From Coast to Coast to Coast

Words by Allysa Felix

Four years, $300 million dollars, 138 km. A highway built to finally connect Canada coast to coast to coast.

Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, the employees worked in shifts, spending two weeks on the job and two weeks off. The gruelling work, which had to be done mostly in the freezing winter because of the melting permafrost, was done by E. Gruben’s Transport LTD. and Northwind Industries. There were almost a hundred pieces of equipment being operated on the road, excavating, laying down gravel, building bridges and creating culverts.

I am Allysa Felix of Tuktoyaktuk, Northwest Territories and I am 17 years old. This gravel road and the effects it will have on my home community is something I am greatly concerned about. The town’s feelings on the highway are split, with some worried about how having year-round access to the south will change things. My biggest concern is that we’ll lose more of our culture. Another worry is what the highway will mean for neighbouring Husky Lakes, a place where everyone camps, hunts and fishes.

What will happen to migratory animals, like caribou, that may have to change their routes? What will happen if drilling is finally allowed in the Beaufort Sea? Along with the fresh produce and groceries, what else will come up the road? Will we lose people to easier access to drugs and alcohol?

On the other hand, we are looking forward to the positive things that will come from this connection to the south. We’ll have easier access to the world and cheaper, fresher food. There is also an expected tourism boost of $2.7 million annually, which could create up to 22 full-time jobs in the territory. I’m also excited about the increased awareness of our melting permafrost. The highway construction has opened the door to an abundance of scientific research. A permafrost monitoring network has been established along the highway, with over 70 ground temperature monitoring locations collecting data. The information gathered from this network will inform global permafrost and climate change research for transportation corridors across the North, an increasingly important sector in the face of our changing environment.

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On April 7, 2016 the two ends of the highway finally met in the middle and construction crews poured the last bit of gravel to fill the gap. When they met and shook hands it was a historic achievement that some people compared to driving the last spike in the Canadian Pacific Railway. Work stopped for an hour while crews introduced each other and posed for photographs. Then they got back to work.

With the road now finished its name is being discussed. What the highway will be called depends on which side of the road you are on. If you are on the Arctic Ocean side it will be referred to as the Tuk-Inuvik Highway; if you are in the Delta then it will be referred to as the Inuvik-Tuk highway. I imagine this debate will go on for decades. The official name for now is the Inuvik- Tuktoyaktuk Highway, but some residents in Tuk want it to be named the Freedom Trail to commemorate three boys who ran away from Inuvik’s Stringer Hall in the 1970s. Bernard Andreason, Lawrence Jack Elanik and Dennis Dick left the Anglican Church’s boarding home in June 1972. Andreason was the only one to survive the ordeal. He walked 150 km over two weeks before walking into Tuktoyaktuk with badly swollen feet, according to testimony collected by the Truth and Reconciliation Commission. Elanik’s body was located, but the search for Dick was called off and to this day he has never been found.

After years of only being connected to the world by plane and an ice road that ran through five months of the year, this is a new era for my town. We are rich in our culture. Our people are strong. We have gone through extreme changes and hard times and we will go through more. My town, which has the most beautiful sunsets and northern lights and stars. So in the meantime, welcome to Tuktuuyaqtuuq.