From July 30

Greetings from Knight’s Beach, Ontario, on the north shore of Lake Erie. It rained all day and now the storm is blowing away making small surf on the beach. It was clear late this afternoon, but now it is clouding up again, although it could be fog. This campground is spread on about 10 acres along the beach with most of the campers being long-term summer residents. It is very remote and very beautiful. After setting up, Doogie got to go for a swim and then a romp on the grass. Unfortunately for him, he then got a bath to wash the scent of Lake Erie off him. He also got his eyebrows done as they had gotten a little bushy since his last salon appointment, giving him a fierce look.

I’m writing this into a Word document to copy when we have access to a network. There is nothing here. No bars and no networks. But I wanted to tell you about the bizarre time we had in customs entering Canada. We got to the Ambassador Bridge in Detroit about 8:00, despite that that whole section of Detroit is torn up and none of the maps or Google directions I had obtained were any help at all. Traffic was moving. However, when we got to the border-crossing window, the agent informed us we were in the wrong line, because we had somehow missed a sign and ended up where commercial trucks declare what they’re carrying. Anyway, he filled out the paperwork, checked our documents, and asked the purpose of our trip and if we were carrying knives or guns, or more than $10,000 Canadian, and sent us into customs. We’ve been camping in Canada several times, and we never had to clear customs before, so I thought it was odd. Two agents in customs had us get out of the truck, and they searched it. They confiscated our firewood, because firewood from the states is not allowed (I think I knew that somewhere in the back of my brain, but I forgot). They asked me what kind of camera was in the Nikon box and I explained that the Nikon box was full of extra rolls of toilet paper and a Costco sized box of Raisin Bran, but the camera is under the back seat of the truck. Fortunately there isn’t much crap in the truck bed, and it’s pretty neat. They looked at everything.

Then they asked us about our guns. When we denied owning or bringing guns on our trip, they wanted to know how we protect ourselves while camping. This question was so confusing to us, because camping has always been incredibly safe, and campers completely honest and helpful that Steve didn’t quite understand and asked the agent if it was now somehow dangerous to camp in Canada. The agent laughed and said that no, camping in Canada is probably safer than in the US but that many people carry guns in the RV for protection. He asked if we had a gun at our home in California. Then they performed a cursory search the RV. I had forgotten about the case of Paso Robles wine we had stashed under the bed to give as gifts while we’re here, and wondered if I should mention it. Probably, but they were not looking for small amounts of booze.
When the agents assured us that many Americans want to bring guns into Canada in RVs, and that they were surprised that we say we don’t have any, I finally caught on and explained that we don’t own guns, there aren’t any guns or weapon type knives (although one of my kitchen knives is really sharp, so don’t mess with me when I’m cooking [I didn’t say that to the agent; they weren’t funnin’ around much]) and that most Americans do not exercise their right to own guns, they realized that they could tear everything out of every nook and cranny of the truck and not find any guns, they finally let us go.

I can’t stop thinking about this incident because I don’t like that Americans have a reputation as gun-toting. Perhaps our continuous and rancorous debates about the second amendment are giving the rest of the world an inaccurate view of us. Maybe the media does us a disservice by spending so much air time and print on the arguments about guns. Americans are peaceful people. Fighting about whether or not we can carry guns, or insisting that we need them for protection in a country like Canada, with an extraordinarily crime rate may have given the rest of the world a different impression.