No, Really, We're Just Camping Here for Three Days

I was inspired by Jerry's blog to share with you our experiences with the Canadian Border Patrol.
So in July on our honeymoon, we took the ferry from Port Angeles, Washington to Vancouver Island, British Columbia, Canada. Saw a racoon as we boarded.

Great ferry ride. Beautiful. Escorted on either side by American patrol boats with big guns. While we're on the ferry, I (in my incredibly anal way) organized all our paperwork, afraid we were going to give them the wrong form or something and spend the rest of the week in a Canadian prison (not that it would be too scary). So we were ready. We filled out all the forms, but as we were doing so...hmmm....only 5 liters of alcohol allowed into the country? Well.....we had around 6 bottles of wine left over from our wedding in the car. A tad over the limit. But we wrote it down and figured we'd just have to pay a fee.
So we get into our car, pull it off the ferry and go up to the customs booth. He asks us how long we're staying in Canada. Six days. He looks at our car
And says, "Why do you have so much stuff?" "Well, we're camping and we're moving to Idaho." "Where are you staying?" Me: (Cleverly) "On Vancouver Island." Man: This is Vancouver Island. Where on the Island are you staying?" Me: "Oh. A campground somewhere north of here. I have the same somewhere in my papers." Shuffle shuffle. Man: "Ok.....how much alcohol do you have?" Jason: "We have........six bottles of wine and six bottles of beer. Yeah, that's it. Oh wait, also a bottle of scotch." Customs Man: "Ok, so how much total?" At this point, both of us start talking trying to come up with a total number. So he says to wait right there and talks to another guy and then tells us to pull over and wait for the other agent.
So the other guy comes over and informs us very politely that they're going to have to verify the amount of alcohol we declared and also check for any other controlled substances, firearms, or Paul Anka albums. New Customs Man assures us that we should tell them if we are carrying any narcotics. We say, "Ummm...we don't have any." New Customs Man: "Ok.... but just tell us if you do."
So the Canadian Border Patrol proceed to take everything out of our car and search through all our bags. They pull Jason aside to try to get him to confide in them the presence of drugs in the car. "No really sir, just tell us and your wife won't get mad at you." They also ask me about three times whether or not we have drugs. I mean really, do we look like the sort of couple who dabble in drug trafficking?

Luckily, we developed a system over the past week of packing the car; so once the Canadians finished going through everything, we managed to have the car packed in a few minutes. Then we got a mini-lecture (very well intenioned and not meanly) about having straight answers when we crossed the border. I wanted to take pictures of the whole process, but Jason wouldn't let me get out the camera. I don't think the Mounties would have minded, but Jason apparently thought it might be illegal.
Anyways, that's our little Canadian border crossing experience. The End.