It's 930km from Dawson City to Tuktuyaktuk. There's only one road, the Dempster Highway. Since November last year, it has been extended all the way to the Arctic Ocean, instead of stopping in Inuvik. Before the new road, you could only get to the ocean and the small Inuit community of Tuktuyaktuk in the winter, via the frozen McKenzie River. Also called 'The ice road'. Or by plane in the summer.

The Dempster Highway is famous and infamous for separating men from mice. It is notorious for destroying the cars that try their hand at it. We heard many stories of cracked windshields, broken shock absorbers and gravel everywhere in the vehicle that you would not have thought possible. Because the Dempster Highway is a dirt road. All 886km of it. And it is not a nice and straight dirt road. It winds up over mountain passes, down through glacier-carved valleys, over the Arctic tundra and it crosses the Arctic Circle well before its end. And then it is filled with mud, ferry crossings that may or may not work, and potholes. Lots of potholes.

We thought that sounded perfect, and we had full confidence in our big wheels and our equipment to be able to handle the stretch. For once, we even thought we had an advantage over the cars. Our bikes are built for this kind of terrain and it's the kind of terrain we love to ride. With our bags full of food for 4 days, we set off in mid-August, out onto the Dempster highway. Our smiles were big when we rounded the sign that proclaimed 'Start of the Dempster highway'.

There is something very alluring about this road. There is almost something mythical about it. And it is not just us who think so, because quite a few other tourists had packed their cars/motorcycles/bicycles to fight the elements. We met a few every day, who were either on their way there or back. There was a feeling of being in the same boat. Everyone knew what the others were going through. Everyone tried to help each other as best they could. With good advice, with tools, spare parts, encouraging smiles, and sometimes some water and a snack.

We met a couple who wanted to make way for an oncoming truck. They pulled out into the ditch with their four-wheel drive just as quietly, and immediately the car began to slide down the muddy slope. When we passed, they were standing there waiting for a nearby road construction machine to take pity on them and pull them onto the road. But the road construction machine was obviously not in a hurry. The same thing had happened the day before.

Another driver was on his way back after driving all the way to Tuktuyaktuk. As they pulled into a campsite, still 600km from the main road, the front wheel fell off. The entire suspension had given out. They had to wait a couple of weeks for a friend from home to fly a spare part up to them. And then it was time to put on the work gloves and get up the courage to replace the suspension themselves.

We also met Thomas and Martina. A lovely German couple who live in Oregon. They were driving down the Dempster in their converted school bus. They were smarter than most and took it easy so as not to damage the car. At one point they turned around because the mud was getting in everywhere. But, in Inuvik we met them again. They had changed their minds and were now going for the summit anyway. The weather forecast was on their side, and they made it. However, we have not yet heard from them whether they have returned safely.

We didn't pay much attention to the weather forecast. We just prepared ourselves for the weather to be anything. And it was. The first few days we cycled through Tombstone National Park, it rained in torrents. But we also had sun. So every time we got soaked, we could dry our clothes again. And it kept changing.

At the tourist office in Dawson City, they have a fantastic service for cyclists. If you give them a cardboard box of food, they will take it to the Eagle Plains hotel and gas station, which is halfway to Inuvik. And we did. When we entered the hotel, in our filthy raincoats, with limp lunch boxes, we asked about our food, which we had sent. No one knew anything about it. The box had not arrived. And the staff was far too busy to take care of it. It was a bit of a line in the bill. It meant 2-3 days to the next small town, where we could buy food. Our mood dropped quite drastically as we walked out the door again. But right there, in the hallway, was our cardboard box, casually lying on a bench in a corner. Yay

From Eagle Plains the weather really started to show its teeth. We were supposed to ride an average of one hundred kilometers a day, according to our own plan. On the sixth day we had ridden 19km in the first 4 hours. The wind was relentless, hurricane force. The bikes were tilted 45 degrees into the wind. Hail whipped us in the face. And the road just climbed and climbed and climbed towards the pass. We sat down behind a bush and found a peanut butter snack. We checked ourselves and each other. Were we dry? Pretty much! Were we warm? Pretty much! Were we full? Yes – soon. We knew that if things went completely wrong, we could pitch the tent and crawl into the sleeping bag. So, everything was ok, no danger, just hard work. And a few hours later we stood on top of the pass with a big smile on our face. For some this would have been a really bad crappy day. For us it was absolutely perfect.

As if by magic, the sky cleared up as we passed the Arctic Circle. A large sign marked that we were now moving up into the Arctic region. We had lunch and drank coffee and enjoyed the view of a huge valley where around 150,000 reindeer spend the winter each year. The vegetation became lower and lower and finally the small fir trees were completely gone, and only the large open tundra defined the hilly landscape. The tundra is like a marsh. It is lumpy and only covered with very low bushes and plants. The permafrost lies between 1/2 and 3m down in the ground, which means that the roots cannot grow too far down. It is clear to feel that the ground is cold. In some places there are openings in the ground where you can see the ice from the permafrost exposed. And in other places there are large dome-shaped mounds called Pingos, which are also created by the frozen ground. It's quite a unique landscape, which we imagine you might also find in Greenland. And it's beautiful. We had timed our trip up Dempster so that we could see, almost day by day, how the vegetation changed color to its autumn robe. From green to yellow, to red. Spectacular.

After a lot of effort over the last two days, we arrived in Inuvik on the eighth day, as expected. We rolled down to the local campsite, and there we met Simon and Simone, who we had previously spent some time with in the southern Yukon. They were waiting for the fourth week, for the right spare parts for their car, which had started making a clunking noise. They were getting a little desperate, and by now knew all of Inuvik's 3,000 inhabitants. As well as all the bars.

The mud and the hard road also took their toll on the bikes. The pulley wheels on both bikes were thoroughly chewed up. But they were probably a little worn out already. And Kenneth broke a spoke. All in all, a cheap escape on a road that is notorious for claiming its victims.

But we still needed the last bit to Tuktuyaktuk. The last 150km of gravel road, to the end of the road, to the Arctic Ocean. It was in high sunshine, high spirits and a tear of joy in the corner of our eyes that we rolled down to the water's edge and dipped the front wheels of our beloved bikes in the icy water. The sea was completely calm and if we swam far enough, we would reach the North Pole.

We did it.

We cycled 29,000km from the southernmost tip of South America to the northernmost tip of North America (at least as far north as you can get on public roads).

And maybe we are even the first in the world to cycle from Ushuaia to Tuktuyaktuk. We don't know for sure, but the road has only been open since November, so it hasn't been possible before this year. And we haven't met, or heard of, anyone else who has done it.

Tuktuyaktuk is a fantastic little town with about 1,000 inhabitants. They are almost all Inuit. The town has many brightly colored houses, smiling people and a warmth and joy that was incomparable. The perfect place to end 'From tip to tip'.

The last few days we have enjoyed being back in more challenging surroundings. Surrounded by a different culture. It is our element. We must admit that although North America has offered us many exciting experiences, it has in a way felt a little more like a vacation than an adventure, or an expedition. This is because everything is easy. It is our own well-developed culture. You have to create your own adventure to a greater extent by going out into the wilderness, compared to South America, where it was an adventure just to walk down the street in a foreign culture.

But Canada has been amazing. No doubt about it. Yukon in particular has won our hearts.

People in the Yukon are just cool. They live in a way that is more simple. More in touch with the great nature that surrounds them. More at one with the elements. There are some things that define the typical Yukoner that we love. They love the outdoors. They go on expeditions that are pretty wild, without making a big deal out of it. They hunt and fish for their own consumption. And they are warm and welcoming.

No one in Yukon represents it better than JM.

JM lives and works in Watson Lake. He has a wife and two children. And he hosts through the network 'Warmshowers'. That's how we got in touch with him. On his profile he wrote 'guaranteed the friendliest host in the Yukon'. And we 100% agree. When we pulled into his driveway, he came out the front door, with two cold beers in hand. Welcome. We were installed in his camper, and we could consider it our home for as long as we wanted. We only wanted to stay there for one night, but ended up spending two days and three nights in the company of JM and his family. During that time we became good friends and JM took turns telling about the cool ski touring routes he has done, the fat bike tracks he builds on the frozen lakes in the winter, winter races in the -40 degree cold of the Yukon and his hunting trips to get the family a moose a year. All the stories were mixed in with hearty meals of pancakes for breakfast and moose for dinner. We are deeply grateful for his hospitality and willingness to share his life with us.

JM is not the only one who has taken us in, in Canada. But the stories would be too numerous if we had to mention them all.

In the Yukon we saw how people hunt a lot to fill their freezers with their own meat. It is quite normal to shoot a moose and maybe one more larger animal a year to have meat for the whole year. It is the best way to get sustainable, local and organic meat in the freezer. As a hunter you are not allowed to sell meat to others (that is the right of the supermarkets), so meat is generously given to friends and family, which creates a good connection in the small communities.

People also fish a lot, based on the same principles. That's why we met several people who gave us fish in jam jars. They catch the fish and pressure cook them in the jars so they can last for 10 years or more. They are often used as gifts, to build bonds between people, and we got a good meal out of that account more than once. The icing on the cake was when we hit the season for dried fish in Nass Valley, where a family gave us a whole bag of delicious smoked salmon pieces.

Cycling through the Yukon has been almost a culinary experience. We have been given local honey from bees that feed on fireweed flowers, and tea from mushrooms that grow on the birch trees.

For us, it's not just about being given local specialties and enjoying them. It points to a truly beautiful and healthy way of living that can be done in the vast landscapes of the Yukon, namely, living off what the land offers you. This is how the Inuit and Indians lived for hundreds, if not thousands, of years here before the white man came. But unlike many other places, people still hold on to that tradition as best they can.

Of course, it also has to do with size. Denmark is about 40,000 square kilometers, and we have close to 6 million people. Canada is almost 10 million square kilometers and there are less than 40 million people living there. This means that the population density in Denmark is 133 people per square kilometer. In Canada, there are 3. And most people even live close to the border with the USA. This means that there is wilderness. Real wilderness. You can stand in many places in northern Canada where there are hundreds of kilometers to the next sign of people. It gives a certain humility.

We could write much, much more about Canada. And we will definitely come back once. Or several times. We would have written more posts about our experiences and people we have met. But time has flown by. We have spent more time on the bike, we have tightened our schedule and are trying to achieve as much as possible before we fly home in a little over a month.

Tomorrow starts the bonus round, as we have dubbed it. The last adventures before winter knocks and Denmark calls. We start by sailing our new packrafts down the Yukon River, with the bikes tied to the boat. This will be the way we arrive in Alaska again, for the last time. It will be a new type of adventure. And we are really looking forward to it.