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Updated 02/11/23 7:04 PM

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Driving The Dalton Highway

Take a drive on a 900-mile graded road called the Dalton Highway, which is in no way a 'highway' as you know it, to the Arctic Ocean town of Deadhorse, Alaska.

Alaska
2000

James W. Dalton Highway

When we went to Alaska in August of 2000 we had planned to be there for 18 days. Looking to fill the time, since all of the roads were in the southeast quadrant of the state, I noticed, on my map, a dotted line extending from Fairbanks up to Prudhoe Bay. 

​I researched it and found that it was called the James W. Dalton Highway, known locally as the Haul Road, and it was closed to the public until 1995.  This 'highway' has since been the subject of a History Channel series called 'Ice Road Truckers' (seasons 3,4,5). Calling it a highway is quite a stretch.  Basically it is a graded road for 414 miles that can be described as dirt, rocks, mud and potholes – with some wash-boarded sections that will test the fillings in your teeth.  It is principally driven by trucks hauling just about anything that is used at the oil fields at Prudhoe Bay.

I believe it is also one of two roads on the planet that a vehicle can actually be driven to the Arctic Ocean.

Since it is a graded road, with services only at the Yukon River (mile 66) and Coldfoot (mile 175), you need to be prepared should you run into difficulty.  The services, at the time I went, were geared to fixing trucks and truck tires so, my research told me, I should not expect much help should I have car trouble or even a flat tire.

​The large rental car chains are clear, if you read their contracts, that any driving off of paved roads is a violation of the rental contract.  After some searching I found a rental company that would rent me an SUV and allow me to drive it to Prudhoe Bay.

​I decided that, before I left Anchorage (where I started my Alaska vacation), I would have to buy an extra tire and rim for the trip. I reasoned that one flat tire would quickly end my hope of making it to Prudhoe Bay. With only four tires and one spare any flat tire puts you in the position of driving without a spare and, if you choose to do that, another flat can put your life in danger. It is very remote country, grizzly bear country, nights, even in August, can be below freezing and you don’t want to spend the night out there.  With that in mind it was apparent to me that a flat tire 50 miles down the road meant turning back. I found a tire store in Anchorage that sold me a very good used spare tire and rim for $165.  Six tires would give me more options should I get a flat.  My expectation was that the tire would be a gift to the rental car company when I turned in the rental car.  When I got back to Anchorage at the end of my trip the tire store took back the tire and rim for a restocking fee and I was happy to give him a tip on top of that!  Before I left for Alaska I also bought a portable CB radio as further insurance.  We bought an ice chest and food and were ready to roll.

I have to confess, when I left Fairbanks, I did wonder about whether I would be able to make it to Prudhoe Bay (and back) but I never thought about not trying and never let on to my wife that I had any such doubts.

​You reach the Dalton Highway by taking the Elliott Highway about 70 miles north out of Fairbanks. My recollection is that the Elliott turned to a graded road several dozen miles before you reach the sign that is at the start of the Dalton Highway. I've read now that it is paved up to the Dalton but I’m pretty sure that that happened after my trip.  At the time of my trip I expected to have about a 450-mile graded road trip to get to Deadhorse which is the 'town' at Prudhoe Bay.  And you have to take that same 450-mile trip back. So the round trip was around 900 miles on a graded road.

The road can be good in places if they have recently re-graded it (better still is ‘just’ re-graded it!) and driving 40 MPH can be reasonably comfortable.  You may be able to do more but when you suddenly run into a potholed section, or washboard that can fishtail your vehicle, you will probably decide that getting there later is better than not getting there. The trucks, on the other hand, with their weight and big tires will drive faster and the mud, gravel and small rocks that they send your way can do damage or, at least, unnerve you. On the positive side your journey will take you north of the Arctic Circle and night comes later to not at all (at Prudhoe Bay) if you drive in summer.  Don’t even think about attempting this trip in winter.

We left Fairbanks around 6 A.M. and headed north on the Elliott Highway.  We stopped for breakfast at a truck stop and I decided to ask a truck driver for some thoughts about the trip up. The man was very nice and asked me what I was driving.  I told him about the Durango and that I had two spare tires and a CB radio. He told me I had the right equipment and that they, meaning the truckers, would look out for me.  In 2000 there weren’t many people making that trip who weren’t truckers. The only other tourists we saw over the next four days were a couple from Germany in a pick-up truck camper. I suspect today, with Ice Road Truckers motivating some people to see that wilderness, and regular buses making the trip, the truckers might see tourists as a nuisance and not be so accommodating.

We did see one other tourist on the way up to Deadhorse. There was a Japanese man who was bicycling to Prudhoe Bay.  At some point just north of Coldfoot we heard, over the CB radio, a trucker heading north asking any trucker heading south if he could pick the guy up and give him a lift back to Coldfoot because he apparently hit something and was carrying his damaged bicycle. He got the help he needed and was able to fix is bicycle and, on our return trip south, we saw him bicycling north again.
 

At the Dalton Highway split off from the Elliott Highway there was a sign that said ‘Deadhorse 414 miles’ and ‘Coldfoot 175 miles’.  We turned north and were on our way. Before long it started raining, which is the last thing you want to see on any graded or dirt road. The road can be slippery, you can get stuck in mud and the washboards can cause fish-tailing even without rain. It was not fun. On top of that I was on a bad section of the road with lots of potholes and some rocks and was crawling along at about 15 MPH. I was having difficulty seeing how I was going to make it to Coldfoot, at that rate, before it got dark. Graded roads are also not much fun in the dark and my plan was to drive four, roughly 240 mile, legs over the next four days. I was beginning to think this might be a very short trip. Fortunately the rain lightened up and I was able to pick up speed. From then on the trip to Coldfoot was cloudy, sometimes a light drizzle, dreary enough to not make for good pictures, but an otherwise uneventful trip.

 

We arrived in Coldfoot around dinner time and had reservations at the Slate Creek Inn.  The place was typical tundra ‘architecture’ made up of trailer-like sections that were probably driven up to Coldfoot and assembled there. When I made the reservation I asked about a double bed for my wife and I and was told that there were only two rooms with them and I reserved one. The place was not geared for tourists.  The guests are generally people traveling to the oil fields at Prudhoe Bay and maybe some truckers when the weather gets really, really cold. A sign at Coldfoot claimed the North American record low temperature of minus 82 degrees farenheit one January day. When we got to our room it had two single beds, which pretty much filled the room, and a metal shelf bolted to the wall between them. We moved the beds together as best we could. The bathroom was tiny – a small sink and toilet – and the room was $145 for the night.  There’s a picture of the room in the photo gallery that I labeled, in my album, “The Slate Creek Inn - A zero star hotel”.  But, at that point we were glad to have it – after all, we were out in the Alaskan wilderness with running water, indoor plumbing, warmth and, after bumping along for over eight hours to get there, happy for any soft bed to sleep in.  

 

The truck stop restaurant served dinner and afterwards there was a ranger talk at a small ranger station on the site (a.k.a Coldfoot Camp).  While we weren’t in a national park we were, from south of Coldfoot up to Galbraith Lake, about one to three miles east of Gates Of The Arctic National Park.  There aren’t any roads into this park – access is by bush, float plane or canoe.  The national park boundary parallels the Dalton Highway for about 100 miles and, as you look to your left as you head north, you are experiencing the kinds of vistas you would have in that park. My map showed the park boundary right up to the road but the National Parks Service map shows it a couple of miles west of the road. The Dalton crosses the Brooks Range, at the Atigun Pass, which is at the Continental Divide and runs from the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge on your right into Gates of the Arctic National Park which is on your left.  The pipeline, just a few hundred feet to your left, runs between the road and the park and was built before Gates became a national park.

 

We got up the next day and, at breakfast, found that it had snowed seven inches that night over the mountains. It was dry where we were and we headed out to tackle the Atigun Pass. This pass climbs over the Brooks Range, topping out at 4800’, and after you have descended you are then on the North Slope.  As we approached the mountains we could see the snow. At the base of the Atigun Pass the truckers were putting on chains.  We didn’t have chains - it was August - and, in a way, that was good because we were able to leave the truckers behind as we ascended. With a fairly new Dodge Durango with excellent tire tread we headed up the pass.  It was quite exhilarating with some guard rails here and there and occasionally significant drop-offs.  The scenery was breath taking.  There was snow everywhere; snow covered peaks above us and magnificent Alaska mountain vistas in the distance. My camera was an inexpensive point-and-click that did have a great panoramic setting and the pictures came out better than I expected. On the descent, due to all of my stops for pictures and to take in the scenery, a large rig caught up to me and I can’t say we were very comfortable with something that big behind us on a steep, snowy hill. Fortunately we were nearing the end of the descent and, given the sloppy conditions, neither he nor I were trying to make time. Getting down safely was the only consideration.

When we hit level ground I let the rig pass and we were now on the North Slope heading for the Arctic coastal plain. The tundra vegetation was little more than two feet high and the scenery ranged from dead flat to rolling hills to a formation called the Franklin Bluffs just south of Deadhorse.  About 20 miles or so beyond the Atigun Pass is the location of the only ‘facilities’ between Coldfoot and Deadhorse – the primitive campground at Galbraith Lake.  ‘Primitive’ meaning nothing there but an outhouse – the only one for 240 miles. However, it is three miles down a poorly maintained road and is only for the sorely motivated. My panoramic picture of it tells the story.

 

Along the way we saw Caribou crossing the road (evading the bow hunters that we also saw), small herds of Caribou in the distance and a small herd of about a dozen Musk Oxen – a creature I hoped I would get to see. These are primitive bovine mammals that live out on the tundra and, due to the fine wool (called quivut) that makes up their under belly fur, are able to withstand temperatures that can approach 100 degrees below zero fahrenheit. They were about a couple of hundred yards away and, with binoculars, we stood and watched them for a bit (and kept our eyes peeled for grizzlies).  Unfortunately, without a good zoom lens they didn’t show up well in my pictures.

 

We arrived in Deadhorse and the landscape was pure industrial. Everywhere there was machinery of some sort.  A yard with 50 vehicles lined up - all with treads; another yard with dozens of vehicles which all had, what looked like, balloon-type tires for driving on snow, huge vehicles and machines made for going out on ice roads onto the tundra to extract the oil from the ground.  

I stopped at a one-pump gas station without an attendant. I put my credit card in and and stood there pumping the gas.  A couple of minutes later a man in a pickup truck pulled up and told me to be careful because he had just run off a grizzly bear. I asked him what he ran the grizzly bear off with and he said his pickup truck.  At that point I decided that I could sit in the car while the gas pumped instead of standing outside.

We booked lodging at the Arctic Caribou Inn and found it without much difficulty and went inside to check-in. After eight or nine hours of rough driving, my wife only wanted a martini and she inquired as to where the bar was.  At that point the clerk informed us that Deadhorse was a dry town.  The oil companies bought up all of the liquor licenses and just sat on them.  They had no interest in having any establishment selling liquor to bored men who would get drunk, get into fights and then, hung over, would go out the next day to work on heavy machinery.  It’s easy to see that no good can come of that.

Deadhorse does get grizzly bears foraging in the town.  They are smaller than their cousins down south where food is much more plentiful.  These grizzlies run about three or four hundred pounds while the ones in the south, where the salmon runs are plentiful, can be six to over eight hundred pounds.  The general store had a video playing showing a bear peeling the door off a car like he was opening a can of sardines.

 

I’d like to mention, at this point, my conversation with the clerk at the Arctic Caribou Inn some months before when I called and made my reservation.  From experience I've learned to ask about what kind of view the rooms have. Sometimes all you have to do is ask and it can make all the difference in the room that you get. When I asked this clerk about a view his response was “what view? There’s no view up here, it's all tundra, it's flat, there's no view”.  To a city guy like me tundra sounded like a view.  But, from his tone, it didn't sound like this was something he would understand so I just let it drop.  As it turned out, the way this place was laid out and given the surrounding industrial area, there really wasn't much of a view to be had in any case.  I looked outside the window and my view was looking across at another corridor of rooms and down on the ground below was a large brown paper bag filled with empty beer cans. Apparently someone, knowing the situation up here, had imported their own beer on the trip up.  We eventually went down to an alcohol-free, cafeteria-style dinner and I got to sample some Caribou stew.

That night around midnight I decided to go outside and take a look at what it was like in a land where the sun doesn't set.  It wasn't dark; it was kind of an eerie, dusky twilight.  There was no one around, and knowing that grizzlies were in the area, I didn't stay out long.  I called it a night and went in and went to sleep. 

 

The next day we took a tour that took us to the Arctic Ocean. Private vehicles can’t actually drive straight up to the shores of the Arctic Ocean because that is where all of the oil companies have large complexes and access is restricted. There's a manned security gate (this was before 9/11) and tours are allowed through. Not that there are many tours. Our minibus tour consisted of my wife and I and the couple from Germany who traveled up in a camper.  The guide explained to us about the oil company complexes, took us to the start of the Alaska pipeline and, along the way, we got to stand on the shore of the Arctic Ocean.  The tour lasted about two hours and when it was done there was nothing else to do except start back to Coldfoot.  The weather was nicer than the day before; it was somewhat overcast but brighter, some sun at times and we were on our way.

 

Crossing the Brooks Range at the Atigun pass was pretty much the same as it had been the day before.  There was still plenty of snow and the road was somewhat sloppy.  But driving slowly and carefully, stopping regularly for pictures, it was, thankfully, free of unwanted excitement.  We spent another night in Coldfoot and made it back to Fairbanks the next day. Along the way we saw caribou, moose and a porcupine.  We also had trucks kick up rocks twice which knocked out one headlight and put a hole in the Durango’s plastic grill. Fortunately the windshield didn't get hit.  That's a big problem in Alaska where there are many trucks and unpaved roads. You see many cars driving around with cracked windshields.

 

From what I've read of the Dalton highway lately I get the feeling that it gets more tourist traffic than it did when I went in August, 2000.  I see that there are now bus tours that spend the night in Coldfoot and will take you up to Prudhoe Bay.  I would imagine that the Ice Road Truckers series on the History Channel whetted many an appetite to see this wilderness.  That's all well and good but the bottom line is that, if you are driving it, it is still an 850-900 mile trip on a dirt road through the most remote country in the US. You need the right equipment, be prepared for the worst, and find out everything you can about what you are facing.

Forewarned is forearmed.

Wildlife

Grizzly bears, moose, caribou, musk oxen, red squirrels, arctic foxes, porcupines.

Lodging

Arctic Caribou Inn

We stayed here but I have heard that it is no longer open and see that their their phone number is disconnected. It was adequate and typical of lodging along the Dalton - big pre-fabricated sections of, what looks like, double-wide trailers assembled into a fairly large structure. You can see pictures of the Arctic Caribou Inn (and the Slate Creek Inn in Coldfoot) in the photo gallery.

Prudhoe Bay Hotel

This was the only other lodging option in Prudhoe Bay and looked like a more ‘upscale’ establishment judging from their website. When I called to book a room here none were available so I stayed at the Arctic Caribou Inn.

Lodging north of the Arctic Circle is not going to be luxurious. You come to places like this for the adventure and not for resort amenities of which there are none.

Hiking

There are no marked hiking trails along the highway. If you are driving you can stop anywhere and hike out into the wilderness. It is grizzly bear country and food up there is scarce. In the south, where the salmon run, grizzlies are much larger but well fed and more likely to ignore you. In the north they are smaller and hungrier.

The bus tours that now make this trip do not stop for hiking.

Bus Tours to Prudhoe Bay

Alaska Tours

They will take you to Prudhoe Bay by bus and fly you back to Fairbanks. It is a 3-day, 2-night trip.

Rome2rio

They also have tour options to get to Prudhoe Bay from Fairbanks.

Dalton Highway Photo Gallery

Other Resources

Dalton Highway Guide

Dalton Highway on Wikipedia

Coldfoot - Wikipedia

Gates Of The Artic National Park - NPS.gov

Ice Road Truckers - History Channel

Other National Parks and National Monuments Within a Day’s Drive

There are no national parks within a days drive. The Dalton Highway skirts Gates of the Arctic National Park and one could, theoretically, park and hike into it from the town of Wiseman, Alaska.  

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