Day 9 - Farewell Canada

Despite the early night, it was hard to get up this morning. Possibly because, if everything went right today, it would be the last morning of waking up in Canada for a long time. Our friendly, incoherent receptionist hadn't given us a check out time, so we were aiming for 11ish. We had all the bags out the car which needed to be repacked so that Customs could check them over easily. Packing and sorting took a while, and the rubbish bin in the room was soon overflowing with packaging and unwanted items. About 11.10, the phone rang - "are you staying an extra night?" - Obviously they wanted in the room! Luckily we were mostly packed up and the car was once again laden down. Passports had been dug out and we were ready to go.

Our first stop was the Kettle Valley Railway walk. Clare navigated us to the end of a road where we parked and started wandering along the leaf carpeted trail. The fallen leaves were HUGE, and there were loads of them all over the floor, orange and browns coating the way. The valley continued on down the side of the trail, down to the river flowing over rocks. The moisture from the river really seeped into the air, and the moss on the side of the trees made them look like giant hairy tarantulas. We walked for about 30 minutes, but came across no signs of a railway bridge to cross over or any of the promised tunnells. They must be much further along the track. 

Next stop was to an upstream river, where the guide book had said would be good to spot spawning salmon. Not really sure what this meant, but both fairly sure it was where the salmon struggled to swim up stream we headed over. Just a short walk in we came to a small bridge over a narrow fast flowing stream, and before we had a chance to cross an almighty splash came out from the water. The salmon were certainly trying to swim up stream and every now and again would put on a burst of speed and shoot forward, with their tails breaking water. It looked like an almighty battle, gravity vs determination and we were both mesmerised, watching the 2ft salmon sideslippping and planning their next push. Much like a generic sports game on tv, the suspense drew us in with no real understanding of the rules or the reasons they doing this - but enthrallled us anyway.

At the start of the path we'd spotted a sign warning of a bear in the area. No surprise really as why bother struggling picking hundreds of berries and eating leaves when all these fish were tiring themselves out and sitting in maybe 1ft deep water. If we'd had a net (or a clawed hand) we could easily have scooped a salmon out for dinner. Bears were not the only animals to be feasting here, slightly further down the river we spotted an upside down salmon, lodged in by a log. This dead fish certainly explained the smell, and the 2 crab/lobster like crustaceans crawling over and under it were pulling it apart. What a feast! Much later, we decided it was time to leave, and paused again on the bridge to admire the strength and determination of these fish to go upstream.

Back in the car, we started off for the border, stopping at Tim Hortons on the way out of town to get our last fix of Canadian culture. As we got closer and closer to the border, our nerves started to fray. What if we got stuck here, what if they wanted to search the car, could we remember every item in the car to prevent the whole lot being seized? The queue for the border was about 5 minutes, but eventually we were rolling up to the booth, past 5 meters of cameras and heavy metal gates. Passports handed over and a few basic questions asked and we got directed to park at the side and enter the admin building. With both our minds mentally recalling all the items in the car, a entered and were soon given forms to fill out. Clare had prepared for the trip by doing an online ESTA application, so recognised the questions as being identical. With the forms filled in, our passports were scanned and finger prints and mugshots recorded onto computer, just like coming into US airports. Then, he was charging us for the visa entry few (a whopping $6 each) and we were done. We got out of there as quick as possible, not wanting to push our luck. We were in the USA! No body searches, no hard questions, no listing the contents of the car, no duty fees for the case of wine we'd accumulated. Much easier than we'd expected. Disappointingly so almost, I'd been secretly half hoping they'd turn us away and tell us we had to stay in Canada another year.

 Now we were in America, we had to adjust to the American systems. Distances and speeds were now in miles not kilometers, temperatures were being displayed on signs in fake degrees, and everything on the road side was flashing. Everywhere you looked was flashing adverts and neon signs. Petrol was the most confusing, we'd gone from prices sensibly marked in dollars per liter (about 1.25 average), to 3 times as much (3.85 average) but no indication to what volume that was for. A barrel? A litre? A cup? Someone eventually suggested to us it was a gallon...as of anyone knows how much a gallon is - its just a generic term used to refer to a lot fluid right? The roads here were much busier as well, and sensible driving was something so far from reality for everyone it was almost dangerous. Still, we were here and heading south again. Our plan was to find a mall on the outskirts of Seattle, find some free wifi and work or how to get into the city to a hostel we'd researched weeks ago.

About 50 miles out, the car decided to change our plans drastically. As we crested a hill, travelling along with the rest of the traffic at 70mph it lurched and slowed suddenly. Heart pumping, I came off the accelerator, drifted over to the slow lanes as the road was relatively clear, and tried to accelerate again. The engine resumed working with no hesitation and soon we were back up to speed. 5 minutes later it did it again, and stuttered a few times before accelerating off again. Getting worried, we slowed down and came off at the next exit. Parked up of the road, with the engine ruining I got out and walked around. Nothing looked out of place, everything sounded normal - no rattles, creeks or pops. Inside the car was another matter as a vibration could be heard periodically. I popped the bonnet, nothing seemed out of place but then as I'm not a mechanic I can't really tell. We decided to continue along the interstate, keeping the died down and hoping we'd make it to Seattle. After 30 minutes of limping the car towards the city we pulled of to take a break and work out how to get to the hostel. There were no park and ride places that we could park at for the 3 days we would be in the city, so we had to drive right into the city to park. Back in the car we didn't push it, stayed in 4th gear and at a slow speed. Traffic increased as we got closer, and finally we got to our turn off. We had to circle the block a few times once we found the right road, the hostel wasn't too evident. Eventually we find a roadside parking spot, pay for a ticket and head into the hostel to check in. The roadside parking is good until 8am, when we'll have to move the car. Sheet checking in for 3 days we go to retrieve the bags from the car and spot a parking ticket! Not from incorrectly displaying a ticket, or anything crazy - apparently we'd parked to close to a fire hydrant. Welcome to USA parking rules! I leave Clare to cook dinner and move the car.

The hostel staff have recommended a residential area about 20 mins walk away, so I drive the car there. Seattle seems to be fill of really steep hills, but the car holds up fine and soon I'm walking back admiring the Seattle skyline. After the stress of the car, an easy night is in order leaving us rested to explore the city tomorrow!