2008 Canada, Northwest Territories - The Other End of the Road

And finally you’re really there. Yes, you feel prepared. There are heavy duty arctic parkas. Thermo socks. Sports underwear to deal with sweat, woolen undies to catch some warmth. Gloves that promise windbreaking superness. Balaclavas made of wool. Woollen knitted caps. You put on everything - and now? What’s lurking out there? There’s no thermometers in sight. Wouldn‘t be helpful anyway. People round here know the weather conditions: way cold. And then the first step outside.

There’s this thought creeping up: Hey, it’s not as cold as I - bamm! That’s when you’re hit by the cold. With the full impact of minus 35 degrees Celsius. Right in your face. Biting your skin in a blink - so it‘s back to the balaclava double-quick. The lungs react irritably. Short, dry coughs. But hey, we all wanted it and knew where we were going. Today is the first day and the big one as well: today we get the bikes on the road.

As far as this can be called a road. Tuktoyaktuk, Northwest Territories, Canada can only be reached by road going vehicles if the weather conditions are right. Which they start to be in december. That’s when it’s cold enough for the Mackenzie River to freeze up. That's when they plough a road on the river up to Tuktoyaktuk. Along the Mackenzie river, through the delta, out to the Beaufort sea. Yes, The Sea. Big Salty. A frozen bay to ride on. It's like doing Miami-Havana on a bike. Tuktoyaktuk. Population 1.000, gas stations 1, supermarkets 1 and yes, one cemetery. Plus one precinct of the RCMP, the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. We pay them a short visit. Just to let them know we’re here. In case someone can't stand the prattle-prattle of the bikes. Another reason why we have Edward on our side. Edward from Inuvik. He grew up in this area, his sister lives in Tuk and the people know and respect him.

Before we unload the machines and kick them over let’s take a short trip back in time: why are we here anyway? Tuktoyaktuk is far from being the first W&W CYCLES destination of the challenging kind. 1995 there was the idea to close the Panamericana Gap between Panama and Colombia on Harleys. The ride got stuck in knee deep mud. But we made it out there and got back home with some breathtaking pics and some broken bits of machinery. 2006 there was the ride to the southernmost beer.

From Buenos Aires over bone shaking gravel roads fighting gale crosswinds down the infamous Ruta 40 to Ushuaia, Patagonia. And exactly right down there, under the influence of some of the southernmost beers of the world the question arose how the world may look like on the other end of the road. Because nobody knew it, we struck on a plan: we‘d have to go there one day.

Why not us? And that’s why we are here. Far north of the northern Polar circle. 69° 26‘ 20“ N, 133° 01‘ 45“ W, with two Milwaukee classics under our butts. 2 hell bent riders and a support team for technical, morale-enhancing and documentary assistance. Finally it’s a kind of test of what a Harley can put up with. Mud, gravel, Bullfight arena - we rode it all. But minus 35 degress Celsius and roads of solid ice? Wait and see. So this was the day and the moment. We found our way to the local airfield. James Gruben Airport. Promising some elbow room and even less traffic. So finally we have the bikes on the road. Preheated in the truck, as far as you can talk of preheating at a -10 degrees inside the truck. So why not say pre-defrosted. The batteries had been charged onboard the support truck. Kick them chunks of steel to life. Ignition. Pressure point. Kick. KICK! Kick harder.... nothing. OK, the bikes had been sitting in the deep freezer for a long time now. Give ’em another try. Nothing. And again. Nada. Nope. Zero. Zilch. No sign of life. We try a pull-start. Kinda funny seeing a Harley being pulled on a 10 m rope tied to a MB Vario truck - but hey, who gives a damn if it works. Which it doesn’t. Not even after the fifth try. Looks like we gotta pack up the bikes.

The bikes are running, the road is open. The studded wheels bite their way across Tuktoyaktuk. The streets are neatly covered with snow - like all the rest of this place. We meet the Tuktoyaktuk mayor for a quick shake hands. Nice riding conditions today. We pass the cemetery, heading out of town. Out to the Beaufort-Sea, to the ice road. The sweeping road swings through the white with grand air. Never really straight, here and there snaking around some twisted heaps of ice shards. Looks like someone was having fun building this road. So, how's the driving on the ice? Let’s ask the guys who did it:

It’s decent riding over here, especially now that we found out that riding works better without a helmet. A neoprene face mask to cover neck and mouth, woolen hat, parka-hood on top. Goggles? Nope. Double glass or ventilated - the difference in temperature is too big, every goggle gets fogged in no time. Once again, this is the hour of the Canada Goose Resolute Jacket: thanks to the hood with it’s tunneling effect and coyote fur fringe it keeps out the cutting cold - almost. The breathing, the humidity, the temperature generate icy cristals which build up inside the hood. They fuze with other cristals. And settle down where there’s some hair. Which is – beards aside – eye brows and lashes. Ice grows until the eyes freeze shut. But it still takes longer than goggles going fogged. The ride on the ice doesn’t show any bigger problems – but the steering of the Panhead is getting harder every mile – or should we say with every degree of cold? Like if someone had exchanged the bearing grease for chewing gum. Only the Panhead is affected. Why not the Shovel?