“Be a Columbus to whole new continents and worlds within you, opening new channels, not of trade, but of thought.”

– Henry David Thoreau

My final day on Salt Spring Island was fairly typical as far as last days go before moving out of a home: It was spent in a frenzy of cleaning, packing, and pure denying that I was actually about to leave.

And for most of the day, the denial worked – as I mopped and swept and scrubbed down the yurt, emptied the stove of ashes, buried them and the compost in the yard, and shook three months’ worth of firewood flecks out of the lambskin-covered chair by the hearth, my mind still hadn’t quite accepted the fact that all of this exertion was happening because I would no longer be living there.

It only hit me when I turned to clean my glorious maple desk. I picked up the postcards I’d set out on the top slab and leaned against the window, packed away the books I bring with me everywhere (The Snow Leopard and Letters to a Young Poet are two particular favorites), and gathered up my equally transportable collection of knick-knacks: the dreamcatcher from Tokyo and the evil eye from Turkey, the incense holder from India and the artwork from friends in Seattle, San Francisco, and Saigon. We move through the world, and then we bring the world with us, don’t we?

After both slabs of maple had been cleared, cleaned, and shined, I moved a paper towel over the desk one last time and without even thinking I said, in a voice barely louder than a whisper:

Thank you.

Something caught in my throat as I said it, remembering the many hours I spent there this spring and the myriad blank pages I stared at, the stories I eventually wrote and the sketches I sketched, the doors that opened and the others that closed, the conversations had with friends across the world, the despair of uncertainty I felt and the delight of possibility that often helped to balance it, and the hummingbirds who danced above my desk through it all. Leaving places is never easy, but for me, the places in which I’ve worked well are particularly hard to leave. A part of you inevitably stays behind.

As I write this now, I’m sitting in the Coastal Café on the ferry to Vancouver. There’s something hypnotic about ferries – something in the slow rumble of engines beneath you and the glistening of the sea as you pass through it. There’s something about them that’s calming, especially as I prepare to fly home to Virginia tonight. I’ll be spending the next three weeks there, and then it’s off to the Bay Area for three nights, up to Seattle and Vashon Island for another few nights, and then we shall see! I can’t wait to share more details about new projects and plans as soon as they’re confirmed.

For now, though – here on this ferry churning through the Salish Sea, the rugged shores of Mayne Island unfolding to our right, the gulls swooping overhead (and just once, a lone eagle) – I want to leave you with some of my favorite images of an island I feel blessed to have called home these last few months. It occurred to me this week that while I’ve shared sketch after sketch of Salt Spring, I’ve shared very little photos of it – and that perhaps you might enjoy a different look at the island.

Two nights ago, I had a final dinner with my lovely next-door neighbors. As we sat down to a spread of succulent ribs, sautéed potatoes, and salad picked straight from the garden, Hanna raised her glass to me and said, “To new journeys.”

And now I’d like to do the same here (albeit with a mug full of ferry-café coffee), and thank you all for joining me on this yurt living adventure…I’ve so loved your company!

Here’s to you, my friends; here’s to yurts; and as Hanna so perfectly said – here’s to new journeys.

Salt Spring Island photos

Salt Spring Island photos

Salt Spring Island photos

Salt Spring Island photos

Salt Spring Island photos

Salt Spring Island photos

Salt Spring Island photos

Salt Spring Island photos

Salt Spring Island photos

Salt Spring Island photos

Salt Spring Island photos

Salt Spring Island photos

Salt Spring Island photos

Salt Spring Island photos

Salt Spring Island photos

Salt Spring Island photos

Salt Spring Island photos

Salt Spring Island photos

Salt Spring Island photos

Salt Spring Island photos

Salt Spring Island photos

Salt Spring Island photos

Salt Spring Island photos

Salt Spring Island photos

Salt Spring Island photos

Salt Spring Island photos

Salt Spring Island photos

Salt Spring Island photos

Salt Spring Island photos

Salt Spring Island photos

Salt Spring Island photos

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26 Comments

  • Candace,

    Not sure if you know what the origin of KISMET is…I didn’t. It’s Turkish…how about that?

    Origin of KISMET
    Turkish, from Arabic qisma portion, lot
    First Known Use: 1834

    From the moment you mentioned, “Hey, there is a yurt for rent on an island off of Vancouver…” to these memories here. Who would have known? You inspire the courage it takes to take a risk. To move outside tidy little white-fenced borders we call comfort zones.

    What is the next “kismet” or “portion” or “lot” ahead? I can’t wait to see.

    • I love it!! Kismet has been a favorite word of mine for a while (right up there next to serendipity 🙂 but for some reason I’d never taken the time to look up its roots…thank you for that! While I too can’t wait to see what’s next, I’m so grateful to be spending these in-between weeks with you and Dad at home! xo

  • Brilliant. I didn’t even realize the lack of photographs until you spotted it. How lovely to see them all at once. In the glass fragments on hand photo I notice you have a string around your wrist. I have one as well. It is a shadow of it’s former self, when it was tied by an old buddhist Nun in Cambodia. It has been there for seven months now. Does yours have a similar story?

    • Thank you, Jan! And thanks so much for sharing the story of your bracelet – I loved hearing that. That’s actually my friend Hanna’s hand (it was her sweet little daughter Zyah who found the sea glass), so I’m not sure where hers is from – but I’m a big fan of bracelets with stories as well. For the last year or so I’ve been wearing a friendship bracelet I bought from a woman in Dharamsala, and I love how something as simple as a bit of colored thread can stay with you as a constant reminder of a journey (and the encounters you had on it!).

  • Beautiful photos Candace! I’m sad you are leaving the yurt and I also want to know when it is available for ME! Haha. Seriously though… XO

    • Thank you, my friend!! And my landlord’s family and I talked about a similar arrangement possibly happening next spring…but how fun would it be if you and Brian were to go? You guys would *love* Salt Spring, and I have a strong feeling you’d love the yurt life as well 🙂 XO

  • These photos are so pretty! I especially love the one of the yurt at night. To new journeys…

  • I will miss vicariously experiencing yurt living through your stories and photos! You are leaving a truly beautiful place, but there is a time and season for each phase of life. I can’t wait to see where you journey next!

    • Thanks so much, Katie! I’m so happy to hear you enjoyed the yurt stories this spring 🙂 And thank you as well for what you shared about time and seasons…I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately during this transition, and am excited to see what this new season holds. I hope all has been very well with you!

  • Beautiful! I will miss your stories from the island. I look forward to seeing where you end up next though. Thank you for sharing your journeys with us. 🙂

  • You will truly be missed, Candace. We so enjoyed the meals and the moments shared. Thank you for your brightness, and for your meaningful reflections. It has been a joy living next to you for the last 3 months….. to new journeys, indeed! and until we meet again….. 😉 Love from Hanna, Hughson, Keshua, Levi and ZYah

    • Thank you so much for this, Hanna! I will always treasure the three months I got to spend on Salt Spring – and getting to call you and your family neighbors was a blessing I had no idea to expect. Thank you for making me feel so at home on the island, and for welcoming me into your home. I’m so grateful for our conversations and hang-outs this spring (and the many birthday dinners!!), and can’t wait to see you all again 🙂 xo

  • I am so going to miss this! But at the same time, it’s all beautiful–our life is full of comings and goings. It’s been a privilege to see your life here, through your posts and photos. That yurt is so inspiring–I’m seriously tempted to name it as a new dream house. And that desk! The maple wood? That is so simple and gorgeous!

    I do have a question–what kind of camera do you use? I’m looking for a new one, that’s why I ask. (Meaning I’ll look for the same model, I don’t intend to come steal yours). 😉 Your pics are always lovely.

      • Hi again! 🙂 Just to make sure you saw my reply to Elora, most of the time I use a 50mm/f1.4 prime lens – but a few of the photos I shared here were taken with a 10-22mm wide angle…I’ve had the prime lens for about two years now, and adore the tighter depth of field it gives you! xo

    • Thank you so much, Elora! I’m thrilled to hear you’ve enjoyed the stories, sketches, and photos this spring…it’s been such a joy to work on them and share them here 🙂 And yes!! As much as I loved the yurt itself, I think I might have loved that maple desk just a *tiny* bit more…it was a dream writing desk!

      It’s exciting you’re looking to get a new camera! I’ve had a Canon T3i for a few years now, and can definitely recommend it. And then I carry two lenses with me – a 10-22mm wide angle, which I use every now and then, and a fixed 50mm/f1.4 prime lens that I use the majority of the time. Let me know if I can help with anything else! 🙂

  • Thank you so much for sharing those beautiful photos with us, Candace! It looks like such an amazing place. Man, I miss the west coast. I really hope I make it to Salt Spring Island sometime in the near future.

    • It was my pleasure, Lisa! I just appreciate you stopping by and reading 🙂 And I definitely hope you’ll have a chance to visit Salt Spring soon – although it sounds like your year is still set to be full of some epic adventures. I can’t wait to hear more about where you visit in each country you’ll be studying in! xo

  • What a wonderful farewell to this magical place and lovely impressions! Over the past weeks and month you captured the place so well, how you became part of the place and how the place a part of you.
    I’m convinced it as you said: whenever we leave a place, there’s a fragment of our self that we leave behind – given we have been truly “in” the place and not only passed. I would like to compare it to planting a little flower or something and this flower is a part of you. While being there you water it and care for it, see it rooting and flourishing. Once we face the moment when it’s time to move on and leave a place, we also need to leave that plant behind. Would it be able to cope with the journey to the new place? Would it blossom there? Would it even survive?? I think we never can take the plant with us when leaving, but we do take some mysterious seeds with us. So some of the seeds (experiences) will be blossoms (memories) in a different place. We are well advised to water the plants around us and plant new ones wherever we go…
    By the way, the photo showing the lovely wooden desk quite tasted of farewell. I remember how the place was filled with books, postcards and keepsakes; filled with live. The emptiness feels somehow “definite” and the only trace of life that is left is a glass filled with water and bunch of flowers…
    Thanks again for taking us along the journey to this enchanting place and I already look forward to see where you take out the little sachet with seeds and plant a few flowers…
    Safe journey and good luck at truly “arriving” at the new destination!

    • Oliver, I can’t thank you enough for your beautiful reflections! I feel like the thoughts you shared here could very well warrant their own blog post 🙂 I love the theory you’ve formed (especially about the mysterious seeds!), and I also appreciate your wisdom about the emptiness of the desk seeming definite.

      You know, it absolutely felt that way as I was cleaning it on my last day…I think that’s why I sort of caught myself as I was polishing it off a final time – just realizing, my work here is done, and I most likely won’t be coming back (at least, anytime soon 🙂 It’s very easy to feel a huge sense of loss and sorrow in these moments of saying goodbye to a place, but at the same time, I’m also filled with a great amount of gratitude.

      That little yurt on Salt Spring turned out to be exactly what I needed these last three months, and it will never cease to amaze me how these opportunities present themselves in life when we least expect it! Thank you so much, as always, for following along my journey, and please know I’m wishing you a wonderful summer in Edinburgh! I can’t wait to hear what adventures you’ll be up to next 🙂

  • Thanks for sharing your yurt adventures with us. It’s always fun to travel through your text. Sending best wishes as you embark on your next adventure.

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