On my way to Glacier National Park I had the not-so-bright idea of visiting our hat, aka Canada. I looked up dayhikes and the Hoodoo Trail in Alberta's Writing On Stone Provincial Park was the closest. It's a Blackfeet sacred site and a World Heritage Site, but, frankly, it's no Bryce Canyon. OTOH, there are petroglyphs that are interesting to look at.
My interest in the park was damped to a great deal because I was searched by the Grenzpolizei. The morbidly obese border guard couldn't wrap her mind around the fact that I was driving into their benighted country just for a dayhike. It was a cursory inspection and they didn't find anything. I'd left the edibles I got in Montana under a hay bale on the appropriately named Potter Road about 20 miles south of the longest, saddest border in the world.
But, still outraged, I committed lèse-majesté against the entirety of their "country" by writing "Canada can't play hockey. USA owns you." in the sand. That'll show them!
