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Daring the DempsterFrom Dawson City to Inuvik … and BackBy Karoline Cullen
High summer in the Canadian Artic can still mean snow on the Dempster Highway at the border of the Yukon and Northwest Territories. It’s a remote, rugged gravel road traversing mountain ranges and tundra for 740 kilometers between Dawson City and Inuvik. It would be a grueling drive in a modern car but we’re daring this challenge in a Czech-built 1947 Tatra T87. In the spirit of intrepid Czech explorers Miroslav Zikmund and Jiri Hanzelka, who took their new Tatra to Africa and South America in the late 1940’s, we’re taking ours to Canada’s far North. The Dempster starts gently with a short paved stretch but the sign “No Services Next 370 km” is a sobering reminder of the road’s isolation. We’re prepared with emergency supplies, spare tires, and gas; if we’re stranded on the lonely Dempster, there’s not much help to be had. Our first stop is the interpretive centre at Tombstone Mountain campground, a tiny hut crammed with local flora and fauna displays. Humans aren’t at the top of the food chain here so we learn “if you meet a bear” protocol, part of which is don’t run; that’s acting like food. Luckily, recalling this while facing a bear does not turn out to be necessary, as our wildlife encounters are limited to spotting moose and Dall sheep near the highway.
Just before we start drawing straws for sleeping rights to the back seat, the ferry crew decides on one last run for the day and we squeak on. We left Inuvik nine and a half hours ago; it’s now eight o’clock and we have 170 km in a raging storm to go. The treacherous roads demand a crawling pace; a tense silence fills the car. At least the arctic summer twilight provides some visibility as the Tatra creeps through the blizzard. It’s a lashing of wind and snow in the finest tradition of a Canadian storm. As darkness falls, we sigh with relief as we slide into the muddy parking lot of the Eagle Plains hotel. It couldn’t look more welcoming if it had palm trees around a pool and a man holding a tray of drinks with little umbrellas in them. Next day, the Dempster north of Eagle Plains is closed due to slippery conditions. Heading south for Dawson City, we’re surrounded by fall colours that weren’t showing just days ago, and happily, not a speck of snow. If You GoThe Dempster is a difficult route and should only be undertaken in total preparedness. Check the following for information: Dempster Highway: http://www.yukoninfo.com/dempster/ Eagle Plains Hotel Inuvik: http://www.yukoninfo.com/inuvik/ Accommodation in Inuvik – Arctic Chalet B&B: http://www.arcticchalet.com/ Tuktoyaktuk: http://www.tuk.ca/ Images by Karoline Cullen and Gary Cullen |
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TM
Howling
winds whip the snow into a whiteout while icy crystals rattle on windows. As
we creep carefully along the mountain pass, the blizzard engulfs us. We’re
dismayed at the audacious mid-August appearance of this furious winter
display. 
In the North Fork Pass, verdant mountainsides glisten
in mystical light. The subtly coloured sub-Arctic tundra, dense with scrubby
bushes and dwarf evergreens, is an undulating, spongy cushion. The
farther north the Dempster goes, the smaller the plants become; a 100
year-old conifer might stand less than a metre tall. Outposts of
civilization aren’t very big either. We stay overnight at Eagle Plains -- a
speck on the tundra with nothing more than a hotel, gas pumps and a trailer
park -- before crossing into the true North. 
At the Arctic Circle the trees are dwindling and a
lonely marker pinpoints our latitude at 66 degrees 33 minutes north. From here northward, the sun never rises on the winter solstice and never
sets on June 21; even in August, the evening twilight stretches until almost
11 pm. With nothing to block it, the wind gusts in chilling blasts as
silence enfolds us and the Dempster stretches through emptiness towards Fort
McPherson.
There, our streamlined Tatra draws a crowd. Kids cram
their heads in the window, eager to learn what every button and knob does,
and to pour over the V-8 engine. They probably find the car more
exciting than the small graveyard in the town centre where the “Lost Patrol”
of the North West Mounted Police is buried. In 1910, four Mounties set out
for Dawson City without a skilled guide. They perished, their bodies later
found by a rescue patrol led by Corporal W.J.D. Dempster, for whom the
highway we’re exploring is named. 
The Dempster terminates at Inuvik, which means “place
of man”. It was founded in 1955 as a government administrative centre, and
official signs in five languages reflect the cultural mosaic of the town’s
3500 inhabitants. There’s a single traffic light -- the first we’ve seen
since Whitehorse -- a full-sized Cessna weathervane, and an igloo-shaped
church. Mazelike insulated pipes for water and sewer connect
houses above the ground because of the permafrost. Restaurant menus offer
musk ox, caribou, reindeer, and Arctic Char, exotic fare for
non-northerners. 
At our B&B, the breakfast room is hung with many furs;
some are from relatives of last night’s dinner offerings. Our hosts breed
arctic white huskies for dog sledding, and we offer help with their daily
exercise. Given a slack leash, huskies instinctively pull, hard. They’re not
large dogs but have Herculean strength; mine almost drags me onto my nose
and it’s clear I’m not in control of this outing. Aside from
breeding dogs, our versatile hosts have an air charter company, and so we’re
off by plane to Tuktoyaktuk or Tuk for short. 
In the winter, a man-made ice road connects Inuvik and
Tuk but summer means a 45- minute flight over the Mackenzie River delta.
This mottled kaleidoscope of silver water, dark green tundra, and giant
pingos (frost heaves) drains one-fifth of Canada. Tuktoyaktuk,
meaning “place resembling caribou”, clings to spits of land. Dipping a toe,
or more if you’re brave, in the icy Arctic Ocean is a Tuk tradition, but the
lingering sting from the cold is fierce. It’s an eerily quiet Sunday
afternoon; the only store is shut and we can’t tour the churches because
they’re in use. For entertainment, we watch a local prepare Arctic char, an
orange-fleshed fish, for drying -- fast crosscuts with an ulu blade spread
the fillets before they are hung for three days in a smokehouse. Our guide
details the deliciousness of maktak, or whale’s blubber, while wishing for
samples, but it’s not in season. Menacing snow clouds signal it’s time for
our return flight over the delta. 
After two nights in Inuvik, we’re on the Dempster
again, heading back south to Eagle Plains (370 km south). Dallying too long
at the Tent and Canvas Company in Fort McPherson, where we buy pillows
filled with musk ox hair, makes us miss our first ferry at the Mackenzie
River and Tsiigehtchic. Near the next river crossing, a loud knocking under
the Tatra’s front fender is too persistent to ignore and we must stop on the
muddy roadside to repair the shock absorber. Luckily, it’s not a
major problem and we limp to the Peel River ferry, only to find it cancelled
because of strong winds. The storm is just beginning so we have hours to
contemplate spending the night on this riverbank, as the nearest
accommodations are back in Inuvik or ahead in Eagle Plains.