We received a  treasure trove of photographs today from our younger son. Photos he took on a four-day alpine backpacking trip to one of his favourite haunts in British Columbia. He has backpacking down to a fine art. I remember how he culled everything we packed for many of our canoe-camping trips to Algonquin Park in the past, and went on to do the same when we did the Bowron Lakes canoe circuit with him years ago, as well as one one alpine backpacking trip with him close to the Stein Valley when we were then his age now. It was beyond arduous, taking up fully all the energy we could muster.

And we'd had ample experience climbing the Presidential mountain range over the years in New Hampshire with him when he and his brother and sister were in their early and mid-teens. The landscape is forbidding in terms of its sheer volume; atop a mountain you look in every direction and see -- an endless march of mountaintops. Just like when you're in a plane flying over the Rockies and it appears as though there is no end to the mountains steepling the landscape.

Our own form of recreational hiking is far reduced, however. We would never attempt the relatively tame ascents we once assumed for a day's leisure pleasure. Although it's an enterprise that requires endurance and physical dexterity and strength, it does qualify as 'leisure', since it's what you choose to do in the time you can spare from the more mundane of life's requirements. And it may rate as among the most important things you ever do, events indulged in that forever occupy a place in your memory.

Today we were certain we wouldn't have an opportunity to get out into our closest natural landscape. Rain began last evening, went on into the night hours and we awoke to rain, had breakfast through the rain, and did manifold household chores into the afternoon as rain continued. We think most often of what it means to the health benefits and welfare of Jackie and Jillie to get out with them on the forest trails daily. We were almost resigned to no hike today.

And then, the rain stopped. Although the sky failed to offer any suggestion that there would be no more rain; in fact the opposite, we thought we'd better make a break for it. A cool day, at only 20C, but it certainly didn't feel cool. The humidity level must have been in the 38-40 range at the very least, thick enough to cut, as the saying goes. We tucked our puppies raincoats into our own rainjacket pockets and set off with them.

As we accessed the trail descending into the woods the interior looked about as dark as it could be, outside night hours and heavy drops kept falling from the canopy so that it sounded as though the rain had started up again. All the vegetation shone with the luster of a peculiar light illuminating a lacquered green surface. 

Jackie and Jillie soon discovered they weren't the only ones out on the trails despite the weather. One of our hiking friends told us she had already been out two times previous to this time; she and her husband are truly dedicated trompers of the woodland trails. Their three border collies they say, require the opportunity to stream through the forest as often as possible. Needless to say they move at a much swifter pace than we do.

Despite the sodden state of the forest wasps and bees and beetles are in business everywhere. The transcendent sight of tiny crystal balls hanging from the Himalayan orchids is worth the traipse out to the ravine on its own; just breathtakingly beautiful. We bypass the meadow this time because it's just quite simply too wet to tackle the narrow pathway leading to it crowded with grasses and large, heavy flower stalks of ragweed, pilotweed and evening primrose. Jackie and Jillie would get completely drenched. We'll leave it for another day -- like tomorrow.