Just Passing Through

She's a good little car: Martha Matrix.

My usual disclaimer:  I hate to sit down to write, I dislike what I write but it’s easier than phoning everyone up to share my  ventures.  So please forgive my errors.  Or not.

Last year I had a great deal of anxiety about whether or not Canadian immigration would allow me to go south on my yearly migration back to sunny Montana.  I presented my papers, my covid test, my itinerary and all was well.  This year, thanks to their spiking Covid rates, they weren’t so welcoming.  I cried my way across the border…..unintentionally, not to earn their sympathy.

North of Fort Nelson I usually was the only car on the road.

First,  I left Helena nearly a week after I intended to.  Illness and my usual packing nightmare slowed me down.  How to put a Suburban’s worth of gear and household equipment into a Matrix, aka The Clown Car?  Triage, unfortunately.  Then an unforeseen problem:  getting my Covid results back with enough time to make it to the border before the 72 hour requirement was up.  Neither Walgreen’s nor St. Pete’s were able to get me my results in time.  Good Friday and Easter were partly to blame and if clock watching slowed down the results, that was due to me.  After those two tests timed out, I found that Shelby, Montana offered what nowhere else in western Montana did:  results within an hour.  The Marias Health Center is only open Monday through Friday and appointments are required so more waiting was required, too.  

Covid results in hand, I made it to the Sweetgrass/Coutts border crossing, the only one open in Montana.  I knew ahead of time to bring with me:

—Covid results, vaccination doesn’t count in CA yet

—My printed itinerary

—A printout of my overnights, including name and phone numbers of hotels. I think they want reservations but didn’t check mine. This year no camping allowed.

—Copies of my tentative job offer with NPS

—I also had Alaska plates and an AK driver’s license

The first issue was that I asked for five nights rather than the standard four.  I’m old, my body aches, I’m alone; all good reasons to not rush the road. When I told the young officer that I was allowed five coming back at the end of October, he called me a liar.  When he saw my itinerary which went though Jasper, he went through the roof.  I told me that was last year’s route both ways.  Again he called me a liar.  I broke into tears and he sent me inside to immigration.  There, still crying, I met with a young woman who believed me.  She looked over my papers, gave me permission for five nights and a trip through Jasper.  I broke into tears a third time because I was so grateful for her kind treatment of me.

Next came another Covid test by the Canadian health officials.  Four tests in six days and I passed them all. 

Precision parking at Ft. Nelson

The whole rest of the trip the few Canadians I met, hotel personnel only, were kindly.  I was forbidden contact with anyone else and needed to pay at the pump with my credit card (ha-ha, whoever wrote that rule didn’t realize the north doesn’t have credit card machines at the pumps.) I didn’t stop to visit friends as I usually did. I hid a treat for friend, Jim, at the rest area in Whitehorse.  We had hoped for a picnic but it was -10 F. and windy.

Lots of bison and some caribou this year but no wolves or bears.

The Clown Car held up until Grande Prairie where it graciously stopped just within the city limits.  Not once has she stopped in any of the possible nightmare scenarios on my travels, e.g., 200 miles from a garage in -20 degree weather. Good girl!  All I had to do was buy a new battery.  From Fort Nelson on, it was snowy, windy and the road was variously snow-packed and icy, about normal.  My last night in Canada was at Buckshot Betty’s in Beaver Creek.  Thanks to my new battery, my trusty old Matrix started right up at -13.  I was so glad because nearly everything was closed and the town felt deserted, including Betty's.  They left the key in the cabin door for me.

Downtown Beaver Creek on Saturday night

I sailed through US customs, loaded up on groceries at Tok and Glennallen, and stopped to talk with gimped up Lynn Grams in CC. Wow!  I was happy to see a friendly, familiar face!   By the time I made it to Chitina, the temps were above freezing and a thin layer of melt water on the ice rink of the McCarthy Road made the first ten miles really interesting.  My Minnesotan father-in-law wouldn't say terrifying, heart-stopping or blood curdling.  It was always 'interesting'.  By Chokasna the road started to improve and the last half was just fine, as long as I kept to a crawl.

McCarthy Road Glacier, photo by Michelle and Pete.  I was too afraid to stop to take photos.  There were many more of these.