Andrew here : well, when last we left the Red State Road Trip, I was trying to find the Elkhorn View Inn, my last night stop, in Clancy MT. And I was, quite literally, lost in the woods.
Now, as is my habit, I could go off in all directions here - perhaps into the psychology of being lost in a forest, which appears (in a Jungian sense) to be buried deep in European conciousness.
Nah.
The resolution of the momentary crisis was very straightforward - provided I stopped pretending I knew what I was doing. Readers of Deborah Tannen know how hard it is for men to admit they're lost, but - dammit - I was lost. When I called in for the third time, the housekeeper said she'd get in a car and come and get me. Five minutes later, her headlights appeared, and she led me to the Inn, following a track that I can honestly say I'd never have had a cat in hail's chance of finding on my own.
The Inn was spectacular - a modern American wood lodge with 21st century amenities. I was the only guest: the housekeeper kindly cooked a chicken supper for me with an Australian Shiraz, then went home to her 3 year old and 1 year old children and husband. I spent the night as the sole occupant, waking at 4:30am to see Federer scratch out a victory over Davydenko in Shanghai. This time, I was able to grab a couple more hours sleep before breakfast, then at 9:30am I was on the road for the last leg.
The journey north from Helena to Sweetgrass is a little known marvel - it reminded me of a car trip I took through Alsace. I passed several streams that looked like prime fishing territory for the likes of Pete. I stopped for lunch at Brian's Top Notch Cafe in Great Falls, then made good time for the border. Time to politely ask US Customs to let me take the car out, and Canadian Customs to bring the car in.
You'd think that the former would be easier than the latter, but not so. The US requires that you submit lots of details, by fax, 72 hours before leaving the country; then you have to report in person to a customs officer at the border to get your title documents stamped. There are no directions how to do this: I eventually pulled my car over in the traffic queue to the border kiosks, left the hazard lights flashing, and ran about 50 yards to the US customs building. Inside, agents went about their business, occasionally deigning to brusquely make themselves available to supplicants. Twenty minutes later, I was jogging back to my car, ready to repeat the process on the Canadian side of the border.
In the brief time I've dealt with the Canadian immigration and customs folks, they've all had this odd attitude - to a man and woman, they all seem to believe that it's actually their job to serve the public. The young officer who took my car papers was at first nonplussed - I wasn't actually importing a car, and I'd already been in Canada for a couple of months on my work permit. After conferring with a supervisor, though, he was positively gleeful - I fit in a loophole that meant that I could bring the car in (I mustn't sell it) without paying any tax and duty. Ten minutes later, I was back on the road, a last 150 miles (or 250kms) to Calgary.
