Journey of the Forlorn Hope

Josh titled this entry, though he hasn’t read it yet. It’s a Donner Party reference.

12:39PM local Mountain time Day #7 – We made it to Tuktoyaktuk, the farthest road we are to travel this trip. The dirt road from Inuvik to Tuk was built in 2018 and takes you through land conserved for Inuit natives. Before the road, it was only accessible by air and water. We are driving through a white desert. The sunrise is not of the Earth I knew two days ago; this planet is more beautiful than I imagined.

Tuk has a general store and there is a sign labelling a small building “lodge,” but it’s not open this time of year. The buildings and homes look simple and functional. A main road out took us directly to the Arctic Ocean. Josh spent 10 minutes chipping away a piece of frozen rock in -43 degrees F, so we could take home a piece. We both walked out onto the frozen ocean. Our fellow Alcaners visited the general store, which only one had stickers and maybe half a dozen t-shirts for souvenirs. The locals haven’t capitalized the tourist destination for what it is yet: to us, we’ve reached the edge of the Earth. 

This is the first time I’ve heard Inuit language spoken in real life and it’s unlike anything I’ve heard spoken before, including several American Native dialects. I want to say it’s Hawai’ian-like because syllables are so distinct, but it has a sharper edge to it. I am reminded of my white Anglo-Saxon perspective and how little I know. Though I’ve been reading my book The Eskimo Way of Life, written by a Danish fur-trader that lived with them for over half a century starting in 1908, the more I learn about old Inuit traditions, the more questions I have. I haven’t had any significant interaction with any locals to really absorb a glimpse into modern Inuit life, either. What I have learned is that this is a people who has survived in the harshest conditions known to man, the longest. They likely have something to teach the rest of us.

When we arrived back in Inuvik, we’d planned to grab a hot lunch and head back down Dempster Highway to Eagle Plains for the night. Half of our group was scheduled to stay farther south in Eagle Plains and the other half was booked in Inuvik for the night, with an 18-hour travel day down to Whitehorse the next day. Josh and I wanted to avoid the long day but sometimes weather has a different plan.

The snow drifts we had traversed the day before had come in and completely covered the highway. The roads were closed at a crossing over a river (there’s no bridge, you drive right over the ice), by Fort McPherson. I asked the front desk to put us on a waiting list for a room. There was a group supposed to come into Inuvik stuck south of McPherson, so we figured they’d take our rooms in Eagle Plains and we’d take their rooms in Inuvik.

We ate lunch of grilled cheese and chicken noodle soup with #21, Matt and Trevor, our Canadian friends in the other Xterra. Matt wore his Canadian flag speedo for a photo at the Arctic Circle sign–truly a masterpiece of a lifetime.

Deciding to make the most of being stuck in Inuvik, we headed out to Aklavik on the ice road. We’d driven out on the Yukon River for Josh to compete in the ice race and across two other river crossings that served as bridges, but this was something else. There is a highway on the river here. A grater had come through and roughed up the ice on this huge multi-lane ice highway, which reaches 72 miles from Inuvik to Aklavik. The Canadians tore out ahead and we went speeding behind. I was thinking, This cannot be real life! It felt like the ice road level in a video game. Yellow signs on the ice road caution a slight curve ahead and orange signs warn you to slow the heck down—and they mean it. We reached 100mph, very briefly, only to receive a text message that the snowplows down at McPherson were a few miles away from clearing the roads. We were advised to take our chances, so we spun around the ice to head south.

Off we drove with Matt and Trevor. It’s unsafe to travel this road a lone vehicle. With no emergency or cell service and short-range radios, if something happens, we need another car to go for help. We killed the two-hour drive by chatting on the radios with #21, talking about our favorite 90s movies. I said, Reality Bites and Empire Records. Trevor is 33 with three kids and Matt is a single 27-year old. I learned that Matt and Trevor are highly skilled mechanics who fix a variety of machines and vehicles involved in mining. Who better to travel with than three men who know car engines inside out? Ten minutes out of Fort McPherson, we received word that the roads were still closed and weren’t going to open for the night.

There is one inn in McPherson, if you can call it that. The décor was prison-like and alarming. They were double-booked with the Alcan old timers sleeping four to a room. Our clan was gathered in an overheated room seated at folding tables, drinking Kirkland brand red wine and sharing photos. Others from our group had been taken in by a church down the road which supposedly had some beds. We headed over to check it out and Josh was determined to make it work.

The church “beds” were mattresses on the floor of one large multi-purpose room—all mattresses spoken for at that point–and there was not another woman in sight. Now, we are with some of the coolest guys in the world, but I don’t think many women in my position would feel comfortable sleeping on the floor in negative 30-degree weather, even with Josh by her side. I put my snow boot down and told Josh I wasn’t sleeping here. That meant he’d have to drive two hours back to Inuvik and we’d have the 18-hour day ahead of us (today). When Trevor and Matt came to the same conclusion, Josh agreed it was the right thing to do. I called ahead to the hotel before we lost reception to make sure they held the rooms.

The way back, Josh taught the Canadians about the Donner Party on the radio. They suggested that if we wind up in a similar predicament, we eat Josh first because he is the largest of us. Josh told them that would be the right thing to do. He had Matt and Trevor crying with laughter at that point, and a new friendship was sealed. They are planning to head back with Josh and Konrad, riding in tandem, after dropping me at the airport in Anchorage.

Last night, I got the most sleep I’ve had in a week: eight delicious hours that only wanted more. The McKensie Hotel in Inuvik has the most comfortable mattresses of our trip. I am a human animal that needs 8-9 hours a night, while Josh is in a good mood after six. I admit, the last two mornings, when the alarm went off, my first thought was not very sweet or ladylike. Josh knows that a shower and coffee go a long way to snap me out of it. The driving days are very long and we are smack in the middle of the longest, Day 7, but there is no one I’d rather sit next to for days on end.

Today, we headed out at 7AM rally time (the entire rally is scheduled on PST, though we switch in and out of PST/Mountain zones). The Xterras are leading the pack with #21 ahead of us. Behind us, currently are #29, two more Canadian guys in a VW Passat (they have a camera drone and that’s fun), followed by the Jeepers in #27 and #35. Behind them, are cars #33, a Montero with boyfriend and girlfriend from Washington around our age, and #13, a Porsche Cayenne with a married couple that does the Alcan5000 regularly. The Passat keeps overheating and the Montero is leaking oil—having to pour a quart in, every 100 miles. “Well, at least you won’t need an oil change!” someone joked.

We have one of the strongest radio antennas with a range of about 25 miles, while other vehicles have a range of 1-2 miles. Oftentimes, others will get within our range and ask us to radio out a message to other cars or ask about conditions ahead. It’s reassuring be able to hear what’s said for ourselves and not have to rely on others to play telephone communicating for us.

Right now, Bob Dylan’s Shelter from the Storm is playing as we drive through the white desert. The mountains look like pyramids of salt poured out onto the flat land. We are trailing #21’s snow dust and Josh and I sit quietly. I suppose this is what they call peace and feel its impermanent beauty.