Dom Joly: The unfathomable beauty of the Canadian Rockies

Nine days into my family RV trip across the Canadian Rockies and I'm starting to find that it's very similar to my recent trip to North Korea. First, you find yourself in an extraordinary situation that no normal person would actively choose to be in.

Second, you start to miss your creature comforts and begin to appreciate just how wonderful your everyday life actually is.

Third, and this is the most frightening part, you become institutionalised and rapidly start to forget about your previous life. All of "this" is normal now. That's just the way it is: deal with it.

So I find myself accepting that my life now consists of driving endlessly through spectacular scenery while constantly shouting: "Hey, kids, look at that, isn't that amazing?", only to be met with stony silence save for the infuriating bleeps of two Nintendo DSs. Then, every evening we rock up at some isolated camp site and park our mobile snail next to people who look as though they've just escaped from a very violent prison.

In normal circumstances I'd take one look at them, push the kids back into the vehicle and speed off to the nearest five-star hotel. Now, I just wave at the toothless hick trying to light a barbecue with a blowtorch and send my kids off to play with his children. "If any of them are armed then come back," is my only warning.

Maybe it's good for me? Just yesterday I spent an unintelligible half- hour sitting with our neighbour drinking strong beer outside his huge trailer. I think he was from Montana. That's what it said on his licence plate anyway (the back licence plate that is, the front one seems to be a spot where you're allowed to put anything you like. His read: "Just be happy I'm not a twin.")

He talked and I listened without understanding a single word. I tried to nod and laugh at various occasions but I was a bit worried that he might be telling me about the painful death of his mother so I didn't overdo it.

It was like when I drank moonshine with hillbillies up in the Appalachians – totally out of my comfort zone. He could have been telling me that I was going to be horrifically murdered that night. I had no idea. It sounded something like- "aahhmm shhhitt tommatttooes keeellled a ggguy shurre deathghh hhuurtrt myy hheeed."

On and on he went and he had a lot to get off his chest. Eventually I just kicked back and drank his beer hoping he'd pass out. After half an hour his huge wife had some sort of accident in the trailer. There was a lot of smashing glass and then she started screaming blue murder. He went into help and I legged it.

I got back to our RV to find Stacey in a very bad mood. She'd been trying to cook supper and both the smoke alarms had gone off and she couldn't turn them off. If that wasn't bad enough we suddenly got an elk wander into camp.

The "interpreter" (Canadian word for hippie guide) had told the kids that it wasn't bears or cougars that they should worry about. Oh no: "Elks are the biggest killer out here."

So, of course the moment they spot the elk they come running back screaming in fear and all the toothless man's children start laughing at them because they probably shoot 10 a day back home for fun.

We all end up at the tiny table inside the RV with both alarms still going off and the temperature inside approaching 40C because of the cooking. I'm too scared to go out in case I see the neighbour again and the kids don't want to meet the elk or the other kids. Two days until a hotel. Pray for us.