||| FROM ISLAND STEWARDS |||
The light is long, the market lines are longer, and the wildflowers are giving it their all—the island feels both stretched and in bloom. We’re grateful you’re here, holding the thread and showing up.
To everyone who completed the surveys before June 15: Thank You! Your voices helped shape the report we submitted to the Department of Commerce. Now, we look ahead—with hope and vigilance—to see whether those voices are reflected in the final draft of the Comprehensive Plan by the end of 2025, and ultimately, in the policies that carry out the goals of the Growth Management Act.
If you didn’t quite make the deadline, no worries. The surveys are still open, and still shaping our ongoing work. Each response helps light the path forward and keep the conversation flowing!
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| Are We Still Planning by Hope?
The Comprehensive Plan is being updated right now. We’re being asked to approve new densities, new population targets, and new policies based on assumptions that don’t reflect the lived reality of islanders today. Too many of the options being proposed rest on limited input and invisible trade-offs. The math doesn’t add up—and most residents know it. Let’s be honest: Most people here are already wearing too many hats—juggling jobs, caregiving, community roles—just to stay afloat. We are requiring overwhelm as the entry fee for participation. And many of the people being asked to carry that load may be priced out before they ever see the results. That matters. Because the rural way of life we claim to protect isn’t an abstract concept. It’s made real every day by the people who tend to this land, who show up for their neighbors, who find rhythm with the seasons and steward what’s still intact. But we can’t do that from a state of burnout. If we want to preserve what makes the islands livable, we have to create policies that let people live. We have to prioritize those whose connection to this place is rooted in care, not consumption. We all want solutions. But we can’t keep planning based on someday promises that ask residents to carry the cost. We need alignment and we need it now—with the land, with each other, and with the actual infrastructure we have (or don’t). Now is the time to stop planning for possibility—and start designing for reality. What Keeps Coming Up
What’s clear: we are not in disagreement, we are in overdrive. Many of us are operating on hope alone, far beyond maximum capacity- there are not enough hours in the day or days in the week or weeks in the year. Transportation, Taxes, and Taking Care |
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| There’s been movement in Olympia: The new Washington State budget includes a $100 million increase for ferry funding. San Juan County leadership is tracking how those funds will roll out, with cautious optimism that it may translate into better service here.
In addition, the state’s new budget includes changes in property tax levies and school funding formulas that could significantly affect rural counties like ours. We’ll be monitoring what this means for affordability and resilience—especially as housing, transportation, and infrastructure remain so tightly linked. But here’s the hard part: Even with these investments, the gap between policy and practicality is wide. Our ferries, water systems, and energy capacity are already under pressure. We cannot responsibly plan for growth until we stabilize the systems we have. And we shouldn’t be asking struggling residents to bear the cost of policies meant to serve an undefined “future population,” while their own basic needs remain unmet. If you’ve been following along, you know transportation has become one of the biggest stress points—and one of the clearest opportunities—for shaping a livable, inclusive island future. This isn’t just about traffic or roads. It’s about equity. It’s about whether a working parent can get to a job, a teenager can access town without a driver’s license, or an elder can visit a clinic without driving alone at dawn. Transportation is infrastructure, yes. But it’s also mutual care. That’s why Island Stewards will be joining Friends of Rural Public Transportation for a community conversation at the Orcas Island Library on: Tuesday, June 24, 2025 We’ll be sharing updates and gathering feedback on a small-scale, community-led transit prototype—a system that’s flexible, low-barrier, and grounded in the realities of island life. Think:
It won’t be one-size-fits-all. It probably won’t be perfect. But it’s a conversation worth having—and a chance to take the first step toward something better. Come talk routes, challenges, ideas—or just show up and listen. We’ll see you there. And as always, if you can’t make it but want to get involved, just reach out. |
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A Word on Housing We know affordable housing matters. Deeply. But let’s stop pretending we can fix it with lottery tickets, one-off projects and ten-year pipelines. How can we talk about adding more people when the basic systems we all rely on—ferries, power, water, and even public trust are already strained? How can we define “affordable” in a place where full-time, skilled workers can barely keep a roof over their heads? This isn’t about being anti-affordable housing. It’s about being pro-reality. The gap is real and ignoring the infrastructure side of the conversation won’t make it go away—it just shifts the burden to the people already struggling to stay. If you want a deeper understanding of the history behind our current challenges—and the patterns that keep repeating—we recommend reading up at doebay.net/bigpicture.pdf . It’s not polished PR. It’s the kind of content that lets you ask better questions. Housing isn’t just about buildings. It’s about belonging, stability, and whether this place can still make room for the people who give it life.
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We’ve reached the brightest days of the year—Summer Solstice under a solar maximum. Everything is illuminated. The gaps, the gifts, the potential and the pressure. We are still here. Rooted. Paying attention. Planting seeds. Island life was never about ease. It was always about care—care that is sometimes inconvenient, often invisible, but always shared. So let’s take these long days as an invitation. Not to do more, but to align better. Not to rush toward some abstract fix, but to ground ourselves in the truth that is already growing among us:
That participation is stewardship. That we protect this place by making it livable—for the people who live here now. And that we’re exactly where we need to be to begin. This next season matters.
So if you’ve been waiting for a sign to get involved, consider this it. We need you. And your neighbors do, too.
Let’s keep showing up. Let’s keep tending. Let’s be the future we claim to believe in—together. We’re in this for the long haul. Thanks for being the kind of people who show up—with clarity, humor, and heart.
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