We land in Haines, Alaska. It's 6:30 in the morning and drizzling. We can't see the mountains or the glaciers that reputedly surround it on three sides, so despite the surprising number of American flags deployed everywhere, Haines reminds us of Port Hardy on a rainy day. It feels kind of familiar.
We proceed up the highway out of Haines, and pretty soon we're at Canadian Customs. Where are we going? Alaska. Are we carrying large amounts of currency? Joke. Any firearms or ammunition? We're Canadians. Anything to declare? Four bottles of wine, purchased when the stores opened in Haines.
We knew exactly what we would be asked, and we knew exactly what the limits were, because they're always the same: it's the Canadian way.
Fast forward to next day, just beyond Beaver Creek, Yukon. American Customs. We already know they have a thing about citrus fruit, although the citrus fruit industry of Alaska must be miniscule (about as large as that of North Dakota, where we recently had the lemons with the USA stickers purchased in Davidson, Saskatchewan confiscated) and we're not carrying apples, because, as we discovered in Prince Rupert when our New Zealand apples were similarly confiscated, the ones that don't carry either a USA or a Canada sticker cannot be consumed on the Alaska ferry unless you buy them on the ferry. But here, just on the edge of the tundra, they're more interested in vegetables, and in our case particularly Mexican green onions. After considerable consultation with computer databases, it turns out Mexican green onions in their package are allowed into Alaska. However, as Paul and Shirley found out shortly after, no green onion out of its original packaging shall penetrate the "Last Frontier".
And that is how the market gardeners of Alaska are spared the heartbreak of having their green onions threatened by foreign pests or pathogens.
Customs 2
I photographed the sign near Tok, Alaska, but I'd seen several examples before then after we joined the Alaska Highway at Delta Junction.
Most of us know the history of the Alaska Highway, how it was built from Dawson Creek, BC to Delta Junction, Alaska during World War II to provide an overland supply route for troops fighting the Japanese. The conditions were frequently horrendous for the men building a highway in some of the most inhospitable road-building terrain imaginable: huge mountains, muskeg, permafrost, and, depending on the season, literally billions of bugs alternating with extreme cold.
Although the Alaska Highway was built by US servicemen, and although its construction undoubtedly involved many acts of everyday heroism, I doubt if many of those soldiers received a Purple Heart in recognition of their sacrifices.
So what's with the sign? What link is there with this highway and troops wounded or killed in action?
As I've noted before, this dedication of highways to dead or injured troops past and present is not unique to Alaska. But as far as I know, it is unique to the USA, and certainly one of the things that makes our neighbour foreign.
PS: My sister, Lies, kindly points out that there's a "Veterans Memorial Parkway" in London, and that Ontario Highway 416 is the "Veterans Highway". There's also a "Veteran's Memorial Parkway" which connects Langford to the Sooke Road.
As imitation is surely the sincerest form of flattery, these names probably tell us a good deal about the mindset of Conservatives (both Ontario Provincial and Federal) implicated in such naming decisions.
I feel better about recognizing all veterans rather than just dead and injured ones, but the practice still feels foreign to me (as does the curious use or lack of apostrophe). And roads continue to seem a peculiar tribute.
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