If you were to sum up Greg Van Tighem’s latest cycling trip along the Dempster Highway, it would play out a little something like this: mud, road closures, frozen Kentucky Fried Chicken, truckers, snowdrifts, 150 km winds, curious critters and good samaritans.
On March 28, Jasper’s fire chief launched his third “end-to-end” fundraising ride in support of the MS Society of Canada, a ride that would take him from Dawson City, Yukon to Tuktoyaktuk, NWT—the length of the Dempster Highway, including the winter ice road—on his geared up, 135-pound Kona Wo fat bike.
As always, Van Tighem was unsupported, so not only was he alone, he also had to carry all of his camping supplies on his bike.
Van Tighem started fundraising for the MS society six years ago after his friend—a fire chief in Yellowknife, NWT—succumbed to the disease.
Multiple sclerosis (MS) is an autoimmune disease that affects the central nervous system, causing extreme fatigue, lack of coordination, weakness, tingling, impaired sensation, vision problems, bladder problems, cognitive impairment and mood changes.
Van Tighem has raised hundreds of thousands of dollars for the MS Society of Canada and has become one of the society’s ambassadors. In the past three years, he has upped the ante, undertaking extreme cycling adventures to raise awareness and funds for the disease.
In 2013, he rode the length of Highway 93, raising $96,000 and beginning his “end-to-end” campaign, and the following year, he rode the length of Highway 16, raising $50,000.
This year, he took it one step further, riding the length of the Dempster Highway, with hopes of raising $93,000.
The first day of his ride, the sky was blue and temperatures rose to an unexpected and somewhat unwelcome 10 C.
“Up until about 3:30, I was riding in mud—that was one of my biggest fears because mud will plug everything up on a bike, and will actually break things.
“I thought to myself, if this is the way this is going to go, I’m in big trouble here—little did I know the first day was an anomaly.”
Every day after that, the temperatures dropped and the weather on the isolated highway became more severe.
When he was planning his trip, Van Tighem set a goal of biking about 80 to 100 kilometres a day, but once he got on the ground, he realized that was completely unrealistic. The conditions along the road are far too variable: one minute the skies are blue and the roads are clear and the next the winds pick up and the drifts roll in.
“There’s not a lot of shelter on the highway—a lot of it’s exposed just because of the elevation. The temperature was one thing, but the winds were another factor and when you’re up on those exposed ridges, there is no defence from the wind. If it’s windy, you’re right in it.”
To protect himself at night, Van Tighem would dig a hole into the snow on the side of the highway and tuck his tent inside. Although that helped with the wind, it didn’t protect him from critters.
One night, as he was curled up in his damp sleeping bag, trying to stay warm, his tent was attacked by voles running beneath the floor, and a flying squirrel on the roof.
It was a fitful sleep that night, and unfortunately for Van Tighem, his sleeping conditions didn’t get much better after that.
On the 120 km stretch of highway between Eagle Plains and James Creek, the varying weather conditions caused him trouble on numerous occasions.
Hurricane Alley, as it’s called, is much like the Icefields Parkway with gates at either end, allowing for road closures when the wind or snow gets too extreme for safe travel.
When Van Tighem arrived at Eagle Plains, he ran into one of those closures, keeping him there for two nights instead of one. (On the upside, he was able to take a shower, he made friends with some truckers and his nephew—who lives in
Whitehorse—had a friend deliver a bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken that would last him six days.)
When the highway finally opened, he was ready to hit the road. It was about 30 kms later that he met two Parks Canada employees.
“They knew what I was doing and the guy was really concerned,” recalled Van Tighem. “He asked ‘what’s your plan for tonight’ and I said, ‘I’ll probably go another 20 kms and set up camp.’ And he said ‘I wouldn’t recommend you go 20 kms because the winds are picking up and you’re really exposed there. You probably won’t find a camp and you’ll get blown away.’”
Despite their warnings, Van Tighem carried on. He justified his decision based on the conditions he’d seen so far, none of which included heavy winds. “So I only half listened to the guy.”
It wasn’t until the winds picked up and he was more than 20 kms down the road that he understood the danger of being exposed for the night. Suddenly, there was no traffic and thick snowdrifts started overtaking the highway.
“Little did I know they had closed the road.”
The drifts were so deep that Van Tighem could no longer ride over them, so instead he was on foot, sinking into the snow with every step, while carrying his 135-pound bike and gear on his shoulder.
“After about the third drift it was getting windier and I thought, ‘That guy’s right—I’m exposed here, I could be in great danger.’ So I made the choice—it was only about 5 o’clock and I still had three hours of riding, so I thought ‘Better play it safe and go back.’”
Fortunately for Van Tighem, a semi truck slid off the road the day before and remained in the ditch, with its keys stashed, so after riding a few kilometres in the opposite direction, he was able to secure himself decent shelter for the night.
The following day, the roads hadn’t improved, or even opened, so he ended up spending Easter weekend—two nights and an entire day—in the trailer. He said he was grateful for his book on the Great Escape, because otherwise it would have made for a really long, lonely wait.
It wasn’t until two days later that he found out the winds were gusting up to 150 kilometres an hour during his second night in the truck.
“If I was in my tent that night, I would have been blown to Alaska, I’m sure.”
He was finally back on the road on Easter Sunday, heading toward Fort MacPherson, where he met an RCMP corporal who once worked with Jasper’s acting sergeant, Ryan Gardiner.
It was over breakfast that the two realized Van Tighem wasn’t going to complete his journey in time to catch his plane home. So, “Coco” came up with a plan: he would drive Van Tighem the 50 kms to the next town—Tsiigehtchic, a hamlet of 128 people at the confluence of the Mackenzie and Arctic Red rivers—and he would ride on from there.
“Coco’s a good guy,” said Van Tighem with a laugh. “When I left Tsiigehtchic, it was straight as an arrow and I got my first tailwind, so I did almost 90 kms that day, not counting the 50, so that got me back on track.”
Van Tighem then set his sights on Inuvik: the community that marks the end of the all-season Dempster Highway and the start of the 194 km ice road to Tuktoyaktuk. The ice road, which was slick and polished by the wind, marked the end of his journey—making for a difficult final stretch, as he struggled to gain traction. But, a slippery road wasn’t going to stop him from reaching his destination.
Van Tighem arrived in “Tuk” two weeks after he started pedalling, and although he admits there were moments where he questioned his own sanity, he said he’s thrilled to have done it, not only because it was a feat of both body and mind, but because he was once again able to raise awareness and funds for MS.
To help him reach his goal of raising $93,000 or to see more photos from his ride, visit www.endms93.com. You can also see a slideshow and hear Van Tighem’s story straight from the horse’s mouth on April 26 at the Jasper Legion.
The presentation is a continuation of Van Tighem’s fundraising efforts. It begins at 7:15 p.m.
Nicole Veerman
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