildlife encounter is a lure, we managed the entire trip without seeing anything bigger than a squirrel. We did select the right season though, early autumn showcases the Dempster at its finest when the trees and brush turn in a blaze of colour. Overall, the joy of the Dempster is the epic scenery.
There was a direct correlation between the weather and the road conditions. Naturally the rain made the potholed, rutted dirt track worse changing the hard-packed earth to sand and mud.
It was hard motoring through but incredibly slippery, too. On more than one occasion I found myself fish-tailing wildly and drifting toward the shoulder of the road on curves. Surely this is where the term Ragged Ass Road originated.
Beyond Eagle Plains the next day the road only got worse – more potholes, a pronounced washboard surface and it was wet. The good news was there was no traffic at all in either direction. There may be a message there.
At 8:45 a.m., a few days later, we left Inuvik in the rain for the Inuvik-Tuktoyaktuk Highway. This new road opened in November 2017 allowing, for the first time, road access to the Arctic Ocean.
Considering the road was opened a mere nine months ago it was the worst. It definitely challenged northern Yukon on the Dempster for potholes and mud and the fact it was raining didn’t help matters any. The road got worse with each passing kilometre.
Though not scenically beautiful, Tuktoyaktuk was very peaceful and I had lots of time to reflect on the experience the drive had been. We continued to explore the town by driving aimlessly about. Pretty much by chance we found it, the Arctic Ocean, although missing an entire ocean would be difficult even for me.
The road had been awful on the way in but it was out of this world on the return. I don’t know how we made it through without four-wheel drive.
Every time we drove through a pothole, and I defy anyone to travel this road and not drive through potholes, the muddy water splashed up dousing the windshield, side windows, flew over the roof and the back of the SUV.
Fortunately, there were no other cars on the road because I couldn’t see anything forward, backward or to either side through the windows or in the mirrors. Make sure your windshield wipers work and your washer reservoir is full for this trip or you’re going to be in a lot of trouble.
The only thing we needed when we got back to Inuvik was a car wash. When we found one it was hilarious. Everyone there had obviously been on the Tuk Highway.
The guy in front of me had a camper van and as he washed it Karen commented he looked surprised to see stickers on the back. “Stickers,” I said, “he’s amazed there’s a window in the back of the camper!”
We left early the next morning and by the time we got to the Dempster Highway, after deciding to take our chances, we were immersed in your worst nightmare.
The road was totally different in snow a few inches deep. It certainly seemed smoother and I couldn’t see any potholes; whether that would be better or not we were about to find out. It was snowing quite heavily, so the road was empty – nobody in their right mind was out in this weather.
The Wright Pass between the Northwest Territories and the Yukon was amazing. It was beautiful in the snow but it was also a long, nerve-wracking drive and I don’t remember coming through it at all on our journey in.
What a difference an alternate view and direction made in this case. I had not stopped to take any photos on the way through the first time so it must have appeared awfully subdued from the other direction. But when I saw the pictures I took now in the snow I said, “How did you not see that!”
We were lucky to get through the pass at all. Near the summit was a jackknifed tanker truck stuck partially onto the road and nearly blocking my or anyone else’s passage. We did manage to squeeze by although I did tap something on his truck on the way past. Once clear of him there was easily a foot of snow on the road.
I wanted to stop and offer help but I knew if I didn’t keep moving I would never make it to the top. Once I hit some mud I did stop and walked back toward the truck. I was going to ask if he wanted a ride somewhere. Just as I approached he got moving and gave me a blast of his horn as if to say, “Get out of my way, I’m not stopping for anything!”
It was a distance of about 25 kilometres through the pass and to this day I don’t know how we made it. Having said that, I had never really been concerned; the drive in the snow was probably the most exciting part of the trip, even with the terror involved.
Karen was a little less enamoured until we were safe in Eagle Plains. She had been concerned we’d end up at the bottom of a mountain cliff never to be found.
The banks were steep and the valleys deep but I assured her hunters would have found us in the spring when they came upon the vehicle upside down in the snow with the two of us strapped inside arguing about me driving too fast. “That was a lot of fun, I’d like to do it again,” said no one, ever!
It had been one wild and crazy day. We arrived in Eagle Plains, 100 yards from the hotel and were stunned to see the road was closed with padlocked barriers preventing further progress.
I assumed the reason was what we had just driven through – the snow. I found out later it was closed at 10 a.m., both ends, Eagle Plains and Inuvik, after we were on our way.
The purpose of the trip had been to get away from everyday distractions and annoyances and to get to Tuktoyaktuk. Why? Because we could.
Travel a ragged ass road to a point as far north as one can drive in Canada. It was beautiful, inspiring, rewarding and at times trying but it was amazingly cathartic to leave traffic, noise and cell phones behind.
I had found what I’d been searching for.
Eric Whitehead has been on the road travelling for almost 60 years, so it was only natural when he retired that he became a travel writer. He has written 12 books to date, 11 of them about his travels. For more information, visit his website and blog.
