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 ****ty 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!
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 ****ty 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!
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