The rustic cabin in Port Renfrew doesn't look very difficult to take. Both its exterior and interior, though not what might be called spacious by urban standards are fairly upscale. In fact, in that spectacular setting that is remote and rural British Columbia why anyone would need more room than is required to be comfortable and efficient is beyond logic.

A fully equipped kitchen, a place to relax, a bedroom and washroom, all functioning and gleaming with the look of high-grade technology. But step out your door, pull on your boots, hoist your backpack and away you go.

There's old-growth forest nearby, and there's the ocean. Both brimming with wildlife, both landscapes aesthetically stunning, peacefully tranquil.  All it takes is the energy of appreciative curiosity to set off on hikes, covering ground with long, loping strides, stopping occasionally to marvel at the breadth of a tree, the sea spuming against the coastal rocky shoreline, sea lions basking in their element, crowding one another on the rocky slopes falling into the ocean. At night, nocturnal aquatic predators can be watched, like an octopus whose groping arms reach into ledges where fish may be lingering asleep.

The octopus's probing, suctioned tentacles startle the fish awake and they stream out of the ledge, but for those held fast to become a meal for the scavenging hunter. The sky is darker, velvety royal blue than ever seen elsewhere, countless winking stars stippling the blue, light cast by the moon illuminating heavenly light, streaked-white clouds over the horizon. This is the ultimate natural wonderland. His verbal descriptions to us of what he sees and how he reacts, along with the photographs place us in that very landscape and we imagine being there with him.

The setting sun ... approaching night.

But that, of course, is as far as i goes. There was a time when we used to be there with him. We'd fly out to Vancouver and set out with him on trips, adventures we would never undertake on our own, although it was our sense of adventure and curiosity when he was much younger that took all of us out on trips to natural settings, exposing him, his brother and his sister to all aspects of the natural world surrounding us. His own developed sense of adventure and his decision to follow his inclination toward nature became his professional life work, augmented by his never-ending intimacy on a personal level with the world surrounding us.

As for Irving and me, nothing quite so dedicated or spectacular Other than our own compulsion to making continual forays into natural surroundings an important part of our own lives. We remain committed to immersing ourselves briefly on a daily basis within the natural world, but the extent to which we do that is limited now by our energy levels dictated by age. Despite which we still gain daily opportunities gaining all the positive aspects we're left with; both physical and psychological health.

And the pleasure of immersing ourselves in an ever-changing seasonal landscape, the opportunity to see things we would never be exposed to in a strictly urban landscape, and the pleasure inherent in having two little dog companions whose own exuberance unleashed in nature entrances and pleases us no end. We are, in essence continuing to share outdoor adventures, however 'tame' they've now become, with a new, extended family who now share our home and our predilection for nature with us.

It's called progress, modernization, living with the times, whatever seems suitable. It is, of course progress of a kind. But all changes it seems have their positive elements and their negative sides. Through mechanization of production and technological advances more people than ever before are able to take advantage of whatever society in its endless inventiveness produces. What was once unattainable but for the wealthy few becomes something of popular usage at a moderate price.

There was once something proudly called craftsmanship. When people learned traditional ways of manufacturing, or of producing objects of artistic beauty with care and distinction. Now everything is mass produced and there's a certain amount of built-in obsolescence in the production. Goods are no longer made to last; produced of inferior materials, design and workmanship. In the interests of keeping costs low/affordable, and products in working order for a certain length of time before they need replacing.

Imagine a piece of furniture, circa 1840 to 1860, locally manufactured by someone who learned the craft of furniture-making as an apprentice. A chest of drawers, as an example, produced in a style then popular; Empire, let us say, though it's a 'rough' country piece. Made of solid cherry. Or a six-board chest made of pine and painted, another country piece whose purpose was to store bedding in a log house without the conveniences we take for granted today; an indoor bathroom, electricity, running water.

They served their purpose well at the time they were produced. And later generations replaced them with more modern pieces that were factory-made and veneered. Attractive in design reflecting the more modern aesthetic but without the 'lasting' attributes of the originals. Much later generations were fascinated with the hand-produced objects known as 'antiques' and a market opened for their acquisition as nostalgic show pieces. But despite their age -- or because of it -- useful and usable to the present day.

But this is the here and the now. Here and just recently, say a few hours ago, this family courted pleasure in nature by taking our two little dogs out for their daily saunter through forest trails on a cool mid-summer afternoon. Yesterday something akin to a micro tornado swept down and through an area just west of where we're located, sparing us for which we're grateful. One tore through the forest about twenty years ago and ripped up a number of beautiful, large old pines unfortunate enough to be in its path. Their large carcasses remain where they fell, slowly decaying, other trees growing up around them.

There was partial sun while we were out, and it was extremely pleasantly cool, with a lovely breeze keeping us well ventilated. On several occasions we came across other dogs companioning people doing just what we were doing. Well, almost; no one else seems to glance at what is present on either side of the trails. On such occasions Irving usually asks the other dogs if they're interested in sharing treats with Jackie and Jillie. He refrains from consulting with J&J first in the certain knowledge they would object. One bull mastiff, a young, very well mannered dog on seeing Irving tends to park himself beside the bearer of goodies, placing his wet nose on the bag containing the irresistible.

Before we left the ravine we meandered down to the open area we call the 'meadow' though it's not quite that, which hosts a plethora of wildflowers. And lots and lots of raspberry canes and thimbleberry shrubs, all coming to the ripe, sweet and juicy stage. A bit of excitement for our little companions who adore berries and will eat as much as they're given, though wild apples take second place in their estimation.

Oh, and once again on our return back home from our ravine jaunt through the forest it took little time before dark clouds moved in to take the place of the blue sky we had been under with its white fluffy clouds decorating the sea of blue, to bring us another violent thunder storm. The house turned dark, on came the lights, and thunder rolled, lightning ever-so-briefly lit up the sky in a jagged dagger of brilliance and down came the rain, onto a landscape barely able to dry itself from the last downpour.