Here, time is more precious than diamonds

I note with interest that I am not the only one experiencing bad weather at the moment and readers in the UK will no doubt sympathise with my bemoaning the monsoon rainfall we are having here. No surprise therefore that we didn't get the concrete poured this week but, we do now have an availability date for John and his team to lay it and we have booked the concrete for Wednesday 27 June. All we need now is some reasonable weather to pour and smooth it over.

Meanwhile I have, between rain showers, started staining the logs. I am using a water based stain and therefore can take a little more risk with the weather than if I was using an oil based stain. I used an oil based one a few years ago and was caught out by a freak thunderstorm that completely wrecked about five hours work. It then took me two days to rub it all down and paint it again. The product I am using this time dries in about two hours and if it does get wet, it only really needs to be gone over again without having to rub it down. It is also much friendlier to work with. Brushes are easier to clean and it comes off the skin much more easily too.

My brother Rod and his wife Pam, who live in Australia, arrived on Wednesday evening having driven over the mountains from Vancouver via Whistler and the Okanangan Valley, where they lingered for a day of wine tasting and who can blame them. They are now safely housed in one of the cabins where I am lodging. Thursday was scorching hot and so we continued the work I had started on staining the logs. The combination of the work, the altitude (2,500 ft) and the heat (30+ C) brought on a migraine for Pam but, fortunately, the trailer (caravan) is still on site and therefore, there was somewhere for her to lay down in the cool and have something to drink.

Rod and Pam, who brought with them some very welcome Vegemite that I have so far been unable to find on any of the local supermarket shelves.

Rod and I preparing the stain for decanting into smaller pots for brushing onto the logs and ...

 … then hard at work getting it on. I am the better looking one - no, on the left.

Rain stopped play at about 1430 hrs on Friday but, we hadn't done badly.

Most of the dormers and lower sections were done, with the bits in between plus the end gables still to do. It is hoped that the weather will permit us to complete this next week and then start on the UV coat that needs to go over the stain.

Normally, I work at least one day of the weekends and depending on the weather it can be either Saturday or Sunday. I didn't feel it was fair to do this with Rod and Pam here, as they are on holiday and should really take advantage of the opportunity to see more of British Columbia than just my cabin and it's surrounding area. So on Saturday we set out for the undeveloped natural Lussier Hot Springs, which are in the wilderness about an hour and a half north of here and free to use. We made a leisurely start but were disappointed to discover that the hot springs were in fact only luke warm and certainly not hot enough for Australians. We therefore went to Fairmont, where I have been before. Fortunately, there the water was piping hot and we spent a pleasant time soaking aching muscles.

Before going up to Fairmont however, I wanted to go on further into the wilderness in order to recce a route that offered an alternative way back to the Bull River Inn. So we set off through some very picturesque country only to be halted about 30 km further down the track by a signpost that warned us of bridge repair work 97 km further on that would prevent us from reaching our destination. We decided it was time to turn back and on the way to Fairmont we stopped to picnic by a river.

The deeper we penetrated the forest and the mountains the further we got away from civilisation until, the only sign of it was the dirt track we stood on. Here, with the blink of an eye, time slips back a millennia or two and it made me think that I was born in the wrong century. Oh to have been here three hundred years ago when no path existed and when the only things of value were the things that one could make use of. Oh to have lived the life of an 18th century frontiersman, exploring, trapping, trading with the Indians, living without the encumbrances of modern life, when and where the only traps were for catching animals and didn't come with small print at the bottom of pages headed Mortgage, Bank Loan, Hire Purchase Agreement, Insurance Policy.

Here the deadliest predators walk on four feet instead of two and where your (four legged) neighbours and the environment you share with them are the elixir that give you life, instead of draining it from you.

Here, time is more precious than diamonds.

Here the drink you sip, the food you eat, the medicines you take and the lotions you rub in all come without packaging, without processing and without preservatives. Even the roof over your head is free here if you have a registered trap line, which you can still acquire for a small licence fee ($40). Here, all these things are a gift from mother nature and all that she expects in return is a silent prayer of thanks and some small consideration to help her.