This being the day before the anniversary of 9-11, I guess they were just being diligent. But, I must admit, I suppose my appearance and mode of travel were enough to pique the curiosity of even the most complacent of customs officials. At the entrance gate, I handed my passport to the officer as he glanced into the back of the trooper, spying the 3-foot thick layer of densely packed material.

"What is all that stuff back there"? I told him - camping stuff, food, books, tools. Next he asked the usual round of questions about contraband, alcohol, gifts, weapons and commercial items. I had nothing in those categories except one bottle of chardonney and two cans of beer. Following that he asked what I did for a living, so I told him I was and unemployed software engineer. This, for some reason, is what I think put me over the threshold. Anyway, I was requested to pull over for an inspection.

Another officer came out of the office and spent about 20 minutes going through the trooper, searching the front cabin, my suitcases and a few boxes. He seemed to be particularly intrigued by a jar of Thai tiger balm that my brother Geoff had given me. I opened the jar to make sure he could get a good whiff. For some reason, that seemed to dampen his enthusiasm. He didn't even look in my two coolers - one contained food and the other contained computer gear - but they just as easily could have contained a few hundred pounds of cocaine or a dozen assault rifles.

After deciding that there was nothing particularly interesting to be found in the trooper, I went into the office to finish the paperwork. They asked me a few more questions, particularly if I had been arrested for anything up in the states - maybe they thought I might be some sort of fugitive. I toyed with the idea of asking for political asylum but figured this was not the place to exercise that form of humor.

Anyway - they eventually cut me loose, I spent about an hour on the Canadian side of the falls, then headed west. I avoided the main super-highway, called Queen Elizabeth Way, opting instead to take Route 3, a more southerly route through the rural areas and small towns on my way to London. I stopped in Dunnville for lunch, where the owner gave me a local paper, and later stopped at a small winery where I bought a bottle each of the local chardonnay and a raspberry desert wine.

Most of Ontario looks a lot like update New York or northwest Pennsylvania. The cars are the same, the towns and houses are similar, the same franchises occupy the commercial spaces. There was, however, something distinctive about a few of the farms - specifically, the barns. On several, I noticed neat rows of smaller red barns, uniform in construction and color, lined up like oversized hotel pieces on a giant Monopoly board. I haven't seen this on American farms (of course, I'll probably bump into some just after publishing the observation).

Before getting to London, I turned south to the town of Port Stanley, which had been recommended by the vintner. I figured I should at least see Lake Erie from this side.

The town was picturesque. It had a working waterfront, a marina, a drawbridge over the river, and lots and lots of beach.

There was a bit of a breeze - I don't know if the size of the surf was enhanced by the wind, or if the waves are always this big. But, if one was blindfolded, kidnapped and dropped off here, you're first impression would be that you are on the ocean. Then, you might notice some things. At first, you might pick up on the lack of the typical ocean aroma of seaweed and detritus tossed up on the sand. Eventually you might stumble into the water, tasting it - and it would be fresh.

It took me a minute to figure out why all the seagulls were faced in the same direction, and then I fugured it out - they are all faced into the wind, so they don't get their feathers ruffled, or blown over, or both.

As dusk came and went, I drove into London. I decided to treat myself to a nice hotel for the evening. I found the Stationpark All Suites Hotel, right in downtown. I managed to negotiate the CAA rate (even though I'm not a member of the Canadian Automobile Association, let alone Canadian). For the equivalent of $90 US, I got a very nicely appointed three room suite. I hope I live that comfortably when I get back to Arizona.