Less than a month before my 2024 summer vacation, all I wanted to do was reach the Yukon. I told anyone who would listen that if I could just make it to the welcome sign, I’d be happy. A desire that arose following my solo trip to the Canadian Rockies the year before. An interesting Facebook post by an acquaintance about this famous road piqued my curiosity. I joined the Dempster Highway Adventure Riders group, consulted a couple of publications to find out where and “what” the route was, and… the decision was made, I was going to try it. For the record, the Dempster is the only route in Canada that allows us to cross the Arctic Circle. It starts in the Yukon near Dawson City and ends in Tuktoyaktuk, on the shores of the Arctic Ocean in the Northwest Territories.
Preparations… what preparations?
A journey of some 900km unpaved just to get to the end. But first, some 6250km to get there. And what motorcycle do I have for such a long journey? The best one, the one that’s been taking me a-n-y-w-h-e-r-e for the last 5 years, my Ninja 650. My planning is almost non-existent. A quick look at Google Maps to get an idea of the round-trip distance. About 14,000 km, 24 vacation days in front of me; doable. I’d done something similar in 2023, and was planning to do more. Nothing planned for meals, I’ll stop buying snacks when I get too hungry. As for where to sleep, the decision is always made shortly before sunset, with the help of iOverlander. No reservations, just wild camping.
Off to the Dempster Highway
It took me 8 days to get to the Yukon. I wanted to reach Dawson Creek, where the Alaska Highway begins, as quickly as possible. I rode for miles without making too many unnecessary stops, 4526km for the first 4 days. A mixture of stifling heat, sinister fog at nightfall and explosive thunderstorms, through forests and canola fields. Under normal circumstances, I would have crossed the border on this 5th day. But flood warnings kept me in Fort Nelson for the night, and in the morning I learned that part of the road had been washed away. The quickest thing to do would have been to wait until after the work to reopen 97. But it’s unthinkable for me not to drive. The only alternative was to turn back and head further west up the 37. 2678km and 4 days lost.
But is time really wasted when you have no specific destination and your main aim is to explore new roads? It was a blessed detour; the view of the mountains, the lush green married to the immaculate white of the clouds clinging to the peaks, made me forget this setback. The mountains suddenly gave way to taiga, reminding me of James Bay, with its forests growing back in places after fires.
At last! The Yukon!
I finally reach the Welcome sign I’ve been dreaming of. Yukon, larger than life. I can’t tell you how happy I was to see it.
I’m finally here! It’s still early, around 7:30 a.m., so I take the opportunity to stop off in Nugget City. There’s the Wolf It Down restaurant, a bit pricey, but I had a good meal. Two motorcyclists go inside for coffee. The poor guys seem to be freezing when I could be wearing shorts. Costa Rican and Mexican. Looking at their overloaded motorcycles, I wonder what anyone has to say about my little mountain of luggage.
They didn’t do the Dempster, but the Top of the World (shorter). I tell them I intend to go with my Ninja. They don’t try to convince me that it’s a bad idea, which I appreciate, but I can see in their eyes that they’re dubious.
I set off down the road to find a place to sleep. What a beautiful day! The sun is just beginning to set on the horizon. It’s golden hour. I find myself overlooking a valley where the road winds through the woods until it meets the mountains in the distance. I enjoy the moment for a few minutes before moving on. I’ll sleep that night near a riverside bridge.
Doubts start to creep in…
Two days later, I arrived in Dawson City, a beautiful gold-rush town. But just before (40km earlier), I stopped in front of the sign pointing in the direction of the Arctic Ocean (Dempster Highway). So far, the weather forecast was not encouraging for the days ahead. I had the evening and the whole night to decide whether to give it a go.
When I woke up, I was still torn by the idea of being forced to go my own way. Yes, I could come back one day, but when? Maybe never too. It was mid-afternoon the next day when I made my final decision. I was going to do it, I could do it. The weather had changed, with less precipitation forecast. I still had the option of turning back if it proved too difficult. That’s the thought I have all the time, wherever I go. And I’ve never regretted taking the plunge.
The pleasure of driving on the Dempster Highway!
The Dempster Highway was no exception to the rule. What a fantastic road to ride. The challenges posed by the different sections, depending on road conditions, soil, type of gravel used, frequency of maintenance and, of course, the weather, which can change everything, are all the more gratifying given the fantastic views. Tombstone Park, which you pass through at the very beginning, is worth the detour alone. I felt as if I’d taken a portal to another world. A little rain on the menu made the ground particularly slippery, but nothing like what I’d seen on the video, where the wheels of the motorcycles were packed with thick mud, making it difficult just to move forward.
Luck was on my side, and the weather was fine despite the many clouds over the following days. Rain preceded me in a few places. For the first night, I slept at the Arctic Circle lookout, delighted not to have given up. What I didn’t know was that the next day I would meet someone who would change my journey. It’s a chilly second day on the Dempster, so I put on my raincoat to cut the wind. And off I go through what is known as “Hurricane Valley”.
The winds are terrible at times, and even worse when the ground is wet. It’s quite something to fight the wind when you’re riding on a real ice rink.
Reaching the Arctic Ocean in good company
I had my unexpected encounter when I returned to my motorcycle after paying for gas in Fort McPherson. Adan, a Texan, was waiting for me next to his Goldwing. Instead of being surprised that another person with a road bike (and inappropriate tires) was here, my first thought was that I was in the way and that he wanted to put gas in too. I’ve always ridden alone, and I’m still wondering about the real reason for accepting a stranger’s invitation to continue all the way to Tuktoyaktuk. One thing’s for sure: I enjoyed travelling with Adan immensely. Enough to make me want to continue with him.
The last 100km were the hardest, as we were riding in soft conditions. The gravel is not very compact, you’d swear you were riding on giant marbles. But we managed. No one has fallen and no one will. We’re finally in Tuk, deliriously happy on the edge of the Arctic Ocean, giant sign included.
We’ll spend the night here, where we’ll have the chance to sample caribou, musk ox, dried fish and Muktuk (Beluga). The people here are extraordinarily welcoming. I decide to continue with Adan; our return journey is mostly sunny and dusty. We meet many motorcyclists on our journey up the Dempster. Some of them on more than one occasion, even in Dawson City. They were all surprised to see us with our atypical motorcycles.
A very rewarding trip!
It was a crazy experience. I never thought I’d travel so far across the taiga and tundra with my little Ninja. Dipping the wheel of my motorcycle in the Arctic Ocean and eating whale!
And even traveling with a complete stranger I’ve met along the way. I don’t have enough words to describe what Dempster is all about. Going there, to the end of the road, to the end of the world.
It’s a journey within a journey. A surreal moment etched in our memories. One of those things you have to put on your to-do list once in a lifetime. What’s more, this wilderness paradise is right here in Canada. It’s an opportunity to meet people from all over the world who’ve come to take up the challenge, and to make friends for life. I loved what I saw and experienced so much that I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat. And I’ll be going back, still with my trusty Ninja 650. A year later, I’m still dreaming about it.
