Inuvik or Bust! Ryan and my trip to the Arctic!
Where to begin?! About a year ago, Ryan, knowing my love for road-trips, tossed out his idea about driving the Dempster Highway from the Klondike Highway to Inuvik, NWT. He had planned this a year prior with his father, but they elected to conquer the PCH down to San Diego instead. The Dempster is a highway renowned for its beauty, remoteness and… lack of pavement. As a matter of fact, due to freeze/thaw cycles and its substructure is composed of up to 8 feet of gravel insulating it from the permafrost. So from there, the planning began.
When driving a road like this, being a 1,500km round trip of rock/shale/gravel in mediocre conditions at the best of times, in addition to 5000+kms of highway to get us there and back, you’d elect to travel in a more roomy, comfortable vehicle with creature comforts and a sense of reliability such as my new Jeep Wrangler Rubicon. However, being the gear-heads we are (read idiots), we chose to tackle this trip in Ryan’s 2001 BMW M-Coupe. That’s right, a two-door, two-seater, hatchback, with MMMMMuch more power than the Jeep! Then and there, ‘Inuvik or Bust’ was born.
Fast forward to three weeks ago when, if we were like most people, necessary prep-work, vehicle inspections, pre-trip maintenance, packing and planning would have been taking place. Nope. Vegas sounded like a much better plan and a far better idea than any of those things! So for the 6 days prior to the trip (for Ryan) and 4 days for myself, we drank, ate, gambled, partied and relaxed with good friends in sin city. Returned with empty wallets (damn you Roulette), and a lack of sleep, the night before departure. In about 3 hours, we had the winter wheels and tires bolted up, roof rack mounted, a spare front and rear wheels and tires, 3x 20 liter jerry cans and a 5 ton jack, a roadside emergency kit and a beer cooler packed and ready for mission (im)possible. With anticipation growing, the morning came quickly and we were playing the last little bit of Tetris filling the hatch of his pint-sized automobile. Fuel, coffees and some energy drinks and we were off! (How ridiculous does this look?!?)
Day 1:This leg of the trip was the grueling, boring, drab, flat, and ironically the only real snow-filled part of our journey. A 1,000km jaunt from the hole in which we live, to the hole that is Fort Nelson, BC. Neither the camera, cell phones, nor GoPro bothered to snap a picture of this portion of the trip. After stopping for a beer and a bite to eat in Dawson Creek, passing the 0.0 mile marker of the Alaska Highway, we carted along though oil country and (barely) landed ourselves in Fort Nelson by 9pm. With 3 empty jerry cans strapped to the roof rack (to be filled at a later date), the car was sniffing on fumes as we pulled into the Petro Canada gas station. We sat there laughing at the potentially hilarious/infuriating situation we nearly found ourselves in. Stranded on the side of the road… with an abundance of empty jerry cans… IN BRITISH COLUMBIA! Needless to say, we were far more cognizant of our fuel levels from there on in. Grabbing a room at the first hotel in site, we dropped our bags and found ourselves crushing beers at the nearby Boston Pizza. Day 1, success.
Day 2: With a bright and early start to the day, we filled up a jerry can (we’re learning!), and forged on (to the closest Tim Horton’s for some shitty coffee and breakfast). We had 950kms of gorgeous terrain to cover today! The sweeping highways, skirting the mountains provided us with many excuses to stop, look around and snap some incredible photos. Sadly, photos hardly due this area of the world justice… so you’ll have to take my word for it, view my pictures with a grain of salt, or better yet… make the drive yourself! After 250kms of sweeping corners, dips, climbs, valleys and cliffs, we pulled over next to Muncho Lake and Strawberry flats as recommended by my Aunt. The lake was smooth as glass, and equally clear! This whole leg we found ourselves simply saying, "Wow." This place was no exception. At this point I jumped into the driver’s seat, though in hindsight, I wish I hadn't.
No more than 20km up the road the M-Coupe (more specifically Spiff_D's roof rack) gave a mountain goat some complimentary facial reconstructive surgery. Coming over a hill crest, Ryan points out three mountain goats grazing in the opposing ditch. Punching the brakes, they got spooked and darted diagonally across the highway in our direction of travel. Inching further and further into the shoulder and now partway into the ditch, there was no escaping them. In one swift suicidal leap, the largest goat of the three introduced itself to the roof-rack. Be it the impact of the goat, or how far we were now into the ditch, the German missile of mass destruction drifted out of gravel and to a halt back in the shoulder. With a barrage of explicit words now escaping my mouth, we both hopped out to assess the damage. The goats head bounced off the roof rack into the roof, its chest devoured the driver’s side mirror, as its lifeless body ricocheted off the rear quarter panel and into the ditch. Poor goat some may say... well, screw that suicidal goat. Poor BMW! Of all possible mountain goat vs. BMW outcomes, we were fortunate with the best result. The car, though now looking worse for wear, was still drivable. We forge on.
Escaping the herds of wild bison grazing alongside the highway, we landed ourselves in Whitehorse at 7:30pm, and were very much looking forward to the home-cooked meal at my Aunt and Uncles. After a phenomenal meal of moose stew, wine, and an amazing evening of catching up and exchanging stories, we retired to the hotel and grabbed a few pints in the downstairs bar, The Sternwheeler Saloon. Thanks again Aunty Netty and Uncle Pete! It was great visiting with you and Benjamin again!
Day 3: Today marked one of the trip's shortest driving days at 550kms. But with the scenery becoming increasingly more beautiful the further we go, the drive was pleasantly broken up by numerous stops, lookouts, and CINNAMON BUNS! If any of you folks finally get over the "one day" bullshit and actually make the journey out to the Yukon, you must stop at Braeburn's big buns at the Breaburn Lodge. The cinnamon bun was quite literally as big as my head (and I have a damn large noggin). As we neared Dawson City, we stopped at the beginning of the infamous Dempster Highway for a quick picture before making a 25min rounder up the Dempster to check conditions. Everything looks great! Now it was beer-o'clock and Dawson City was calling our names.
Day 3 (Continued): Dawson City, Yukon. Holy crap. I’ve heard that this city lures people in, and they never want to leave. I now understand why. Streets made of mud/dirt, sidewalks made of wood, buildings still standing from the gold-rush days. What a wicked cool feeling. After lining up accommodations for the night, we climbed the stairs to the hotel’s patio bar and crushed some well earned lunch and beers. Talking to our bartender/server, we got the low-down on what to do in Dawson. He pointed us in the direction of a couple spectacular lookouts and the first gambling hall in Dawson, Diamond Tooth Gerties, and our night was more or less planned out for us.
Getting back into the car, we drove down the main street and onto the Ferry to the first lookout of Dawson. As you can/will see in the pictures below, it’s pretty spectacular. As we sat and enjoyed the view, regretting that we weren’t smart enough to have cold ones sitting in the empty cooler, an American couple stopped in as well. They particularly enjoyed the band-aid Ryan placed over the rear quarter which sparked up a little conversation. They too, were going to the Drunken Goat Taverna for some eats and drinks tonight! (Damn goats) So we told them we’d see them later and darted back down to the ferry. Zipping through town, we carted the coupe up the long winding Dome Road to the second lookout (The Dome). Once again, wow. A 360 degree view of Dawson City, the hills of Alaska, the Yukon River and the mountains in which we will drive through the next day, and the launch-pad for paragliders! After watching a man chuck himself off the ledge, enjoying a ridiculously overpriced ($4/can of Kieth’s overpriced) beer, we decided to return to the hotel, park the car for the night, and let the golden nectar of the Yukon Brewing Company make poor life decisions for us. As we set out to walk the town, we saw this dirty almost equally hard done by WRX, sitting on the side of the road with Ontario plates on it. Pointing at it and chuckling as we walked passed, the owner who happened to be just up the sidewalk called us out. Her and her parents were in town for a few days and after introducing ourselves and exchanging a few stories, we agreed to meet up again at Gerties for the midnight burlesque show!
The Drunken Goat Taverna. Pitchers started coming and going, probably faster than they should have. Toast to the goat, right?! The American couple we met earlier walked into through the front doors and this train was now a runaway. The Mrs. wasn’t all that pleased with the Mr., as 6 pitchers later, her husband had quickly caught up to us in levels of intoxication. We probably should have ordered more than just calamari and pita bread with tzatziki, but c'est la vie. After the Mrs. managed to drag her staggering husband out of the bar, it was 11:30pm so we grabbed our tab and rushed over to Gerties. MOAR beers! The show was solid, reminiscent of the olden day’s cabarets, and quite entertaining. In comes Miss Ontario! Drinks, spirited discussions (drunken arguments), drinks, gambling (aka too drunk and I may as well have been handing my money straight to the dealer), we closed that place down. Now what?! It is 2:30am and everyone still had energy to keep going. So we invited her and her parents up to the hotel to crush what remaining beers we had left. What a great evening with amazing people… great stories and even better memories (well, the ones I remember at least). It’s now 5:00am and time to go to sleep, so after exchanging contact info, off they went and it was time to catch some shut eye.
Where to begin?! About a year ago, Ryan, knowing my love for road-trips, tossed out his idea about driving the Dempster Highway from the Klondike Highway to Inuvik, NWT. He had planned this a year prior with his father, but they elected to conquer the PCH down to San Diego instead. The Dempster is a highway renowned for its beauty, remoteness and… lack of pavement. As a matter of fact, due to freeze/thaw cycles and its substructure is composed of up to 8 feet of gravel insulating it from the permafrost. So from there, the planning began.
When driving a road like this, being a 1,500km round trip of rock/shale/gravel in mediocre conditions at the best of times, in addition to 5000+kms of highway to get us there and back, you’d elect to travel in a more roomy, comfortable vehicle with creature comforts and a sense of reliability such as my new Jeep Wrangler Rubicon. However, being the gear-heads we are (read idiots), we chose to tackle this trip in Ryan’s 2001 BMW M-Coupe. That’s right, a two-door, two-seater, hatchback, with MMMMMuch more power than the Jeep! Then and there, ‘Inuvik or Bust’ was born.
Fast forward to three weeks ago when, if we were like most people, necessary prep-work, vehicle inspections, pre-trip maintenance, packing and planning would have been taking place. Nope. Vegas sounded like a much better plan and a far better idea than any of those things! So for the 6 days prior to the trip (for Ryan) and 4 days for myself, we drank, ate, gambled, partied and relaxed with good friends in sin city. Returned with empty wallets (damn you Roulette), and a lack of sleep, the night before departure. In about 3 hours, we had the winter wheels and tires bolted up, roof rack mounted, a spare front and rear wheels and tires, 3x 20 liter jerry cans and a 5 ton jack, a roadside emergency kit and a beer cooler packed and ready for mission (im)possible. With anticipation growing, the morning came quickly and we were playing the last little bit of Tetris filling the hatch of his pint-sized automobile. Fuel, coffees and some energy drinks and we were off! (How ridiculous does this look?!?)
Day 1:This leg of the trip was the grueling, boring, drab, flat, and ironically the only real snow-filled part of our journey. A 1,000km jaunt from the hole in which we live, to the hole that is Fort Nelson, BC. Neither the camera, cell phones, nor GoPro bothered to snap a picture of this portion of the trip. After stopping for a beer and a bite to eat in Dawson Creek, passing the 0.0 mile marker of the Alaska Highway, we carted along though oil country and (barely) landed ourselves in Fort Nelson by 9pm. With 3 empty jerry cans strapped to the roof rack (to be filled at a later date), the car was sniffing on fumes as we pulled into the Petro Canada gas station. We sat there laughing at the potentially hilarious/infuriating situation we nearly found ourselves in. Stranded on the side of the road… with an abundance of empty jerry cans… IN BRITISH COLUMBIA! Needless to say, we were far more cognizant of our fuel levels from there on in. Grabbing a room at the first hotel in site, we dropped our bags and found ourselves crushing beers at the nearby Boston Pizza. Day 1, success.
Day 2: With a bright and early start to the day, we filled up a jerry can (we’re learning!), and forged on (to the closest Tim Horton’s for some shitty coffee and breakfast). We had 950kms of gorgeous terrain to cover today! The sweeping highways, skirting the mountains provided us with many excuses to stop, look around and snap some incredible photos. Sadly, photos hardly due this area of the world justice… so you’ll have to take my word for it, view my pictures with a grain of salt, or better yet… make the drive yourself! After 250kms of sweeping corners, dips, climbs, valleys and cliffs, we pulled over next to Muncho Lake and Strawberry flats as recommended by my Aunt. The lake was smooth as glass, and equally clear! This whole leg we found ourselves simply saying, "Wow." This place was no exception. At this point I jumped into the driver’s seat, though in hindsight, I wish I hadn't.
No more than 20km up the road the M-Coupe (more specifically Spiff_D's roof rack) gave a mountain goat some complimentary facial reconstructive surgery. Coming over a hill crest, Ryan points out three mountain goats grazing in the opposing ditch. Punching the brakes, they got spooked and darted diagonally across the highway in our direction of travel. Inching further and further into the shoulder and now partway into the ditch, there was no escaping them. In one swift suicidal leap, the largest goat of the three introduced itself to the roof-rack. Be it the impact of the goat, or how far we were now into the ditch, the German missile of mass destruction drifted out of gravel and to a halt back in the shoulder. With a barrage of explicit words now escaping my mouth, we both hopped out to assess the damage. The goats head bounced off the roof rack into the roof, its chest devoured the driver’s side mirror, as its lifeless body ricocheted off the rear quarter panel and into the ditch. Poor goat some may say... well, screw that suicidal goat. Poor BMW! Of all possible mountain goat vs. BMW outcomes, we were fortunate with the best result. The car, though now looking worse for wear, was still drivable. We forge on.
Escaping the herds of wild bison grazing alongside the highway, we landed ourselves in Whitehorse at 7:30pm, and were very much looking forward to the home-cooked meal at my Aunt and Uncles. After a phenomenal meal of moose stew, wine, and an amazing evening of catching up and exchanging stories, we retired to the hotel and grabbed a few pints in the downstairs bar, The Sternwheeler Saloon. Thanks again Aunty Netty and Uncle Pete! It was great visiting with you and Benjamin again!
Day 3: Today marked one of the trip's shortest driving days at 550kms. But with the scenery becoming increasingly more beautiful the further we go, the drive was pleasantly broken up by numerous stops, lookouts, and CINNAMON BUNS! If any of you folks finally get over the "one day" bullshit and actually make the journey out to the Yukon, you must stop at Braeburn's big buns at the Breaburn Lodge. The cinnamon bun was quite literally as big as my head (and I have a damn large noggin). As we neared Dawson City, we stopped at the beginning of the infamous Dempster Highway for a quick picture before making a 25min rounder up the Dempster to check conditions. Everything looks great! Now it was beer-o'clock and Dawson City was calling our names.
Day 3 (Continued): Dawson City, Yukon. Holy crap. I’ve heard that this city lures people in, and they never want to leave. I now understand why. Streets made of mud/dirt, sidewalks made of wood, buildings still standing from the gold-rush days. What a wicked cool feeling. After lining up accommodations for the night, we climbed the stairs to the hotel’s patio bar and crushed some well earned lunch and beers. Talking to our bartender/server, we got the low-down on what to do in Dawson. He pointed us in the direction of a couple spectacular lookouts and the first gambling hall in Dawson, Diamond Tooth Gerties, and our night was more or less planned out for us.
Getting back into the car, we drove down the main street and onto the Ferry to the first lookout of Dawson. As you can/will see in the pictures below, it’s pretty spectacular. As we sat and enjoyed the view, regretting that we weren’t smart enough to have cold ones sitting in the empty cooler, an American couple stopped in as well. They particularly enjoyed the band-aid Ryan placed over the rear quarter which sparked up a little conversation. They too, were going to the Drunken Goat Taverna for some eats and drinks tonight! (Damn goats) So we told them we’d see them later and darted back down to the ferry. Zipping through town, we carted the coupe up the long winding Dome Road to the second lookout (The Dome). Once again, wow. A 360 degree view of Dawson City, the hills of Alaska, the Yukon River and the mountains in which we will drive through the next day, and the launch-pad for paragliders! After watching a man chuck himself off the ledge, enjoying a ridiculously overpriced ($4/can of Kieth’s overpriced) beer, we decided to return to the hotel, park the car for the night, and let the golden nectar of the Yukon Brewing Company make poor life decisions for us. As we set out to walk the town, we saw this dirty almost equally hard done by WRX, sitting on the side of the road with Ontario plates on it. Pointing at it and chuckling as we walked passed, the owner who happened to be just up the sidewalk called us out. Her and her parents were in town for a few days and after introducing ourselves and exchanging a few stories, we agreed to meet up again at Gerties for the midnight burlesque show!
The Drunken Goat Taverna. Pitchers started coming and going, probably faster than they should have. Toast to the goat, right?! The American couple we met earlier walked into through the front doors and this train was now a runaway. The Mrs. wasn’t all that pleased with the Mr., as 6 pitchers later, her husband had quickly caught up to us in levels of intoxication. We probably should have ordered more than just calamari and pita bread with tzatziki, but c'est la vie. After the Mrs. managed to drag her staggering husband out of the bar, it was 11:30pm so we grabbed our tab and rushed over to Gerties. MOAR beers! The show was solid, reminiscent of the olden day’s cabarets, and quite entertaining. In comes Miss Ontario! Drinks, spirited discussions (drunken arguments), drinks, gambling (aka too drunk and I may as well have been handing my money straight to the dealer), we closed that place down. Now what?! It is 2:30am and everyone still had energy to keep going. So we invited her and her parents up to the hotel to crush what remaining beers we had left. What a great evening with amazing people… great stories and even better memories (well, the ones I remember at least). It’s now 5:00am and time to go to sleep, so after exchanging contact info, off they went and it was time to catch some shut eye.
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