The most beautiful and most hostile of roads

To get to the Arctic Ocean, you must first take the Dempster Highway, a long, 740-kilometre unpaved road that crosses the Yukon and the Northwest Territories. A hostile road shaped by scenic landscapes that unfold one after the other in front of passengers without cell phone service, who have few options other than to contemplate this vast open-air cathedral.

The place surprises Jonny Wright, a 36-year-old British cyclist, who The Press crosses near the Arctic Circle and is cycling around the world. “There’s absolutely nothing here,” he says, glancing at the intimidatingly beautiful mountains and listing the few small villages he’s passed over hundreds of kilometres. “I’ve never seen anything like this. Even in Africa, where I’ve crossed the Sahara, there are areas that are sparsely populated, but not to this extent,” he continues.

Completed in 1979, the Dempster Highway, launched by the Progressive Conservatives, was intended to promote oil and gas exploration in the North. A growing number of tourists have been using it since a 138-kilometre stretch from Inuvik to Tuktoyaktuk on the Arctic Ocean coast opened in 2017.

The driver who gets lost in his thoughts and gets absorbed in the poetic beauty of the landscape can quickly be brought back to order. For example, by a flat tire because of sharp rocks, by bears, by the ferry on one of the two rivers that could suddenly stop working, by a windshield suddenly cracked by gravel flying into the air, not to mention the pouring rain that makes the road muddy and very slippery.

“I fix an average of three or four tires a day,” says Steven Heydorf, a seasonal worker who charges about $50 to fix flat tires at the Eagle Plains garage, one of the few on the road. There aren’t many spare tires at the garage, and some people can wait days for a new one to be delivered or towed for a few thousand dollars.

The only place with human life, beer, and Wi-Fi for hundreds of miles, Eagle Plains consists of a garage, a usually busy gas station, a motel with a restaurant decorated with a massive collection of stuffed animals, and finally a campground. Seven people live there year-round.

“It’s the center of the universe, but in the middle of nowhere,” says Carlos Sanchez, the motel’s operations manager, who was born in Mexico and has lived in Eagle Plains for six years, with a smile.

This anchorage is an almost obligatory stop for all visitors by car, bicycle, motocross bike and RV who want to check the Arctic Ocean off their bucket list.

The road can be very unpredictable and requires a good degree of preparation. Whitehorse resident Marla Noelle learned this the hard way. She had a tire blowout and, with only a small spare tire that was not at all suited for this type of road, she found herself stranded.

“I asked on the Dempster Facebook group if anyone could bring me a tire that I found on Marketplace in Inuvik. A truck driver replied, fingers crossed,” she tells The Press. The friend who was accompanying her had to cancel her plane ticket for the flight she was supposed to take to Whitehorse, knowing already that she would be late.

In the sometimes oppressive isolation of the Dempster Highway, human bonds form quickly, Carlos notes. “Everyone helps each other out and gives each other a helping hand,” he says.

This report was made possible thanks to a scholarship of excellence from the Association of Independent Journalists of Quebec.