After three days on the road and roughly 20 hours of driving, I’ve finally made it to Deadhorse, the northernmost point in Alaska accessible by car. I traveled along the Dalton Highway, a rugged and challenging route stretching about 414 miles (667 kilometers) from Fairbanks all the way to Deadhorse. This highway is known for its harsh conditions, with rough gravel roads, extreme weather, and very limited services along the way.
Most of the time, you can only drive around 30 km/h here, and trust me, you’ll want a 4x4 because this road is no joke.
The journey was tough: extreme potholes (many quite deep), slow driving, speeding truckers passing by, snow, and a whole lot of mud. Now I completely understand why they call this the “mud season.” The road tested every ounce of my patience and skill, and there were moments when I seriously doubted if I should keep going. But after a meaningful conversation with a good friend and some valuable advice from a seasoned trucker, I found the courage to push forward.
Along the way, I was treated to breathtaking, untouched wilderness, met a helicopter pilot who shared story, camped under the northern lights in the mountains, and listened to the stories of an ice road trucker who’s been navigating these roads for a long time.
This trip is more than just a drive, it’s part of a larger journey. To tell the real stories of the people, the landscape, and the spirit of this land, I needed to immerse myself fully. Driving these endless stretches of road, to what truly feels like the edge of the world, gave me a firsthand look at the challenges and beauty of this place. I was confronted by the deep solitude of being alone for hours on end, surrounded by vast, silent wilderness, with nothing but my own thoughts. That kind of loneliness is both humbling and profound when you don’t see another soul for miles.
Right now, the temperatures have dropped below freezing. I can barely turn on the heater in my camper because it runs on both propane and electricity. And along these hundreds of kilometers, there are no hookups anywhere. But somehow, I’m managing to survive: wrapped in three blankets and wearing a warm winter jacket lent to me by that same ice road trucker I met. It’s rough, but it’s all part of the project,
After a long, exhausting day, I arrived in Deadhorse, a small, rugged town built around the oil industry, often seen as the gateway to the Arctic. It’s a harsh, industrial outpost standing in stark contrast to the wildness surrounding it. Standing here now, in this completely different and raw landscape, I’m reminded just how immense and wild this part of the world really is.
Looking ahead, I hope the journey back will be just as smooth, but I won’t lie, I’m feeling a bit nervous. Winter is closing in fast, bringing colder temperatures, ice, and unpredictable weather. Still, I’m confident that I’m prepared and capable of handling whatever the road throws my way.
