The first steps into Canada

Escaping seattle. There's so much more to see, do, explore and I feel some draw from the city's magnetism. But, I must focus in the adventure at hand. My brain is mainly on the border crossing, as I have never driven into another country. (Or in another country for that matter). I kindof forgot about Bellingham and northern WA. But, they passed quickly.

Rolling up to the border, I actually found my heart speed up a bit. I was wondering about all the things I'm supposed to know, or have, or have done in advance. There is nothing suspect in my van. No contraband, no firearms, nothing to be worried about. Why am I nervous? I mean, the big creeper van, with totally DIY interior and a whole bunch of compartments likely is seen as potential for shenanigans. Man it would suck if they wanted to search (unpack) the van.

But, it was anticlimactically easy actually...

"What brings you to canada? Have you ever done that drive? How long will you be in Canada? How long in Alaska? What do you do for a living? When does your job start back up? Is all this yours? Any firearms or ammunition? You living out of the van then? Enjoy your visit." The worst part was actually a few miles (kilometers) INSIDE the border. A wall of traffic greeted me as we very slowly merged from four lanes down to one for the seemingly very distant tunnel. That and my choice to cut through the heart of Vancouver... A little confusing with no GPS and always fun in a large vehicle.

North of Vancouver though, it quickly became stunning. Canadian pull offs are amazing. (At least the ones between Vancouver and Whistler.)

With my late start and time lost to traffic and city navigation I only made it to a little bit south of Whistler. Perhaps I camped a too close to Whistler actually, which I didnt know, is named after marmots and their characteristic whistle. I say too close because of the abundance of other campers/mountain bikers vying for spots. There were still plenty. And the beauty of the van... The world is my camping oyster.

Strangely fitting, it was a full moon (or seemingly). The moon holds a special significance for me, which I'll describe more fully later, but I smiled broadly that the moon greeted my first camp. I cracked open my celebratory bottle of Laphroig and sipped a bit from my plastic cup, soaking in the real start of this journey. God I'm excited for this.

Ended up here in Canada