After our three month visit in Quebec and with summer coming to an end the time had come to move on with our plans and head down into the US for the fall and winter months. Through Boondockers Welcome, Hipcamp (both online alternatives to regular commercial campgrounds that offer private campsites on private land) and other resources we had carefully chosen and reserved every campground on our way south, landing us in Florida on November 7 where we had planned a month stay at an RV resort. We were quite pleased with how we had planned everything and were excited to get going with the next chapter of our adventure.
Despite our meticulous planning and mapping and routing, the night prior to our departure was riddled with our typical thoughts of “worst case scenarios” that thwarted any attempt to sleep. The thoughts mostly centered around; a) the exit from the park, with it’s low hanging wires and twisty turns, now all in the opposite direction and; b) crossing the border.
Getting out of the campground went well. Julie stood on the picnic table with a 2x4 board holding the electrical wires up as I slowly inched the trailer forward until we were safely clear of them. We then made our way towards the exit, around the twists and turns, up the little hill and under the next set of wires. These wires seemed to have sagged a bit from the time when we arrived three months ago and threatened to snag the air conditioning unit on the roof of the trailer. We could see that it was going to hit but the difference was that we were going forward and in that direction the air conditioning unit is nicely curved towards the back of the trailer and the wires should just slip up and over the air conditioner. Fortunately, that’s just what they did and after another couple of tight turns we were out of the park and away!
With the exit from the park safely behind us, our worries then turned to crossing the border. We had done our research as to what we could and couldn’t, should and shouldn’t bring across the US border from Canada but there was also a lot of grey areas where it depended on the season and, according to many online comments, the border guard you happened to be greeted by. We cleared out of fridge of all produce that was “out of season”, made sure we had the appropriate amount of alcohol in the cupboard (that is, appropriate for crossing the border) and gave our plants away to Julie’s aunt as the soil they were in was not allowed to cross the border. We made sure all of our dogs medical records were in order and easily accessible and that their food and treats were all in the original packaging. We felt we were very prepared, but knew it was going to be a game of eenie-meenie-minie-moe when we reached the line. Because we are full time living in our trailer we have every available space packed with stuff. 
At times it has been much like a game of Tetris trying to get things to fit just right and the thought of a secondary inspection, complete with tearing apart our carefully packed drawers and cabinets was much like thinking of the aftermath of a category 5 hurricane resulting in catastrophic damage in which most of the area hit will be uninhabitable for weeks or months. The fear is real, and we were hoping that they would simply send in the sniffer dog and call it a day.
As we approached the border, the stress heightened as there were several lanes to chose from, we weren’t sure if there was an RV lane or we would just go to the regular car lane, or even if we would fit in the regular car lane. Julie spoke with her Dad, who has crossed that particular border several times, and he said to just go where the regular traffic goes and although it will be a tight fit it will be ok. We rolled up, passports and ID in hand and met with the border guard. He took our passports and ID and without lifting his head asked us what we did for a living. I replied that we are both retired police officers. He asked where we were going and how long we were staying and I told him we were heading to Florida for six months. At that time he glanced up and said something to the effect of “I wish I was too!” The stress level began to ebb. He asked what kind of food we were bringing across. I told him the only thing I had kept was a few cherry tomatoes (mainly because it was unclear if they were “in season” or “out of season”) and four kiwis. That was it. . . no questions about the dogs, no questions about alcohol amounts or cash or guns and no hassle over the fact that I was born in Missouri and travelling on the wrong passport (as I was informed of several years ago on a flight to Kentucky). He simply gave us our documents back and directed us to pull off into the agricultural area and a couple of officers would meet us there. Julie stepped out of the truck and met the officers and let them into the trailer. They went in, took the tomatoes (apparently out of season) and then chatted with Julie outside for quite a while about the present state of employment in the enforcement area. No sniffer dog, no category 5 hurricane, just a friendly educational chat about what can and can’t cross the border and the people enforcing that. That’s it!
Minus a few cherry tomatoes, we bid the US border officers farewell and continued south into New York State and on to the first chapter of our US adventure!
