Island Life: Riding the Storm

Monday Evening – The calm before the storm

The sea is a mirror, reflecting the tranquility of my Monday evening walk with Beau, my eager companion. I stroll along the shoreline, breathing in the sights and sounds and scents of sea meeting forest. Beau strains at his leash, his nose twitching at the salty air as he presses me to hurry up and walk faster. Perhaps he senses the stormy seas wrapped up in a ‘cyclone bomb’ predicted to descend upon the west coast this evening? In the words of Scarlett O’Hara, of Tara, “I’ll worry about that tomorrow.” On this evening, we stroll along the shore, watching otters frolic and a bald eagle trace circles against the sky. Who knows what fierce fury tomorrow’s weather will blow in with the wind?

Life here has a rhythm all its own. One day I’m elbow-deep in flour, baking Christmas cookies with a gaggle of laughing women (let’s just say my first batch of chocolate chip cookies, were unexpectedly, ‘Chocolate Chip Florentines’!). The next, I’m immersed in the vibrant local community, volunteering with the “Grug Huggers” who provide meals for Islanders needing food support.

My sister Anne and I are rediscovering our shared love for music and laughter, exploring the island’s theaters and concert halls. Sunday nights find C.C. and I swaying to jazz in a cozy pub, where we met Ken, an artist who welcomed me into his creative circle, and Kat, who introduced me to the Island Singers. Who knows, maybe Anne and I will even grace the stage again, defying our brother’s youthful pronouncements that the only stage we should be on is, ‘the first one out of town’!

Tuesday morning – There’s a storm brewin’

But island life also means facing the raw power of nature. A “cyclone bomb” is brewing, promising high winds and crashing waves. We’ve battened down the hatches, our generator standing ready to keep the essentials running. Wish us luck as we ride out the storm!

Island Living is pure adventure, especially in stormy weather!

Sunsets. Whales and Magic.

While the romance of ferry rides might fade, (though I doubt it) I know I’ll never tire of sunsets at the sea’s edge witnessing Mother Nature’s explosion of colours drawing the day closed.

Pure magic.

Nor will I ever lose my wonder at the sight of whales. Since moving to the island, I’ve yearned for this moment. Every day, there’s been a sighting, and every time, I’ve missed them.

This morning, my daughter in Vancouver called. “Whales at Orlebar Point!” she exclaimed. I grabbed my binoculars and rushed out onto the deck, but the sea was calm. “I’m going to the Point,” I told my grandchildren, who were watching excitedly on Facetime.

Ten minutes later, Beau and I stood on the rocks at Orlebar Point. A woman with a camera pointed towards the water. Suddenly, I saw them – immense bodies breaching the surface, water cascading like diamonds in sunlight. Their blows echoed across the water, a deep, resonant sound that vibrated through me.

It is humbling to stand on the shore while mere meters away, giants slip gracefully through the water. The salty spray kissed my face as I listened to their breath escape with every undulating move. To witness such magnificence on a cloudy west coast day, just minutes from home, is beyond special.

It’s pure magic.

Coming Home.

The road unfurls before me like a dove-grey ribbon, divided by dashes of yellow, winding through the trees. Sunlight filters through the canopy of pines, dappling the road ahead. Around each bend, the ocean glimmers against a periwinkle sky as the trees play peek-a-boo in green and blue. All of it a constant reminder of nature’s tender embrace. I inhale the scent of pine needles and feel the cool air on my skin as I drive with the window open.

I am falling in love with island life.

This island, just 14 kilometers long by 4.2 kilometers wide, holds me close. The sea is always near, a comforting presence amidst the lush green landscape. Behind me, as I drive, the road seems to narrow and disappear, like a thought drifting away on a cloud, carrying with it worries and woes, fears and trepidations.

And like the road disappearing into the trees, the daily routines of my former life fade into memory as I fall under the spell of this island in the sea.

There is a rhythm to island life unique to those who live here. I am slowly discovering mine. Even my morning routine – the familiar comfort of the NYTimes puzzles – feels infused with a new sense of peace. I feel my desire to create and contribute returning, my desire for calm rising like the tides, ebbing and flowing with the moon and stars.

I am of the wind. The waves. The trees swaying. The birds soaring along the water’s surface. I am the wild waves crashing. The calm seas rolling. I am the one I’ve always been searching for.

I am coming home to myself, to the me I’ve fought so hard to discover beneath the detritus of life’s tugs and pulls. In my homecoming, I find myself firmly planted in my being, all of me, no matter how fierce the winds around me blow.

In this place there is no need to rush about, to achieve and do more, be more, have more. There is only the sea’s constant urging I let go and be part of the ebb and flow of life unfolding like the road before me.