FATHOMING

ICE ROAD, YUKON

We're driving the Mackenzie River's frozen east channel in a poorly-outfitted two-wheeler van. Cautiously, as well-rigged heavy-haulers zoom by. The road is an engineering marvel, open to everyone. Whatever they're operating, people take to it naturally. This driving on ice. Nothing but ice.

We hope to reach Tuk before the road melts much more. Just around the bend is Spring, the ice road's final season. An all-weather road will replace it next winter. For now we'll drive the Mackenzie and the Arctic Ocean till it's the end of the road for the ice road.

Near Reindeer Station, Gerry stops for us to test the ice. Look! he points to frozen methane bubbles as big as the van’s balding tires. Feel! he urges, as he glides along the road's glassy surface, smooth at the centre, tread-roughened on the “lane ways."

Looking down into the road's blue-black depths, I slide on solid sky. Looking ahead to its vanishing point, I sink in existential mire. As far as the eye can fathom there are bubbles. Ready to burst forth their gassy exhalations with the Delta's billion other thawing permafrost pockets.