By Olivier de Vaulx
Looking at the map of the USA in search of a cool ride, I let my eyes drift over the northern border and into the green shape of Canada. Zooming in on my computer screen, I don’t see too many roads. Looking even closer, I follow a thin line up to the Arctic Ocean, ending at a small dot with an improbable and unpronounceable name: Tuktoyaktuk. Reading this name out loud: Tuk-to-yak-tuk, try it! It’s like pronouncing a magical spell that will drive you to a lost world, a last exploration in a modern time where everything has already been mapped and documented. It’s an invitation I can’t unsee, and the preparation for the trip starts that same day.
Planning Ahead
The cool thing with Canada is that the lack of roads makes for easy route planning. Using Gaia GPS, it doesn’t take long to figure out a way from Vancouver, BC, to Tuktoyaktuk, NT. I carry on, adding a loop in Alaska, that will be reviewed in another story. I also mark every gas station as a waypoint, trying to figure out if the intervals are within the range of a 2023 KTM 890 Adventure R. A few stages 250+ miles long will probably be challenging. It’s not a deal breaker though, as the 5-gallon tank of the gas-sipping KTM and a few additional fuel bottles for safety should be sufficient. In total, the trip will be 7,000 miles, including 10 days on pavement and 10 days on dirt. A quick search on various weather websites shows that June seems to be the best compromise between temperature, precipitation, and a lower mosquito population. All computer tasks being completed, it’s finally garage time.
By Olivier de Vaulx
Looking at the map of the USA in search of a cool ride, I let my eyes drift over the northern border and into the green shape of Canada. Zooming in on my computer screen, I don’t see too many roads. Looking even closer, I follow a thin line up to the Arctic Ocean, ending at a small dot with an improbable and unpronounceable name: Tuktoyaktuk. Reading this name out loud: Tuk-to-yak-tuk, try it! It’s like pronouncing a magical spell that will drive you to a lost world, a last exploration in a modern time where everything has already been mapped and documented. It’s an invitation I can’t unsee, and the preparation for the trip starts that same day.
Planning Ahead
The cool thing with Canada is that the lack of roads makes for easy route planning. Using Gaia GPS, it doesn’t take long to figure out a way from Vancouver, BC, to Tuktoyaktuk, NT. I carry on, adding a loop in Alaska, that will be reviewed in another story. I also mark every gas station as a waypoint, trying to figure out if the intervals are within the range of a 2023 KTM 890 Adventure R. A few stages 250+ miles long will probably be challenging. It’s not a deal breaker though, as the 5-gallon tank of the gas-sipping KTM and a few additional fuel bottles for safety should be sufficient. In total, the trip will be 7,000 miles, including 10 days on pavement and 10 days on dirt. A quick search on various weather websites shows that June seems to be the best compromise between temperature, precipitation, and a lower mosquito population. All computer tasks being completed, it’s finally garage time.
Before departure, the motorcycle gets some attention: 3qt of fresh Motorex oil, a new oil filter, a cleaned KTM foam pre-filter, a cool “Canada” graphics kit by TMBR, and… that’s it. Finding tires capable of surviving such long-distance trips has been a no-brainer since Dunlop launched the TrailMax Mission and Raid tires. Having tested both, I decide on the Mission at the rear, and the Raid in the front. The tires are hand-mounted and the rims are filled with Ride-On sealant. This product balances the wheels automatically, seals the eventual punctures, and keeps the compound colder. A must for anybody using tubeless rims!
Once the bike is taken care of, it’s time to pack everything needed to camp off the bike in cold and wet climates. A fervent advocate of the Mosko Moto Reckless 40 and 80, I nonetheless opt for the panniers. With more volume and easier packing, they make more sense on this one-month journey. Also, I am biased toward the new orange color that matches my graphics kit. A tent, a sleeping bag, and an inflatable mattress are the most obvious items to bring on a camping trip, and are surprisingly compact these days. However, adding clothes, layers, extra gloves, a small stove, dry food, bear-proof canisters, water bottles, toiletry items, tools, a tire repair kit, two fuel bottles, a camera, a drone, a tripod, some batteries with their chargers, as well as a small Kindle, is enough to fill all the bags to their upper limit.
Crossing BC
Entering Canada a few miles south of Vancouver, the fully loaded KTM is welcomed by a perfect blue sky and warm temperatures. It’s a good sign but it doesn’t last. As soon as the road gains some elevation, it starts raining hard. On wet pavement, the tires are still grippy enough to keep up with traffic, and the miles accumulate, with poor visibility but a body kept warm by the waterproof Alpinestars AMT-10 jacket. The distances and speed limits are in kilometers here, a non-issue since our modern bikes have digital dashboards that allow us to switch between imperial and metric systems. Gasoline prices are for liters here, and multiplying by 4 gives us $5.50 per gallon. It’s more expensive than in the US, but still manageable, especially since the KTM gets around 50mpg. The first night at a small organized campground is the opportunity to unpack and repack everything. It’s also the moment to ask a ranger about bears. Her answer is not encouraging, as she advises against camping in the wild in the Yukon and further. Well, we shall see… The next days in British Columbia are spent mostly on pavement, except for a 130-mile dirt road shortcut. The Arai XD-5 is comfortable during these long stretches of road, and the cruise control of the KTM is priceless. Crossing BC, the visitor either gets a pastoral countryside that doesn’t scream adventure, or a never-ending forest blocking the view. Every other hour, the occasional grandiose vista point of a lake or a canyon becomes a photo and snack opportunity, before the next long tunnel of green. Exiting a corner, the road sometimes aligns with a snowy summit, and the perspective at this moment is stunning. It doesn’t last though, as the forest blocks the view at the next curve. Slam on the brakes to take a picture and enjoy the view, or keep going and wait for another vista point? This dilemma is frequent, but I end up stopping more often than I should. Traveling is first and foremost about discovering new things, isn’t it? With such vast distances to cover, the temptation of riding fast to get it over with is strong. Going up north, the towns become smaller, the traffic is scarce, and wildlife is more abundant. The first grizzlies, a mother and her cub looking for berries, are spotted a few miles before Meziadin, only two days after the start of the ride. It’s a surreal experience to take pictures of this huge mammal from a relatively close distance, knowing that even with the engine still running, it would be hard to take off fast enough to escape an attack. Luckily, the two of them look at the bike with no real interest, and it gives some confidence for the future.
Entering Yukon
A nice sign welcomes the travelers entering the Yukon. But with a population of 45,000 inhabitants for an area the size of Montana, Colorado, Wyoming, and Oregon combined—which represent a population of roughly 11 million people—it’s the lack of traffic and the absence of villages that define this Canadian territory. Here, it’s possible to stop anywhere on the side of the road, shut off the engine, and have nothing to hear but silence. From Watson Lake, the track on the GPS shows mostly dirt. The route goes north, with a sign warning that the next services are 370 km away (230 miles). There I stand, looking at the sign, with no vehicles in sight, and probably more bears than humans along the road. It doesn’t mean that you get used to seeing them on the side of the road. The sight of a black bear on the exit of a corner is always a bit of a shock. Spooked, the bears can be agitated, and when they are close to the road, it’s better not to stop. Everyone wants their moment of fame, but being in the news for a bear attack doesn’t seem too appealing. The other challenge in this remote part of Canada is to find anything that I need. Fuel? The gas station is further than I’d like. Food? Good luck finding a restaurant, and better luck finding an open one. It’s a place where I quickly understand that survival means self-sufficiency. Saving gas, the range of the frugal KTM is tested to the limit, the engine shutting off by fuel starvation. Refueling with the little reserve from the red bottles, in this surreal silence, is an act of faith. The next miles are taken slow, clutching in the downhill to keep the engine at idle, barely making it to the gas station. Or more exactly to the gas bar, a huge tank of gasoline linked to a card reader. It’s a relief to get gas, but when water or food is needed, it doesn’t help at all. Therefore, the days are usually spent with one meal and a few snacks, trying to save food in case the next grocery store isn’t found until the following day. With no service most of the time, I cannot check in advance if a restaurant or a gas station is open. The good thing is that the days are getting longer, so setting up the camp and cooking some dry meals is getting easier, even late in the evening. The app “iOverlander” gives some ideas of free spots, but any side road in the forest or next to a small lake is an open spot for wild camping. This is Freedom with a capital F! Avoiding the organized campgrounds in the little towns, that don’t give any more safety relative to bears, it’s easy to stay away from civilization. There is seldom anybody in the backcountry, and the only time a person stops for a little chat, it turns out to be a First Nation chief, avid dirt bike rider, and peaceful philosopher. Camping in the wild still requires taking some extra precautions, not because of humans, but mostly to prevent encounters with wildlife. All the food and toiletry items are stored in bear-proof canisters, then hidden about 100 feet from the tent, while cooking is also done far away from the camp. It might be just good luck, but no bear, even spotted shortly before setting camp, ever came to visit.
Entering The Dempster
If it was America, the entrance of the Dempster Highway would be a touristy attraction, with at the very least a gift store and a food mart on top of the mandatory gas station. That is my expectation as I reach the waypoint, running out of water and food supply. But it’s the Yukon and there’s nothing more than a gas bar, without even restrooms or vending machines. A nice Chinese lady in a rental RV gives me two bottles of water, starting a chain of solidarity that will spread for the duration of the ride upon the Dempster. It only takes one mile for me to fall in love with this road. The trees are not too close to the road and the view opens on a constantly changing scenery of high mountains and creeks. There would be photo opportunities every minute, and it only gets better—or worse if you’re in a hurry—as you enter Tombstone. This Canadian Park is where most drivers on the Dempster stop, as it offers magnificent landscapes on a relatively short and easy drive. It looks like the Alpine Loop, in Colorado, but spread out over 100 miles. Even in June, there is still snow and ice over creeks and lakes, while the flowers are in full bloom. This is the most open countryside since the beginning of the trip and a place to delight at a slow pace. There are many spots to camp, so this ride could easily spread out over a couple of days. After Tombstone, the gravel road goes up on a ridge that climbs forever, with gusty winds that push the bike off its line. That’s when the ride on the Dempster becomes tricky. The shoulder is off-camber and soft, and riding on the side of the road pulls the front tire. Staying in the center of the road is not easy but almost mandatory. To add some spices to this already strong recipe for disaster, the main vehicles on this dirt road are trucks carrying water or gasoline. They are fast and heavy, and therefore raise a wall of opaque dust that prevents any overtake. When they arrive from the other direction, the dust cloud is sometimes so dense that the road disappears, and there’s no other choice than to come to a full stop and wait. To add to the stress, there is the longing question of range. The next gas stop is 370 km away, but with the road climbing and the wind pushing hard, the gas mileage drops worryingly. Keeping a steady pace with no strong accelerations, the KTM finally makes it to Eagle Plains, a haven at the top of the world. The gas station is about to close but the attendant makes an exception and reopens the pump. Thank you! Same story in the restaurant, already closed but where the cook will give away a sandwich. To make it even more perfect, there is free wifi and free camping next to the free hot showers. Can’t ask for more!
Reaching Inuvik
The next day, the wind is still strong but the ride is easier. The distance to Inuvik is short but two ferry crossings will make it a full day, nonetheless. The semi trucks are so big that the first ferry can only take one at a time, forcing everybody else to wait until they disembark on the other side. Some heavy trucks carrying logs even have to be pushed on board with a caterpillar. Once on the other side, the heavy load makes it sometimes impossible for the ferry to reach the shore. The captain then has to disembark, reach the shore with a small dingy, jump into an excavator, dig the shore, and then go back into the ferry to unload the truck. All this choreography is entertaining but slow, and it allows for time to meet people traveling with their campers. Most are Canadians coming from Whitehorse or Vancouver, and they give some useful insights about their country. A few hours later, reaching Inuvik, the temperatures suddenly become warm. The First Nation people chose this place wisely! With colorful buildings, restaurants, and grocery stores, visiting this town feels like reaching a safe harbor after stormy days at sea. The people are nice, there are concerts, a free swimming pool, and a library. This is a cool place to rest a bit before the last leg of the trip, the most dangerous section of the Dempster up to Tuktoyaktuk.
Sleeping On The Arctic Ocean
Starting a bit late in the morning to give the sun a chance to heat the atmosphere, the hopes of a warm ride fade quickly. It doesn’t take ten miles for the thermometer to drop and stabilize around 35F. The wind and the speed of the bike make it feel more like 25F, but no rider will ever get cold on this section of the Dempster. The gravel here is especially treacherous and the spikes of adrenaline as the front wheel washes out unexpectedly keeps you warm. This occurs every 30 seconds, with no warning or visual clues. Some big holes in the permafrost underneath the smooth surface of the gravel are filled with just more gravel, therefore creating invisible soft pockets. It’s safer to ride stand-up and keep some speed, even if it means being colder once out of the windshield’s protection. Turning the knob of the MSC Moto steering damper, a few more clicks than what I usually use in deep sand, helps tremendously to keep the bike straight. Despite all my years of experience on American gravel roads, the help of the KTM 890 R’s great suspension, and the must-have steering damper, I need to stay focused. This road is dangerous on two wheels, and during the seven days I will spend on the Dempster, I will hear of two big motorcycle accidents, including one fatality. Reaching Tuktoyaktuk and the small fishermen’s houses painted in all kinds of flashy colors is a big relief. Crossing the village, no signs are pointing to a restaurant or a coffee shop. All the houses are made of wood, with a gasoline tank on the side for the heater and two pipes for clean water and sewage. That explains the constant traffic of trucks on the Dempster; all the travelers meet at the end of the road, a strip of land surrounded by the ice-covered Arctic ocean. The wind is still very present, and most people are happy to take a selfie and leave, heading back to Inuvik. This is good news as it leaves the place mostly empty and with plenty of room to set up my tent a few feet from the Arctic Ocean. There is no night as the sun will not set for a few months. This is a perfect opportunity to talk to some people, like this improbable encounter with a Ukrainian man and a Russian lady traveling together, proof that peace is possible when people are left alone. This young woman will even entertain us with a long 10-minute swim in the ocean, shredding her knees in the shallow water against the blocks of ice. Respect! The night is comfortable in the little tent despite temperatures in the mid-twenties and a mandatory wake-up at midnight: there was no way I was gonna miss the picture of the midnight sun over the Arctic Ocean with my trusted bike front and center! Despite the cold, it’s almost hard to go back to sleep. This place is magical and I just want to enjoy every minute of it.
A Trip Like No Other
In the morning, packing up the camping gear in the panniers, I feel a bit sad, as if I was leaving home. The people here are living a tough life, one that we cannot even begin to understand, but the place is also so remote and so out of this world that I cannot help but feel connected in some way. This dot on the map just a few months ago became something special on the last day. Of course, coming here on two wheels, with all the risks that it involves, makes it even more unique. That’s one of the perks of traveling by motorcycle, and I’m glad I didn’t do it from the comfort of a 4WD vehicle. Saying goodbye to Tuktoyaktuk is like turning a page, closing a chapter in my life. This trip on the Dempster, which I will now have to do backward, is one of a kind. As the KTM warms up, I’m looking forward to riding to Inuvik, Eagle Plains, Tombstone… I know that it will be spectacular, and I can’t wait to camp a few more times in this majestic wilderness before heading to Alaska.
Equipment and accessories:
Bike: 2023 KTM 890 Adventure R
Windshield: Adventure S model
Mirrors: Doubletake Mirrors
Steering damper: MSC Moto RM3
Tires: Dunlop Trail Max Mission (rear) and TrailMax Raid (front).
Both did the 7k round trip with plenty of life left.
Available at TMBR MOTO
GPS: Garmin Tread
Satellite tracker: Zoleo
Apps: Gaia GPS, iOverlander
Bags: Mosko Moto 35L Panniers and 30L duffle bag
Available at Mosko Moto
Tent: Onetigris Cosmitto
Sleeping bag: Nemo Disco 15
Stove: Jetboil