The view
west from the Yukon / NWT border
Monday, September 1st, 1997
"Welcome to
Northwest Territories"
The extreme cold keeps us in our sleeping bags until mid-morning, when we finally crawl out into the howling wind. We see our surroundings clearly for the first time in the blinding sunlight, and appreciate it's beauty and harshness. The only sign of man is the gravel road that snakes away to the north and south, and the Yukon and Northwest Territories welcome signs. We can see for probably 15 miles in the clear air, and all is rolling hills filling the wide valley between two jagged mountain ranges running east-west. We are nestled in a high pass on the more southern of the two ranges.
The view
west from the Yukon / NWT border
I give the truck a once-over and check a few vital fluids. It's difficult to work in the biting wind, which immediately makes my hands stiff and clumsy, not to mention extremely tender. While under the hood, I discover that the broken terminal clamp that I forced over the new battery's negative terminal has come extremely loose, and is in danger of bouncing right off. This would probably cause some arcing, and if it didn't start a fire, could easily fry a few critical electrical components before leaving us dead on the road. A little digging around in toolboxes and spare parts bins, and I locate a smallish steel C-clamp and some duct tape. After cranking the clamp on as tightly as I am able with frozen hands, and the liberal application of duct tape to avoid vibration and electrical short-circuit, I drop the hood and crank up the engine. It looks terrible, but it stays put for the rest of the trip and then some.
We clean up and press north, hoping to catch a glimpse of the thousands of caribou reportedly migrating through this valley. We drive silently for perhaps an hour, and finally coast to a stop on a rolling bluff overlooking the arctic lowlands. We long ago ceased our caribou-searching in favor of admiring this mesmerizing land.
The
view north as seen from atop the roof rack when we turn around.
Sean stops the truck and I climb out. We can see forever to the north, and it looks every bit as cold and desolate as I imagined. I pull myself up onto the roof rack and stand on top of the truck for a few minutes, being buffetted by the wind and feeling the warm sun on my face. Back in the cab, I record the mileage on the odometer. The GPS reports that we are exactly 2946 straight-line miles from home.
We turn around.
The drive back down the Dempster is long and taxing. I am relieved when we make it back to paved roads and semi-civilization in the late afternoon. We pull over into a rest stop and I snap a picture as we eat some beef stew.
The drive through
the night is pretty easy, with me taking the graveyard 12:00-4:00 shift.
Miraculously I find an open gas station just before pulling over to fuel
up from the roof supply. I hunt down the owner and get him to unlock
the pump for me. He is a friendly, proffessional man in his late
40's. He tells me the temperature is finally down below freezing,
"Let's see...that's 30 degrees to you."
I drive an extra 1/2-tank before giving up and coasting to a stop in
the middle of a deserted stretch of road and handing it over to Sean.
Exhausted, I pause to enjoy the beautiful stars before climbing into my
warm bag.
