To get to Alaska from the US, you obviously have to cross the
border into Canada. Shouldn’t seem like
a big deal, but George has worried about it for months. Some people we know said it was a breeze;
others said there were long delays because their RV was pulled aside for a
complete inspection inside and out.
George was heavy onto the negative side, of course.
We crossed at Eastport, ID. There was a short line when we got
there. Not only was there a short line,
but there was only one … open with just one Canadian Border Patrol guy running
the whole show. (Could have been lunch
time, I suppose, and they left the young one to man the gate.) He was very nice, asked some questions—“Destination?
How long in Canada? Route? Visiting
anyone in Canada? Any guns? How much wine?” (Not sure how he knew we’d have wine…)
I had to take off my sunglasses because Washington State
now makes us remove glasses when we get new driver’s licenses—as if anyone ever
sees me without glasses. There was no
pull-over, no inspection, no delay, no problem.
“Enjoy your stay in Canada,” he said and we drove on into a country that
reminds me a lot of Washington.Canada doesn’t use US measurements—everything is metric. Speed limit signs are in kilometers. You’d think after all those years of having both MPH and KPH on our speedometers, some of it would have sunk it. So much for subliminal learning…
It’s not just that all the signs are in km; it’s that
there are so many of them! You go from
speed limits of 60 km to 70, then on to 80, then back to 50 for some
indeterminate reason, then up to 70, then down again, then up to 100! I must say that 100 takes a bit of getting
used to.
The RV park we stayed the first night has a gorgeous view
of the Canadian Rockies. We'll cross them tomorrow when we head to Lake Louise in Banff National Park on the other side of the Continental Divide.
See them on Flickr: Border Crossing
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