By Ginger Warburton

November 15, 2006 | As a van driver I also got to drive places the buses couldn't go.

For example, out to Talbot Lake for a fly-fishing tour.

The road was horribly bumpy and too small for other vehicles. I liked to hike around on this tour because I had about three hours to kill while I waited for the fishermen before I went back to the dock. I wandered around on old logging roads, singing or whistling loudly to myself to scare the bears away. I was so struck by the beauty of where I was living I felt it imperative that my cousin Mike, an avid fisherman, come join me. I knew he would love it. So I called him and told him to drop what he was doing, drive north and get a job in Alaska. He was of course a little reluctant. Much name-calling commenced coming from me, my uncle (his dad), and my cousin (his brother.) "Sissy" was the word of choice. Mike quit his job and began the long drive to Alaska.

Mike called me often on his trek. He was worried about what would happen at the Canada border.

I didn't understand why this would be a big deal. I had flown and hadn't had to bother with the border. I assured him everything would be fine, and had him talk to some of my friends who had crossed the border. The night he was to cross the border I was working at the Heen Kahidi dining room and we were slammed. I always kept my phone with me in my apron in case it was slow and I was bored and wanted to text somebody. My phone was ringing off the hook with calls and texts from Mike. From the bits and pieces of his voice mails I could nip off to listen to, I could tell the border crossing had not gone smoothly. I was filled with guilt and worry.

He had mentioned something about jail.

Finally around midnight I got off work and had a chance to call him. He groggily answered the phone, "I'll talk to you in the morning," he said. Oh no! I would have to wait until the morning to find out what happened. I was overwhelmed with dread and suspense. What could have possibly happened?

When Mike arrived at the Canada border at Osoyoos, Wash., an officer from the American side took him into a room. Mike was very honest and answered all of her questions, even volunteering information. Everything was going smoothly. Mike began to relax and felt silly for even worrying. The officer said she would only be a few minutes; they just needed to check on some things. She excused herself to take a phone call.

She came back, very upset.

"You haven't been honest with us," she accused. Mike racked his brain, but couldn't think of anything he had neglected to say.

He was incredulous. "What are you talking about?" he asked.

"You have a federal warrant out for your arrest."

Mike smiled at the joke. "Oh I thought you were serious."

"I am serious, you have a federal warrant out for your arrest."

"Ginger," he told me later, "they have federal warrants for terrorists."

His casual manner made the interrogator even more upset.

So how did a 23 year-old Mormon boy from Orem, Utah, have a federal warrant? First of all my family spends a lot of time in Montana because we've always had a cabin there. In 1995 wolves were reintroduced to the Lamar Valley in Yellowstone, close to our cabin. The reintroduction of the wolves brought"wolf watchers." These were people who would camp out on the road pull-outs with very expensive spotting equipment in hopes of seeing a wolf. We generally made fun of these people among ourselves, but would sometimes get annoyed because they would block the main road.

Mike, in an error of youth, made the awful mistake of howling at the wolf watchers as he drove by one day. The wolf watchers in turn called the rangers and described his car, telling the rangers he yelled obscenities and made obscene gestures. When confronted by a ranger, Mike teased the ranger, calling him a rookie, and winking at him. Mike was given a fine, which he proceeded to pay by check through the mail. He never thought of this instance again except to joke about how "idiotic" the rangers and wolf watchers were.

Apparently Yellowstone never received the check. Hence he had a federal warrant he didn't even know about. Mike was attempting to cross the border at a very small town. The border troops called the sheriff and asked him to come get the criminal. The closest sheriff was about a two-hour drive away in Republic, Wash. The sheriff finally arrived to take him away.

The sheriff was irate -- "This is a waste of my time, your time, and this kid's time."

He couldn't believe he had driven two hours late in the evening because some dumb kid from Utah had howled at some tourists three years ago. The American officers at the border stuck by their convictions, that Mike was a criminal and needed to be dealt with accordingly. Since the call had been made to the sheriff, Mike had to be put in jail. Mike got in the back seat of the sheriff's car. Mike had to have a tow company tow his jeep two hours back to where the sheriff was from. Mike protested, "Can't I just follow you, I promise I won't try to get away." This, as you can imagine was not allowed, he had get a tow truck. Mike finally arrived in Republic, where he was put in jail.

Meanwhile I kept getting calls from him, and since I was working I couldn't respond. He was only able to call me because one of the officers sneaked his cell phone to him. The next day and about $600 later, Mike was released back in the beautiful USA. I finally talked to a very disheartened and angry Mike.

"I'm just going to go home, Ginge."

Finally after some prodding, Mike decided to try his luck at a different border crossing, which he crossed, no questions asked.

MS
MS