June 6 — Jackson, Wyoming to Thunder Bay, Ontario
Goodbye, USA; see you in 2027
I began the day by calling Canadian immigration to let them know we were on our way. It was a beautiful morning as we drove out of Jackson toward the airport, and then Danny asked me if I had his passport. I didn’t. A quick call to Rick confirmed that I had left it on the desk at Michael Solomon’s house after reading the passport number to Canadian immigration. Fortunately, Danny caught this not only before takeoff but before we returned the rental car. I got a second chance to say goodbye to the Clevelands, and we drove off again. You can read Rick’s story about my adventure here.
We had woken up early to take advantage of the lower winds and lighter turbulence of the morning, but that plan still didn’t prevent us from hitting a couple of very big bumps between Jackson and Thermopolis, where I had planned to stop for fuel. Because of those bumps, I decided it was wiser to fly further before stopping, and we set out for Ekalaka, Montana, near the South Dakota border, where self-serve fuel was available.
Unfortunately, although I could hear the fuel pump start, I couldn’t get any fuel when I squeezed the handle. The only plus was Danny got to set foot in Montana for the first time. The only other state in the contiguous United States Danny hadn’t been to was South Dakota. So when we took off again for the closest airport with fuel, in Buffalo, South Dakota, we completed his set.
Danny spotted a rodeo as we were on final approach for runway 12. When we landed, I saw a lock around the fuel hose handle; the avgas wasn’t self-serve, and there was no one around to fuel us. The good news was that we were safely on the ground. The bad news was that we now didn’t have enough fuel to launch again in search of self-serve.
A little building near the fuel pumps has a bathroom and also serves as a pilot lounge. There was a number to call for fuel. We called it, and the woman at the other end said she would call the owner and get somebody to come fuel us. Within a half-hour, a very friendly woman arrived with the key to the pump, and we were in business. We topped off, and she gave us a ride into town to pay at the local gas station. On the way back to the airport, we asked her to drop us off at the rodeo. It was a high school rodeo, with free admission, and concession stands where we could get lunch and smoothies. We saw some saddle bronc riding and some calf roping, experiencing the sort of serendipitous afternoon that is one of the best things about flying your own plane.
Tower, Minnesota, was our final US fuel stop, chosen for its location near Canada and its avgas price of less than $5 per gallon. It would be a very long time before gas that cheap was available to me again. On takeoff from Tower, I needed to activate my flight plan for the border crossing into Canada, but I couldn’t get through to Princeton Radio. Minneapolis Center suggested another frequency to try, and though there was static, that seemed to do the trick. We got a handoff to Winnipeg Center near the border, then had a smooth flight into Thunder Bay.
As usual, immigration control into Canada was smooth and easy. I made a phone call after landing and was given a number to write down, and we were admitted into Canada. We parked on the ramp next to a Cirrus, the only other small plane in sight. It was 9:13 p.m., and the fixed base operator (place where you park your plane when you’re traveling) was officially closing, but the guy was sticking around anyway for a late-arriving flight so was not in a hurry to shoo us out of the building. There was a long wait time for the Uber, so we walked to our hotel (40 minutes). Dinner was a collection of appetizers and some local beer as we watched the Stanley Cup Finals, the obvious thing to do on an early June night in Canada. When we started watching, Las Vegas had a four-goal lead in the third period. Minutes later, the game was tied. It went two overtimes before Las Vegas finally won it.