The Road North
Reaching Uranium City is a feat of planning and persistence. In February 2020, after two months of preparation — mapping fuel stops, packing supplies, and asking ourselves whether the notorious ice roads were as dangerous as people claimed — my father and I set out on our own northern pilgrimage.
From La Ronge, the last significant municipality before the vastness of the north, we drove into the rolling hills and frozen lakes of the Canadian Shield. The well-maintained all-season Highway 905 carried us northward until we reached a welcome surprise: The Lamplighter Lodge at kilometre marker 147. Operated by siblings Kevin and Jo, with the ever-energetic handyman Mike, the lodge felt like an oasis in the wilderness. Jo’s home cooking was unbeatable, and the warm welcome made it a perfect jumping-off point for the journey ahead.
The next day, we pressed on to Stony Rapids for fuel and lunch before facing the stretch that locals call “hell road.” This 88-kilometre winter road, 20 kilometres of which are pure ice, tested both driver and machine. A sturdy 4x4 truck was essential for navigating cratered ruts, washouts, and unpredictable surfaces.
Crossing the Ice
From Stony Rapids to Fond du Lac, the road transformed into something extraordinary — a vast, plowed ice highway across Lake Athabasca. Here, the landscape opened into an otherworldly expanse: no cell signal, no landmarks, just frozen horizon in every direction. At times, the shoreline was 20 kilometres away, and we drove on 45 centimetres of ice, thick enough for pickups but off-limits to heavier freight.
The plowed lanes were wide — up to eight across — allowing both commercial and passenger vehicles to pass with ease. Speeds of 100–110 km/h were possible in the open stretches, though caution was always in the back of our minds.
Two hours later, the shoreline reappeared, and with it, the hills that hid Uranium City from view. Turning off the lake and into the town felt almost cinematic — a blend of elation, relief, and the strange quiet that comes when you realise how far you are from the rest of the world.
The Town at the End of the Road
Without detailed maps, we navigated the streets as newcomers, piecing together our own route past abandoned houses and the few occupied homes still brimming with life. As dusk settled, we found our lodging: the town’s sole bed-and-breakfast, a lovingly restored home that now serves the rare traveller who makes it this far north.
The next two days were ours to explore — to photograph the relics of a once-booming industry, to meet the people who chose to stay, and to experience a place that exists far beyond the reach of cell towers, chain stores, and the usual rush of modern life.
In Uranium City, time moves differently. The silence is deep. And for those who make the journey, the destination is more than a town — it’s a rare glimpse into Canada’s rugged, resilient past.