The Alcan 5000: Is This the Last Great North American Rally?

Lead image: Tedrick Mealy

In September 2025, my wife and I finally checked one of those “someday” adventures off our bucket list—the infamous and prestigious Alcan 5000 Rally. If you’re reading Expedition Portal, chances are you’ve already heard of it. The mythical endurance rally runs roughly from Seattle to Fairbanks and back, covering over 5,000 miles in just over 10 days with route variations every edition.

Yes, you read that right—10 days. That’s an average of about 500 miles a day, which sounds manageable until you realize you’re driving them through the back roads of British Columbia, the Yukon, and Alaska, where “road” is a loose term and cell coverage is a rumor.

The Car: Comfort Over Chaos

While the Alcan includes its share of frost heaves, dirt stretches, and potholes big enough to swallow a Subaru, it’s not an off-road event per se. Any well-prepared vehicle can do it. So we decided to lean into comfortable, fast, and fun.

Our weapon of choice? A low-mileage 2011 BMW X5 with the trusty N55 inline-six—a choice that probably had a few people raising eyebrows at the start line. But honestly, it was perfect. It ate up the miles in style and handled the sketchy bits with Germanic confidence.

The only modification we made was swapping the massive 20-inch staggered wheels for a set of square 18s wrapped in all-terrains—a more practical choice when you’re hundreds of miles from the nearest tire shop. And of course, a few mandatory stickers for additional horsepower.

Over the course of the rally, our X5 suffered only two minor setbacks: a predictable cracked windshield (we earned that one) and a small turbo vacuum leak. That’s it. Otherwise, it performed flawlessly across 7,000 miles—from Reno to Seattle, through the Arctic, and back home. Not bad for a luxury grocery-getter we bought off Bring a Trailer specifically for this trip. We were also very relieved, because any major breakdown out there could quickly turn into a challenge, both logistically and financially. 

The Rally: TSD Done Right

The Alcan 5000 isn’t just a long drive—it’s likely the longest time-speed-distance (TSD) rally in North America. In a TSD event (also known as a precision rally), it’s not about how fast you go, but how precisely you maintain speed. Each day, sometimes twice a day, you’re given a timed section where accuracy matters more than acceleration. The goal isn’t to finish first; it’s to pass each checkpoint on time—down to the second.

 It’s a beautiful balance of math, teamwork, and stress management. You’ll get around 15 timed sections in total, giving plenty of opportunities to learn, fail, and improve.

And while there’s plenty of information online, most participants are first-timers, which makes it even better. The excitement is contagious; even teams who “just came for the ride” end up catching the competitive bug before long. One couple who deserve serious credit for keeping the spirit of TSD alive are Andy and Mercedes Lilienthal, Alcan veterans and true ambassadors of this kind of rallying. Their enthusiasm (and their many online articles) were a big part of why we finally decided to take the plunge.

All you need are a couple of apps, the roadbook, some food, and a full tank, and you’re ready for adventure.

The People: A Traveling Circus of Characters

The 2025 edition brought an eclectic mix of machines and personalities. There was a Porsche Cayenne that had to bow out on Day One; a 911 that missed the final gala after a flat tire (and zero luck finding a replacement); and an Audi 4000 1988 that hadn’t run since 2008—and needed pretty much everything replaced—yet somehow made it all the way from Ontario and back, covering a staggering 10,800 miles in just over three weeks. There was even a beautifully resto-modded 1980s BMW GS motorcycle that turned heads everywhere it went.

Every team and vehicle was unique, and it would take hours to recount all the variations on that theme.

That’s the beauty of the Alcan: no egos, no posturing, just a bunch of slightly sleep-deprived, car nerds chasing the Arctic Circle for fun. By the end, you’re less worried about your placement and more about how you’ll keep in touch with all these new friends. 

Even the people we met along the way had great stories to share, whether they were part of the rally or not. In Dawson City, we crossed paths with a group of travelers with four late ’60s and early ’70s Camaros and Firebirds who had driven all the way from New Brunswick—proudly proving that any car can become an overland vehicle. In the end, it’s all about the adventure. 

The Route: Endless, Majestic Scenery and Entertaining Sights

Before the rally, we worried the long stretches might get monotonous—miles of straight roads, flat horizons, and endless hours behind the wheel. We couldn’t have been more wrong.

Every day revealed a new backdrop, each more captivating than the last. Towering peaks gave way to endless tundra, foggy coastal valleys opened into golden forests, and the light itself seemed to change character every hundred miles. You don’t get much time to stop for Instagram-worthy photos, but honestly, you don’t need to. There’s so much unfolding right in front of you that time seems to slow down—the shifting light, the wildlife darting across the road, the constant variation in terrain—it’s visual overload in the best possible way.

And speaking of wildlife, the Alcan doesn’t disappoint. We saw bears ambling along the roadside, moose grazing in shallow ponds, and even caught a glimpse of a lone wolf trotting through the morning mist. Caribou moved quietly across the tundra, and in Alaska, the rivers were thick with salmon pushing upstream. Many of these encounters happened just a few feet from the road, a reminder of how alive and untamed this part of the world still is.

The quirky stops along the way add to the rally’s charm—little “treasures,” as I like to tell my wife. Gold rush relics, abandoned machinery, and weathered buildings dot the landscape, and even the signposts seem to share in the adventure.

The Future of TSD: At a Crossroads

The Alcan 5000 and the broader TSD rally scene are at a turning point.

In previous years, rallies required dozens of volunteers at checkpoints with clipboards and stopwatches. Now, with GPS and apps like Richta, it’s all automated. Competitors see their scores in real time, and organizers no longer have to freeze by the roadside. It’s efficient, accurate, and, dare we say, civilized.

But it’s also a double-edged sword: fewer people are needed to organize, which means fewer people become part of the organizing community.

Technology has made entry easier, too. The days of expensive mechanical rally computers are gone. You can now run the entire setup from a $200 tablet or smartphone (or, in my case, two tablets and an unhealthy number of Excel spreadsheets printed from the hotel front desk the night before).

This democratization means more people could join, yet, ironically, fewer do. As Andy pointed out one night over a beer, “TSD rallying is kind of like model building—fewer people are into it these days, but the ones who are, really care.” And he’s right. The challenge isn’t logistics anymore; it’s keeping the community alive. The same passion that built this sport is sometimes what holds it back from evolving.

After this intense rally, and chatting with other teams, we felt that a few elements would need to adapt—and quickly—to keep pace with technology: things like digital roadbooks, harmonized class definitions (since almost everyone is now using apps), and fresh, accessible media content to draw in more participants.

Of course, that’s a paradox in itself. Many of us, myself included, love the grassroots, underground nature of this kind of rally. At the risk of shooting myself in the foot by saying this, we’d hate to see it evolve into another glossy, YouTubish, logo-covered lifestyle movement. But at the same time, if we don’t attract a new generation of enthusiasts, there’s a risk it may not be around for too much longer.

Will It Survive?

That’s the big question. Can the Alcan 5000 keep evolving without losing its soul? I hope so. Its legacy is too important, too unique, to fade away.

As one of the organizers told me near the end of the event, looking at the group of tired but happy drivers, sharing a late dinner after a long day of adventure: “We don’t want this to become a footnote in history.”

Neither do I. Because in a world obsessed with convenience, navigation apps, and climate-controlled adventure, the Alcan 5000 might just be the last great rally—a glorious, chaotic, unforgettable reminder that adventure still lives where the roads get rough and the coffee runs out.

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Images: Christian Pelletier, Tim Chovanak, Tedrick Mealy

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