Sometimes you can get too much of a good thing such as the perpetual solar bombardment mandated by ordinance in Sunny Sequim. Sometimes you just have to get away for a break from all that intense radiation. 
  I’m aware, of course, that lately the big yellow ball has been difficult to see, even though Sequim law says it’s up there, on duty, shining every day. What better time to take a break from the danger of sunburn than when you can’t see the sun anyway? The easiest time to go on a diet is during a famine. 
  Barb took advantage of my extended holiday layover in Puerto Rico last week to escape the intensity of Sequim sunlight. 
  Even though the Caribbean hurricane season had not officially ended, the chance of encountering one was slim. (That’s what they were saying just before Lenny blew through a few days earlier.)  
  Even so, the opportunity to trade some Sequim sun for the tropical variety was too good to pass up. 
  We did the tourist things and avoided excessive sunshine.  We hiked in El Junque, the only tropical rain forest in the US Forest Service system. Not much sun in there, but the rain was warm. 
  We walked with a guided group into Rio Camuy Cavern, in many ways more impressive than Carlsbad Cavern in New Mexico. No sunshine down there, either. 
  We spent part of Sunday doing what we often do at home-eating breakfast and lingering over coffee in a small restaurant while we read the Sunday paper. 
  Barb was reading the magazine section of The San Juan Star, the Sun Star. The logo would not have been out of place on a tourist brochure for Sequim. 
  Barb began reading a story under the headline, “Paradise found for many retired people.” Esther Veltkamp’s name jumped out of the first line. 
  We’ve known the executive director of the Sequim Chamber of Commerce for many years. Esther Veltkamp is a less common name than Mary Smith. Funny there’d be two of them, both running chambers of commerce. 
  There aren’t, of course. The first line in Mike Harden’s syndicated travel piece gave it away: “The hue of the autumn sky above Esther Veltkamp’s head looked more like secondhand bath water than the more customary blue.” 
  Yep, that’s “Sequim sunshine” this time of year. Esther gave the travel writer a Sun Check. 
  It was fun reading about home from four time zones away through an outsider’s eyes. I hadn’t realized that 60 percent of Sequim Valley residents are older than 60. That’s good to know. Makes me one of the young folks. 
  The article covered the usual Sequim attributes-miserly rainfall, its blessing of isolation from Seattle combined with the advantage of proximity to a big city, and its growth without most of the problems associated with growth. 
  The writer quoted many local citizens, long-time residents and recent refugees. I think he included every one of the many attributes of the Sequim Valley as a place to retire to. 
  Barb and I finished our breakfast and superb Puerto Rican coffee and went outside squinting in the intense shade. It had to be shade; it was nothing at all like Sequim sunshine this time of year. 
  We walked back to our hotel, slathered on plenty of Coppertone #15 Shade Block, and went out onto the white sand beach. We didn’t want to, of course. We both really missed our hometown sunshine, but sometimes you have to make do with what’s available. 
  Most of us like to brag about where we live, not just Sequim, but the entire Olympic Peninsula. What we don’t always realize is, we need to be careful who we talk to. 
  The last line in the travel piece illuminates the problem of bragging too much. Harden quoted a Sequim postal worker: “You’re not going to write about us, are you? It’ll just make people move here.”