Crossing over the Canadian border was relatively painless, the only difficulty being the two inch clearance for the mirrors on each side of the motorhome at the inspection booth.
We had reservations at a campground in Surrey, British Columbia, which was supposed to be just outside Vancouver. Turned out that it was only a few hundred feet from the border. But nice hosts. One of them, an older gentleman, was meticulous as he directed me into position on our campsite, but so incredibly slow that I was ready to ask Nancy for assistance, which is something I never expected to consider.
Most of the other campers were Canadian. Turned out that Surrey is the garden spot of Canada, with less bad weather than any other region, so a lot of snowbirds park there to escape the harsh Canadian winters elsewhere. They would go further south - to California or Arizona - but can't afford the insurance for medical care in the US. They stay within the system.
The four of us piled into the Mazda pickup and we drove to Whistler, which is rated as one of the best ski areas in the Americas. Quite a long drive which took up most of the day, but absolutely gorgeous scenery along the way. And Whistler is a beauty, with great architecture and a lively feel. Even though skiing hadn't started yet, lots of people there. Probably a fantastic place to ski, although it apparently gets really cold during ski season, and was already quite chilly as we walked around, in late October.
Driving back, we hit rush hour Vancouver traffic - maybe the slowest crawl for the longest time that I've ever seen.
The weather hadn't been great for some time, and the rain picked up. We decided to head back into the States. The campground hosts suggested a different border crossing with wider lanes and less traffic. But we were backed up for miles. When we finally reached the crossing guard, he asked if we had any fruits or vegetables, and when we answered honestly, he directed us desperados to pull over for an inspection. We had to place Tammy Faye and Sophia in a kennel enclosure beside the customs building while Nancy and I went inside. We met with an agricultural officer and Nancy spilled her guts about what we had in our motorhome, including several fruits and vegetables and some nice lamb chops. Some of the fruits and vegetables and all the lamb were confiscated by the woman, unsupervised in our motorhome, before we were allowed to proceed. Took forever.
We felt really happy to be back in the good old USA. Nancy was irate at having someone check out our motorhome without either of us being present. And I miss those lamb chops, already.
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