On September 3rd, after 1 month of slowly travelling North we finally reached the Arctic Circle. The Arctic Circle is the parallel of latitude that runs 66° 33′ 44″ north of the Equator. North of the Arctic Circle, the sun does not set for 24 hours at least once per year and does not rise for 24 hours at least once per year.
G had his heart set on getting to the Arctic Circle. I wasn’t as convinced about hundreds of miles of dirt roads. Originally we planned to drive the Dalton highway up to Prudhoe Bay in Alaska, but listened to several recommendations to take Yukon’s Dempster instead. It was the perfect time of year to do the drive. The fall colors in Tombstone Park were beautiful beyond words. We camped on a panoramic lookout point along the highway that night. Luckily, there were ample rock fire rings to choose from. After a beautiful sunset, G went to work cutting down a dead tree. We had ourselves a big fire and some lentils (G’s mother’s recipe – mmm). After some fun with giant marshmallows the sky was unexpectedly awash with the northern lights. Incredible.
You should know from this post that we were set on making it to the arctic ocean. Driving the some 457 miles on dirt road to Inuvik was not enough. We had to get in a prop plane and fly over the Mackenzie River Delta to Tuktoyaktuk otherwise known as Tuk where we would finally dip our toes in the arctic ocean.
Before the dip, we climbed down into a traditional freezer used for storing fish and big game. Our bodies now adjusted to frigid temperatures, it was time for the much anticipated dip. And you know what? The water wasn’t that cold. I mean, it was cold, but it was a sunny day. It felt like the Puget Sound in winter.
I’ve tried to block out what followed the ocean dipping. Our guide, a local Inuvialuk woman, took us into her home. First her husband showed us skins from the animals they had trapped. Did I mention I was a pescatarian (veggie + seafood)? We were then offered a sampling of Inuvialuit cooking and I did something I will forever be ashamed of. I ate whale…and it tasted like shit. Good. Whale shouldn’t taste good.
Hmm, Dawson City, there was something to do with the Gold Rush – right? That about sums up ours and many others understanding of Dawson City, Yukon. Luckily, George and I were able to visit. Driving in from the west, you first have to cross the mighty Yukon river. Although the ferry crew have the crossing down pat, it was exciting for us first-timers.
The first thing that strikes you entering town is what a fantastic job Parks Canada has done there. In the visitors center, some helpful Parks Canada rangers will give the details on the tours to partake in during your stay. For such a little town, there are quite a few. We opted for a town tour complete with a period clad guide that took us through the preserved post office and saloon in town. We also got a chance to visit a dredger that was used in the area around Dawson City before it was closed to the public. Scanning the landscape, it seemed to us that the ground had been permanently scarred by these dredging devices.
The historic preservation in Dawson isn’t all serious though. We swung by the local casino for some drinks and a cabaret show. George quickly got pulled into the mix and embraced his good luck.
We couldn’t miss the annual outhouse race before handing north out of town. Now admittedly, when someone mentioned the ‘race’ to us, I couldn’t quite form a visual. I’m glad we decided to hang around for the festivities because it was one hell of a hootenanny.
