We were having dinner at the El Dorado Inn in Dawson City on the eve of our first time on the Dempster Highway when the question was asked.
“Do you have studded tires?”
My mind raced. My first thoughts were “Isn’t that what you put on your bike tires to have traction on ice?” which was quickly followed by “Oh ——, we don’t.”
So much for my modest confidence in my one-year-old winter tires, already shaken by the previous two-day journey to reach Dawson City from Whitehorse.
Regardless, a complete lack of options made going forward the easy choice. Traversing the Klondike crossing shortly before noon and attempting to get as much daylight as we could, we set off on the 370 kilometre journey around blind corners and steep declines on what was effectively an ice road the entire way. I’m sure people experienced with the Dempster’s twists and turns can pace themselves better, but we found ourselves dropping down to 15 kilometres an hour at points, extending an already outrageously long drive.
And this was with good weather — the spirits were very kind to us on the first day of travel. We had the benefit of clear skies and full visibility, for what that was worth when you’re winding your way next to a river for hours on end.
In spite of our white-knuckle driving, we made pretty decent time — passing the midway maintenance station before sunset. But as we went on, it just got darker and darker and the road just kept going and going.
Eventually in near total darkness, the lights of maintenance stations and far away trucks teased us and messed with our sense of distance. And then we found the part of the road that truckers had warned us of — a non-stop rumble-strip of bumps stretching for miles. At one point we pulled over and my hands could not stop vibrating. The clear skies that had guided us during the daylight had given way to a steady snowfall, reducing visibility even further.
So there we were, about 14 hours on the road, unable to see much farther than 10 feet in front of us and unable to tell if the bright lights in the distance were a truck around the corner or across a valley. And the road just kept going.
If this were a warmer time of year, at some point we would have just pulled over and camped. But temperatures were already at -15 C where we were and we were pretty sure our half-tank of gas and jerry can wouldn’t last us the entire night.
One definite thing we found useful were the kilometre markers all along the highway. These were about the only thing available to give us an idea where we were. Edging closer and closer to kilometre 370 kept us motivated and able to keep moving.
Finally, we hit the section of road Eagle Plains is responsible for and the endless bumps gave way. The road felt smooth and plowed. Even still, it was another hour before we finally pulled into Eagle Plains truck stop at 12:30 a.m.
Fortunately, we had phoned ahead that we were coming and they left us a key to our suite.
Because the next day was completely nuts.