When our dear, genteel Texan friend, David, called one golden August morning to say that he was in Vancouver, British Columbia, and would fly to Nanaimo for a visit, my husband and I were immediately thrown into hosting panic. What would we do with him? How would two “humbletons” entertain the sleek urbanite in our hometown?

We decided that a good visit begins with steaming cups of Tim Horton’s coffee and a nature walk along wooded paths that shed their color palettes seasonally: luscious leafy greens in spring and summer to autumn’s splendid harvest oranges and yellows to the frosty silvers of winter. Slender alder trees strain skyward to compete with sturdy maples, lichen-laced oaks and bushy evergreens for photosynthetic dominance.

Native salal challenges ravaging Scotch broom for root supremacy under the forest canopy. Whether bathed in the sun’s honeyed rays or smothered in West Coast cloud and drizzle, this is the best of island living. We hoped it would be a real treat for someone who had not set foot off concrete and tile (evidently) in decades.

Rocky outcroppings with historic shacks clinging to them in Piper’s Lagoon are called Shack Islands.

In Nanaimo, many of our grassy-knolled parks curve softly, like gentle smiles, along the rocky ocean coastline. Neck Point, overlooking Georgia Strait to the east, is just such a park. Here, the panoramic sensations of the vibrant ocean ecosystem grasp you. Strong sea breezes tangle your hair like a rough-handed uncle.

Spiraling eagles cry piercingly to warn against marauding assassin ravens, the tricksters of First Nations lore. The floral aroma, a blend of brine and wild rose and blackberry, intensifies the cool air with a mysterious, spicy elixir.

Flotillas of webbed, finned and flippered marine life perform “aquabatics” in the frigid aquatic milieu. Dolphins skip through the steely blue waters at play, and the occasional pod of orca whales bears down hungrily on shining salmon. A basking rogue sea lion belches and barks its territorial rights to the world.

Shy, smoky-eyed seals stealthily observe the action from offshore, peering curiously from between the feathered flanks of brown-and-white Canada geese and pewter-gray seagulls bobbing in the chilly waters.

After our morning amble, we finished off our coffees and caught up at a picnic table overlooking Shack Islands, a small clutch of 20 or so paint-peeled shacks clinging to rocky outcroppings adjoining Piper’s Lagoon. Built early in the 20th century by dirt-poor workers determined to avoid land taxes, inhabitants would row ashore in small dories for work.

Today the cottages are used as summer residences by direct descendents of the original builders. When the land bridge is submerged, they too must paddle across to stock up on supplies. For this privilege of straddling 100 years of history, they are content to go without electricity and running water. Only essential maintenance is allowed for these dwellings. When at last they crumple to the ground from age or accident, a sliver of British Columbia’s history will wink out forever.