Housesitting on Orcas Island this winter was a new experience for me, in many different ways. It was the first time I’d lived in an oceanfront property. I really enjoyed that! That is an experience I wouldn’t mind repeating! This was also the first time I’d lined up a housesit that lasted the entire winter.
There were a lot of reasons why staying in one place for a big chunk of time seemed like a good idea. I had a lot of projects that I needed to really focus on, instead of letting myself get distracted by the next adventure. Although most of those projects are still unfinished, I did make a huge amount of progress.
Another reason I wanted to spend time in one place is that I have kind of been scouting for a new home, trying to figure out where I could live and still be happy after spending nearly half my lifetime in Never Never Land, the coolest town in the Universe, McCarthy. McCarthy is an amazing place to be, but there’s a reason why we call it the Do It The Hard Way Club. It is a very physical lifestyle, and gets more and more difficult as I age. But where else can compare? Where else will I be content? I feel like I need to find a new home, but I keep putting it off.
Orcas Island seemed like it might be a possibility. This is a land with enough water and a gentle climate, where you can live sustainably. It would be nice to leave a lighter footprint on the Earth. But I found that Orcas wasn’t a good fit for me. There were a few things that left me sorely disappointed.
I’ve learned that the weather doesn’t suit me. I think I already knew that, but I had to give it a try. This was the first time I’d spent more than a month in a maritime climate. It’s an experience I’m not especially anxious to repeat. Even though the San Juans are in the rain shadow of the Olympic Mountains and it doesn’t rain all that much here, the skies are usually grey in the winter. I didn’t see a decent sunset here for four and a half months, until about 2 weeks ago. I need more sunshine. I really do. Otherwise, the SAD Syndrome kicks in. It didn’t affect me as badly here as it does in Alaska, but I still had to struggle against the ensuing depression that strikes me when I spend too many days without sunshine and blue skies.
Another thing I really, really need are wild lands. Orcas is far too domesticated to suit me. When I first visited the San Juans, about 35 years ago, they were much wilder. Camping on Shaw Island, tiny deer with velvet antlers walked right into camp. I sat at our picnic table and watched the otters play. We camped somewhere near the ferry landing here on Orcas during that trip. It was the first time I’d ever seen tidepools and the weird and wonderful creatures that inhabit them. So I came to the San Juans this time with certain expectations. I thought I’d see otters. And deer. And tidepools.
I should have known better. After all, McCarthy is very different than it was 30 years ago. Why did I expect the San Juans to stay the same? Things change, and island environments are particularly fragile and easily disrupted. There are a lot more people in the world now, and a lot less open space.
A plague wiped out most of the deer on the island a couple of years ago. I’ve seen one deer, for about 3 seconds, running across the lawn the first week I was here. I haven’t seen one since. Although people keep telling me the otters still live here, I haven’t seen any. I haven’t seen any orcas, either.
Another big disappointment was that although Orcas Island has around 50 miles of hiking trails, there is very little access to the coast. It’s all privately owned. If you add up all the public beaches and coastal trails accessible by road on the island, you might come up with about two miles altogether. There’s not a public beach on the island you couldn’t walk across in ten minutes. I had no idea that there would be so little coastal access to anyone without a boat. I was really, really glad I was staying in an oceanfront property, so at least I had a way to reach the sea.
Another thing I didn’t know is that there are no negative tides during daylight hours all winter long. There have been 3 days with good tidepooling since I got here, all of them this month. I’ve made the most of them, but that was definitely a disappointment. I had so looked forward to the new experience of learning that ecosystem.
There’s a lesson I needed to learn. About expectations. If I’d approached this place with a beginner’s mind, without my preconceived expectations, I wouldn’t have been so disappointed. I need to appreciate what is instead of what I think should be.
It’s not like I’ve seen NO wildlife. I say hello to my fellow snowbirds, a raft of Harlequin Ducks, every day. I see other waterfowl; other ducks, Canada Geese, loons, cormorants, and mergansers. I spot a seal once or twice a week and an eagle occasionally. I see something every day.
There were many good things that came from this winter. I heard a lot of new music, wonderful music I never would have found out about if I hadn’t been living here. I learned to appreciate the beauty of the simple and the commonplace. I was able to sharpen my digital processing skills and worked hard on wellness. I’ve enjoyed my time here. I have no regrets.
Well, maybe one. I wish I’d spent at least one more day on San Juan Island. San Juan Island has a lot of the things that I was missing here on Orcas. I saw wildlife – rabbits and foxes and shorebirds.
San Juan Island has lots of public beaches and coastal trails, too. All the things I was missing so badly on Orcas, I found on San Juan Island. That was one new experience that gave me a much-needed attitude adjustment!
Then two weeks ago the sun came out. A month ago I was more than ready to leave this place. I was committed for another month, and needed that time for my many projects, but mentally and emotionally I was more than ready to go. But now I feel like I could use a couple more weeks here, to do things I’ve left undone. Such a change in attitude, brought about mostly by sunshine, low tides, and a short ferry ride to another island!
In a couple of days I’ll be hitting the road, off to enjoy more new experiences, even though most of the roads I’ll be traveling I’ve traveled before. It’s still a different day, a different time, always a new experience. You can never step into the same river twice, right? Everything changes.
Perhaps that’s the most important lesson for me to take away from my Orcas experience. Everything changes. It’s always a new experience. Approach every moment with a beginner’s mind and you will be filled with joy instead of disappointment as you savor your new experiences.
Thank you to Anne of Slow Shutter Speed for this week’s Lens-Artists Photo Challenge, New Experiences.
