Arctic Circle! Inuvik!

Today we woke up at Tombstone Campsite about 70 km up the Dempster Highway.  The weather was good, and we wanted to make the most of it by trying to ride all the way to Inuvik, the end of the road, the furthest north you can drive in Canada.  That's 665 km (412 miles) of dirt and gravel - potentially very nasty dirt, gravel, mud and clay.

Really, my entire reason for this trip was this picture taken at Engineer Creek Campground.  I never told Dad that because I didn't think he'd agree to come.

Although the Dempster was closed last week due to washouts and one of the ferries being shutdown due to high water, the weather had been dry for the last several days.  That made for good riding condition most of the time, although it was very, very dusty.  We could have ridden faster, but we kept it around 90 km/h (55 mph) to protect the tires from the sharp gravel, to help protect us from wiping out, and to conserve gas for the 369 km (229 mile) stretch without any gas stations.

We were trying to make good time, so we didn't stop to take too many scenic pictures, which we could have done constantly.  One of the things that struck me most about the Dempster is how varied it is.  The road condition and type varies constantly, and the landscape even more so.  Sweeping river valleys, ancient mountains, arctic forests, arctic plains, marshes, forested river deltas, and all sorts of geological formations.  I found it amazing that I could see so much in one day's ride.

Looking about 180km across the Ogilvie River Valley

Dad looking across the Ogilvie River Valley

We arrived at Eagle Plains Lodge, dusty and hungry.  The lodge felt very much like "An Oasis in the Wilderness", as it claims to be.  We got good food with good service, cleaned up our faces and motorcycle lights, and filled up on gas.  We even managed to email our wives using their free wifi!  The break left us both feeling re-energized, which was good because we weren't even half way done the day.

Our friend that took us for the acrobatic plane ride earlier in this trip had recently flown to Tuktoyaktuk with two students.  He made a great 15 minute video of their trip, which included some video and shots of them landing on the Dempster highway.  We promised we'd take some shots of us at the same air strip, and as you can see it was pretty windy.

The Arctic Circle, if I may remind you, is defined by the southernmost latitude that experiences 24 hours of sunlight during the summer solstice, and 24 hours of darkness during the winter solstice.  As far as I could tell, it was defined by some picnic tables, a sign, a nice view, and an abandoned Astro minivan with a blown out rear tire.

Dempster Victim

Sixty km past the Arctic Cirlce we hit the Yukon/North West Territories border.  The road conditions changed at that point from mostly hard packed gravel/dirt to quite a bit of loose, freshly graded gravel.  That might not sound that bad to car drivers, but loose anything is bad news on a motorcycle.  A shallow amount can cause a bit of slipping, which I didn't find too hard to handle.  Any deeper, and the front end can start to wobble dramatically as it tries to plow through the gravel instead of rolling over it.  I'm not very experienced with this type of riding, and found it pretty hair raising at points.  There was a strong cross wind, and a few times it pushed me sideways across the gravel towards steep edges with no guard rails.  As I moved sideways, the gravel would get deeper near the edge, causing the front end to wobble as I moved closer to the edge.

I've been considering how I can explain how I felt, besides the obvious "terror" and "dread".  It was the very overwhelming, whole-body terror that can only come when your brain thinks it's about to cease existing.  Adrenaline surges, and the fear creates an extreme singular focus that can either be just what you need or exactly what you don't want.  If it's a situation you're familiar with, the adrenaline is helpful and the fear not-so overwhelming.  Being unfamiliar with this left me with on the edge of panic, and a very real feeling that if I didn't supress that panic I'd die.

Now, in all likely hood a fall would not have meant death at all. I'd probably just have slid down the road and maybe a ways down a steep embankment.  The bike and I may be damaged some, but likely not fatally in either case.  Still, the ancient instinctual part of my brain didn't know that, so it was very concerned and doing all it could to prepare my body to fight a saber tooth tiger or whatever else it thought I needed the adrenaline for.  Thanks, but I just need to stand up on the footpegs and give it some gas.

After a second's hesitation where I had the normal panicked reaction of letting off the gas (which usually makes the wobble worse), I forced myself to stand up on the pegs (if I wasn't already) and give it some gas again.  We had about 40km of this stuff, and it was exhausting.  I don't think Dad was nearly as freaked out as I was, but it took us a while after the conditions improved to get back to our previous cruising speeds.

The roads improved, and except for some tricks in construction zones (of which there were plenty) the ride was pretty straightforward and enjoyable.  We crossed a couple ferries, and pushed on after the last ferry for a late arrival in Inuvik as some clouds rolled in.  We'd done it - we'd ridden from the Atlantic Ocean to as far north as roads will take you in Canada!

We opted for the first hotel room of the trip, and got a greasy dinner at The Roost.  The Roost, owned and operated by a Lebanese guy and his relatives (serving American, Greek, and Chinese food), has a dining room decorated with a Polar Bear, a musk ox head, antlers, and other northern memorabilia.  We had a good conversation with one of the owner's cousins and employees, Fadi, who moved directly from Lebanon to Inuvik in the winter about two years ago.  Poor bastard.

Attacked by a polar bear at "The Roost" in Inuvik