Doin' the Dempster

Our host Paul is waiting for us at Inuvik airport. We land 20 minutes late, but Paul says that’s not unusual. He helps load the bike boxes into the back of his truck and drives us to his home.

Inuvik airport!

We are exhausted from 60 hours of travel, and worse, I start to feel like I've caught the flu or something along the way. I remember the man on the train to the airport who started talking to us about flying with bicycles, a subject he knew nothing about but still felt compelled to give me advice on. He had been spitting while talking, and I had hoped I wouldn’t catch anything. Tired from the flight and feeling ill, I have to focus on being a good guest at Paul’s.

We assemble our bikes on Paul’s deck while he’s at work. To our dismay, Sofia’s brand-new front chainring is bent! It must have taken a hard hit during transport to be so out of shape. Is the trip over before it even begins? I feel annoyed about spending so much money to get here, possibly for nothing. I consider our options. Maybe it can be hammered flat enough to be usable, or maybe I could fly back to Whitehorse to get a new one. Paul informs us that ordering anything by mail would take a week to arrive, even with express delivery.

After some research, we find Paddycycle, and Paddy must be the greatest bike mechanic alive because in less than an hour, he makes the chainring as good as new! He’s a lifesaver but very humble about it.

With the bikes in order, we go shopping. Unfortunately, the outdoor store is closed on Mondays. What day is it today, again? Monday. Since we can't go without cooking gas and bear spray, we have to spend another day in Inuvik. We like the town, it has its own kind of Arctic charm.

Assembling our bikes at Pauls deck.

Paddycycle!

Sightseeing in Inuvik!

Paul at work!

We still have 150 km to go north to reach the Arctic Ocean and our starting point, the village of Tuktoyaktuk. Unable to find transport, we begin cycling, hoping to get a lift from a passerby. Most people around here drive big trucks, and I really, really hate cycling back the same way I’ve already covered.

I hoped to cover the distance between Inuvik and Tuk in two days, but it quickly becomes apparent that we won’t make it. The gravel gets progressively worse, and we face a freezing headwind. I cycle with my warm mittens, and even though Sofia does without and says it’s not that cold, I’m shaking.

The people who stop can't take us with them but tell us not to worry; there’s a lot of traffic on this road, so we’ll get a ride in no time. A car every 20 minutes doesn’t seem like a lot of traffic to me, but I guess it’s a matter of perspective.

Suddenly, I start to feel pain in my right knee. What is this? I’ve been in much tougher situations in the saddle and have been working out all summer with Zoltan and Markus. I’ve never had knee problems before! This trip is really off to a great start. We only have about ten thousand kilometers left, and I’m already complaining.

After 47 grueling kilometers, we finally get a ride. Gerald is on his way to work, cleaning up old oil prospecting sites.

We pitch our tent by the Arctic Ocean. We’re starving, but none of us feels like cooking. We know the only restaurant in Tuk is closed, but people on the road have told us about a guy who cooks out of his home, so we go searching. To our relief, he isn’t hard to find and we eat traditional Inuvialuit food like beluga whale maktaq, caribou, and fish, as well as a tasty cheeseburger. The burger is traditional in a less Inuvialuit and more American kind of way.

The morning comes, though it’s hard to tell time with the sun always up, and it’s time to get this adventure started. Inspecting my bike, I find the saddle is loose and misaligned. Obviously I hadn’t put my bike together properly. Maybe this is the cause of the pain in my knee.

We dip our front wheels in the Arctic Ocean and head on our way.

Going north to get to our starting point.

Picked up by Gerald!

Camping at The Point. The Arctic Ocean in the background.

Welcome! Food here!

The Dempster Highway is tough on our untrained bodies, leaving us sore and swollen. The 24-hour sun burns our skin, and the soft gravel makes the cycling strenuous. We manage only 50 km in eight long hours. My knee gets worse and worse, and I think again about the small fortune we spent to get here. There's no way back but to cycle. A double dose of ibuprofen will have to do for now.

I wake up in the morning feeling horribly ill and tell Sofia I need more sleep. At 11, I finally get out of the tent after sleeping for more than 12 hours. Sofia has prepared everything and serves me coffee and breakfast.

It doesn't matter what time we start cycling because the sun never sets; it just circles around in the sky. Our skin gets burned, and Sofia gets blisters on her lips. Sunscreen was not on our list of things to bring to the Arctic.

The landscape is barren, rolling hills with pingos, dirt hills formed by ice growing from underneath. The soft gravel takes a lot of effort, and you need to brake when going downhill, or you'll fall. I don't dare push too hard, feeling ill and with a knee that hurts more with every pedal stroke. Our progress is very slow.

A week ago, I was relaxing at my friends Madeleine and Niklas place, eating Cheez Doodles and drinking beer. Why am I doing this cycling thing again?

Gravel and pingos!

Barren.

Carrying food a distance from camp to keep the bears away.

Loose gravel is strenuous.

Sunburned and ill.

As we approach Inuvik, trees start to appear, and we're cycling the part of the road we did in the other direction a few days ago, though I can hardly remember it.

We had planned to camp south of Inuvik, but four days of cycling have been exhausting. We really need some comfort, so we book two nights at Mackenzie Inn, the most expensive hotel I've ever paid for, but it’s totally worth it.

Alestines in Inuvik is a cozy restaurant.

After a rest day, a great steak dinner, and a couple of beers, I feel much better. My knee still hurts, but the road for the next couple of days is completely flat and almost completely straight. The gravel is more compact and much easier to cycle on.

Any time we stop, the mosquitoes immediately find us. They are more abundant than anywhere I've been, including northern Sweden, and we get a lot of bites. Sometimes, we even find a dead mosquito up our nose or in our ear.

When the mosquitoes settle down at night, it becomes very quiet. Not a single sound can be heard. I don't know if I have ever experienced such silence before.

We pass the tiny villages of Tsiigehtchic and Fort McPherson and restock our supplies. With about 10 days of cycling to the next store in Dawson City, we need to carry lots of canned food, sausages, and smoked bacon. We had hoped for a delicious burger at Big Momma's, but she has her day off today. A well deserved day off I'm sure, but we had to cycle back to the store and buy the eleventh meal, todays dinner.

Mosquito net is essential.

Ferry to Tsiigehtchic.

Fort McPherson.

Pulled pork in a hot dog bun.

After Fort McPherson the hills start, and so does the inclement weather. The formerly dry and dusty Dempster Highway is now a muddy mess that feels like riding on a sticky surface, making it even more challenging.

To my relief, my knee is starting to feel better. I cut down to a single dose of ibuprofen.

Many passing vehicles slow down to make sure we're okay, some stop for a chat, or offer us snacks and water. We even got a beer at one point, which was very much appreciated.

Into the hills!

A beer in the hand is worth 10 in the store.

Moist.

After crossing the border into Yukon, we cycle through a valley referred to as Hurricane Alley. A perpetual wind sweeps through, and it’s so strong that it’s sometimes hard to ride straight. It reminds us of Iceland, where strong gusts of wind occasionally threw us off the road.

Traveling in bear country forces us to change our normal routines. Packing everything in double ziplock bags, then a watertight drybag, and finally in bear-safe containers limits the flexibility with weight distribution on the bicycle. We also have to eat and store the food far from camp. No more tea and cookies in the evening. Keeping clean and brushing our teeth must also be done away from camp since wet wipes, trash, or anything that smells good might attract bears.

At Eagle Plains Roadhouse, we take a rest day. Their food and selection of beer are first class, much better than I expected from a rural truck stop.

The wall by the entrance is covered with a world map, filled with pins placed by people from all over the world. Strangely, there are no pins marking Sweden, which I find curious since Swedes are usually everywhere. Maybe my fellow Nordic countrymen prefer traveling more south. We rectify this, and Kiruna and Gothenburg are now represented on the map.

Yukon borders with Northwest Territories.

Hurricane Alley.

Passing the Arctic Circle.

Happy at Eagle Plains.

Eagle Plains.

The road is very dry and dusty again, and passing cars and trucks blind us for a few moments. Some people slow down when they see us to reduce the dust cloud, which we appreciate a lot. We sometimes stop at the side of the road until the dust settles.

Occasional dust devils, whirl winds, sweep across the road, some quite impressive. They only last a few seconds and I fail to capture them in photos.

As we travel further south into summer, it gets warmer, obviously. Soon, I can switch from my boots to cycling with sandals! Now, what am I going to do with these winter shoes, thick mittens, and four pairs of wool socks?

Dusty meetings.

Landscape changes.

Refilling our water.

Nice weather!

Cycling in sandals.

The landscape slowly changes, and the scenery is magnificent. Approaching Tombstone Territorial Park, the air starts to get hazy from distant forest fires.

In Tombstone, we hike up a mountain to give our legs a different kind of workout. The park rangers are very knowledgeable, pointing out some unmarked trails for us, and we share some Arctic stories from Sweden. In the evening, a park ranger shows us and other campers how to make lip balm from melted spruce and beeswax, perfect for Sofia's burned lips.

Resting our cycling legs by using our hiking legs.

Making lip balm!

To my surprise and relief, my knee is now almost pain-free. I thought it would take months to heal, if it would heal at all, given that I was still cycling.

The road leading south from Tombstone is much better than it was to the north, and we reach the junction and the Dempster Highway sign in good time. Entering the paved Klondike Highway feels like floating on cotton, and we complete the last leg to Dawson City in one day instead of the two we had planned.

We understand that we have been incredibly lucky with the wind and the weather. Later, we hear from motorcyclists that they battled through canceled ferries, snowstorms, torrential rain, and hurricane winds. But maybe they’re exaggerating. They also said driving the Dempster was hard, on a motorcycle!

Almost there!

Done with the Dempster!