Shortly after leaving Winter Park at about 7:30 in the morning, I encountered what was obviously a small mutual admiration society of about 6 Corvette owners. Members of the "I own a new Corvette, so there!" club. They were obviously trolling the Colorado countryside anxious for other drivers to gaze with admiration on their shiny new cars.
They drove badly. 10 - 15 miles under the limit, stayed in the passing lane going up hills in spite of traffic being lined up behind them. You know the type. I passed them on the right, made a mental note to make sure they were remembered.
I ended up for the night at the Trail's End Motel in Dubois, WY.
A beautiful sight: the bike in the rain, as viewed from the doorway of the motel room.
I left Campbell River this morning. Stopped to get gas on the way: is your calf muscle supposed to give a loud "pop" and suddenly start hurting like hell while putting the bike up on the center stand? I didn't think so. I'm walking around like Chester hobbling after Marshal Dillon on on old Gunsmoke episode.
"Marshal Dillon! Marshal Dillon!"
Victoria harbor is pretty.
Leaving Victoria in the BlackBall Coho ferry.
A couple of biker friends I made waiting for the ferry.