Parks Canada: National Parks and National Historic Sites

Open in 1927, and designated a national historic site in 1995, The Prince of Wales is the only grand railway-era hotel in Canada that was built by Americans.

Photo: Patrice Halley

GREY SKIES AND A FORECAST for rain greet us the next morning. Over breakfast at the Prince of Wales buffet — Bodi devours a brimming bowl of Fruit Loops for the first time in his life — Christine and I hem and haw about the hike ahead. Sans toddler, we’d go without hesitation. But now there are naps and snacks to consider, and we’re unsure how well Bodi will handle being stuffed in a backpack for a long, wet day.

Bodi is oblivious. He races about the small plateau at top speed, frighteningly close to the sheer drop, my hand clamped firmly on his wrist — the happiest he’s been in days. It’s easy to forget that Bodi has been raised on a diet of wilderness and adventure. By 16 months, he had spent a quarter of his life sleeping in a tent. Decision made.

Back at the hotel, we pack some extra diapers, wipes, a bag of snacks and rain jackets, then traipse downhill, past busy shops and restaurants, and strike out from the southern edge of town.

The trail, initially, is well trodden, rolling through dense forests of poplar, Douglas fir and lodgepole pine. Pearly everlasting, cow parsnip, beargrass and thimbleberry erupt along the flanks. At times the route drops to the lake and we crunch across long pebble beaches. We pause for a quick lunch of canned tuna and crackers and are chased on by a cloudburst.

After the 9/11 closure, the Waterton-Glacier border crossing reopened in June 2003, but only Canadian and American citizens with proper identification could enter the United States. In the summer of 2008, U.S. Customs and Border Protection (CBP) officers began staffing the Goat Haunt Ranger Station and it became a Class B Port of Entry (people other than Canadians and Americans need their passports and a supplemental form to enter).

CBP policy stipulates that a minimum of 150,000 vehicles per year are required to justify the establishment of a new Land Entry. Goat Haunt doesn’t even have a dirt road leading to it. Along the entire 8,891-kilometre Canada–United States border, it is the first and only Port of Entry not accessible by car. Even on the enormously popular Chilkoot Trail, which straddles the peaks between Alaska and the Yukon, hikers must first clear customs at a distant highway station.

Although Goat Haunt is at the southern end of the lake, the actual border bisects the dark waters partway down, and it seems to be taking an inordinately long time to get there. I start to wonder if there’s any chance we already passed it.

Suddenly, a clearing opens on the trail and two shoulder-high stone obelisks stand before us, with the dates of various treaties commemorated on their sides. We circle them, and as the obelisks align, I notice the arrow-straight slash stretching in both directions through the forest, over ridges and mountains, to the visible horizon. The 49th parallel: it gets a haircut every 10 to 15 years.

A battery of signs warn us of dangers ahead. The first: “Welcome to the United States — all persons subject to detention and search.” And then: “You are entering a wilderness area and must accept certain inherent dangers, including snow, steep terrain, water and wildlife. There are no guarantees of your safety. Bears have injured and killed visitors and may attack without warning and for no apparent reason.”

OK, clear enough, though a simple “be careful” might have sufficed. No wonder some hikers carry handguns.