Upon exiting the Detroit River into Lake Erie, Whisper found herself battling into a stiff chop (seiches) and making little progress toward the south side of Lake Erie. The best choice was to bear off on a close reach toward the Pelee National Park. Not wanting to bear off that much, needing to make easting, I pointed Whisper towards the inviting Island of Pelee, some 16 miles offshore.
On arrival I called Canadian Customs. The genial agent asked me where I had been, where was I going and, oh yes, did I know about the nice winery on Pelee Island?
That set the stage for a pleasant confluence of cruisers from the U.S. and Canada all piling in a rickety old taxi and making the 8 mile trip across Pelee to sample some pretty respectable wines. Oh Canada!
By contrast, my arrival in the U.S. required hunting down a videophone at Cleveland's 55th Street Marina with which to submit to U.S. Customs and Border Protection inspection. The marina, at 10 p.m., was largely deserted save for a dive bar at one end of the parking lot.
The dive bar was replete with a pit bull guarding the door. At least it was a friendly pit bull. And there, in the corner between the ice machine and a video game was the U.S. CBP videophone.
The Customs agent was at least, for 10 p.m., genial. And, upon presenting proper documentation, he inquired as to my itinerary and how many times the yacht intened to cross back and forth into Canada. Sadly, my answers to the simplest of questions didn't quite satisfy him.
He asked: Where are you going? My reply: East.
How long will it take you? .......I don't know.
When do you expect to arrive?........Arrive where?........Where you're going.........You mean east?........Yes, east.........Well, I'll be east of here tomorrow.........You mean your trip ends tomorrow?.........No, I'll be east of here tomorrow..........But you said you were going east.........Yes, and the day after tomorrow I'll be even more east.
This finally seemed to satisfy him, he realizing that I am not smart enough to represent a threat to homeland security.
His closing comment was "My, aren't we having just the best little tour of the Great Lakes!" upon which he bade me goodnight.
I spent today in a taxicab getting all the paperwork done for the I-68 form which will enable me to call U.S. CBP, much as I did Canadian Customs, and get recommendations on wineries in upstate New York.
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