Oh Canada!

Today was our day to go to Canada, a "cornin funtree". Well, Canada isn't too cornin. But Quebec boasts its French language. Gramma, our most excellent navigator, positioned us about 100 miles from the border. She wanted us to have a short drive to leave time at the border crossing, where the Mounties might want to have us unload Bigfoot, while they confiscated all of our milk products. Gramma has been very unsettled about these possibilities. The drive from Farmington, Maine on Hwy 4 north, connecting with Hwy 27 north was stunning. Below is a typical view we had along the route. We passed the famous ski resort of Sugarloaf

As we reached the border, this ominous sign greeted us

The customs building was modest at this Woburn crossing into Quebec, and there were no lines. Trucks and RVs were directed to the left of the facility

Even with our limited French, we knew what this sign meant.

The actual process was very pleasant. Our  Canada Border Services Officer (not Mountie) asked a few questions and took our passports, took them into the office and did whatever they do in there and stamped them "Woburn". As friendly as he was, these guys were prepared. They were wearing bullet proof vests. He didn't have us unload our belongings, didn't ask to come into the rig (Becca was ready, all dressed, sitting with her seat belt on), nor did he ask one question about food. Take that back. He did say "other than food and personal belongings, are you carrying anything else". That was it. Nothing about milk or Gramma's cheese. He asked about alcohol and tobacco. I said, "No, we're Mormons. Please don't hold that against us" He smiled. He asked about weapons a couple of ways, listing pepper spray and stun guns. I decided to come clean. "I carry a pocket knife" "Switch blade?"he asked. I got out my little pocket knife to show him. He laughed. 

After he returned our passports and wished us a nice trip in Canada, I got back in the cab and started the motor. Gramma said softly and sadly, "I ate all my cheese".  I laughed and laughed. When we got about 50 miles from the border we stopped for lunch. Gramma gathered all of the cheese she hadn't eaten yet, and ate it as we drove. She was determined that the Canadian thugs were not going to get her cheese. I hope she won't get sick.

Canada welcomes us with this sign

At this crossing is Lac-Megantic. This is where our friends from Mesa live. As we drove the 30 miles to the lake we were very impressed by the well kept homes and property.

Gramma found an RV park for us. To find it we drove on Hwy 161 to Hwy 263. We immediately felt the burden of not being able to read the street signs in French.  A literacy lesson. Gramma got us to "Baie des Sables, Lac-Megantic". It's a nice place. I paid for it in Canadian dollars. Well my card paid for it. It will be an adventure to handle the different money, litres, km, etc

P.S. With prompting from Heavenly Father, we found and fixed the problem with the steps. It was a broken battery connection. Apparently the constant jarring of the rig on the road frayed the connector causing an intermittent hiccup. Amazingly, I had an exact replacement in my tool box. It is a strange little cable I have been hauling around for several years. Coincidence? We don't think so.