Julia on a bike

Wednesday, July 24, 2024 will be remembered as the day I managed to reach the Arctic Ocean, against all odds, and above all, after tackling the Dempster Highway.

Canada has many dream roads. There’s the Glacier Trail between Jasper and Banff (Alberta), the Sea to Sky between Vancouver and Whistler (British Columbia), and the Cabot Trail, which I almost finally managed to do this year, on Cape Breton Island (Nova Scotia). There are many others, of course. But if there’s one that stands out for me, as it does for many others, it’s the Dempster Highway. This highway attracts as much as it frightens, even the most experienced. And that goes for all motorized vehicles.

Built in 1958, the Dempster Highway begins 34 kilometers south of Dawson City, before winding its way through magnificent scenery to Tuktuyaktuk, on the shores of the Arctic Ocean. Along the 740-kilometre route, I was welcomed with open arms by a land my imagination could scarcely have imagined upstream. But beauty comes at a price.

The challenge of the road

The road isn’t paved, it’s gravel. And it starts from the very first centimetre. After months of preparation, I was expecting this. Although I sometimes hoped that the facts had been distorted or exaggerated, I quickly realized that this was not the case. The Dempster Highway lived up to its reputation.

Up to Eagle Plains, at kilometer 369, the road seemed to present no difficulty other than that of keeping to the speed limit and anticipating oncoming traffic – traffic that displaces an often blinding cloud of dust. Brimming with confidence thanks to the sunny weather, I wasn’t the least bit worried about these fine particles. After all, it was better than the rain that turns the road into a giant swimming pool.

Admittedly, this section turned out to be a good start and gave us enough peace of mind for the rest of the day. As we entered our second day, things started to go wrong. We discovered the violent winds of the “hurricane pass”, a section located just a few kilometers from the border between the Yukon and the Northwest Territories. Fortunately, the fog prevented us from seeing the precipice. Fortunately.

At last, we had the two magic ingredients of the Dempster: a slippery surface and a change in weather that takes you by surprise. It took Arielle, John and me enough self-sacrifice to get out of 20 kilometers of tumultuous terrain and catch the two ferries that would take us across the Peel and Mackenzie rivers. Exhausted, but happy. Three hundred and seventy-three kilometers in almost ten hours – I’ll let you do the sums.

We had been warned: constant vigilance! And yet, this phase was only a foretaste of what awaited us between Inuvik and Tuktuyaktuk. The 158 kilometers that separate the two communities are the hardest; the ones most people dread. I knew I was in for a rough ride to the Arctic Ocean and, as they say where I come from, I wasn’t disappointed.

Between gravel, small pebbles and sharp rocks, 10 to 20 centimetres thick, it was hard to know which was worse. “Choose your track and don’t let it go” was the advice I was given, and I’ll give it to anyone who wants to hear it. These tracks, made by trucks, cars and pickups, are as much a help as they are a danger. Three times, my front tire sunk a little too deep and I discovered the dreaded wobbling. Once out of this trap, I’d almost forgotten about the last thirty kilometers, where a clever mix of sand and shells are just waiting to slash your tires.

You forget all that as soon as you pass the town’s entrance sign. You can smell the sea air. You feel the reach of the ocean. And if sometimes the game isn’t worth the candle, here it certainly was. Yes,
this road is a challenge for many motorcyclists. Taking it on requires preparation, skill, but above all, humility. Regardless of experience or vehicle, accidents are frequent and can happen at every turn. But the Dempster is not indomitable! Whether you turn back or keep going, you’ll all come out of the experience changed, and certainly more experienced.