Day 23
   
   5/20/01
   Mile 2316
   Milk River, Alberta, Canada
   
   And the morning forecast again:  headwinds measured at 33mph, gusts to
   50, windchill near 10 degrees.
   
   I'd checked into a cheap hotel at Shelby, due to the continuing rain
   and need to shower and dry out clothes.  I sat watching the weather
   channel, the only thing on TV that had any interest to me.  Outside, I
   watched the rain clouds come and go...sometimes hail, sometimes 15
   minutes of rain.  One of my fears was that this might just me a bit too early
   in the season to be doing a trip like this, and I might see much of the
   rest of the trip like this.  That would be quite a bit of misery to
   put up with.
   
   About 1pm, I got tired of waiting around, and I needed food anyway.  I
   went to the Subway shop and ate a sandwich  - it started raining again
   before I could even get the half mile there.
   
   I've received many insightful entries in the "Why am I doing this?"
   contest.  There hasn't been time to respond to them, but they were all
   appreciated.   They have ranged from the humorous
   
   "Beats wearing a tie."   --Calvin Schuecting
   
   to the bizarre but strangely compelling
   
   "Because you were a bird in a previous life."  --Susana Page
   
   Many entries showed excellent long-term life reasons.  However, on the
   short term, the winner so far seems to be (not surprisingly) Mike
   Wood, whom I am due to meet in Alaska in but a month's time:
   
   "Because I'd kick your ass if you stopped now."
   
   That's going to be hard to beat.
   
   By about 3pm, I'd had enough waiting.  I ventured out, knowing full
   well I was going to get wet.  So what.  I've noticed that everytime
   I've gotten wet,  I've eventually dried back out.
   
   The precip came and went in waves, just as expected.  Ten minutes of
   rain.  Five minutes of sun.  Five minutes of hail.  Ten minutes of
   empty dark clouds.  And so on.
   
   Of course the wind was still there, in my face as usual.  But all I
   wanted to do today was make the border, and that looked attainable.
   
   Eventually the front blew out to the southeast and left sunny skies.
   That left only one more hurdle to deal with today: Immigration, which
   I was not looking forward to since nearly every time I've go to Canada I
   get hassled.
   
   I arrived at the border at 8pm, hoping this will only take a few
   minutes and I can be on my way before it gets dark.  True to form, it
   takes almost an hour.  I stopped at the guard shack, and am asked a series
   of questions.  Then I'm given paperwork and told to park the bike and go
   see a second official.  Unfortunately, there's nobody at the desk, and
   I wait for 15 minutes for someone to arrive.
   
   I point out that I'm traveling on bike and it's getting dark, but
   that seems to evoke no particular sense to move things along. I hand
   him the form, whereupon he disappears for another 15 minutes.  Then a
   third official takes me into a private room for questioning. What's next,
   hot lights?  After that, more waiting.  Then I'm handed the paperwork to
   give to a fourth official, who pronounces me fit to continue.  I've 
   traveled to many countries (including ex-Soviet-bloc ones like the Czech 
   Republic) and nowhere are border crossings more drawn out than those of our
   friendly neighbors to the north.  It's now sunset, and have an hours' bike 
   to the next town.
   
   I pitched the tent on the banks of the Milk River, thankful that there
   is now still enough twilight to do that at 10pm.  It should have been
   considered a bad day, but for some reason I don't feel that way; I've
   crossed the U.S. averaging 100 miles per day, and I'm just glad to be
   alive and able to do that.  Mark those blessings counted.

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