13 Reasons You Should NEVER Move to Bainbridge Island

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At first glance, Bainbridge Island appears to be a fantastic place to live. It has beautiful scenery, great schools, low crime, friendly people, and it’s only a short ferry ride from Seattle. It’s no wonder so many people want to move there. However, few people know of the horrors that come with Bainbridge Island living. If you, or someone you love, are considering moving to Bainbridge Island, you’d best read this and then get back on the ferry and return to the mainland.


Looking to move out of the city for some peace and quiet? Maybe to a little island where you can hear the waves gently lapping at the shore? Well, hope you like the sounds of flatulent sea lions barking all hours of the night from their offshore buoys. BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! It’s like living across the street from a sea lion frat house during rush week.


Even if you corner him at the bakery, even if you beg and plead, local PEN/Faulkner Award-winning author David Guterson isn’t going to read your novel. In fact, the likelihood of him offering feedback on your vampire-themed thriller is equal to the likelihood of snow falling on cedars in Hell.


The first time your friends get overloaded on the ferry will also be the last time they come to visit you on Bainbridge. And the first time you leave a Seattle dinner party early so you don’t miss the ferry they will cross you off the guest list forever. Moving to Bainbridge means abandoning your city friends, and eventually, it’s just going to be you and your cats… until…


If the coyotes don’t get your cat then one of the many fiendish raccoons will. And just to really rub it in they’ll also tip over your garbage cans, harass your dog, and then sneak in the doggy door and clean out the dog bowl.


Bainbridge Island is 27 square miles, roughly the same size as Manhattan (33.7 square miles), but with considerably less amenities. Despite their similar size, Manhattan has 368 times more sushi restaurants, 163 times more pizza places, and 134 times more cinemas. It’s just so desolate on Bainbridge. Don’t move there.


Within one year you will adopt the dress code of your fellow Islanders and appear in public wearing Crocs, Carhartts, and a sweatshirt purchased from the local feed store. You will grow to love this style. Your children will adopt it as well. There will be no going back.


Your level of fitness will be put to shame by Bainbridge women between the ages of 50-75. This demographic makes up the fittest people on the island. These ladies are ripped. They look as though they could run daily marathons. Their yoga poses are fierce. They will outlast you on the elliptical. You will look flabby and weak when you workout beside them at Island Fitness or gasp for air as the breeze past you while you jog around Gazzam Lake.


Everyone knows that rock beats scissors, but did you know Bainbridge Island’s own Frog Rock beats bicyclists, dog walkers, and anything else that passes by? It’s even worse when Frog Rock’s been drinking.


As if the constant grey skies hovering over Bainbridge Island aren’t enough, the locals went and put up a Rainbringer Statue, which is designed to summon even more thunder, lightning, and rain from the sky. Do you really want to live amongst such soggy masochists?


While it isn’t required by law, the social pressure to take up backyard chicken ranching is overwhelming on Bainbridge Island. You’ll start off innocently enough with half dozen hens and a stylish custom coop from Saltbox Designs, or maybe one made by that nice Mead or Steve Trick fellows. Pretty soon you’ll be swimming in eggs, desperately trying to unload them on coworkers, fellow ferry riders, even the UPS delivery driver. Inevitably, the kids will grow so attached to these hens they’ll even refuse to eat chicken from the store. Then, in a couple of years, your flock will age and you’ll be operating a convalescence home for old hens.


The Pacific Northwest isn’t a region known for its barbecue, and poor old Bainbridge Island has become a barbecue black hole ever since the tasty Bainbridge Island BBQ closed its doors. The community still mourns the loss of brisket and ribs. They dream longingly of its corn flake-topped mac and cheese. Tears are shed over the void those smokin’ chicken wings left behind. And there’s nothing on Bainbridge to replace it. Nothing but emptiness.


When it’s windy, there are often power outages from trees falling on power lines. When it’s not windy, there are often power outages for absolutely no good reason. The cause is a mystery to everyone, but when it happens you better hope you have a wood stove and candles because it’s time to play Bainbridge’s favorite game—Let’s pretend we’re on Little House on the Prairie.


Aside from hurling themselves into the front of moving cars, island deer like nothing more than destroying your gardening efforts. They’ll prune the roses, tear apart young fruit trees, and sample every vegetable in the garden. It won’t be long until you’ve got an electric fence around the rose garden, a BB gun with a night vision scope and an anti-deer attitude that will rear its ugly ahead around your animal-loving friends should you all watch Bambi together.

So as you can see there’s absolutely no reason to move to this miserable lump of rock in Puget Sound. But if you’re really that deranged and still want to live amidst this hellscape then check out Bainbridge Island homes for sale on the fabulous real estate search site Estately.

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Ryan Nickum