by: Ryder Holuboff
Editor’s Note: This article originally ran in the Q2_2023 issue of quattro Magazine. If you would like to subscribe to quattro Magazine, please join Audi Club here.
As early-generation Audi SUVs age, become more affordable and go off warranty, the sheer growth of the so-called “Safari” / off-road category has been nothing short of impressive. These quattro SUVs are sure-footed and robust, perfect for such conversions and any accompanying extreme roadtrips. Take for example my 2014 Q7 that has made a beach run to the shores of the Arctic Ocean.
A Canadian-spec Q7 TDI S-line finished in Glacier White (fittingly) over an Espresso Brown interior, I purchased it in 2021 and didn’t leave it stock for long. Within a week of ownership, I’d installed a 2.5-inch lift with a ½-inch subframe drop from Eurowise. The pinch welds were cut back and the front intercoolers were pushed forward to accommodate a set of 18-inch Black Rhino Wheels wrapped in 33-inch Toyo Open Country AT3 tires. A custom modular roof rack was added, with ample space for the genuine Audi roof box, Thule hideaway awning, and a set of Maxtrax recovery boards. Inside, the factory spare tire was removed, allowing space for a custom sub box with additional storage and a one-gallon air tank.
Just one month after its purchase and even less after the upgrades, my wife Megan and I set out on a 6,500-km round trip to the Arctic Circle, sparking a new sense of adventure. On that 2021 run, we only made it to the Arctic Circle due to travel restrictions in the Northwest Territories. So for 2022, we wanted to complete the Dempster Highway and make it to the Arctic Ocean again. With Megan eight months pregnant, we worried we may not have time in the future. So, having made it easily enough in 2021, we had a feeling something was going to happen this time around.
The plan was to go from Kelowna, British Columbia, to Tuktoyaktuk, Northwest Territories, and back for a total of 7,500 kilometers in ten days. This included covering the entirety of the Dempster Highway, which has earned its reputation of one of Canada’s most dangerous highways.
Ahead of the second trip, the Q7 underwent some minor maintenance and basic services. The rear bumper was cut for more clearance and a custom rear tubular bumper was installed to carry a full-size spare. With clearance from Megan’s doctor and a full itinerary planned, we loaded up and headed out.
The first few days of our trip went seamlessly, seeing as we’d taken this route once before. Our goal this time was to make it to the Dempster Highway as quickly as possible, so there was little to no stopping at this stage. We traveled from the hot Okanagan of southern British Columbia to the frosty fall weather of the northern part in just two days. During our first couple hours driving, we saw a travel trailer disintegrate as it passed us. We thought that was going to be our excitement for the trip; little did we know there was more to come.
By the third day we had a rhythm. Setup and teardown became smoother. Days got longer as we traveled further north. We had managed another long day and were looking to set up camp an hour away from the Dempster. The north has little to no mobile service, so we pinged our locations using our satellite tracker. As we rolled into camp, people started to stare. We wondered if they were simply admiring the Q7, but later we found a very muddy grouse hanging from our bumper.
Day four’s plan was to make it above the Arctic Circle. The Dempster Highway always proves hard to cover, and we believed we’d allotted ourselves adequate time. For those who don’t know, the Dempster is barely a two-lane road with predominantly gravel and crushed rock surface. It has steep embankments and crosses marshy tundra. “Good conditions” on the Dempster feels like driving on a cobble street, while wet conditions relegate it to “sloppy mess.” Just getting to the bottom took an extra hour due to extensive construction from the current updating of the Klondike Highway. Once we reached the beginning of the Dempster, we filled our tank plus a jerry can. The next fuel stop would be another 350 km, at Eagle Plains. If you’re planning to do this trip in another diesel-powered German vehicle, you’ll need to bring a fuel adapter since the diesel nozzles at many filling stations are only made to fit trucks – a lesson we learned the hard way in 2021.
It was at the gas station that we got word that the bridge just north of Eagle Plains may have an issue, though were assured it should be resolved by 7 PM. We made the decision to continue on and see where fate would take us. We took our time driving to Eagle Plains. The weather was nice, so we enjoyed the vast scenery of the Arctic tundra.
Arriving at Eagle Plains, we shared our fuel adapter with a California couple in a Mercedes Sprinter Van and joined a line of 40 vehicles headed north. At 7 o’clock the gates were opened and we crossed the bridge. This is when it became chaotic; the weather took a turn for the worse, the road became thick mud and rocks were flying as everyone picked up pace to make it to camp by dark. We were thankful not to get into an accident or incur any rock chips. By the time we rolled into camp, the weather cleared and we were able to sleep under the stars.
The next day we took our time to enjoy the area. The tundra mountains were disappeared quickly behind us as we left the Yukon and entered the Northwest Territories. The land began to form into rolling hills painted with orange and red low-lying brush. The roads became increasingly dusty. Dust would linger for minutes after a car passed and visibility would get low when traveling with multiple vehicles.
After passing through Inuvik, we turned onto the newly built road that leads to Tuktoyaktuk. Before 2017 the only way to travel to Tuktoyaktuk from Inuvik was on the seasonal ice road. This new road helped link the communities together and has allowed a burgeoning tourism industry to take hold. Setting off, the terrain made a drastic change, trees becoming sparse while we snaked between hundreds of ponds with pairs of swans nesting nearby.
Arriving at our furthest destination of Tuktoyaktuk, the locals were friendly and happy to tell stories, though their houses show evidence of the harsh environment in which they reside. We toured the town, took a few photos and started the journey back.
We returned to Inuvik where we discovered the story behind the bridge incident at Eagle Plains. A semi had left its equipment up, which struck the main crossbeam. Rumor was that the bridge now needed to be temporarily closed for repair. We inquired how long this might take, and answers ranged from a few days to a month. We knew the only way to get accurate information was to get back to the bridge and ask for ourselves. Early the next morning we made our way south with hopes we could be one of the last few to cross the bridge before repairs began. At each ferry crossing stories ranged from the bridge being closed for the next few days to it being a total loss with no horizon for repair. We now knew things weren’t looking good, so at our last point of mobile phone service we told our families the situation.
As we returned to the Yukon territory we watched a large water tanker pull up and block the highway. The highway workers onboard confirmed our fears; the bridge was now closed. They said it would take two to three days for repairs and they would update us with the status on Saturday, the ninth day of our trip so far. Satisfied that we had enough supplies, they let us pass and go to the closest campground to wait. Once we passed, the tanker moved back into place, locking us into a 90-km section of the Dempster.
We found four other groups already at camp when we arrived. Once we set up, we took full advantage of having a section of the Dempster all to ourselves, heading out at 10 PM to find a good spot to watch the sunset. So far north this time of the summer, it took until midnight for the sun to fully set. Soon we got what we truly had come for, the northern lights. We stood in awe as they danced overhead. It felt so special to have our first experience seeing them be above the arctic circle on an isolated section of the Dempster. We lingered there until they faded away, then drove back to camp.
In the morning we walked out to a treat from our midnight adventure, a flat tire. Two quick plugs and some air, and the tire was once again good to go. We spent the next couple days exchanging stories with the other travelers in the campground’s common shelter. Oddly enough, we had small interactions with many of them days prior, from sharing the fuel adapter to taking our pictures at the Arctic Ocean.
We discovered that many of us had the bad luck of experiencing a flat tire. By Friday night, more travelers arrived and the blockade had been relocated closer to the bridge in order to allow access to indigenous land. Word had arrived, there were going to be further delays and the next update would be Sunday at 5 PM.
By Saturday, camp was packed with panicked tourists. The Northwest Territories had closed all its territorial parks, so this was the last campsite left. The initial five realized that we had to prepare for the worst. We split up tasks: some remained to find more wood while others set out for Fort McPherson (150 km away) to get more non-perishable food and fuel to share, with the hopes of also netting a more accurate update. The first group returned bringing news that Fort McPherson had run low on food and was out of fuel. The second group brought better news – the bridge was going to open at 5 PM, then be announced to the public on Sunday.
We all packed up and headed to the bridge. A lonely truck rolled up to the blockade at 5 o’clock. It brought news that the bridge wasn’t ready, but things were looking good, and the next update would come at 9 PM. We waited… and 9 o’clock came and went with no word. We watched as the sun set behind the hills, and the cold night breeze began to roll in. Around 10 o’clock, we could see flashing lights and hear honking coming towards us. It was welcome news – the bridge had been repaired and we could finally cross.
Guided by a pilot car, we began the descent down to the bridge. As the bridge came up we noticed the our Californian friends in the Sprinter were no longer behind us. Another car had taken their place. Concerned since we knew they wanted to cross the bridge, we waited on the other side, but they did not show up. So, we headed back over the bridge to look for them.
As we drove back we could see their van parked with the hazards on. Once we got close the situation became clear, their rear wheel had fallen off. The backing plate was mangled, you could see broken bolts in the hub and the wheel itself was gone. Another car stopped and the search began for the missing wheel. We found it in the marsh below and were able to fish it out.
With the wheel in hand, the next task was to jack the car up. Working with bottle jacks and blocks of wood, we got the vehicle high enough to reinstall the wheel. We hammered a couple broken bolts out, but were only left with two good bolts. There are times you hope German engineers are consistent and this was one of them. Before we left, a last-minute preparation decision was made on the Q7 rear bumper to use a factory hub and bolts in order to affix the spare on. Taking the bolts from our full-size spare, we tried our luck… and they fit! The wheel went on and we all crossed the bridge for the final time at 1 AM.
The couple from California were beyond thankful and put us up in Eagle Plains Lodge for the night. In the morning, at the lodge’s service center, the rest of the broken bolts were removed, and they used all but one of the Q7’s spare bolts. From here we continued our southern descent together and separated in central British Columbia. They ended up making it all the way home to California with our bolts.
The bridge closure added three extra days to our adventure, making it highly memorable and a once-in-a-lifetime journey. It was also a friendly reminder to always be prepared for the worst.
Come November, a little girl named Anivia joined our world. She also got the middle name Demi, named for her time spent on the Dempster Highway. One thing we are sure of is her love for bouncing, those hours spent on the gravel roads likely having had something to do with this.
As for the Q7, it has seen its share of further off-road service, completing 30,000 kilometers of adventure within just a year. It has gone through a lot and has made for many memories, including exploring the Chilcotin, winter tent camping in the Rockies in -15℃, and being being sunken in four feet deep snow up to its headlights. But these are all stories for another time.
