Can you Cycle to the Arctic on the Trans Canada Trail?

“Cycling isn’t a game, it’s a sport.

Tough, hard and unpitying,

And it requires great sacrifices.

One plays football, or tennis, or hockey.

One doesn’t play at cycling.”

 

Jean de Gribaldy

 

Wheels on the Highways of the North

 

Having traced the Trans Canada Trail from the Atlantic to the Pacific on our #Hike4Birds, we arrived at what appears, on maps and in descriptions, to be its final extension: the long route north to the Arctic Circle and Arctic Ocean.

 

Yet this is not simply another regional section of the TCT to assess. In the North, crossing two provinces and two territories, the question that has guided us across the country begins to shift. No longer is it just whether the trail can be cycled, or what kind of journey a rider might expect. Here, the more pressing question becomes what the route actually is, and what it demands of those who attempt to follow it.

 

The Trans Canada Trail to the Arctic

 

In practical terms, the northern branch of the Trans Canada Trail divides into two distinct paths: a water route following the Mackenzie River system, and a land-based route extending from Fort Saskatchewan through northern Alberta, British Columbia, the Yukon, and into the Northwest Territories, terminating at Tuktoyaktuk on the Arctic Ocean. Our focus, as throughout our long 6-year journey, remained on the land route.

 

For us, the use of trekking carts here was not optional but essential. The distances between communities increased dramatically, the cost of supplies rose steadily the further north we travelled, and the margin for navigating weather windows and errors on the ground narrowed. Carrying additional food, water, and equipment was the only way to move safely through these regions. Cyclists, with their ability to cover greater distances, would likely find similar advantages in having wheels here, not for comfort, but for necessity.

 

Roadways and Highways

 

What defines this section, however, is not its remoteness alone, or exposure to wildlife, but the nature of the route itself.  The fact is that across more than 3,500 kilometres, the overwhelming majority of the Trans Canada Trail to the Arctic is not a trail in any conventional sense. It is roadway - paved highways, gravel corridors, rural concessions, and long, exposed stretches where the only viable option is to move along active transportation routes shared with heavy vehicles, trucks and RVs.   The constant rises and descents of northern highways, combined with long distances between services, make wheels useful. They allow for greater daily range, they reduce the physical strain of carrying supplies, and they allow you to carry more.

 

But they also place you directly into environments that feel, at times, fundamentally at odds with the idea of a recreational trail.  On the Trans Canada Trail in the north, you are undeniably the smallest “vehicle” on the road … for a long time.

We felt this most acutely - over days and weeks and months of walking along highways where transport trucks, fuel tankers, and RVs passed at high speed, often drifting toward the shoulder as drivers turned their attention toward the landscape or, at times, toward us. The physical effort of the North was matched by a constant mental strain: remaining alert, holding a line along narrow shoulders, and measuring each approaching vehicle not as background noise, but as the reality of time on the TCT here. 

 

Put in other terms, we prayed daily and with almost every passing vehicle.  We never relaxed along this section of the Trans Canada Trail.  The last time we had felt this much stress of the trail was in Northern Ontario and the long trek on the sides of busy highways there.

 

Because of this (though also for other reasons) it is perhaps not surprising, then, that we stopped sharing our trek in the north and that even our own travel journals began to thin here. At the end of long days, our time on the TCT was defined less by the stunning landscapes and more by the stress, exposure, and exhaustion that were constant. What remained, however, was a growing awareness that the experience we were having did not sit with how this section of the Trans Canada Trail is commonly presented – or how it is understood by most Canadians.

 

The Reality of the Route

 

In northern Alberta, the Trans Canada Trail stretches roughly 900 kilometres through a network of paved roads and gravel concessions. While there are designated off-road segments and a water route along the Lesser Slave River, these are not continuous. Gaps between sections, including breaks between the North Shore Trail and the Grouard–Peace River Trail, required us to backtrack and reroute along local highways. Even where trail segments existed, they were not always practical to use, particularly with carts.  The same could easily be said for those on bikes.

 

From northern British Columbia onward, the route becomes even more clearly defined by highway travel. The Alaska Highway alone accounts for hundreds of kilometres of continuous roadway, with little separation between trail users (on the side of the road) and traffic.  Here, we relied more on the often-published Milepost Alaska Driving Guide than any resource produced by the Trans Canada Trail.  This is a clear reflection of the realities of where the “trail” is here.

 

The Trans Canada Trail organization acknowledges this on its Explore the Map feature online, where their own guidance reflects this reality:

 

“WARNING – Trail users should remain on the shoulder (may not be paved). TCT recommends using this section with extreme caution, and only during daylight hours and under appropriate weather conditions, as motorists may enter the shoulder.

Users without roadway experience should use alternate routes or means of transportation to connect from these points”.

These repeated warnings are not minor disclaimers. They are, in effect, an acknowledgement that large portions of this “trail” function as active highways where caution - and in some cases avoidance - is advised.  This is striking for some of the longest sections of a national trail whose founding vision was to create an off-road pathway.

 

The Trans Canada Trail in the Yukon

 

In the Yukon, the pattern continues. The Dawson Overland Trail, one of the few off-road segments, proved in summer to be largely impassable - bog, marsh, and mud slowed progress to the point where we were forced to turn back and return to the highway.  Our wheels simply did not allow us to continue on, and in truth, I’m not sure we would have been able to even without them.   From there, the Klondike Highway became the primary route north, followed by the Dempster Highway - a long, remote corridor of gravel stretching toward the Arctic.  Equally as busy as the Alcan Highway in the south. 

 

There are moments of reprieve: short heritage trails, spurs into communities like Dawson City, and isolated sections that feel more in line with the idea of an actual trail. But these are small exceptions. The dominant experience remains one of distance, exposure, and roadway travel.

 

In the Northwest Territories, the Tuktoyaktuk Highway continues in the same way. Though a little quieter, it is still a working road, subject to weather, surface instability, and long distances between services. Even here, organizational warnings remain in place.

 

What This Means for Cyclists

 

For those considering cycling the Trans Canada Trail to the Arctic, the question is not simply whether it can be done. It can. Wheels, in many ways, make this section more manageable, allowing for longer distances between resupply points and reducing the physical burden of carrying equipment.

 

But this is definitely not a trail in the way most would understand the term.  Because of this, it means that it can’t be approached as though it were a trail. 

 

It is a route that requires comfort riding on busy highways for extended periods, an ability to manage fast-moving traffic, distracted drivers, extreme weather, and isolation.  This area also requires careful logistical planning for food, water, and timing as well as acceptance that much of the journey will take place not on dedicated paths, but along the margins of active roads. 

 

For experienced cyclists prepared for these conditions, the North offers a powerful and remote journey.  The landscapes and wildlife are stunning.  For others, it may present challenges and real dangers that are not immediately apparent in how the route is described and presented in its marketing. 

 

A Final Reflection on the TCT to the Arctic.

 

As we trek north, what stayed with us was the was not only the scale of the landscape, or our exposure to wildlife, but the growing gap between expectation and reality regarding the Trans Canada Trail itself. This is not unique to the route in the North - it is something we had begun to encounter in Northern Ontario and across the Prairies - but here it becomes unavoidable.  Here, the roads and highways are not just segments en route – they are the journey.

 

From Northern BC to the Arctic Ocean, the Trans Canada Trail is – the Alaska Highway to the Klondike Highway to the Dempster Highway to the Inuvik-Tuktoyaktuk Highway 10 Connector.

 

We do not say this to diminish the achievement of connecting a route across the country. Nor do we dismiss the effort required to maintain and promote it. But after walking from coast to coast to coast, we feel a responsibility to describe the trail as we experienced it.  Because in places like this, clarity matters.  Stepping out the door can be the journey of a lifetime, but make no mistake, there are real risks involved – in some sections more than others.

 

Encouraging people onto routes that are, in practice, active highways - without fully conveying what that entails - carries consequences. For us, it meant long days of vigilance, adaptation, and, at times, reconsideration of what it meant to follow the trail at all.

 

For others, it may mean something more.

 

See you on the trail!

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