Tuesday, April 30, 2013

Winding Up, Winding Down

In Wayne's book Up the Main from the Coastal BC Stories series he wrote about a mental (and physical) state he called, "winding down, winding up."

When we discovered Powell River and our float cabin, we lived near Los Angeles over 2,000 miles away and were still working at our careers in education. Finding a place where we could "wind down" was very important. 

"When I land at Powell River Airport, via Pacific Coastal or my Piper Arrow, my mental adjustment is major but almost immediate. The change of pace from Los Angeles is extreme, but the adjustment is soothing. As I drive down the hill from the airport, the modification of my attitude is complete the moment I sight the chuck (ocean).

In the other direction, arriving in Los Angeles, the adjustment is completely different. Winding down is quick and simple. Winding up is a major battle. ... The pace is frantic."
Now that we've immigrated to Canada and settled in our float cabin, the feeling hasn't changed. We travel quite a bit. As nice as it is to go someplace different, that same old feeling of winding down comes over us as we drive down Duncan Street from the airport towards the chuck.

Do you have a place you love to wind down? Let's hear about it. -- Margy

5 comments:

Jennifer A. Jilks said...

Great post. We donated his book to our local library.
I wind down in the forest, hanging out with the new bear cub...sigh

Stephanie said...

I wind down in a sunny spot where it is quiet and no wind.

Cheapchick said...

I wind down when walking by the ocean. Holy Cow I had no idea you moved from L.A. to Powell River - major culture shock! And now, Courtenay/Comox is big city!

Lise said...

Our cabin is where we wind down, and I can totally relate to the battle of winding up! Wayne has captured the feeling so well:)

JoAnn ( Scene Through My Eyes) said...

We love the cabins at Silver Lake - a Whatcom County Park - quiet, great views of the lake, little boats to row around in, a swimming beach for the brave and young. One night we were rowing at dusk and across from us, silently moving through the water without a splash or sound - a ghost canoe and rider - sliding silently past. It was a magical night.