Kerry and I woke up and headed out on a mountain bike ride through Grindstone Island. We were in search of Mid River Farm, an on island farm selling grass fed beef, pork, chicken and eggs. We found the farm, but a storm was brewing on the horizon, and no one was home. We had time enough to snap a few pictures of the farm and pushed onward. The mountain biking on the island is a great mix of dirt and gravel roads, fire roads and even a bit of single-track. We cruised through a huge expanse of open meadow filled with thousands of Black Eyed Susan wildflowers. It started raining and we pedaled faster back to the cottage.
We got back to the cottage, changed, and headed out in the boat to Gananoque. I was excited. The boat ride to Gananoque takes about ten minutes. It is just on the back side of Grindstone Island, but a world away. We pulled up to the Marina and everyone was speaking French, likely a herd of vacationers from Quebec.
Our assignment was to ‘check-in’ to Canada. We docked the boat and walked to an old school pay phone booth, and dialed 1800-CAN-PASS. I was under the impression that you could ‘check-in’ to Canada for the duration of the summer and freely boat back and forth between American and Canadian waters. I was all set to get my ‘summer pass.’ I happen to be an idiot. The conversation went something like this:
‘Hello, yes, I would like to check in to Canada and get my ‘summer pass’’.
‘Where are you?'
‘Gananoque.’
‘Where are you?'
‘Gananoque.’
‘Where are you?’ Surely there was a misunderstanding between me and the Canadian woman on the other end of the line. I was not sure what game we were playing, but it seemed likely she simply could not hear me properly, so I yelled into the telephone line for the third time.
‘Gananoque!’ There, that should do the trick. She could not have missed that one, nor did the French Canadians passing by in the rain.
‘No sir. Where in Gananoque are you?’ Well, that seemed like a simple question, and as I was still unsure why she did not clarify her question in the first place, I began to look around for some identifying marks to explain my location. Ah, there we are.
‘I am in the James T. Stone Park.’ Kerry was squished next to me in the phone booth in bewilderment telling me to tell the woman that we were at the municipal marina. She was of course correct.
‘Sir, that location does not exist. You need to be at a registered check-in location.’ Who knew going to Canada was going to be so complicated and without any instruction for how to properly navigate this cumbersome process. I looked up at the sign and realized that the James T. Stone Park was yet to be built and under construction according to the sign. I went with Kerry’s suggestion.
‘I am in the municipal marina’.
‘Oh, of course, don’t ya know sir. That is a registered check-in location. Thank you. Now, how long are you going to be in Canada?’ Finally, I was making progress.
‘Well, I will be in and out of Canada for the next month, and I would like my summer pass.’ The woman sounded exasperated and took on a very serious tone.
‘Sir, let me explain something to you very carefully so that you are clear on the rules. Every time you go into Canada or Canadian waters, you have to call this number to check in. You can get in a lot of trouble, don’t ya know, if you don’t go aboot checkin’ into Canada the proper way, and don’t ya know I don’t want you getting’ yourself all kinds of fines, don’t ya know.’
Well, I wanted to yell into the phone, no I don’t know, don’t ya know, and I was just doing as I was told, and as there were no other instructions anywhere for how to go about this, I was utterly lost and confused. I listened to her instruction and checked in for the afternoon and hung up the telephone, looked at Kerry and said, ‘Well, that was easy’.
We walked around Gananoque as close as we were to Grindstone Island there was a very clear feeling in the air that we were now in another country. It was a beautiful little town. We walked through the town park next to a huge fountain and intricate wire frame sculpture of a Blue Heron. We wanted to eat some barbeque, but the place was closed, so we decided on fish and chips after we stopped at the local beer seller to pick up a few Canadian imports.
It was our lucky night, as we walked in on ‘wing night’, a wonderful accompaniment to our fish and chips dinner.
It was a cold and rainy ride back home, but all in all it was a great day.
‘Don’t ya know?’
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