The
calls were placed - one to the American Border Patrol and one to the Canadian
border authorities. While they waited,
they chatted amicably about various and sundry items. The officer said that the
Indians had illegally been collecting mushrooms and had close to a $1,000 worth
of the fungi. He removed them from the
bed of his truck and threw them into the woods as he talked. He also didn’t know a lot about the PCT, and
Coincidence was more than happy to fill him in on the specifics.
Before long, the American Border Patrol
called back to say they had no issues with the American, but when the Canadian
border authorities returned the officer’s call, the response was,
“Arrest
the suspect on violation of the Emigration Act.”
The
jovial and amicable manner of the Conservation Officer immediately changed and
he said, in a most authoritative tone of voice,
“Sir, I
need you to turn around and place your hands behind your back. You’re under arrest.”
“Whoa,”
said Coincidence, “I didn’t see that one coming.”
“Neither
did I,” said the officer.
It was
a long ride to the town of Hope in the back of the police cruiser, made even
more difficult having his hands cuffed behind his back, but Coincidence
prevailed.
In
Hope, he was taken to a detention facility of the Royal Mounted Police and
placed in a small cell, but not before being searched. Later that evening, he was transported to
Vancouver, and was somewhat upset when he overheard his guards mention
something about a "hearing." Coincidence recounted that before being
taken to the transport, not only was he again handcuffed, but he was also
shackled with leg chains, which made it difficult to walk in his bare feet.
The
ride to Vancouver was long, over an hour, and upon arriving, he was again
placed in a small cell, where he remained for the night. As he drifted off to sleep, he found it ironic
that he started the morning walking through the forests, and ended the day in a
jail cell.
The
morning interview Coincidence had with a Canadian border official centered on
the small detail of why he had deviated from his planned border crossing at
Manning Park, and also, the nitpicky detail that his permit had expired by two
days. Coincidence explained to him the difficulty
of crossing the snow-covered mountains.
“So,"
said the official," you just want to go home?”
“Yes,”
replied Coincidence.
“Well,
we really have no need to keep you further; I’ll see that you’re released as
quickly as possible.”
Later
that afternoon, a cab ride was provided for Coincidence to the U.S.-Canadian border
where he quickly passed through. Once on
the American side, he placed his hand on a large sign that said, “Welcome to
America,” then turned to face Canada, flipped it the bird, and walked away.
In
retrospect: Thru-hikers, particularly
those crossing into Canada at Manning Park, carry two official documents with them;
first, the Long Distance Hiking Permit issued by the Pacific Crest Trail
Association; and two, the Canadian Identification Permit for entry into Canada.
Either
permit can be requested for examination by the appropriate authorities. Chances are, a hiker will never be asked to
show their permits, but there are consequences for not having them. Personally, I had a Forest Service ranger ask
for my Long Distance Hiking Permit while hiking to Fuller Ridge in the San
Jacinto Mountains, and as Coincidence found out, the Canadian permit is valid
only for crossing into Canada at the border crossing specified on the permit –
which is Manning Park.
I’m Fine’s Ending
Like Ernest Shackleton, I’m Fine wasn’t about to give up.
Even after having rescued himself and
making his way to civilization at Stehekin, one would think that being as close
to death as he was, he would have taken the heavenly opportunity to flee the
snow and icy-covered mountains and frozen wilderness and beat a hasty retreat
to the comforts of his parents' home in Pennsylvania.
But I’m
Fine, like Shackleton and most PCT hikers, carried within himself the ever-smoldering
embers of the “Wanderfire,” that never say “never.” I marvel at and applaud the indomitable spirit
of I’m Fine who, rather than take the easy way out by saying,
“The
path ahead is too hard, I’ll pass,” recouped and plunged back into the
mountains, with as fierce a determination as I’ve ever encountered, to complete
the journey he started.
No one
would have faulted him for leaving the mountains; he had given his best and the
mountains had nearly snuffed out his life. But I’m Fine is of a particular breed of
individuals, not uncommon to those found hiking the Pacific Crest Trail, where
determination, courage, commitment, and vision are required qualifications for
even considering a long-distance hike.
I’m Fine persevered, prevailed, and conquered even as did Roald Amundsen
and Ernest Shackleton.
Although
I’m Fine, and Coincidence endured a bit more on the trail than the average PCT
hiker, they nevertheless typify the strength of character most hikers bring to
the starting point at Campo. These are
the type of people who would have sailed with Amundsen and Shackleton, and these
are the type of people future PCT hikers might want to compare themselves with
along with the character strengths of the twentieth-century polar explorers;
doing so will give the aspiring PCT hiker a good barometric reading as to the
feasibility and potential success of their anticipated 2,665-mile adventure.
Richard Jones
(Trail name: Rabbit Stick) Pacific Crest Trail Thru-Hiker, Class of 2013
P.S. I still have a one-owner, low-mileage, only
driven on Sunday trans-oceanic rowboat for sale, as well as a bear vault.
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