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Hamann journal: We'll follow the sunNovember 29, 1999 EDITOR'S NOTE: Seattle-based correspondent Jack Hamann is headed on another adventure, this one to just to the south of the Arctic Circle. He'll be driving through the Canadian Rockies, across the windswept northern plains, up the Inside Passage and along the northernmost section of the Alaska Highway. Follow along here for regular dispatches on his journey. By Jack Hamann and Leslie Hamann
Journal date: November 24
(CNN) -- When does the sun rise in the west? It sounds like a riddle. Instead, it's feedback from Jack's Dad. Both Dad and Mom faithfully follow our daily journals as we trek across Northern Canada toward Alaska. A few days ago, we wrote about "the sun rising in the west." "Around here," Dad reminded us in an e-mail, "the sun rises in the EAST." So it does. Same thing here in Canada, Dad. Sunrises and sunsets have become a pretty big deal as we climb the ladder of latitudes toward the Arctic Circle. During the weeks leading up to the winter solstice, the dwindling hours of daylight add an extra urgency to each day's planning. We tend not to hit the road as early as we would like, which puts us on the road for plenty of miles after sunset. We've now been traveling for more than a week and well past 1,500 miles. Yesterday was especially tiring, so it helped that we started this day in Prince George, a nice little city far from any of British Columbia's borders. Borders were on our minds today. We had forgotten some medicine that we usually buy over-the-counter in Seattle. The pharmacist in Prince George reluctantly told us that, in Canada, our medicine was available by prescription only, and the nearby clinic couldn't take drop-in patients until the end of the day. We called our insurance company and then our doctor (Ah, the '90s, when you have to call your insurance company before you call your doctor!) The Seattle nurse tried to help us, but later called back to say that U.S. doctors cannot call prescriptions into Canadian pharmacies. What is with the strange border between Canada and the United States anyway? Compare Europe. A few years a go, crossing a border in Europe was a fairly big deal. More than once (especially entering Germany) we would be sound asleep in a rail car, only to be awakened by a border guard demanding to see our passports. These days, you cross Western European borders without even stopping. Even the imposing gray border guard booths along the German-French boundary stand empty. This summer, we passed between the Republic of Ireland and Ulster and couldn't find anyone to stamp our passports. But the U.S. and Canada, two mighty democracies with one of the longest shared borders in the world, have barriers worthy of wartime. The wait at the border stations connecting Seattle and Vancouver can take as long as an hour. On previous journeys, we've had our car searched by dogs, our IDs checked at length, and been asked questions about our travel plans that would make a priest feel like confessing future wrongdoing. On this trip, we'll go from the U.S. to Canada to the U.S. to Canada and back to the U.S.. Our first crossing, at a remote outpost connecting Montana and Alberta, was relatively uneventful -- except that the border, many miles from any open motels, would have been closed if we had arrived a few hours later in the evening. No telling how we'll do in the days ahead. Without our medicine, we bought a possible Canadian over-the-counter alternative, and headed west. At the entrance to a small trailer park outside the town of Vanderhoof, we came across a modest rock cairn and flag marking the exact geographic center of mammoth British Columbia. No border guards in sight. We continued along the Yellowhead Highway, chasing the setting sun. It's a spectacular benefit of driving the long, straight roads of the North American West: if you head toward the sun, it seems never to set, the glorious show of orange and gray and blue and yellow lasts far longer than reason should allow. And yes, Dad, when it finally did sink, it did so in the west. Jack Hamann is a correspondent with CNN's Environmental Unit and CNN NewsStand.
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