I spend a good deal of the winter escaping the Canadian weather in Florida. I used to picture “snowbirds,” as such fair-weather fiends are called, as elderly folk sipping sarsaparilla and playing a gentle game of shuffleboard. Now of course I know differently, but I digress. This is about heading home to Toronto in pandemic times.

As Coronavirus began to dominate the daily news we debated whether to stay in Gulfport – a wonderful little oasis in St. Pete, where a rambling house, large backyard and park across the street would make a ‘locked in’ life easier than a small condo in Toronto. Then the call came for Canadians to return home, insurance issues became apparent, and when we heard that there was not just a run on toilet paper, but on guns and ammunition (and isn’t that quite the combo) it was definitely time to pack up and go.

Because we have a dog, we drive to and from Gulfport at the beginning and end of our stay. In between, if and when business necessitates, we fly back and forth. Now there was no choice – drive back and soon. The decision made, the house was quickly prepared for departure, last minute details seen to and we were ready for departure at 07:00 Wednesday.

As happens, there was a creeping delay, but we finally got moving by 11:00. It was a gorgeous day and traffic was unusually light over the Howard Frankland Bridge that spans Tampa Bay between St. Pete and Tampa. The usual construction was barely in evidence or totally absent, the traffic flowed smoothly and I managed the drive without the usual undeleted expletives.

We had packed and prepared food for the trip – snacks (nuts, fruit, crackers, cheese, salami and Australian red licorice) for the drive and dinners (chicken salad, eggplant parmesan) – to be heated in the hotel microwave. And of course, some wine and scotch. Charlie had his own dinner and treats.

The thing that concerned us most was the bed linen – what if it had been handled by someone who might be in contact with the virus? Vicki wiped off all the surfaces in the room and stripped the bed. We had brought a large blue tarp (brand new) which we opened and threw over the bed. Then used our own pillows and covers.

We had dinner and went to bed.

Not a huge success! The blue tarp was plasticky, horrible to lie on, and crinkled with every move, the little covers were barely adequate – especially when Charlie wanted to be included.

We easily made the 07:00 ETD in the morning – leaving the tarp for the hotel (who knows what they thought of that!).

Once again, the traffic was light except for a couple of areas where construction delays slowed us down – in one instance taking over an hour to cover just a couple of miles. There were a lot of Ontario and Quebec licence plates and a number of New York and other northern states.

The rest stops in Florida, Georgia, the Carolinas, West Virginia and Virginia were all open. In Pennsylvania they were closed.

The large gas stations along the Highways were open. We used disposable gloves to pump gas and to use the facilities. We tossed the gloves after each use, washed our hands and used more disinfectant wipes than I thought I would use in a lifetime. We didn’t have to buy anything – we had more than sufficient food and drinks to get us home.

That second evening we stopped at Summersville, West Virginia, where we met our friends Bernadette and Krystal who were also heading home. Coincidentally arriving at almost the same time. We walked our dogs together (while maintaining social distance) and noted that virtually every car in the hotel lot had an Ontario plate.

This time we decided to ditch the (second) tarp and trust the hotel linen – though we did use our own pillows. It made for an infinitely better sleep. Another early start and we were at the border by early afternoon.

Before that, however, at the New York toll booth, a young woman wearing gloves handed us the ticket and gave us a thumbs up when I accepted with a gloved hand.

At the end of the Thruway – we ran a disinfectant wipe over the required cash and wearing a glove handed it to the attendant, a burly stereotypical Marine sergeant type – no gloves – and noted that we had cleaned the cash.

He took it glared at me and snarled, “Why is it wet?”

I repeated that we had used a disinfectant wipe, “That’s disgusting!” he yelled and threw the cash on a shelf.

So much for that.

Just one lane was open across the Peace Bridge and there was little traffic.

The gloved Canadian immigration officer asked where we had been, how long we had been away and where we lived. He handed over a sheet of instructions on self -quarantining and waved us off.

It was that simple.

Because we are in isolation we can’t dog walk for the next two weeks. So, gloved and masked we dropped Charlie off at his Toronto ‘boarding school’ (much to his delight) and drove home.

We gloved and masked again to unload the car.

And the self-quarantine began…