How serious is the wildfire situation in Canada? Very. Yellowknife in the North West Territories with its 20,000 population is being evacuated as wildfires there are steadily approaching. Communities in Alberta and in British Columbia are on alert, and many have had to evacuate given the ongoing threat of combustively dry conditions in Canada's superb forests. Wildfires not close to human habitation are allowed to burn themselves out. Those where firefighters are dispatched pose a threat and are destined to be fought. Three wildfire-fighters have lost their lives to these conditions in the past month.

We see similar situations elsewhere in the world, from Hawaii to Greece, Spain, Portugal, Turkey, the United Kingdom and France. Our youngest son who lives in British Columbia does a lot of alpine backpacking for recreational enjoyment. He decided on an area off the Duffy Lake Road not far from the Stein Valley this week. On Tuesday when he set up his tent at the mountain summit he ascended to, he had a clear view in all directions. And all he could see was wildfires everywhere, charred landscapes.

It looked, he said, like an atomic bomb aftermath, the smoke rising in all directions. He stayed there until Thursday when he returned to Vancouver. He is intimately familiar with the geology. He is a biologist, after all, and what he's seen in the destruction of forests is exceptional, well beyond yearly wildfire events. 

For us, unusual weather consists of daily rain eruptions. Either through thunderstorms, a series of thunderstorms following directly on one another, or unannounced sudden downpours. This too is not 'normal' for us. All that rain, however, does limit the potential for wildfires, although Ontario and Quebec have had their share of wildfires and evacuations this summer.

We've been fortunate enough to manage getting out to our nearby ravined forest daily in between rain events with our two little dogs. There was afternoon rain yesterday, evening rain and rain through the night and morning rain, then out came the sun again. When we went out for our afternoon hike today the sun was out, the atmosphere was cool and windy. The forest, unlike yesterday, didn't appear particularly inundated.

I clambered over the rocks dumped years ago along the slopes of the banks of the forest creek to stop erosion of the Leda clay base. At my age of 86 I don't do that too often; too chancy for a slip and fall but I couldn't resist wanting to take close-up photos of the multitude of wildflowers growing along the creek bank; the Himalayan orchids, the tiny orange orchids of the Jewelweed plants, the feathery-pink flower wands of the purple loosestrife. I was careful and came to no harm. Jackie following me, had no problems maintaining his balance but it was I who wielded a camera.

Irving was busy almost the entire circuit we took, picking blackberries and ripe thimbleberries to dole out to Jackie and Jillie. For the occasional dog that came along, not knowing what to do with the plenitude of berries, Irving offered cookies and they were delighted to accept the offerings. When we reached the pollinating meadow, there were bees everywhere, busy on the ragweed, the pilotweed, the purple loosestrife and goldenrod.

Later, in the garden, I felt a little guilty about not having this week spent some time weeding and trimming. Because I'm normally so busy during the week, I usually leave that for Saturdays, but tomorrow we've been warned, will be an unusually rainy day and perhaps there'll be too few respites to allow garden work. Right now, an afternoon rain has stopped and the dark clouds that caused it are moving on, as the sun is returning. Unsettled is the least that can be said of this summer's weather conditions.

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.

Whistler BioBlitz 2020 : Biologists Having A Blast!

The Fire of Life: metabolism and energy flow in animals and ecosystems by ecologist Jordan Rosenfeld

​Jordan is an aquatic ecologist who lives in Vancouver. His childhood was spent in Ontario collecting bugs and falling into streams. He eventually blundered out to the west coast, where he studies the effect of habitat on ecological processes in streams and energetic constraints on fish distribution and abundance. His specific research is focused on modelling fish habitat, habitat requirements of fish species at risk, optimal stream flows, bioenergetic modelling of juvenile salmonid growth, and understanding how habitat structure affects energy flow in streams. In his spare time Jordan likes to sit on a couch watching TV.

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"Metabolism has been called the fire of life because low-temperature oxidation of organic matter is what powers animal (and plant) life on planet earth.  Although metabolic differentiation isn't obvious like wing shape or colour on birds and butterflies, it underlies much of global diversity.  I will consider variation in metabolism from animals to plants to ecosystems, and present a bunch of random factoids that I Googled on the internet at the last minute or just made up."

In July, we are planning on hosting scientists for the field portion of BioBlitz. What makes BioBlitz so exciting is that every year BioBlitz scientists find on average 200 species that we didn’t know existed here. The Whistler Biodiversity Project already has a list of over 4,300 species so to keep finding new ones is amazing. There is so much to discover right in our own backyard!

Our better judgement won out over our reluctance yesterday to persuade ourselves finally to use insecticide spray on our arms and back of our necks -- sparely, to be sure, but against our natural inclination. We wore long pants as usual going through the woods, but I found that even with long sleeves it was too stifling hot striding through the forest trails, and even that precaution failed to completely dissuade the hordes of newly hatched mosquitoes from the larvae having a ball in the newly-formed pools on the forest floor. So we relented, despite our unwillingness to use Deet, the only proven formula that works.

It did mean that we were able to enjoy our walk in the woods without being constantly bombarded by kamikaze teams of voracious mosquitoes. And we simply washed the stuff off when we got home. We still came away with a few stings where we hadn't put on the stuff, but didn't have to cope with the  usual frantic arm-waving in self defence.

Last night our youngest son recounted his experience on his latest three-day camping-canoeing trip along one of his most favourite summertime haunts, the Skajit River in the Cascade Mountain range. British Columbia has been on the receiving end of some unusual summer weather with little-to-no rain where it's needed and hotter-than-usual temperatures. It's the usual season of wildfires, but this year they've really proliferated, with an estimated 500 now burning through forests across the province and some communities evacuated, others on evacuation notice.

Despite the dry conditions, the mosquitoes, he told us, were the worst he's ever experienced and he has experienced plenty of them in his thirty-some-odd years living in the province. There was also as well the plague of deer flies. Not until ten at night did the pests decide to give it a rest. Because our son spent a good part of his time on the river he was spared the worst of the plague. But he also did a considerable climb up a mountain slope to the six-thousand-foot level and even there was haunted by flies and mosquitoes.

Which made him think of the plight of the animals on the alpine, mostly marmots and picas, and likely some grizzlies and Dall sheep who would be defenceless and tormented by the proliferation of those pestiferous bloodsuckers that can make life so miserable.

As for us, we enjoyed a walk made more pleasant by the mosquitoes taking pains to avoid us thanks to the spray we had used. Our first little poodle, Button, used to be plagued by mosquitoes, and was deathly terrified by deer flies which had once descended on her in a flash-mob when we were out in the Gatineaus on a forest trail; we'd had to sweep her up in our arms and run off with her in a rescue but the memory remained with her always.

On yesterday's ravine ramble Jackie and Jillie came across one of their canine friends, seven-month-old Nova, who has developed a high-pitched whine of excitement in an emotional excess of greeting when the puppy comes across those he knows. He's the third dog we've known over the decades to express himself like that, and it's endearing.

Among many varied outdoor weather excursions, whether kayaking or hiking in the summer months, he makes South Thormanby Island on the Sunshine Coast of British Columbia his twice-yearly destination; once in fall, and then again in spring. Its sunsets are spectacular. When mist rolls in over the island the effect is mysteriously fascinating.

Sea life and the appearance of various types of mammals and birds can be guaranteed sightings in this area so far removed from the unnatural world we inhabit of cement, traffic and high-rises.

It is a place for contemplation of nature, for relaxation and for recreation, to take a busy mind away from the immaterial, thrusting it into the world of nature and appreciation for the areas of life so far removed from the manipulated environment we call our own.

Here, there are no others around and you rely on your own ingenuity and experience from previous such occasions to have a broad idea of what to expect, how to react, from pitching your tent above the high-tide water-mark, to viewing, but not molesting other animals that appear from time to time, often as curious about your presence as you are theirs.

It is a place where, reliant on your own devices and the small comforts you've brought with you, the occasion to blend with nature, that rare commodity of time and space and atmosphere, is yours alone to do with what you will, paddling the clear water of the coastal Pacific, idling on a beach, sleeping at night close by beach-lapping water, cooking meals on a tiny stove and appreciating the opportunity to test your mettle against a brief exposure to nature as raw as it can be.

But nature seldom, here, does it become more raw than what weather conditions bring along. And those too can be coped with, given the precautions taken in bringing along tarps and other comfort expedients. You are left free to act and react to nature in all her naked glory.

Nature felt rather ill-tempered yesterday and treated us to a high of 6C with blustery winds and heavily overcast skies threatening rain the entire day. Which might have diminished our pleasure in our leisurely stroll through the forest yesterday, but did not, in fact. Since we were dressed for the occasion, reverting back to warm clothing for us and our two little dogs, to weather the inclement atmosphere. The good thing about all of this is that there is now very little snow and ice left in the forest, merely patches here and there of innocuous, soft ice on parts of the trail, easily avoided.

In contrast to our comparatively slight re-acquaintance with nature, our son drove two-and-a-half miles out of Vancouver for one of his springtime paddles down the Skajit River for a two-day relaxing time-off in the wilderness, renewing his inner resources. There, camping on a gravel bar and the sun full out, the temperature soared to 26C during the day, falling back at night-time to below freezing, leaving hoar frost on the landscape, first thing the following morning.

He encountered a black bear not far from his campsite, busy noodling about in the newly-come-to-life willow shrubs across the river, which hadn't seen him at first as he was canoeing past, but when it did a pandemonium of 'escape' at break-neck speed ensued as the bear thrashed its way through the forest beyond the river.

And for the first time he came across a pair of beautiful little Harlequin ducks swimming about close to the shoreline. A permanent logjam he's encountered many times before necessitated a portage of about 40 metres which took close to an hour to achieve, emptying and carrying everything out of the canoe and then the canoe itself around to a take-in spot back on the river. There were shorter portages required where single trees lay across the river at narrowed areas, all of them familiar to him from past such escapades.

Snow from the mountain tops had not yet begun their seasonal melt, bringing up the level of the river, but the initiation was imminent.