The way we were, and are | Column
Published 1:30 am Wednesday, March 11, 2026
By Robin Littlefield
Orcas Island
Boom! A strange red light pierced the window. The clock read 3 a.m. I bolted up and saw my next-door neighbor’s house was a blaze of orange. Flames shot 8 to 10 feet above the roof. I called 911. An immediate responder. Calm. Straightforward. He had just hung up with the owner. Fire trucks were on their way. He plied me for more facts, descriptions of other buildings, structures and trees. Advised me to prepare to evacuate. Firefighters surrounded the house, and hoses were dispensed.
The wooden house, crackling like kindling, was engulfed in flames that now shot into the trees, igniting limbs. Thick smoke everywhere. Hoses gushing. The firefighters never waved. Within an hour, all was out. The house was gone. Just smoldering. But the trees still stood, as did the surrounding buildings, the neighbors’ homes and all horses in nearby paddocks, safe. A crew stayed behind to monitor. At 3 a.m., these people merely leaped into life-threatening action to save us. Such courage. Such commitment. Though shocked, I am filled with gratitude. Next, Island Excavation drives in with a backhoe and dump trucks. Beach Haven Resort offers a temporary cabin to the owner. OPALCO is marking buried lines. Neighbors bring extension cords, gift cards and supplies. On our island, so much proficiency and quick help speak of the quality of life we have here.
When I first moved here in the ‘90s, many locals supported a bumper sticker, “We don’t give a shit how you do it on the mainland.” And I have quickly recognized that truth. Orcas was/is an eclectic mesh of truly talented individuals. I moved here on my own with my horse and an 87-year-old uncle. Soon, all the old-timers/farmers paid me a visit: Vern Coffelt, Jack Helsell, Jack Cadden, Andy Nigretto, the Bond brothers. If I need anything — help, hay for the horse, etc. I was to call them. Though they have all passed on now, many times they proved true to their word, and I have not forgotten. When my uncle broke his hip, the EMTs were professional, and Dr. Dave Shinstrom made house calls to treat him. “I love that old guy,” he said, “one of the last real cowboys to ride the range.” That first winter here, overnight, a storm dumped snow, deep enough to shut down the island. Deep enough, when shoveling, to throw out my back. We were in Deer Harbor, and chiropractor John Fabianek stood over me. I could only groan, “How’d you get down here in that old rattle-trap truck of yours?” Fabianek, grinning, “I found a snow plow – gave him your address, and followed right behind him!” Still grinning, his next comment was “Fun! I’ve never put someone back together on a kitchen counter!” Next, unbidden, John Cadden dumps a load of firewood at my front door, and Vern Coffelt drops off several bales of hay.
This recent windstorm crashed several huge trees across my driveway. I still don’t know which neighbor cleared them away. Thank you. Whoever you are, thank you. This is who Orcas is — filled with good, talented, caring people. And in our present, uncertain world, we get to live here, among such beauty and peace, with neighbors who watch out and tend to one another. Let’s carry on. We have so much to be grateful for. Thank you to all.
