… the story so far … from the before-times … (for the wonderful new people here, and those who would like a bit of a refresher)
We’ve always been aware that time here on our island in the middle of a lake was a temporary situation. (notwithstanding that we’ve been here nigh on ten years – which we’re going to blame on cancer, Covid, and just a dash of run-of-the-mill goal-post changing)
Our original plan, which had its genesis way back in 2018-ish, was to set off in our little travel-trailer, swan around the countryside from coast to coast to coast and see what we might see. (Canada having three coasts of course, the western one, where we live, the eastern one where the Vikings landed, and the northern one, up above the Arctic Circle, that I am determined to visit, one day) We were in no great rush to set off, and if we eventually found a place to settle down somewhere along the way, all the better.
The pandemic put paid to that.
For the first year we resigned ourselves to a holding pattern. There were too many potentially dangerous unknowns specifically about the virus, to say nothing of province-wide shut-downs across the country, and far too many people acting like terrified rabbits, for us to go against our common sense in the matter.
In the first half of 2021 I wrote a book. (the sales of which are pootling along nicely) It was, sad to say, the highlight of the year.
The climate crisis, which had been lurking around the corner and growing ever closer, proved that it was done waiting by throwing every sort of weather extreme in our general direction. (and in yours too, I have no doubt)
Add into the mix two more variants of the virus, and we decided that discretion was the better part of valour, and stayed put.
However, every one of those very crises reminded us, each in its own unique way, that we are in a very precarious and unsustainable geographical location here on the coast.
We gave ourselves permission to be as stressed out about the whole damn state of everything for as long as we needed to, and then we would get back to work.
Our plan, now that we successfully made it to 2022 …
Pack up and leave as soon as the passes to the Interior are clear and navigable – thanks to one of the afore-mentioned weather events just before Christmas, every road and rail route out of the Lower Mainland (where we currently live) had been destroyed – and before the Summer (read Spring or whenever) wildfire season kicks in to high gear.
Theoretically … that gives us a window of a few months … theoretically, to relocate, find ourselves a new home, get all our living-in-a-house stuff out of storage, and set ourselves set up for Winter.
Then and only then will we contemplate the possibilities of travelling, probably in the ‘shoulder seasons’ between Winter and Summer.
Perhaps you’re asking yourself, seeing as we’re not going ‘travelling’ first, why we don’t just find a place before we leave and move from one house to another house?
Ideally, this will be the last ‘move into a new home’ we will ever do, (remember, I’m 63 and Mrs Widds is 72) and it will have to meet our requirements for setting up our life to be as self-sustaining, for the next several, at least, very chaotic, decades, as we can possibly make it. There’s no way we can make that sort of complex and important decision on a piece of land/property, sight unseen.
This way we’re open to all sorts of windows of possibilities.
The truly wonderful (insert a tiny bit of irony right there) thing about all this is, in the ‘before times’ we would’ve known what to expect along the way, with minor perturbations, but all-in-all, we would’ve been able to count on a certain amount of familiarity.
There’s no counting on that any more now, is there?
Well, if going on an adventure were easy, everyone would do it!