The Globe and Mail

You can never be too well prepared when driving the Dempster Highway. Just ask Alberta farmer Robert Brockmann, who sacrificed luggage to leave space for three spare wheels in the trunk of his old Chevy. Still, more than 400 kilometres into the journey, he and his wife, Frieda, were marooned in the Yukon wilderness, a stone's throw from the Arctic Circle. The engine was fine, but they had had four flats within 10 kilometres.

Their mobile phones couldn't pick up a signal, the nearest garage was nearly 80 kilometres back down the empty, unpaved road, and there was absolutely nothing in between -- unless you count grizzly bears and packs of wolves hunting caribou. The Brockmanns decided to sit tight and keep the engine running to stay warm.

After about an hour, a passing motorist stopped and drove the elderly couple -- and their four flat tires -- back to the remote Eagle Plains motel and garage.

Later, another Good Samaritan squeezed the Brockmanns and their repaired tires into the back of his minivan and returned them to their vehicle.

The Dempster Highway is a narrow strip of gravel stretching 750 kilometres between its southern end -- a junction 40 kilometres east of Dawson City, Yukon -- and the frontier town of Inuvik near the Arctic Ocean in the Northwest Territories.

After the Brockmanns reached Inuvik, they had to do it all again on the return leg.

"My relatives thought I was crazy when I put three spare wheels in the trunk," said Robert Brockmann. "Now, I wish I had taken four."

Very few motorists make it all the way to Inuvik. Most who brave the Dempster head for the Arctic Circle, 405 kilometres from the start, and turn back. Even getting to the start entails a drive of almost 500 kilometres up the remote Klondike Highway from Whitehorse. Thankfully, that road is paved.

The Dempster was meant to be a road to riches. Instead, it became a road to nowhere.

When oil and gas were found deep in the bedrock of Eagle Plains, the road was pushed through and completed in 1978. It was made with gravel and shale because other materials would cause the permafrost to melt, buckling the road and creating tiny lakes.

But the oil and gas deposits weren't large enough to exploit, and today, the Dempster is a ghost highway, passing through a spectacular wilderness of mountain chains, high plateaus, valleys, dolomite minarets and Arctic tundra. The endless, rugged vistas are rich in wildlife, including black and grizzly bears, caribou, musk oxen, wild horses, Dall sheep, wolves, foxes and more than 200 species of birds, including osprey, bald eagles and peregrine falcons.

To experience the drive for ourselves, we hire an SUV in Whitehorse with just two spare tires in the trunk.

A wrecked car sits abandoned by the roadside, an ominous start to our journey. Signs warn that there are no emergency medical services on the road, and that the first fuel stop is 370 kilometres ahead at Eagle Plains.

It is imperative to fill up the tank at the Klondike River Lodge, at the turnoff where the Dempster begins.

We drive with care, following the course of the North Klondike River toward the Tombstone Mountains. There are several spartan Parks Canada campsites along the Dempster, most with pit toilets and firewood, but no electricity or other amenities.

As we drive into the Tombstone Mountains, a black bear pads through the undergrowth at the side of the road. We congratulate ourselves on choosing to sleep in our vehicle.

Tombstone Mountain is aptly named. The peak is shaped like a gravestone, and Indian trappers and RCMP patrols used it as a navigational aid in the not-so-distant past. Indeed, the Dempster was named after Corporal W. J. D. Dempster, who set out in search of the legendary "Lost Patrol" and found its members frozen to death in the winter of 1910-11.

The Mounties patrolled vast areas then, often dog-sledding hundreds of kilometres, leaving their bases for up to two months at a time. The ill-fated patrol left Fort McPherson without an Indian guide, and lost its way in sub-zero temperatures, running out of food.

We watch wild horses feeding beside a river before making our first crossing of the Continental Divide at the highest elevation on the Dempster, North Fork Pass, at 1,300 metres. We forge on through tundra that has changed little since Asians crossed the Bering Strait's ice bridge into this area, known as East Beringia. Pingoes, giant cones of earth with hearts of ice, dot the landscape. Some are estimated to be 5,000 years old.

The road deteriorates and we limp into the Engineer Creek campsite, nearly 200 kilometres along the Dempster, with a slow leak in one tire. It's an area of eerie, eroded limestone ridges and rock forests, and the site is deserted.

We change the tire, plagued by clouds of mosquitoes (another good reason to sleep in the car). We have been warned about the bugs, and wear nets over our heads, but they swarm onto our hands and legs.

Worrying that we are still 170 kilometres from Eagle Plains and have just one spare tire left, we hug the centre of the narrow road where the sharp shale is more compact.

We soon forget our troubles, though, as a spectacular, undisturbed landscape unfolds before us. We climb to the Ogilvie-Peel viewpoint 260 kilometres into the journey. Below us a vast panorama of mountains, valleys and rivers appears. As we near Eagle Plains, the roadside is ablaze with fireweed.

The motel in Eagle Plains is full, so again we sleep in our vehicle, which is now caked with thick, dripping mud. We are only 36 kilometres from the Arctic Circle.

"We can repair the tire, but I'm afraid you can't wash the vehicle," says Stan McNevin, who makes a tidy living out of the motel and garage. "We have to truck in 10,000 gallons of water to the motel every day. We can't spare any for a car wash."

McNevin has run the business since the Dempster Highway opened in 1978. The next filling station is nearly 200 kilometres ahead at Fort McPherson, so drivers must refill their tanks here.

McNevin strokes one of his pet huskies, while two black Labradors snooze at his feet. A wall is covered with game trophies, moose heads and grizzly skins. He stares out of the window wistfully. "I have to keep the dogs indoors in case they are attacked by wolves," he says. "We are on the migration route of the caribou. At the height of the migration, around 170,000 caribou cross the road, right outside the motel. They are followed by packs of wolves, up to 30 strong. Nearly every year one of my dogs is snatched right off the front porch by wolves."

A few kilometres north of the motel, the road is slightly wider, but the gravel is just as bad. Just before the Arctic Circle, we get another puncture. A passing motorist stops, thrusts an aerosol can into my hands, and drives off. The can's function is to seal and inflate the tire. But it soon begins to deflate again, and we are forced to jack up the vehicle right on the Arctic Circle. Surprisingly, lush plains stretch away to the Richardson Mountains on the horizon.

Here, one or two drivers take quick photographs in the cold morning air before turning back. This is journey's end for them. They'll return to the motel for their "I crossed the Arctic Circle" certificates. We continue on.

By the time we reach Rock River, I can understand why the Brockmanns suffered four punctures. Sharp shale is flying everywhere. With only one more spare, we pray for good luck.

As we near the NWT border, a fox slinks away toward its lair, a bird dangling from its mouth. We can barely see through the mist, but soon begin descending through the Richardson Mountains toward the Peel River, where the road becomes a quagmire.

A free vehicular ferry crosses the Peel all day, a short distance from Fort McPherson. Fifty kilometres beyond there, another free ferry takes vehicles safely across the Mackenzie River.

During winter, both rivers freeze over, and motorists must drive across the ice.

The final 200 kilometres to Inuvik are as straight as an arrow across the flat tundra, punctuated by forest and dozens of small lakes.

We arrive at 11 p.m., driving on the first section of paved road we have seen for nearly 750 kilometres. Inuvik is a gateway to the Arctic Ocean. Wildlife reserves are only a short flight away, and trips can be booked in town. Most visitors fly in, fresh from Whitehorse, to start their tours. It takes them only a few hours to get here.

They may not have to face the perils of the road, but neither do they experience the spell of the Yukon over this daunting but magical stretch of highway.

If you go

GETTING THERE

Air North: (800) 661-0407; http://www.flyairnorth.com. Offers direct flights from Calgary, Edmonton and Vancouver to Whitehorse, with connections to Dawson City and Inuvik.

Dawson City Courier: (867) 393-3334. Offers daily bus service between Dawson City and Whitehorse.

Cars, SUVs and RVs can be rented in Whitehorse and Dawson City.

WHERE TO STAY

Tombstone Campsite: (867) 667-5648. Has drive-in and tent sites, a shelter, water pump, firewood and outhouses. $12 per camping unit a night. For more information on this and other campsites along the Dempster Highway, visit

http://www.environmentyukon.gov.yk.ca

or http://www.yukoninfo.com/dempster.

In Dawson City:

Klondike Kate's Cabins: (867) 993-6527; http://www.klondikekates.ca.

The Downtown Hotel: (867) 993-5346; http://www.downtown.yk.net.

Bombay Peggy's Inn: (867) 993-6969; http://www.bombaypeggys.com.

In Eagle Plains:

Eagle Plains Motel: (867) 993-2453.

In Inuvik:

Arctic Chalet: (867) 777-3535.

INFORMATION

Flightseeing tours are available in the Dawson-Tombstone area, and operators offer backcountry treks. For more information, call (800) 789-8566 or visit http://www.touryukon.com.