Traveling the Dempster Highway - Part One

End of the Dempster Highway at Inuvik

Our hopes were high when we arrived in Dawson City.  The Visitor Center has a board outside its doors with road information.  We were delighted to see they had posted that the Dempster was good condition and both ferries were open.  We ran a few errands, spent the night at a commercial campground for showers, then headed out to traverse our favorite road.  I couldn’t wait!

We awoke to overcast skies and arrived at the Tombstone Visitor’s Center during misty rain.  Just 40 miles from the beginning of the Dempster Highway, Tombstone rises some 2,000 feet in altitude, cresting at 4,500 feet at the pass.  Clouds clung to the mountains, engulfing the spectacular Tombstone Valley.  Fall colors, however, were evident even under the heavy fog.  We had made it in time… now we just needed to wait out the rain.

The forecast, however, was not cooperating.  Rain was predicted throughout most of the week with only occasional breaks in the clouds.  Undaunted, we traveled on to Engineer Creek campground, where in 2010 we saw our first wolf on the Dempster.  The campground is often mucky with thick, black mud… not the best camping terrain for a large, long-haired Golden.  Although the rain seemed light, the campground was actually worse than expected… a tribute to many days of rain in advance of our arrival. 

We traveled on to Ogilvie Ridge and a more rocky campsite that we had used in the past.  Stiff winds and temperatures plummeting into the lower 30s sent us back down the ridge.  Fortunately, we found a pullout nestled in aspen that fit the bill… protected and not too muddy. 

The following morning was rainy and felt bitterly cold.  We were up and ready early to head toward Eagle Plains, the mid-way point on the Dempster.  The road was getting more and more slick with each drop of rain.  Several miles from Eagle Plains, we passed a van with German plates that had rolled on its side and slid for some distance.  The roof and the entire vehicle frame were bent over at about 30 degrees and most of the windows had popped out.  It was a sobering sight and reminder that the Dempster cannot be taken lightly.

Eagle Plains is called the “Oasis in the Wilderness” for a reason.  The Eagle Lodge and complex were built by the Canadian government for travelers on the Dempster’s 469-mile dirt highway.  It is the first place to purchase gasoline.  The complex also has a restaurant, motel, maintenance shop, and campground (although tents are not allowed because of frequent bear activity in the area).

We decided to stop for lunch at the lodge’s restaurant and check on the weather.  The forecast looked dismal.  Snow had crept into the next day’s forecast with temperatures holding in the mid or low 30s.  Still, we were optimistic.  As we left the restaurant, we met the four young Germans who had rolled their vehicle.  They were all sitting in the motel lobby, each with cell phone in hand, patiently waiting for a ride back to Dawson City.  Thankfully, no one appeared hurt.  It appeared that their van was so damaged that they planned to abandon it in the pullout where it rested.

This is our fourth trip up the Dempster.  We know by now that the wetter the road gets, the sloggier it gets.  Maintenance graders only make matters worse, deepening the mud rather than smoothing it.  During our first (and wettest) trip, tire grooves in the mud were easily eight to ten inches deep.  If tires came out of the deep grooves, you could actually feel the vehicle’s rear snake and sway on the slick mud.  Slow and easy is the only way to drive this road, particularly when it’s wet.  We are always grateful for our four-wheel-drive in these conditions.

Since it was still early, we decided to drive on and camp at the Rock River Campground, one of our favorite places to stay on the Dempster.  About three miles from the campground, we spied a grizzly digging tubers on the side of the road.  He was most uncooperative, however, staying deep in the gully rather than posing for photos.  (I took the photo below when we rolled down the back window and the bear smelled Roxanne.)  Plus a Mercedes camper van was also vying for position.  As the bear meandered off, we stopped at the campground, staked our claim for one of the sites, then headed up to the Northwest Territory border where we had first seen the caribou migration in 2010.  Clouds hung low against the mountain and valley below.  Even if there had been caribou, we would not have been able to see them.

 We decided to travel back to see if the bear had returned to dig for tubers.  We recognized a Mercedes travel van stopped along the roadside, facing the wrong direction.  We spied the bear alongside their vehicle and pulled off, hoping to catch a glimpse of the bear.  I was able to shoot a few photos, none exceptional.  A few moments later, a rental RV crested the hill and stopped in the middle of the road.  The Mercedes van wanted to move around us but could not because the rental RV was blocking their path.  The lady inside began screaming some undistinguishable language at the top of her lungs at the rental RV.  As the two large rigs battled for view of the bear in the middle of the road, David and I felt discretion the better part of valor.  We drove off, hoping that an 18-wheeler wasn’t heading their way.  As a trucker friend told us, when you essentially have a mega-ton bomb strapped to your tail while you’re traveling at speed and cresting a hill, it is almost impossible to stop for a tourist parked in the middle of the road who has just seen his first bear.  The end result can be catastrophic.

We found a safe place to turn around.  When we passed back by the two rigs, the occupants of the rental RV were outside their vehicle, standing just a few feet from a wild grizzly with cameras in hand.  We winced and drove back to our campsite.

We quickly set up camp and barely took Rox for a stroll before diving into the camper to fend off the biting rain and cold.  The next morning, David announced that he had good news and bad news.  The good news was that there wasn’t any accumulation.  I donned my glasses to discover that our rain had turned to snow overnight.  The trees surrounding us were dusted in white.  How beautiful!

David made coffee and we broke camp, determining to try to find our grizzly bear friend again.  To our amazement, we discovered him not more than 100 yards from the campground.  It was as if God had planted him in that very spot just for us.  The bear strolled down the road ahead of us.  After he meandered out of sight, we stopped to find his tracks in the mud.  Wow! 

Thankfully, in spite of the snow the road appeared clear, so we continued on toward the pass and Northwest Territory border.  To our surprise, it was completely iced in.  We stopped to take photos as the snow continued to fall.  A solid layer of ice crunched beneath my boots.  David walked onto the road to test it.  A SUV passed us.  We decided it was good to go.  Although it was slick at the pass, about a half mile down the road the ice turned back to mud.

Snow flurries continued as we drove toward Fort McPherson and the Peel River ferry crossing.  Along the way a black bear grazed berries along the roadside and was kind enough to pose for a few photos.

The Peel River ferry crossing is a cable ferry.  A cable is lashed to each bank of the river, and the ferry slides along the cable to and fro.  Each time we have crossed the ferry I have asked what happens if the cable breaks.  David always reassures me.  This time, however, he said, “I wonder if they have a back up engine in case the cable does break.”  Not comforting words!!!!! 

Fort McPherson rests on a peninsula between the Peel and Mackinsie River ferry crossings.  For us, the town’s best feature is a great provincial campground with good showers.  Our dear friend, Robert, the campground host, however, announced that the generator had failed, i.e., no showers, no bath house, no water.  With that unfortunate news and badly in need of showers, we decided to travel on to Inuvik.  The Mackinsie ferry crossing was rough but good.  By the time we hit the delta, the snow had returned to rain, and we were feeling much more comfortable.

The next morning we drove into Inuvik to visit our favorite café/bakery for a breakfast sandwich, coffee, and internet service.  Next to us sat two gentlemen, enjoying the same.  Soon we struck up a conversation with them.  They were both ice road truckers, one training the other to haul liquid methane.  When they discovered that we were from Texas, Richard explained that his company uses specialized, pressurized tankers built in Mont Belvieu, Texas, to haul the highly explosive and flammable methane.

We spent the next several hours chatting with Richard and David.  David had just hauled a double tanker up the Dempster earlier that morning.  He said that he had rarely seen the road so deep in mud.  It had taken him seven hours rather than the usual four to travel one portion of the Dempster.  He suggested that we wait a day before driving back down to Tombstone.  We heartily agreed.

In the midst of our conversation, David received a phone call from a trucker following him.  The cable on the ferry had broken, and the rig was stranded on the ferry deck itself.  David told us that the last time the ferry cable had broken, the ferry had drifted downstream and it had taken a week to fetch it and put it back into service.  We were beginning to think that we were going to have a very long stay in Inuvik.

Our conversation that morning wound through topics such as the Ice Road Trucker television series… yet another moment of disillusionment as we learned what a sham the show truly is.  Richard told us how grateful he was for the United States… Big Brother, as he called it… and how the U.S. looks after Canada soil.  They shared photos of their family and traveling over ice… and Richard told us his crazy story about visiting the tanker manufacturer in Texas and ending up going alligator hunting… too funny!  Richard was even kind enough to give us gifts, including the T-shirt my David is wearing in this photo.  Richard’s generosity was overwhelming.

After our several-hour-long conversation with our two new trucker friends, they agreed to allow us to take their photos.  These men are true heroes in our eyes… they risk their lives to bring goods to remote areas in North America.  We are honored to know them. 

So we spend another night in Inuvik.  A check at the visitor center, however, reveals more snow in the forecast, and we still have no word if the Peel River cable ferry is back in operation.  Life could get very interesting indeed!