Rocky mountains, Yellowstone, lots of rain, Old Faithful, more rain, more mountains, fog. That pretty well sums it up. Except for one little thing. And, yes I know what I'm admitting to here... So, while trying to find a lodge so I could sleep for the night, I made a wrong turn. Pulled into a pullout so that I could turn around and go back to the highway. Halfway into the pullout, at about a half mile an hour, the bike slipped out from under me. Probably a smooth wet rock that I hit, who knows. Anywho, I used every ounch of my strength trying to keep it from going all the way over, but because of the gear on the back making it top heavy, I could barely manage even that. So, I manage to get both legs on the low side, but I'm still barely able to keep the thing from tipping all the way over. A few moments later, I see a car coming down the road. I start waving one of my arms, screaming at the top of my lungs that I need help. The car slowed, rolled about 20 ft past me and stopped. It sat there for about 30 seconds, all the while I'm screaming at them to get back here and help me, then drove off. Thankfully, a van pulled up right as the car left and a mother and some young boys helped me get it back upright. I thanked them profusely, and they went on their way. I sat for a minute to calm down and catch my breath when another car pulls up. I waved it off, but it sat there for several seconds before a police officer stepped out and asked if I was alright. I explained what happened, and she said that someone had (and I quote) "called in a motorcyclist in distress." Gee, thanks whoever you are, cause no offense, but letting me stand there straining my back until help potentially arrives is sooo helpful. I hope I never meet them, because I would be quite tempted to give them a little more than a piece of my mind. Anyway, I finally made it to a lodge and got a room for the night.
Link to map.
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