Ok. So where did I leave off?

Oh, yes, I remember. 6 negative Covid results!

After an unexpected two week “vacation” in Montana, we were finally in the clear to cross the Canadian border. Can I just say, I am not an anxious person, but boy, did I have butterflies as we approached the Sweetgrass/Coutts Port of Entry. My stomach was in knots…Why? I don’t know. We had every piece of documentation you could think of: passports, birth certificates, insurance cards, vehicle registration, etc…I guess I was worried that despite all the planning we wouldn’t be allowed to transit through Canada.

The process ended up being fairly painless, other than waiting over 2 hours for the border officer to even pick up our file and glance at it. We finally got the “all clear,” complete with a hang tag for our vehicle, showing when we were required to be out of the country, and strict instructions to follow the most direct route. We were mandated to pay at the pump, not go into grocery stores or restaurants, and absolutely no sight-seeing. While it may sound a little harsh, this was exactly what we had expected having researched the current travel restrictions for Canada.

After loading back into the RV, we had one more surprise waiting for us…more Covid tests!!! Yeah!!! Despite our results being less than 24 hours old, we (and anyone else traveling into Canada) were required to immediately be swabbed upon entry. The process was streamline though, only took a few minutes, and the nursing staff was pleasant. At this point, what’s one more Covid swab?

Now we were REALLY on our way. Smooth sailing, right?

As we drove away from the border and headed into Alberta, I was disappointed as the scenery looked exactly like Montana. Imagine that! Our afternoon of driving varied from clear roads to suddenly blinding snow and then back again. Thanks to my last minute purchase, The Milepost gave us mile by mile insight on road conditions, campgrounds, and everything in between. We eventually pulled over for the night at RV There Yet Campgrounds. I couldn’t resist! What a witty name for an RV park!

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In the morning we started the next leg of our trip, heading towards British Columbia. A quick stop in Dawson Creek and a must-do photo-op, we jumped onto the historic Alaskan Highway. According to the Milepost road conditions were fair for the next few hundred miles. I now realize that my idea of fair road conditions and someone else’s can be drastically different. Our progress dropped to what felt like a mere crawl as Dave began battling rough, pot-hole ridden roads, still covered with ice and snow, as we ascended into the Canadian Rockies. For most of the day, we (and by “we” I mean Dave. I refuse to drive the RV) drove a MAX of 35 mph. As Dave cautiously guided us along, I was continually on the lookout for wildlife, because for some reason animals LOVE to stand in the middle of the road. Bison lined the highway in herds, their eyelashes and fur matted with snow. I silently thanked God that I was not a bison, as I can’t imagine forever being outside in the cold (I love my bed too much).

As darkness encroached upon us, and no town insight, we pulled over in the parking lot of a roadhouse and boondocked for the night. We ate a warm, hearty meal, showered up, and snuggled down into our beds. Little did we know that would be the last shower we would take in our RV for the next several weeks.

Overnight, temperatures dropped well below freezing and our water lines completely froze…solid. While in Montana, some of our RV repairs/maintenance had been in preparation for frigid cold camping. The water lines had all been rerun so as not to be exposed to the elements, heated hoses had been bought, and a new hot water heater installed. Needless to say, it was not a good morning to wake up and realize that despite our best efforts, our entire system had still froze.

We trudged along, through the Canadian wilderness, for another entire day. We drove miles and miles without seeing another vehicle. As the day drew to a close, we boondocked again, somewhere along the border of the Yukon. It is an unnerving, yet astonishing experience to stand outside, in the dark with only the light of the moon as company. To know you are the only soul around for miles, surrounded by the vastness of the great outdoors, making you realize truly just how small you really are.

Having survived our night in the wilderness (snug and warm in our RV), we crossed into the Yukon early the next morning. There we were “clocked in”, given a map of the most direct route, and informed we had 24 hours to make it the Alaskan border. Talk about a warm welcome!

The key to driving through Canada is *get gas every chance you can*. Even if we still had 3/4 tank, Dave would top us off. At one of these stops, a gentleman struck up a conversation with Dave, letting us know, “You’re a little early for the season, aren’t ya? Be glad you weren’t driving through here two weeks ago. We had four feet of snow covering the roads!” And just like that, it all made sense. Our two week delay was a blessing as God had kept us from being able to travel.

Now I know earlier, I said road conditions weren’t the best. Well, boy were we in luck (insert sarcastic tone) to discover what the definition of “poor” conditions meant. I don’t know if the Yukon actually wants you to make it out alive to the Alaskan border, as their roads were so rough and awful that I’m pretty sure we caught some air ramping over the potholes. *Dave still was only driving about 45mph if that gives you any clue how rough these roads were. Realizing we could be out of Canada if we just pushed through, we drove longer and farther than we probably should have, but we crossed into Alaska around midnight, breathing a sigh of relief to have completed the Canadian portion of our journey. Exhausted, the U.S. Customs Officer offered advise on a good place to pull over for the night.

TO BE CONTINUED…

And let me just say…it was a good thing we didn’t travel any further.