When smoke changes the view

Published 1:30 am Tuesday, August 11, 2026

When smoke gets in your eyes, it may be time to change your plans.

The best-laid plans for an off-island adventure can be derailed by wildfires, rising gasoline prices, health challenges, accidents, or events we never anticipated.

In today’s uncertain world, we can’t hold on to anything too tightly. Yet when plans change, it’s easy to focus on what we’ve lost or can no longer do.

Maybe it’s my age, but I find myself practicing the fine art of noticing what I still have and can still do when plans go amok. That doesn’t mean I’m not disappointed. But I have a better chance of reclaiming my joie de vivre when I remain curious about what’s still available to explore.

When we narrow our focus to what’s immediately in front of us, we may discover wonders close to home.

If I’m housebound because of smoke, my physical horizons may shrink, but my curiosity can still expand.

I had an opportunity to practice moving beyond disappointment last week, when my husband and I took our long-awaited ride on the “world-famous Mount Rainier Gondola” at Crystal Mountain.

Publicity photos showed stunning views stretching for hundreds of miles.

Yet on the morning of our ride, the fog was so thick you could have cut it with a butter knife. Visibility extended perhaps 100 feet.

Our tickets were nonrefundable, so we rode anyway. We would have to imagine the mountains.

As we climbed into our private gondola car — a benefit of the light crowds — we began swinging upward into an unexpected adventure. We’d attended a wedding the day before, and the ride gave us time to remember our honeymoon nearly 40 years ago, when simply being together felt like an adventure.

Soon we were enveloped in clouds, held in a womb of mystery. Only a few evergreens were visible below. Individual spruces and firs appeared majestic, wrapped in silver mist.

I photographed gondola cars emerging from the fog, hoping to sketch them later. My artistic skills may not capture a broad mountain panorama, but perhaps I could draw the lone chipmunk searching for crumbs among the summit rocks.

During that hour, the world became both smaller and richer.

We missed the grand views, and that was disappointing. Yet we still had time together inside a strange and magical world.

Fortunately, Vashon offers wonders to anyone with an ounce of curiosity. They arrive as gifts of nature or as art created by our neighbors.

I never tire of walking the beach at Point Robinson and seeing how the waves have arranged driftwood into abstract sculptures.

When I want a play day, I need go no farther than town. I could visit our whale friend, Singer, hanging above the lobby at Vashon Center for the Arts, and consider the ingenuity required to suspend him there.

Then I could play tourist, exploring the island’s art, books, and clothing shops — places I often miss while making my usual beeline to Thriftway.

When we live somewhere long enough, we become accustomed to it. Sometimes all it takes is a shift in perspective — or an out-of-town guest — to reveal opportunities for delight.

My visiting relatives revered Granny’s Attic as though it were an amusement park they hoped to visit again and again.

Here are three practices for times when smoke, illness, expense, or other circumstances force us to change our plans:

First, be honest about the disappointment. Then reset your sights on what remains possible.

Second, start small and move slowly. Look at life through a magnifying glass. You may notice a chipmunk’s dance, a striking cloud formation, or an unexpected conversation downtown.

Third, make curiosity and a spirit of adventure your companions. A great day might include browsing the library shelves, followed by lunch at a restaurant you haven’t tried. With new eyes, even the familiar can become magical.

Like many, I’m distraught about the state of our country and the world. Questions about elections, prices, war, and immigration can send my nervous system bonkers with each day’s news.

Yet I live on an island where birds follow their own agendas and offer us a symphony of songs. Our neighbors are creative and generous. Clouds above our beaches are magnificent. Cairns of beach stones appear unexpectedly, reminding us that an unknown artist has been at work.

Chaos isn’t easy to bear. But the antidote I’ve found isn’t order.

It’s curiosity: the willingness to see the familiar in new ways, to keep learning, and to remain available for adventure.

Fortunately, we live on an island that offers us a thousand small ways to have one — even when it’s too smoky to travel.

Sally Jean Fox is an author and the host of “Embracing the Muse” on Voice of Vashon, a radio program about living creatively on the island. She writes a weekly “Embracing the Muse” newsletter on Substack. Find her at sallyfox.substack.com.