You drive from Vancouver north to Horseshoe Bay Ferry Terminal. You’ll jump across the Strait of Georgia to Vancouver Island then more north by van some hundreds of miles to Port Hardy where you will board another ferry for the 18-hour passage further north to Prince Rupert. By all accounts the Inside Passage transits some of the most rugged mountainous landscape to be found in any corner of Canada.
Working on a trip north to the Yukon is under consideration— well maybe. Understanding what is required is under-appreciated. The ferry to Prince Rupert is only the first leap into the wilderness of British Columbia. Prince George is a mere 400 miles east and can be found by traveling Canada’s Yellowhead Highway. These initial legs of the journey are not particularly daunting.
If on the other hand Whitehorse in the Yukon Territories is chosen as the northernmost destination you will travel east a short distance on the paved Yellowhead Highway where then you aim north on Highway 37. From Prince Rupert to Whitehorse, you’re talking about 750 miles or thereabout. That’s like Seattle to San Francisco but instead of a freeway you are on a mix of paved and gravel roads. The trip up to Whitehorse adds one thousand miles and at least two more days travel.
The province of British Columbia is four times the size of the United Kingdom and larger than every state but for Alaska. If instead of travel by ferry, you were to drive from Vancouver to Whitehorse it would be the equivalent of driving from San Francisco to Denver. Merit badges and homeopathic remedies for numb derrieres are included.
Since you are in Whitehorse the ambitious traveler might as well finish the deal and make your way north to the Arctic Ocean. Your destination will be Tuktoyaktuk, Northwest Territories. You’ll tack on another 700 miles from Whitehorse for those bragging rights. Dawson is the first stop from Whitehorse, then you’ll get on the Dempster Highway the former dog sled trail turned road that will eventually get you to your northernmost destination. Tuktoyaktuk is 3000 miles from San Francisco and rests at Latitude 69.445 degrees north of the equator.
This far north you deal with the sun never setting, high winds, and unpredictable snow flurries. Californians traveling to the shore of the Arctic Ocean is to be attempted during the summer months otherwise you will require a snowcat, lip balm and a note from your psychiatrist and even then, your head will remain suspect of being defective in some colder, wetter more frozen sense.
There is the matter of traveling on unpaved roads. By my reckoning you are talking about 600 miles of slow going, and that’s a conservative estimate. The paved and unpaved Dempster Highway in the Northwest Territories I would venture to say would demand mechanical vigilance. It appears rank amateurs may make 100 miles a day on the Dempster, where if you’re a professional hauler you are banging this road out in one long drive— who needs sleep.
Figure if you do not elect to travel north to Whitehorse and instead go east to Prince George, you have saved yourself much dirt road drama. South of Prince George some 250 miles is the community of Cache Creek. I passed through this community decades ago while on a trip out to my friend’s goldmine claim. It is where I learned that Angus McDonald instead of running a gold prospecting operation had instead turned a steep wash along a hillside into a marijuana growing operation. That didn’t end so well for my friend who was sent off to the gray rock hotel.
From the goldmine claim along the banks of the Frazier River it is another 300 miles south and east to Nelson, British Columbia where is stored the heart of all that is right and glorious about this rugged mountainous Canadian province.
Here is a region I have traveled to for shows since the 1980’s. Here is located the mighty Columbia River hellbent on carving its way south and west to the Pacific Ocean. Here are located grizzly bear, wolf and hot spring. The region was once Canada’s most important marijuana growing region. For profit legal crop growing has changed all of that. Growing still happens here but returns are down and frustrations up.
The all-paved road trip would take two weeks. Travel to Whitehorse would add at least another week and if you wanted to touch the Arctic Ocean you’d add another two weeks or maybe if things don’t work out you never make it back.
This longer travel itinerary would be more accurately characterized as an expedition. In this case there would be the matter of provisioning for food, swapping out highway tires for tires with offroad tread. You can almost be sure you’ll need to replace your windshield from the rocks that are all but certain to shatter it.
Some years ago I rock crawled 120 miles by dirt road— it took the entire day. By dusk I arrived. I’d landed in Denio. There are scattered nearby all of ten homes. At this remote corner of Nevada there is one building where is contained a gas station, bar, liquor store, community hall and post office. There are a few slot machines, the one-armed bandits confirm you are now in Nevada. All I know is that after a hard day driving on washboard two track dirt wagon trail the sight of Denio marked the spot where pavement once again was the rule. I parked two days working the nuts bolts and screws back to tight. It was the closest encounter I’d ever had with allowing my pickup truck to be rattled to death.
Cellphone services are limited on the proposed route north in British Columbia. Newest satellite services do allow you to text when a cell tower is nowhere nearby. This means you can signal for help once you’ve finally done it and find yourself stuck somewhere between here and to hell and gone.
About bears you’ll want to adopt a policy of hoping to see them. Better you see them than not because they’re going to see you for sure. Take the approach of wanting to see bears, wolves and big cats. Lean into it and luck might come your way while they flee for their lives.
Don’t forget the bug spray. Mosquitos, no-see-ums, and other infinitesimally tiny biting insects flourish here so don’t think you are going to be blissfully wandering about in some docile non-binary agreement with the life form destined to take over the world from all other living things. Traveling in the peak of summer across British Columbia is for the mosquito literally the time of year when they elevate their game to a world class blood sport. Your precious bodily fluids will be theirs!
Sometimes for a life to add up to more than an occasional hangover you’ll need to take measure of your wanderlust. You’ll want to test your metal, you’ll want to weigh the power of— the want for trouble, and your tolerance for misery you could just as easily have avoided by keeping to life’s more tried and true pathways. I know you know what I mean because we have all been infected by this demon called curiosity. I know you have had to ask the same hard questions. You had to confront that kook in the mirror, that wild eyed wanderer, you’ve had to account for the fix they’ve put you in. You are looking at that likeness that is reflected off a polished sheet of aluminum you’ve found stood up against a wall at the remote repair facility you have been stuck waiting in for parts to ship so they may repair your vehicle and cut you loose to be on your way when the question of all questions pours from your soul demanding an answer— What the hell were you thinking?
