Preparing for hibernation

Folks are sometimes surprised to learn that I am by nature a well-compensated introvert, with definite loner tendencies. I have always liked having a lot of "white space" between the paragraphs of daily life, and I'm absolutely someone who recharges my batteries by being by myself.

My portfolio of fantasies involves living on a one-person island in Casco Bay in Maine, and spending the winter on the unreachable-for-months summit of Mount Washington, "home to the most extreme weather observatory on Earth." I have even mentally catalogued the Mount Washington grocery list (jars of Teddie's peanut butter, boxes of pasta, something to ward off scurvy) I'd need to get me through those long dark months.

Because of this, I am relatively well-positioned to withstand COVID isolation. Less so are those who fall on the opposite end of the introversion-extroversion spectrum. But even I'm not super looking forward to sitting around solo staring at my own four walls once we're in the dark of winter. Already, the days are getting shorter, and the get-out-and-take-a-walk hours will soon be appreciably curtailed.

Anyway, to help us prepare for the coming period of hibernation, The Boston Globe turned to the experts:

Namely, submariners, a NASA psychologist, and crews who have wintered at one of the most remote spots on Earth, the Amundsen-Scott South Pole Station.

Here's their advice on how to avoid the wall-crawling, hair-tearing, knuckle-gnawing aspects of what's likely to be a long, dark spell of isolation that could end up being pretty darned debilitating.

Have a sense of mission: Although I've made it this far in life without much of a sense of mission, but now might be the time to come up with one - other than letting my hair go gray. I'm actually working on a novel, a collection of linked short stories about the life of a priest - forget when they tell you to write what you know about - tentatively called The Sins Against Hope. Resolved: Complete the final seven or eight chapters and see if anything becomes of it beyond a pdf to circulate among friends and family and my writers group.

Create events to look forward to: For those who spend winters in Antarctica, it might be something as mundane as the full moon. For me, it's my weekly dinners with my brother and niece, my occasional get togethers with my sisters, masked walks, phone convos, and Zoom meet-ups with friends and family. And the (small amount of) volunteer and paid work I'm still doing. But the main thing I'm looking forward to this year is the defeat of Trump before he destroys the country. And if that doesn't happen, well, I may re-up that fantasy of living atop Mount Washington. 

Stay busy: If you count taking an daily afternoon nap as "staying busy", then I'm on it. And I have made a small dent in terms of cleaning out my junk drawers. But for Amy Oliver, who's spent time in the "desolate Sonoran Desert", staying busy means taking up a hobby:

She, for example, has started learning about whales. “I’ve been really stuck on the mother whale to baby relationship,” she said. She mentioned that Tahlequah, an orca who gained international fame when she swam with her dead calf for 17 days in 2018, is experiencing better times. “She is pregnant again,” Oliver said.

Whales are taken, so I'll just get back to emptying out those junk drawers, and maybe add the medicine chest to the fray.

Closer to home, people are dreading winter already, in the heat of August, and dreaming up means of escape: building in-home workout spaces, buying outdoor winter gear, putting in fire pits, and ordering outdoor heat lamps, the must-have patio accessory in COVID times.

I haven't bought any outdoor winter gear, but I did just buy a new pair of sweats that I'm very much looking forward to lounging around in. Fire pits and outdoor heat lamps won't be of much use in a condo, but I do have a rowing machine on back order. (Should be available in early October. That gives me a month to figure out where to put it.)

Mellow out: 

“The biggest thing is being mellow,” said Michael Perrett, now a retired senior fellow from Raytheon. “There’s going to be things that happen that you have no control over, so there’s no sense getting aggravated.”

Hmmm. I have been building my pantry out with desperation supplies. (I even bought a couple of cans of fruit in syrup and a bag of egg substitute for baking.) And I'm definitely good on the toilet paper, paper towels, and hand soap fronts. But if I want to mellow out, it might be time to pack in a few edibles. Any suggestions?