North to Canada, Part 1

A wise friend once told me that when you receive a nice invitation, you should try hard to accept. So last winter, when the ultimate planning Ripper cast out an invite for a Canadian Powder Adventure for 2022, My fellow Ripper and I happily agreed to be part of the posse. At the time we accepted, we hoped beyond hope that the whole world would be vaccinated, and Covid would be in retreat. Fast forward to 2022, the coronavirus stayed put and we started to wonder why we were leaving the country.

Crossing the border takes preparation. Canada is serious about testing. It requires a negative PCR test within 72 hours, a bit tricky to schedule around a full school day. Or, in Senior Ripper’s case, a positive test more than 11 days, and less than 180 days, prior to the border crossing. But miracles do happen, I found a University of Utah Free Testing Site right across the street from school and the negative results popped up in my email right on time. My fellow Ripper printed his positive test result from his bout with Omicron just after Christmas. The ski bags were packed and we headed North!

Picture this: after nearly two years of hanging close to home, we approached an empty border crossing late under a full moon. The border patrol seemed almost happy to see us and went through the motions with a smile on his face. It started to sink in, we were actually in a different country.

Mountain towns have personality and British Columbia is full of them. Even better, B.C. has mighty rivers flowing through their mountain ranges and courageous Canadian Pacific Railroad trains hauling freight alongside them. I was instantly in love and eagerly started to look for anything that seemed Canadian.

A late afternoon lunch produced my first real find. We spotted a couple at the summit restaurant at Kicking Horse who were ready to call it a day (except for the long ski down) and enjoy several Caesars, the Canadian version of the Bloody Mary, with a few twists. These majestic drinks were garnished with a host of shrubbery (a green bean, pepper, and pickled asparagus) and contained Clamato Juice! Game on, I was determined to find one the next day, which we did after a full day of skiing only to learn that Sunday is known in Canada as Caesar Day. There were smiles all around!

Our second stop came with an invitation to watch “the game” in a neighbor’s garage in Fernie. Hockey truly does run thick in Canadian blood. The garage was the ultimate man cave. Hockey photos adorned the wall, a row of freezers were full of meat, and swivel chairs faced a big screen television all heated by a hard working wood stove. Conversations turned, of course to Covid, and the Canadian difference became clear in an instant. Our new friends voiced their approval of their government’s serious approach, “the government’s job is to take care of all us.” Enough said.

The temperature started to drop and it became clear why every Canadian was decked out in Sorrel boots and long down coats with hoods up. Their world is frozen at least six months of the year. There are snowmobiles in every other driveway. My admiration goes out to these hearty folks who still play hockey at age eighty and cheer in unison for “The Leafs.”

So Rippers, think seriously about pushing yourself across a border and let us know where you go!

Keep moving, stay safe, have fun!