DAY _7

Waking after a nearly rainless night, I opted to open up my tent and try and dry it out to gain some peace of mind. I blasted my propane heater inside, and treated the seams and canvas fabric with water repellent and sealant. I also took the time to treat all the windows on my truck with anti-fogging RainX, inside and out. Feeling much more organized and dry (finally), I was soon back on the road with Canada in my sights.

My path took my to the quiet little Victorian town of Port Townsend, where my truck and I would take my first ferry crossing. I bought a ticket to cross, and then decided to walk the main town strip while I waited for my boat. So many old buildings and well restored Victorian homes lined the streets, filled with vintage items and antique finds. I found a hot coffee and lunch while walking around, views of the port and harbor as I went.

I made it on the ferry for a short but lovely trip across the channel, with the calm waters and skies above patched with puffy clouds. When I arrived on the other side, I stopped by Wal-Mart to resupply and grab some first aid items. Excitedly, I finally made it to the Canadian border…and this is where things got tricky. Though I had heard about difficult crossings and read stories about US citizens being refused entry and such, I didn’t think there would be any problem gaining access to Canada. Upon arrival at the border customs, I was briefly interviewed and an inspection was performed. I declared the two firearms I was carrying, and this is where things got a little sticky. The granted me permission to travel through with my rifle, but not my handgun. This put me in a difficult position, as I was not going to drive back, I couldn’t leave it there since I wasn’t planning on passing back through on my return, and I also still wanted to keep it with me for the remainder of my long, long solo journey. So, after some research, I found a method that worded for me. The woman at customs was very considerate and understanding, and let me leave to return back into the US with my two firearms, as I would have to get rid of the handgun before I would be permitted to enter Canada. The solution I found was to box up and send my firearm (without clip./ammo) to a licensed gun dealer ACROSS Canada, that would receive it for me to pick up when I got there. I spent the day researching and I found a shop who would do this for me. I boxed up my .40 cal, declared it, paid an arm and a leg for it, and then shipped it (overnight air is the only method for shipping a firearm, $$$) to Alaska.

“You know you are truly alive when you’re living among lions.”-Karen Blixen

DAY _8

With that ordeal taken care of, I spent the night in a beach side campground in Birch Bay, WA. After a quick breakfast and coffee, I b-lined back to the Canadian border, this time further east, choosing to enter at Sumas/Abbotsford crossing since it was closer to the route I’d take through Alaska. This time, the border crossing was MUCH easier. I showed my permit for my rifle and allowed a search of my truck, and then they let me through, granting me a 30-day temp visa. Now in Canada for the first time, I actually realized I didn’t really know where I was going to sleep on my journey north. What was the BLM equivalent in Canada? I had read about a federal/public land, and lots of it. In Canada it’s called "‘Crown Land", and it’s the Queen’s land for the people. It pretty much is the same thing as BLM in the US, and after finding an appropriate map application, I found there was LOTS of it all over my planned path. After loosing a day waiting to cross the border, I opted to forgo a Vancouver visit and start heading North East up the Canadian Highway 1. I drove around 100 miles north, and then pulled off the road at Hell’s Gate, crossed of the Fraser River and drove up into the mountains. Two black bears crossed my path as I drove deeper into the forest, marking my first of many bear sightings. Needless to say, I was very excited since the knowledge of bears present made me really feel like I was in the lost wild.

I found a nice, flat clear patch of earth in a valley near a river and decided to set up camp there. After making a big fire and a quick dinner, I pulled out the rifle and test fired a few rounds. Just to remind myself that I still have that protection, if need be. Laying in bed that night, under a slow drizzle and a pitch black silent sky, I began to feel very tiny and lonely. I wrote that night, “I miss Cali. Alaska seems so far and so cold.”