Imagine any mountain dirt road - twisty, pot-holed and washboarded as it winds through the woods. Now imagine that it is 457 miles long. Imagine signs at the beginning warning of the absence of emergency medical services and the presence of bears and unpredictable weather and road conditions. Imagine that the next gas station/restaurant/repair shop is 230 miles up this road, and that between here and there are only a couple of campgrounds - no services, no habitations, only a few adventurous souls such as yourself. Now imagine that when you arrive at the end of this road, you will have to turn around and go back, because you are literally at the end of the road - there's no place else you can drive. And when you get back, you're still probably 4 days drive from home.
And, best of all, imagine that the incredible scenery, the abundance of wildlife, the sense of isolation and peace makes every mile, every pothole and rut and mudhole, worth the 3-4 days drive. You have just imagined a very real road, the Dempster Highway - the northernmost road on the North American continent. You can't drive your car any further north than this.
The Dempster runs from near Dawson City, in Canada's Yukon Territory, to Inuvik, in the Northwest Territories, unless you dare the journey during the winter, in which case seasonal ice roads will take you another hundred miles north to Tuktoyaktuk, on the coast of the Beaufort Sea. On the way north, the Dempster winds over two mountain ranges - the Olgilvies and the Richardsons, crosses the continental divide three times, ferries you across the Peel and Mackenzie rivers, and takes you north of the Arctic Circle. You'll see many species of animals and birds, including bear, caribou, Arctic hares, snow geese, enormous ravens and much more as you travel through four unique natural regions, or eco-zones, and see the dramatic results of glaciation during the last ice age.
I became fascinated with the Dempster 20 years ago, when I read an article somewhere about the construction of the highway - it was only completed in 1978. The idea of driving as far north as possible held some weird appeal, as did the promise of pure wilderness. I had come close to making the trip several times, but something always came up to interfere with my plans. But several years ago, it all came together, and my black lab Guido and I set out on what was to be an unforgettable adventure. After extensive research about our trip, we were well prepared - a simple websearch for "Dempster Highway" provided dozens of articles, photos and useful links. The Blazer had been serviced and we had new tires. We also had two spare tires, extra gas can, tools, oil, water, plenty of camping and hiking equipment, lots of dog food and treats, and clothes for any contingency. We used Mapquest to print out detailed route directions, and planned out each day's travel and stopping place, leaving room for improvisation and flexibility.
Our plan was to put in a lot of miles the first two days, since we would be driving north mostly through farmland. We experienced the only car trouble of the entire trip in our driveway - the extra spare had kept the tailgate from closing properly the night before and we had a dead battery. After dealing with that, we were on the road, heading north on I-25. A long day put us into Great Falls, MT for the night, and an equally long day the next saw us into Canada and in Grand Prairie, Alberta, well beyond Edmonton. I wouldn't recommend two such days in a row normally, but we wanted to get to the good stuff quickly.
Early the next morning, as we came into Dawson Creek, B.C., a large sign announced the beginning of the Alaska Highway and the "start of the adventure". The sign was right - almost immediately we entered forest and the land started to become mountainous. We were entering Canada's Northern Rockies. Within a few hours, we were confronted by walls of massive, jagged snow-covered peaks and were gaining altitude with every mile. We began to see interesting wildlife - deer, elk and caribou were everywhere, and in the valleys, we saw flyfishermen hauling monstrous trout out of the waters of the Tetsa, Toad, Racing and Liard Rivers.
The next day we saw our first moose, a very large male with huge antlers drinking from a river next to the road. We were to see several more during our trip. We also saw wild buffalo loose on the road, and a great variety of waterfowl and birds. Most of our drive as we proceeded northwesterly took us along beautiful lakes and rivers, with serious-looking mountain ranges always present on the horizon.
Eventually, we arrived in Dawson City, on the doorstep of the Dempster. Dawson used to be the center of the Klondike gold rush and once had a population of 35,000. Today, it is a fun tourist center, with dirt streets and wooden sidewalks, and charmingly restored buildings serving as shops, restaurants, hotels, casinos and saloons. Visitors can pan for gold in tributaries of the adjacent Klondike River, hike a variety of trails in the surrounding hills, soak up the area's history at some excellent museums or shop for antiques, gold nugget jewelry, or other unique items. I purchased a bracelet for my wife Mary that was made from prehistoric wooly mammoth ivory unearthed by the gold miners in the area.
Early the next morning, we filled the car and spare gas tank, checked the tires and started north in a light drizzle. After an initial 4 miles of pavement, we hit the dirt and it was unnerving - the road was narrow, barely two lanes, and there were ruts, washboard, mud and too many potholes to dodge. How, I wondered, were we and the car going to survive 900 miles of this? I was cheered immediately by encountering a small herd of caribou. As the sun fully rose, I noticed that the foliage had already begun to change. The leaves were turning golden, and wildflowers were everywhere. There had been a heavy snowfall several days earlier and most of the area's black flies and mosquitoes, which can grow to quite large sizes, were gone. The rain stopped and the temperature was holding in the high 40's. It seems that I had inadvertently picked an excellent time to visit.
As we proceeded up the road, I was surprised by what I was seeing. I had expected a desolate wilderness. Instead, I was driving through the Ogilvie Mountains, and the scenery was stunning. Colorful valleys surrounded by beautiful peaks, overlooks with views that went on forever, and gravel-bedded rivers running next to a road whose surface imperfections I was spending much less time noticing. The further we proceeded, the more beautiful the scenery. At 51 miles in, we came to North Fork Pass, the Dempster's highest elevation at 4,229 ft. - not much by Colorado standards, but the views were equal to anything we have here. Then we drove through an area of lakes, each with a flock of ducks that seemed to be leaving the annual migration to sunnier climes a bit late.
One of the things that is striking as you stop along this road is the strong sense of wilderness - the realization that civilization and the everyday activities of people are a long way away. There are no villages or small farms, no telephone poles, very few passing cars - except for the road itself, no evidence that people even exist. This feeling was particularly strong from the road's many highpoints and overlooks, from which you could see a very long way in every direction. (In fact, you don't have to travel the Dempster to experience this. From the time you cross the Rockies in northern British Columbia until you arrive in Dawson City, there is very little sign of man. The Yukon has only 33,000 inhabitants, and 23,000 of those live in Whitehorse, with another 4,500 or so in Dawson City. The rest are hardly visible. Driving through the countryside, there's just you, the road, the (very) occasional other car, and nature.)
Halfway to Inuvik, and 229 miles from the start, you arrive at Eagle Plains, which offers a gas station/garage, restaurant and motel/RV campground. There are neither eagles nor plains here, but there are some very obnoxious ravens, and great views of the Eagle River valley. The food is good, the accommodations are clean and adequate, and the management is very friendly and informative. And by this time, you can probably use a break. Guido was delighted to discover that dogs were welcome in the bar.
The trip north from Eagle Plains features a crossing of the Arctic Circle, marked by an informative display monument; a traverse of the Richardson Mountains, the northernmost of the Rockies; a change in geography from river-created to glacier-created terrain, and the increasing appearance of Arctic tundra and taiga plains; crossing of the Peel and Mackenzie Rivers on free ferries; and, finally, arrival at Inuvik, a town of about 3400 people, providing a surprisingly wide variety of services and activities.
Guido and I celebrated our arrival at the end of the road with an impromptu picnic lunch on the shore of a small lake, with a nice swim for him, and we then headed back toward Eagle Plains. We were unaware of the opportunity to charter a plane to Banks Island, a short and affordable trip up to the Beaufort Sea to visit an abandoned whaling station - something we'd definitely do if we visited the area again.
The drive back was as interesting as the drive up. Coming from the reverse direction, the views were different but equally dramatic. Some construction delays for road building provided the opportunity to talk to a couple of area residents, Native American construction workers from the Aklavik area west of Inuvik. I learned that the caribou migration was expected to start within days, early this year, and I heard some stories about what real winter was like in the area. (The highway is open all year, except for a few weeks in the fall and spring, when the rivers are freezing or breaking up - once the rivers are frozen, ice bridges replace the ferries. It is apparently easier to maintain the highway in winter - everything is hard-frozen, and the main problem is keeping track of where the road went when a big snowstorm comes in. Frankly, I wouldn't want to try this trip in the winter.)
About halfway back to Eagle Plains, I stopped to let Guido stretch his legs. As I was opening the door to let him out, I heard someone cough behind me. I turned to look and there was a black bear - a fairly large and very healthy looking one, maybe 300 lbs. - standing about 20 yards away, calmly looking at me. I got Guido back in the car, and grabbed my camera and as I turned to take a picture, he turned and walked back into the brush. I think I was lucky it wasn't the Grizzly and her two cubs who, I later learned, were frequenting the same area.
Our route back to Fort Collins from Whitehorse took us through the Stewart-Cassiar wilderness, northern British Columbia, and Jasper and Banff National Parks, before dumping us back out on the plains at Calgary.. We saw more moose, bear, and elk, as well as even more dramatic mountains and rivers, and I discovered that it is possible to exhaust, at least temporarily, one's capacity to be awed by beauty - the incredible had become commonplace.
During our entire trip in the Yukon, Northwest Territories, British Columbia and the bumpier parts of Alberta, there were abundant campgrounds, roadside parks and trailheads, scenic pullovers, historical and interpretive displays, as well as some hot springs areas, and we spent several hours each day investigating some of the more interesting attractions along the way.
From a dog's perspective, Guido would have wanted me to say that this was an excellent trip. He spent a lot of time with his chin resting on the top of the passenger seat or on my shoulder, actually looking at the scenery. He got to run and explore, and to mark a lot of new and interesting territory. He made new dog and people friends, was accepted as an adventurous traveler wherever he went, and was actually welcomed in several bars and restaurants. And twice, he got to engage in his all-time favorite pursuit - rolling around in fresh bear poop, almost immediately followed by long swims in the nearest lake. The day after our return, after two weeks on the road, Guido's greatest desire was to get back in the car and keep going.
The Dempster was an awe-inspiring experience, showcasing incredible scenery and plentiful wildlife. The trips there and back were almost as rewarding. Despite its remoteness and lack of amenities, this was an unforgettable experience, well worth the effort.
Comments (12)Subscribe to CommentsComment