I drove east from Vancouver along the route that parallels the border. I wanted to enjoy the fall colours and I reasoned a smaller border crossing into the United States might be less arduous because of the attack in New York. After a hard day's travel I found myself stopping in a place called Conkle Lake and decided it would be a good place to stay the night. As I unloaded my kayak, two hunters appeared dressed in camouflaged overalls. Great.
|Water colour of Conkle Lake.|
Nervously I paddled quickly away hoping they wouldn't shoot me or anything else for that matter. I didn't like that they were armed and I was not. Happily, they disappeared and much to my dismay the temperatures dropped as night fell. Ice formed on the inside of the camper. I had trouble figuring out how to operate the furnace. The next morning the windows were covered in frozen crystals. Exiting the camper I slipped on some unexpected ice on the stairs and hurt my back, flinching with the injury. It was time to break camp and head towards the sun. Gingerly I approached the border and while I was confident all of my paper work was in place I knew it wasn't going to be easy. Little did I know.