Our younger son had rented a cabin for three days in the remote town of Port Renfrew on the weekend. He decided to leave Vancouver for a few days so he went over to Vancouver Island and drove out to the south of the west coast of the island after having a rented a cabin on line. He's been there before for hikes and camping out but the weather is much too cold even there now for outdoor camping. There are a handful of privately-owned cabins used in the summer by their owners, and who rent them out in the winter months. He rented one of the smaller unheated cabins; a bedroom, full kitchen, sitting room at $200 each night.

Some of his day hikes were lengthy enough that by the time he'd return to the cabin the early dark of night had fallen. One night on his way back he spotted a small octopus just under and around a submerged ledge, feeling around with its tentacles while tiny fish came shooting out from beneath. He was wearing a headlamp, but the octopus didn't seem to mind the light, it just kept going about his business. He saw some large, lumbering sea lions as well, relaxing in their element.

As for us, deprived of our daily ramble through the forested ravine we visit every afternoon, we wondered what kind of conditions would await us today. Had we gone into the ravine early enough yesterday morning, say 7:00 a.m., we would have been in a winter wonderland, since overnight snow fell bountifully up until 4:00 and undoubtedly everything was plush-deep in snow. 20 cm creates quite a cushiony depth of snow, but it's also tough slogging through it for any length of time. 

We figured, seeing the snow first thing in the morning, that we had plenty of time to get out and enjoy the sparkling-white-refreshed landscape, that others will have gone onto the trails before us, breaking trail and producing the beginning of a passable winter-snow trail. We hadn't figured on the thermometer rising quickly and encouraging freezing rain with a full day of rain to follow. It rained, heavily, until 7:00 p.m. No hike for us yesterday.

Irving had the foresight born of long experience, to clamp cleats over our winter boots this morning before we set off with Jackie and Jillie. They were wearing their own little boots against the icy cold of -6, made even chillier by a 20 kmh wind. We weren't prepared as it happened even so, to encounter a skating rink on our way up the street to the ravine entrance. The entire street was a solid sheet of ice. Nothing surprising there given the rain and the succeeding drop in temperature leading to a flash-freeze.

At the path leading from the street to the trail Irving slipped and tumbled over. Warning of what lay ahead. Jackie and Jillie, missing yesterday's hike, were anxious to be let off leash so they could scramble off and wander at will ahead of us. They weren't experiencing any difficulties, but we were. It was obvious that people had been out with their dogs yesterday even in the pouring rain, because big dogs really need their outings to exhaust some of their energy levels.

Wherever someone trod piercing the thick layer of snow, the rain had made a deep depression and the flash-freeze conditions froze that depression to solid ice. We had to evade those icy depressions because they're utterly balance-destabilizing ... hence the fall. Instead we sought out areas that had been untouched, which means snow that hadn't been trod on. Our boots sinking into the snow gave us traction and good balance, but locomotion on a surface that boots sink into with each step takes a toll in energy.

We were taken off guard. And really surprised to see how much snow managed to survive the rain. All the trees of the forest were devoid of snow for the most part, melted in the 6C temperature that brought rain yesterday. But the forest floor remained well covered and that was a visually aesthetic relief, since before the snow arrived the landscape looked quite dreary; an overwhelming late-fall scene of bare branches and a forest canopy that appeared sere and dry. 

Taken together with shorter and darker days, with a perpetual dusk atmosphere within the forest, it becomes a sombre landscape. Snow has brightened it considerably, at the very least. And when the snow is newfallen, bright, light and sparkling, it is indeed a winter wonderland.