Friday Harbor

After beating against the current in the Speiden channel for what felt like an eternity, and working our way through the roughest seas of the trip just east of the Speiden channel, we arrived at the U.S. Customs dock in Friday Harbor four hours after we left B.C.

A few days before the trip to Sidney I made a call to employ the services of a customs broker in order to ease the transition of Red Dwarf from Canada to the U.S.; probably one of the smartest decisions of the trip. The broker provided forms required by U.S. Customs to import the boat and communicated with Customs about what I was up to and forwarded the forms to the Customs office.

I contacted the Customs office in Friday Harbor an hour before our arrival to let them know we were on our way and again via a phone handset on the Customs dock once we arrived. I was instructed to make my way up to the office located just on shore where I was greeted by officer Barnes, a fellow about three times my size outfitted in border patrol regalia. He asked for my paperwork and I provided him with the U.S. Customs power of attorney required by the customs broker, the U.S. Customs invoice for the Thunderbird, the NAFTA certificate of origin, and the bill of sale. Glancing down at what I had presented he asked "where is the rest?" I told him that what I had given him was all I had. He rephrased the question, asking if I had registration paperwork for the T-bird that would provide proof of ownership on the part of the seller and the manufacturer's serial or identification number for the vessel. When I told him that all the paperwork I had was in front of him he gave me a brief glance that I interpreted as his disapproval at the dearth of documentation before gathering it all up and moving to a computer terminal in an adjacent room. After about thirty minutes of entering information on the computer and asking the occasional question we walked back down to the Customs dock so he could inspect the boat.

When we arrived at the boat, and from the relative comfort of the dock, Officer Barnes asked where the hull ID number could be found. I told him that I did not believe the boat had identification of any kind on the hull, inside or out, and mentioned that the old, weathered class measurement sticker just inside the companionway may have some useful information. The boat heeled under his considerable weight as he stepped down into the cockpit and then carefully eased himself through the companionway. After a moment of looking around inside the boat he emerged, stood up in the cockpit, looked and me and said that the sticker really had no information. He stepped back onto the Customs dock and looked down at the vessel entrance or clearance statement and the entry/immediate delivery forms he held in his hands. He gave a shrug, signed the forms and handed them to me. We shook hands and he told us to have a safe trip.

The Thunderbird cleared U.S. Customs.