From Baja to Tuktoyaktuk: Driving to the End of the Road
As a vanlifer of over six years, I often find myself asking: What’s next? Where am I heading next? Sitting by the ocean in Baja, California, as the sun dipped below the horizon, the answer finally came to me. My next mission was clear: to drive to the northernmost tip of Canada, to a tiny, remote town called Tuktoyaktuk. This wasn’t just any road trip – it was going to be an adventure of a lifetime, and a journey that would take me from the southernmost tip of Baja all the way to the Arctic ocean.
For those of you who’ve followed my adventures @shewandersearth on Instagram and YouTube, you’ll know that I was living out of my van while simultaneously attempting to build it, which was no small feat. While exploring Baja, I didn’t even have the basics – no means of cooking, no running water, and no shower. It was as bare-bones as it gets. But as I set my sights northward, I knew I had to make some changes.
From March to August, I made Squamish, British Columbia, my temporary home base. Those months were all about getting my van as close to finished as possible. By the time I hit the road, I had running water, an oven, a cooktop, and a much more functional setup. It wasn’t perfect, as my shower was still a work in progress, but it was ready enough for the rugged journey ahead.
The Journey Begins: Getting to Dempster Highway
Driving north from Squamish to Whitehorse, was mind-blowing on its own. The landscapes, the solitude, and the sheer scale of the wilderness, was unlike anything I had ever seen. But that’s a story for another blog. What I really want to share with you is the journey from Dawson City to Tuktoyaktuk, where the road ends and the vast Arctic Ocean begins.
Dawson City in the Yukon was one of the most historical places I’ve ever visited. The town feels like a step back in time, with dirt roads connecting the historic buildings and not a single paved street in sight. It’s as if the modern world pauses here. During my visit, Dawson City was officially recognized as a UNESCO World Heritage Site – a fitting honour for a place that’s rich in gold mining history.
For me, Dawson City was the last chance to fuel up (both my van and myself) before heading north into the unknown. It was where I stocked up on groceries, gathered information about the Dempster Highway at the visitor center, and took a deep breath before leaving for the next leg of my journey. I camped at a local campground, and when I told the receptionist about my plan to drive to Tuktoyaktuk, her reaction was immediate. She looked at me as though I’d lost my mind.
“Do you know what you’re getting yourself into?” she asked, her tone a mix of concern and disbelief. “You absolutely should not go. That’s one of the most dangerous roads.”
Her words lingered as I walked back to my van. Was I crazy to go solo so late in the year? Maybe. It was already the first week of September. But the call of adventure was too strong to ignore. I had prepared for this. My van was equipped with everything I needed for the 737km journey along the Dempster Highway: five brand-new tires from General Tire, an inReach satellite device, my Starlink, 600ah of battery power, 400 watts of solar, an extra jerry can of gas, and enough food to last a week. I was ready to be entirely self-sufficient.
Plus, while I was at the visitor center, I met a couple who were also planning to make the trek. Their presence gave me an unexpected boost of confidence. Even though we didn’t plan to travel together, knowing someone else was heading in the same direction felt reassuring. It was the final nudge I needed to set out on my own adventure.
The Drive to Tuktoyaktuk
The next morning, I hit the road, chasing the weather and racing against the first snowfall. The Dempster Highway awaited—a rugged, unpaved road notorious for its challenges: no cell services, potholes, sharp rocks, and permafrost. Potholes greeted me almost immediately, serving as a reminder of the highway’s reputation. The biggest risk on this journey was getting a flat tire, or breaking down. If you can’t fix it yourself, you might find yourself stranded for days, far from civilization. And the cost of a tow or a ride back to Dawson City? Let’s just say, you better have a lot of cash.
Fortunately, I didn’t have to face that nightmare scenario. Not a single flat tire, which I later learned was practically unheard of on this route. My General Tire tires held up incredibly well, providing peace of mind throughout the journey. For that, I was endlessly grateful.
The drive itself was breathtaking. Along the way, I passed through Tombstone Territorial Park, a landscape of jagged peaks and rolling tundra. As tempting as it was to explore, I opted out of solo hikes due to the presence of grizzly bears. And I wasn’t wrong to be cautious—I passed several grizzlies and moose along the route, reminders of the wildness that surrounded me.
As I traveled further north, the wildlife became even more extraordinary. Flocks of ptarmigan scattered across the road, and the tundra stretched endlessly in every direction, painting a vast, untouched wilderness. Snowmobiles covered in bearskins lay abandoned in fields, offering a glimpse into the way of life here. In the Yukon and NWT, transportation shifts with the seasons—snowmobiles and sled dogs in winter, quads in summer. Life in the Arctic is a reminder of humanity’s resilience in some of the harshest conditions on Earth.
The first fuel stop after leaving Dawson City was Eagle Plains. It’s essential to top up here and check your supplies because beyond this point, services become even scarcer until you reach Inuvik. From Eagle Plains, the next gas stop is Fort McPherson, followed by Inuvik. After Inuvik, it’s roughly a 2.5 hour drive to Tuktoyaktuk, the northernmost point I was aiming for.
Reaching the Arctic Ocean
Finally arriving in Tuktoyaktuk was one of the most fulfilling moments of my life. There, I met a kind Indigenous mother and her daughter riding a quad. They shared a little about their life in the Arctic. Each summer, they place a single $3-5k order for dried goods to last the year. Fresh vegetables and fruit are not something they have easy access to – so hunting for caribou, moose, beluga whales, and fishing is their primary sustenance. Though our conversation was brief, it left a lasting impression about how vastly different lives can be, even within the same country.
Of course, no journey to the Arctic Ocean would be complete without jumping in, and I did! But this moment carried a deeper meaning for me. Just before this trip, I had to say goodbye to my beloved dog, Kaia. Standing at the edge of the Arctic Ocean, I spread a small portion of her ashes into the water – a quiet tribute to a companion and best friend who had shared so many of my vanlife adventures, by my side for over 4 years.
The End of the Road
Reaching the Arctic Ocean felt like the culmination of years of dreaming and pushing myself to embrace the unknown. If you’re considering this trek, I can only say: do it. Prepare well, trust in your abilities, and take the leap. The end of the road at the Arctic Ocean is more than just a final stop – it’s a testament to what’s possible when you follow your heart and believe in yourself.
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