One of the inherent dualities of volunteering out here on the west coast of Vancouver Island is the desolation…
Sublime desolation.
The beauty of this place is phenomenal. Every time I walk out to the rocks on the coast, I find spectacular views like these. However, there’s not a lot happening in town, itself. Next to the hurry and noise of the ocean, town life is vacant and hollow — almost ghostly. I grew up in a small town, but even there people still go out and are around. Often times, if it’s not for the tourists cruising in to the resorts, I find myself walking down empty streets, with only crows for company. And sometimes deer.
Black tail doe, just grazin’ in town.
I was hoping that my time here would be filled with a bit more camaraderie, and some beach partying, too — but for that, it seems, you need to go to Tofino. That place is a happening town, any time of year. Even now, in early May, the hostels are all booked. Last weekend I went up to Tofino, and I will go again this weekend.
Besides the sublime beauty of Ucluelet, then, there’s not much else going on (at least not in this shoulder season).
This raises another interesting concern, in my mind:
- What role would isolation play in my success as a teacher?
This place is beautiful, yes, and has great trails and beaches… but if most of the year there is no one to hang around with, what would happen to my mental state? Would I be able to persevere through the isolation and loneliness? Would it impact my lessons? Do interesting lesson plans necessitate a strong enthusiasm in a teacher’s private life?
This is a core concept that I need to consider, especially moving towards a life in outdoor education — where I will likely find myself outside of society. Am I prepared to live a life like that, yet?
