It was on my first visit here that I noticed Point Roberts on the map, a tiny piece of the United States accessible only from Canada. It seemed a peculiar curiosity I’d investigate on a future trip. Eight years and as many visits later, I finally found myself in the place locals call Point Bob.

Point Bob being part of the United States was somewhat of an accident. After the war of 1812, a treaty was drafted giving the British all lands north of the 49th parallel and the U.S. all lands south. The British quickly realized this would leave the Americans in possession of the southern tip of Vancouver island, a strategic seaport. Though a loop in the boundary line was quickly drawn around the island, no one seemed to notice that a portion of the Canadian mainland also dipped into US territory, and Point Roberts became a part of the United States.

 

I had just taken the free shuttle van through the tunnel that goes beneath the Fraser river and noticed how close I was to Point Roberts. A cyclist, who looked to have the legs of a rhinoceros said it could be reached in 45 minutes. I asked him how many miles per hour he rode, and after being corrected that they use kilometers per hour in Canada was told about 15. That wasn’t too much faster than my pace so I decided to give it a go. It was several miles out of my way, but after ignoring this opportunity eight times, I wondered again when I would be so close.

 

I began to regret my decision when I saw that Point Roberts, unlike the rest of the marshland I’d been riding through, appeared to be on top of a hill. As I began my ascent, I saw a sign that said, “U.S. border 450 meters”. How far is that I wondered? I was pretty good at converting waterfall heights to meters for my foreign tourists and I knew that Latourel falls was 75 meters, which converts to about 250 feet. So I began calculating in my head, 75 goes into 450 six times, so that means 1500 feet to go. Wow! That’s a lot of time on this hill.

 

I was also fairly curious about what a border crossing here would entail since there’s no access to the U.S. mainland. It wasn’t quite as casual as I’d imagined, but it was definitely the easiest crossing I’ve done. He asked the usual “What’s the purpose of your visit?” to which I replied, “Just the novelty seeing the United States on my visit to Canada” Without any response to my witty answer, he waved me through, and I began my downhill coast into Point Roberts. I noted with concern that I would have to climb back out this way since they managed to put the border crossing at the highest point on the hill.

 

The cyclist I had met at the tunnel told me to eat at the bakery at the Shell station which appeared on the right during my downhill coast. I pulled in and was not disappointed. I picked a cookie bar with a copious amount of chocolate chips, and it was one of the sweetest treats I’ve ever tasted. I immediately went back in and bought a second one for later. I sat for awhile and took in this puzzling place.

 

It turns out that Canadians use this U.S. exclave for cheap gas, cheap groceries, and receiving mail. This I learned from the cyclist who picked up his mail here. Because they pay U.S. prices for gas and groceries, it is worth it for anyone who lives close to Point Roberts to drive here to save a few bucks, or should I say loonies. The gas prices posted here are in Canadian dollars and litres. Canadians can also avoid international shipping charges when ordering from American companies by having things shipped to a U.S. post office on Canadian soil. So, all day long, the customs station serves as a revolving door to Canadians buying American goods for cheaper than they would be in Canada even though, in the case of gas and consumer goods, those things have to be transported through Canada. The modern world.

 

I realized this worked out for me too. I had turned off my cell phone while in Canada to avoid roaming charges but realized that I was now back in the states and could once again access my domestic cell phone plan. After a frenzy of texts and emails, I mounted my bike and to off to explore the island. I realize it’s a peninsula, but it’s odd geopolitical nature gave it more the feel of an island.

 

I decided to start my circumnavigation by following the signs to Lighthouse Marine Park, and was amusingly disappointed, after a thorough search, that there was no lighthouse to be found. It was a tranquil piece of land, however with azure waves crashing upon a shoreline of small round boulders. Across the sound I could see the mountains of Vancouver island and to the south the San Juan islands. I communed with nature for a few minutes before moving on. I couldn’t dilly dally too long as I was supposed to be arriving at my accommodations back in Canada about now, and here I was riding circles around the U.S.A.

 

Rounding the last corner of Point Roberts, I realized that there was no town here at all; just a scattering of houses, a marina, and places for Canadians to save on groceries. I continued on the signed “scenic route” just in case but found myself at the U.S. / Canada border on the north end of town. From here, I wearily looked up the steep hill back to the border crossing.

 

I had always wondered whether these border towns, with city streets on either side, actually had a physical barrier preventing people from walking the 10 yards from Main street USA to Main street Canada. I could see that, at low tide, one could easily walk along the shoreline into Canada. I considered it. Then I continued along the border and was disappointed to find a fence, a blackberry bush or some kind of barrier keeping me from crossing the border. But then I found it. At the end of a dead end street in the U.S. was a dead end street in Canada with a foot path through a hedge. Now I just had to do it. Why not, right? I’m just walking across the street. I threaded my bike through the hedge wondering whether there might be motion detectors, cameras, a Canadian border patrol, or a group of armed Canadian Patriots to keep me from coming in and stealing low paying Canadian jobs.

 

The further I got into Canadian territory, the more I wondered whether the U.S. and Canada exchanged information. When I tried to cross back into the U.S. would they wonder how I got back into Canada without “checking in”? I even considered going back and crossing properly now that I had successfully snuck across the border. In fact, had I known this could be done all along, I wouldn’t have gone through the U.S. border checkpoint to begin with and saved myself that metric conversion of a hill climb.

 

But the thrill of getting away with it was too strong. I kept riding and eventually my fears subsided. The next day I was to find that U.S. customs only cares about your entry into the U.S. and could care less if you entered another country illegally. And that was how I came to find and escape Point Roberts, Canada’s little piece of America.