KEY POINTS:
We're on a bright orange inflatable dinghy travelling across the still blue water of Vancouver Island's Bedwell River estuary. Fitted out from head to toe in a citrus-orange survival suit, I feel slightly like a boxed-Jaffa.
We're blasting across the water heading for a 12km day hike and picnic lunch on Canada's Flores Island, home to Nuu-Chah-Nulth Village, the home of the Arousaht First Nations Tribe, where our guide Dave (a prince of the tribe, no less) hails from.
Flores Island is located in the beautiful Clayoquot Sounds and we've come here from the neighbouring Clayoquot Wilderness Resort and Spa near Tofino, on the west coast of Vancouver Island, for a walk on the wild side.
The resort, the location of actor Scarlett Johansson's wedding to actor Ryan Reynolds, is an idyllic luxury-tented oasis nestled on the edge of the Clayoquot Sound Biosphere Reserve, a 45-minute seaplane ride from Vancouver.
As a rule, "luxury" and "tent" wouldn't appear together in the same sentence but unzipping my own deluxe white canvas "prospector style quarters" I was pleasantly surprised to find a wealth of comforts otherwise unheard of in camping circles.
There before me was not only a propane stove emanating comforting warmth, but a queen bed, an antique dresser and - a wooden floor. It's like an Elizabethan lady's bedroom transported by a glitch in the space-time continuum to a prospector's tent in the middle of the rainforest. But it worked. Being able to stand un-hunched in a canvas setting is always a bonus. But actually reclining on a chaise longue, next to a propane heater in your plush cotton robe is a definite bonus. This, campers, is surely the way of the future.
Meanwhile, back in the wilderness, black bears populate the Sounds in and around the resort, roaming free. It's not unusual to see them grazing in the fields, alongside the camp's horses. Of course, we're obsessed by them. We'd missed the grizzlies on an earlier trip to the mountains, so now hope is springing eternal that we might get to see a black bear. And our outing on the dinghy doesn't disappoint.
"There's one!" I hear the cry, and instantly 10 pairs of eyes and 10 cameras swing eagerly stage-left to find an easygoing black bear lolloping across the rocks. Going for stranded fish, he bats his giant claws about, their sharpness visible even from the safe distance of our boat. We're excited.
It turns out black bears aren't as scary as grizzlies but John Caton, the camp's co-owner and host, instilled fear into us all on the first day by showing us the slashed remains of a girl's coat. She had left a bubblegum wrapper in the pocket.
The warning is clear: "Don't leave any food or nice-smelling products in your tent or you will have a furry visitor". The chief attraction of Clayoquot has to be the feeling of complete and utter escape from the irritations of life. There's no queuing, no waiting, and practically every activity is catered for just for you or your group of friends, with your own guide, at your own pace.
As there's only 20 luxury guest tents at the Bedwell River site, you hardly see your fellow guests unless you want to. And as so few of you are staying at any one time it pretty much feels like you have the whole place to yourself.
The staff are friendly and very capable. They pop up almost telepathically whenever your water glass needs filling or to bring you another of the delicious nightly four-courses from the table d'hote menu, which changes daily.
The camp's central timber cookhouse, with its inviting open-kitchen bar and restaurant, provides the beating social heart of the resort. Alternatively, you can gather privately with your friends, in a special dining tent.
With sofas and easy chairs grouped around the roaring outdoor fires it makes a delightful foil to the river valley and lush scenic mountains that surround us.
Clayoquot's ethos seems to be about comfort and relaxation with the option for as much activity as you feel like.. Massage and treatment tents are readily on hand if your activity barometer falls towards the idle end of the scale.
But it seems almost a waste to come all this way into such an incredible place and not get out and experience as much of it as you can first-hand. And there's certainly plenty on offer. One day my guide, Lisa, took me on a leisurely one-on-one mountainbike ride and hike up to the stunning Bedwell waterfalls.
Through vast forests of swaying alder trees we went, to the remains of gold prospector Walter Guppy's cabin, complete with his homemade bear-proof safety additions. This was followed by a bit of shooting, clay-pigeon style, and rifle target practise.
But the highlight of the trip for me was the Western-style four-hour horse trek up the Ursus River Valley.
I hadn't ridden in more than a decade - the last two horses I rode bolted with me flailing about on top of them, which I took as a sign that I should quit my budding horse-riding career. This, however, was too good an opportunity to miss. And though they made us wear pointy leather cowboy boots to enhance the Western experience, it was worth it.
Later, resting my aching limbs in the traditional wooden hot tub overlooking the tranquil rivermouth, it was hard to imagine a more perfect place, or a more blissful feeling.
