Friday, April 12, 2013

The Adventure North in Dora the Explorer


Tuesday, Day 10

two cocker girls
A van called Dora, loaded with five cocker spaniels, a basset hound named DoDog and a blonde wanderlust rolls out of Woodinville around 10:30 AM in search of Alaska.  We say our goodbyes to our Woodinville connection and squeeze a box of specialty foods into the back of Dora, destined for L’aroma’s Bakery in Anchorage. Determined to make record time and get on with it, we cruise along country road 542 looking for the border. Near Abbottsford, Washington we slide through Canadian customs without even a hiccup, and there definitely could have been one regarding the illegal canines onboard. I always get health certificates for the dogs – they are only good for 30 days and cost lots of money. When I arrive at the border I have them ready to show customs but they just ignore me and wave us on through. Grrrr! I have taken this trip at least nineteen times and have only been asked for their papers once, and then I don’t think they knew what they were looking for. They barely glanced at them, just wanted to be sure I had them. Last fall the health certs were $264 for six dogs. This time I decided to just hope for the best and wing it. Well you guessed it, they didn’t ask. Yippee! We are in Canada!

border crossing in Abbottsford
We make it all the way to Prince George and I am reminded of a childhood prank that goes something like this: Call the drugstore and ask: “Do you have Prince Albert in a can?” When she says yes then the reply is: “Well, you better let him out!” Of course I never did this, only heard about it. Memory is interesting. You never know when some thing is going to jolt you back to another time. Getting back to the Prince at hand.

Canadian flag
The billboard about thirty miles back said: Super 8, Truck Parking in Prince George. So, we stop at Super 8 to park along side the eighteen wheelers like always, but there are no trucks anywhere. I go inside to ask the attendant and he said truck parking is only for his customers. “Where do the truckers park around here?” I want to know.  “I have no idea but my lot is only for my customers,” he replied.  Okay, but truckers don’t usually rent hotel rooms. Never mind, this is going nowhere so we leave, in search of a place to sleep since it is now after 9 and very dark on the road. 

It’s a busy highway and there is absolutely no place to pull over and park Dora. I finally pull into a gas station right on the freeway with a teeny spot off to the left. We are tired and desperate, and determined to make this work. We pull forward and back in as close to the railing as we dare and as far away from the highway as we can get. Two girls are working, this is the part of Canada that still pumps gas for the customer and I love it. I ask if we could stay over and they both said sure. They explain the station is closing at 10 PM but will be open again at 6 AM. No worries I will be asleep by 10 and won’t need the potty again until past 6 AM tomorrow morning. “Is it safe here,” I wondered? “Oh yes,” she said. “No one locks their doors around here.” Enough said . . .

So as it were, a van called Dora is parked near the freeway where 6 happy dogs are walking out back on the grass, and will have dinner under the stars, and next to the cars. We will soon be tucked in under the down comforter for a much needed rest so we can wake up and do it all over again! Tomorrow, we will reach the Alaska Highway, only 1,500 miles to go!

Goodnight!

No comments:

Post a Comment