The Trip Home: Part III

by Cynthia MacKinnon-Morris

From what I can recall, the trip back to the midwest was pretty uneventful. So, why do I bother to blog it, one may ask? Because I have a couple cool pictures to show and because no story is complete without an ending. So there.

We left Nicomen Island (the farm) on July 6, early in the morning. It was difficult to leave my parents when I was fully aware that I probably would not be allowed back into Canada for a couple of years. Actually, I would be allowed into Canada--just not back into the U.S. without a great deal of difficulty (i.e./ more paperwork and $$ for something that is called "Advance Parole"--which I object to, but since the U.S. terms me an "Alien" I guess "parole" is befitting). I tell you, I am so tired of paperwork and paying money to all and sundry merely for the privilege of living in the U.S.; someday I might just do a blog on the fallen trees and broken bank accounts! Anyhow........back to my story. We left on a cloudy day, rain threatening, and tears flowing (mine). The Mave didn't want to leave either; she had become quite attached to her Gramma and loved all the nooks and crannies of the house. In fact, looking back, we wondered why she spent most of the trip in the back of the car instead of in her usual spot, on the dashboard...maybe it was her way of showing her sadness too! Poor kitten.

We left early because we anticipated a lengthy visit with the U.S. Customs. Ever since meeting Scott, each time I have run U.S. Customs, I've had to be frugal with the description of my motives for visiting (<---just kidding Tim R. -- I've always been perfectly truthful). I once, stupidly, made a joke about the reason for my visit--dumb move I understand--no sense of humour when it comes to H.L. Security--and no, I didn't make any stupid claims, if that is what one is thinking (wow, even I have become paranoid about big brother watching over my shoulder and a simple story is taking forever!).

Okay, let's start anew. We approached the U.S. Customs at Sumas with apprehension. We had all my paperwork in hand, as well as proof of citizenship for Scott, Mariah and Mavis. But, we also had a car loaded to the gills with our travelling stuff plus several boxes of books, etc. I had had stored at the farm. We were worried that they would take the car apart and we would be left to pack it once more. More than pleasantly surprised, we left customs after only a half hour (and $7 lighter--customs is a better deal than the rest of the departments I have had to deal with!)! As we pulled out we realized that a) the Mave had once again, not been checked for her papers, and b) the Mave was nowhere to be seen! Whenever there was a chance that she would be noticed by the authorities (e.g./ when the police gave Scott the speeding ticket) Mavis has mysteriously hidden her little self! As we pulled into Lynden, WA----> she came out of hiding to take over the wheel.

We drove that day to the western part of Montana and stayed in a nice campsite at St. Regis. While Scott and Mariah hung out reading, Mavis took me for a walk up the side of a hill. Once atop, we were in a meadow with tall grass and daisies; she was so cute bounding through the daisies--until the grass was at such a height that it became her own private maze. It was our first night with the brand new air mattress! Scott proudly pumped it up and we tried it on for size--a bit short, but very doable. Well, by 5 a.m. I woke to a very sore back. So much for the air mattress. It didn't seem to be bothering Scott's sleep so I gathered my blanket, Mavis and her litter box and headed for the car. There I slept comfortably for 2 more hours. I decided that it would be a good time to pack-up and opened the car door while the keys were in the ignition. Suddenly. the overwhelming quiet of the campsite was rudely shattered by our car alarm! I didn't even realize we had an alarm; didn't know how I had set it off; and, more crucial at the moment--didn't know how to turn it off! I hollered for Scott, pressed a lot of buttons, opened and closed doors, turned keys on and off and finally, the darn alarm shut off! Needless to say, I was the first one up in the whole place and we were the first vehicle to pull out that morning...actually, slunk out would be a more accurate verb.

Montana has casinos all over the place, including in the back rooms of cafes and of course, bars. That morning after breakfast, I put a twenty into a poker machine, lost a bunch of games and then won with a full house--and quickly cashed in my chit so I would be able to leave with the same amount of money in my pocket. Montana, we found, is a v e r y wide state! That evening we had only made it to the eastern side. We stopped to pick up dinner at a cafe/ bar and whilst waiting for the food, I checked out the poker machines in the bar. Put in a ten this time, played a couple games and came up with a flush! Once more, I knew when to quit, cashed out and left with $18! I was happy! We stayed in a campsite that night in Glendive and the only thing of note there was the swarm of mosquitos and the claustrophobic heat. Through the long drive of this state, Mariah spent much of her time reading Princess Bride as she sat scrunched in the back seat!

The route we took home was slightly different. We turned onto the I94 at Billings and then drove through North Dakota. The landscape changed slightly here, from rolling hills to the badlands once more. We actually took the time to stop at a viewpoint to see this painted hill. The plans that we made included a stop for the night in the middle of Minnesota. However, once we made it to M/ SP, we estimated the time it would take to drive home from Minneapolis/ St Paul would be about 8 hours--so decided to drive through the night and get home around 5 a.m. So, drive we did. As we approached and left Minnesota, a huge storm loomed in the south and extended east and west as far as the eye could see. We kept hoping to stay out of its way as it looked like it could be a violent one. This storm cloud that we neared was most impressive, both in size and in configuration. Thankfully, we were well out of the area before it made its way north.

We did drive through the night and made good time, even through Chicago. I had driven most of that day but decided that the traffic was just a bit too fast and scary in Chicago so I pulled off the freeway into the city and let Scott take the wheel for the rest of the trip home. We did arrive home at 5 a.m. to a kettle of kitties eagerly awaiting our return! After some initial hissing at Mavis, they all settled down--mostly because she responded by sniffing each of their behinds in turn! Angst had been shut outside and told Scott all about it as she raced across the lawn to the door. We all went to bed; Mariah fell asleep on the couch and the kitties piled onto the bed with us. Home again at last!

In BC: PartII

by Cynthia MacKinnon-Morris

We arrived on the farm in the late afternoon, June 28. We arrived to rain and it pretty much hovered over us for the week--was a nice change from the hot temperatures in Indiana. Besides visiting family and friends, the main object of the trip was to go through the visa interview at the U.S. Consulate.

The next day, Scott, Mariah, Mom and Dad, Mavis and I drove up the Coquihalla to Quilchena for lunch. Naturally, when we arrived at our destination, the old hotel restaurant was closed. We had a lunch of sorts on the stoop of the hotel bar. It is a beautiful old hotel built at the turn of the century. The guest rooms are open to view, if one asks the front desk clerk nicely--and all are decorated with original furniture. A point of interest I was not aware of (despite having visited this place for lunch several times in the past few years) was the presence of bullet holes in the bar itself!

The night before the interview while Scott and I were reviewing all the paperwork accumulated over the last couple of years, I made a nasty discovery: I had left the long copy of my birth certificate in Indiana. The letter from the consulate specified that a short form would not suffice. Another Stiltskin move; it's a wonder we even remembered to bring money or credit cards on the trip, so a birth certificate seemed minor. Not to be outdone by the absent birth certificate, I also had left my passport photos in Indiana. We put on a brave face (no use worrying when nothing could be done at that point) and went to bed early. The letter also stated that the interview was for 10 a.m. but I had read [somewhere] that one needed to be early to line up. We got up at 5:00 and took the WestCoast Express into town.

There was already a line-up outside the U.S. Consulate but we soon were approached by a nice guard who took our interview letter and then told us to come back at 9:30--so much for depending on my information about early arrival. At least this gave me time to hustle across the street to a convenience store/ passport photo business--thoroughly soaked by the several-block walk, I left with a couple of very suspicious looking photos. Then came the ground floor guards: Mom had warned me about leaving any valuables in the car whilst parked at the Mission train station, so I grabbed our digital camera and stuffed it in my purse. The guard went through my purse; lo and behold he found a camera! then demanded why I had brought the camera with me. Biting my tongue from emitting a sarcastic reply I mumbled "dunno." Well, we couldn't enter with it. So, our choice was to leave Scott outside babysitting our camera or not go in. Kind of a tough choice since the reason I had waited for a couple months to have the interview was so Scott could lend me some credibility. The guard then, very grudgingly, announced that if we wished, the cafe across the street might look after it for us. Off went Scott with the camera and up I went to the consulate.

Once on the 22nd floor, I had to go through security once again, this time the security guards were more than pleasant. First we needed to go through the preliminaries with a clerk; she checked through our paperwork and gave me a chit to take to the cashier--$100US. She remarked on the lack of long birth certificate but said no more. After another reasonable wait, the ConOff interviewed me--thankfully, I had visions of making several more return visits. We were worried about certain questions that could be asked, mostly because I cannot lie worth a damn! Well, buddy started with a question that I could answer in full--at what points had we met and visited within the last two years. I started my litany of dates, places....... and thought I was doing a fine job until he broke in with an "Okay, Okay" Scott reported later that buddy had tried several times to interrupt me to no avail. I guess I made my point. The upshot of it was that there was very little time for him to ask anything else! He mentioned my missing birth certificate and said that I would have to get it and return.

Easier said than done. I had, in April, ordered a long copy from Vital Statistics in Victoria; it was now in Indiana; we had to leave for Indiana in one week; it was a long-long weekend--Canada Day the next day and July 4th on Monday. Ouch! Well, to celebrate our success so far and to figure out a plan of action, we made our way to the 4 Seasons for lunch. It was there that I had the bright idea of phoning V.S. to see if I could travel to Victoria on Monday and pick up a copy. Well, the man on the phone told me about a V.S. office on Robson Street! We left the 4 Seasons and hiked up to Robson, picked up the long form and hiked back to the consulate--only to find a line-up of gargantuan proportions kept in order by guards and a Mountie. The harassed-looking guard breathlessly told me to come back the next week. Bummer. We went to the Starbucks on the corner to once again regroup. Off to the train we went next. Scott and I split up (something the Stiltskins ought think seriously about before doing); he went into the WestCoast Express area (I thought) and I to get some tea. After I armed myself with sustenance for the trip home, I rushed down to the platform with just minutes to spare--no Scott. I went on to the train in hopes of finding him already seated. No Scott. I went into another car. Not. I walked down the platform to the sound of the final boarding announcement. Nothing. I had to make a decision on the spot: better to have Scott leave on this train without me and wait in Mission than the other way around, if he was not indeed on the train. The train pulled out. I went back upstairs to find him lounging against a paper stand--right at the doors where I had emerged 5 minutes previously! How we missed each other...well, easy if one is a true Stiltskin.

July 1, Mom, Auntie and I drove into Vancouver where we picked up Kailee (my niece) and went to Granville Island Public market. It is a place that I miss, living in the mid-west; I've not yet found anything similar. It is so nice (despite the crowds) to sit alongside the water with the fresh ocean breeze. Meanwhile, Dad took Scott and Mariah 'fishing' at Trout Farm--Mariah was thrilled to come home with 3 fish that Mom cooked for dinner!

July 2,

Scott and I went for dinner at Marj's--a friend from Davie Jones. Naturally, we were concerned about getting to their place in Pitt Meadows on time. 6 p.m. we arrive and no-one answers the door! Did I have the wrong time? the wrong date? was there a change in plans? .....Stiltskins strike again. An hour early, we catch poor Ron trying to take a before-guests-arrive nap! Several of my friends originally/ still from school were there and we had a great visit. Marj presented us with maple leaf pins and made me wear a special Canadian 'hat'. Marj & Ron, Corinne and Art regaled us with some stories of cruising the Caribbean--A&C had spent most of the winter on their sail boat and M&R joined them over Christmas break. One of the funnier stories was about Ron's souvenir--a dark rum named "Big Black Dick!"
We had a

marvellous time catching up with all the news and recalling fun times we had had.

The next day, Scott and I drove to Harrison for brunch at the hotel and later that day, Mom and Dad had a BBQ to celebrate our 1st anniversary! Chris and Rita came and we got to visit with Chris two nights running! Here Chris and Mariah visit Tusche, our old dog.

And, in the middle is Sitka, the pup, a crazy dog who not only chases her tail round and round, but grabs hold of it with her teeth as she circles. Sitka even has her own kiddy-pool to play in and Mom reports that she does the whirlpool, tail in mouth, in the pool as well!

On Tuesday, July 5, Dad and I did a quick drive into Vancouver so I could present the consulate with my long birth certificate and passport. I did just that and the clerk asked me to come back at 2:30 to pick up my visa. Problem was that I had an appointment for 1 p.m. in Maple Ridge--so she had the ConOff sign it right away. Ok, I wasn't completely truthful about the appointment--I did have one, but couldn't explain it to her and still remain credible. The app't was with my hair-stylist! but hey! he is booked weeks in advance and this was the only time he could fit me in! Priorities, I say.

Because I was successful with the visa on this day, it gave us the chance to get going on our return journey to Indiana--we prepared to leave the next morning.

Trip to Canada--part I

by Cynthia MacKinnon-Morris

We've been home almost a week now and are slowly getting stuff back to normal. It still seems strange to be able to walk about without first making the big decision: can we afford the time to stop and take a stroll out to the viewpoint? Our trip was a hectic one for the most part; we drove 2500 miles in four days on the way to B.C. and then 2300 miles in 3 days on the way back (we took a different route on the way home and the last day, drove through the night to get home at 5 a.m.).

Our focus was to get to B.C. as quickly as possible so sightseeing was a secondary concern. We traveled north through Chicago into Wisconsin, then west through Minnesota into South Dakota.
One of the side trips we took was along the 31-mile drive of Badlands National Park. This part of the Badlands was an amazing sight. The flat and treeless grasslands of South Dakota seem to go on forever but as one nears, the grasslands stop abruptly and plunge into the escarpment. Wind and long-gone rivers carved out the shale that the Badlands are made of. The buttes and pinnacles are striking, but more so are the hues of pinks, sand, gold set in layers of this 2000 foot band of shale. The delicate nature of the shale means that erosion continues to the present day and fossils of extinct animals are still found today. The most prevalent flora we spotted was cacti with bright sunny yellow flowers. Of course, the area is also infamous for the Wounded Knee Massacre where a large group of Lakota were killed by the army in 1890. The Badlands are also the site of the "incident" at Oglala and the wrongful imprisonment of Leonard Peltier--a modern day tragedy of government against Native Americans. You might like to visit the website http://www.spiritisup.com/sundancerinbondsbl.html to learn more, as well as watch the movie "Incident at Oglala."

Okay, on with our story. This section of South Dakota is amazing in its beauty at the same time as being crass to the nth degree. All along the road sides (we travelled the I90) were billboards--as far as the eye could see. Scott remarked that there were so many billboards that if one tried to read all the signs on one side of the road, one completely missed the signs on the other side. Another very gaudy feature was downtown Wall, which, I might add, was responsible for at least a third of the tacky road signs. Wall Drugs is the feature of this town and it is nothing more than one H U G E tourist trap/ glorified souvenir stand. We made the error of visiting it for the express purpose of purchasing film--at 2x the cost of a store in the next town. Even more coarse was a little town at the base of Mt. Rushmore. It put me off (I was driving) to the point where I wasn't at all keen on doing more than a quick drive by of Mt. Rushmore, which I had always dreamed of seeing. It was dusk and I did not feel like stopping to pay a $8 parking fee in order to get 80 feet closer to the monument. It was, however, a sight that I am glad I didn't miss. Amazing the work that went into this large scale carving. I am probably one of only a few who hope that R.R. does not get immortalized here as well.

The next day we drove out of S.D. cut kitty-corner across Wyoming and into Montana. While in Montana, we visited a totally different sort of souvenir shop, one run by the Crow: very tasteful goods found inside a unassuming building. Most of the wares inside related to the Battle of Little Bighorn. I had heard of it of course, but knew no details. It was most refreshing, I must admit, to see/ hear of this story after the previous day's "Wounded Knee." However, taken in chronological order, I found that "Wounded Knee" was viewed as revenge/ retribution for the civil war hero, Custer's, shame and death. Sort of burst my balloon.

The day's drive took us through some incredible territory in Montana--not the flat, bare land I had expected, but beautiful rolling hills, snow fences, big sky and grassland. We even hit the tailend of a great hailstorm. As we drove out of an urban area, we noticed a car flashing her/his headlights: cop ahead, or radar we assumed. Suddenly, around a corner we spotted the cop, on foot in the right lane waving his arms like a madman. We figured an accident ahead. Then we hit the hail. Traffic was backed up and moved at a snail's pace: the hail that lie on the roadway was several inches deep but spanned only a few hundred yards. We never got hail like that in the Fraser Valley! Into Idaho for a short time and then, late Monday night, we hit Spokane, WA where we spent the night.

Wednesday morning we set out early; eager to start out each morning, the Mave had taken to reclining on the dashboard--her version of navigating I suppose. When she wasn't reposing in her Pet Voyage (pronounced the French way!) case, or perched with her nose pressed against a window (if her Mommy had thought to wash one for her), she road on the dashboard. I had the bright idea of avoiding the I90 and the worst part of the I5 as we neared Seattle. We could take the back roads! And so we did...right the way into Sumas as it turned out--and an hour longer than it should have, to boot! Mavis showed her weariness as she soon fell asleep "at the wheel."

Once at the Canadian border, we were primed for all they could give us. We had Scott's documents, Mariah's birth certificate and letter from the mother, Mavis's documents and my passport. All for naught. The customs officer didn't even notice the Mave, let alone question the fact that I was driving a US registered car with a minor in the back. Oh well, better to be prepared than have Scott et al spending their vacation in a holding cell.

We were very excited to be home and my Mom and Dad welcomed us at the farm. We were to spend a nice relaxing time of the next week on Nicomen Island.