After the long, work and writing filled days before coming out here, it all, suddenly, fell upon me. Hard to believe, after months of no-planning at all, we are here in deepest Canada, home of the mountie and the maple leaf.

After a week out here, our adventures through mountain, lake and ocean have come to a brief hiatus. The wedding which my travelling companion, Sian, was busy enjoying the day I arrived into the sunny Vancouver, was also guested by one J McCloud. Now infamously called the Evil J McCloud, for it was him we suspect who brought the stomach bug which has since taken down around 15 known people, including Sian and of course (in keeping with this year's illness theme - me). Hence it is that we find ourselves here, marooned for a moment in the mountain suburbs of Squarmish.

Now, I'm really not a fan of suburbs in any country. The first night I arrived here I stayed at a friend of a friend's house in downtown Vancouver, and if I hadn't been so tired after 9 hours on a plane and 4 hours in Van airport trying to convince the authorities that I wasn't attempting to sneak into their country for anything other than a brief visit (great welcome, thanks for that!),I would have happily stayed at the apartment window all night watching the city flow beneath me. I have seen it briefly but Vancouver stuck me as a pretty good place to be. The day after and for most of the next week, I was out by Cushoen Lake on Salt Spring Island, possibly one of the most tranquil places I have yet had the pleasure of discovering. Our time there was all swimming in the lake, sea kayaking, walking, drinking and generally having a lovely time of it in the rising temperatures. So much more difficult it has been then, to be here after all that.

Not that I'm not grateful to the titanic matronly force who is MBP (as she shall be known here), for giving us all a place to be ill in for the two days we have been here for. And not that the view from the deck isn't spectacular, as cloud veiled mountains hunker around us, icy tips scratching the surface of the sky. But no matter where you are in the world, suburbs are still suburbs, and I can't help but have that same feeling here that I had as a teenager in Thatcham, Berkshire: a feeling of seeing beyond my borders but being trapped behind them, of "safe" isolation from "out there" - as referenced by the Matronly force who is MBP last night when she expressed horror at the appearance of a "pan-handler" (beggar) in the local town.

When we were coming back across the water from Vancouver Island to the mainland, Sian and I had found ourselves the sunniest and least windy part of the dark and made a camp there to watch the islands slip away, the layers of mountains fading into gray upon grey, while in front, more mountain loomed. The sun was setting. On that voyage, about an hour off Vancouver Island, we saw dolphins. Dolphins! Jumping up out of the water in playful joy. It was an incredible sight. I think most people left the safety of the inside passenger cabin to see them, but for the rest of it they stayed where they were, immersed in the smell of re-baked pastries and instant coffee, rather than be outside, smelling the ocean, having the wind rip through their hair and the sea on their skin.

The Matronly MBP is here, trying to fit a sheet onto the mattress on the floor. A familiar cry goes up the stairs... "Tony!" She has decided she needs to check her email. The woman is a force to be reckoned with. Sian is asleep. They are having a photo show upstairs (for the nth time) of wedding photos. I wonder if the Evil J McCloud is on them looking pale? I shall boo and hiss if so. I shall go up and face the Matronly MBP once more. Try to make a cup of hot water alone without being pounced on having to chose between three different cups, two types of water and a preferred boiling method - while also hoping that poor "Tony!" won;t have to be summoned... "Christian wants a cup of HOT WATER! Tony! Tony!"... and then being left with the inescapable notion that somehow I made the impolite choice along the way.

Hopefully the illness which has struck us, this suburban bug, will have died out tomorrow and we will hit the road again for more mountains and lakes. If not, I may need rescuing.