So after a 2½-day weekend break from riding; and making new acquaintances with some of the local, and not so local personalities, for instance: m'man from Nebraska who teaches me about [Copenhagen] chewing tobacco - e.g. when & how to spit it out, in this instance into a beer bottle, it's time to move on ...
.. north out of this sleepy hunting town called Meeker ...
.. and eastwards, through the up-and-coming township of Steamboat Springs [but I didn’t see any steamboats around?!] - just a narrow winding river and a couple of medium-sized lakes
Around 90 minutes after leaving Steamboat Springs I pass along the western shores of Lake Granby and ...
.. enter of the Rocky Mountain National Park. Within a couple of miles I'm required to stop and pay a charge to continue along the Trail Ridge Road that leads right through the Park. I show my new pass card to the attending ranger and ride straight on through. It was such a good idea to buy a National Parks annual pass back at Mesa Verde, which is now proving to be a wise investment.
More dang road works!
This really is a miniaturised alpine world
There is plenty of deer and elk around ...
.. You don't have to look too hard to spot them grazing on the undergrowth vegetation
As I climb higher up the sealed tarmac road towards Trail Ridge's peak of 12,183 feet [3,713 m] ...
.. I am forced, for the second time, to hold-up for road repairs. As I'm the first in the queue, I strike-up a cursory conversation with the lollipop-lady - "Hell, I sure would rather be ridin’ a motorcycle than workin' up here today" Lola says."Don'tcha get bored and cold working up here all day long?" I ask
"Hell, last week I wuz workin' down in southern Colorado onna job, everyday wuzza hundred degrees plus. This is kinda 'cool' by comparison!"
She chuckles back.
"Have a good ride - sure wish I wuz goin' with ya.
Say, you Australian by the way?"
I return the smile, wink .. and say no more.
Goodonya Sheila, I mean Lola! .. ;o)
But it's onwards ...
.. and upwards
A herd of deer pay no attention to me a the summit ... 
.. I guess they're used to curious onlookers by now.
And down the other side of the Park's mountain and further onwards and back south, through Central City - a place I had considered as a stopover. Glad I didn't advance reserve a motel room there though; it appears to be an Indian-dominated (Native American) gambling town. I'm a guaranteed loser when it comes to gambling.By around 6:00pm I check in at a motel in Idaho Springs. This is the first time I notice that nightly motel prices are generally higher than down south. Ninety-five dollars [GBP £47] is around $25 higher than I would expect to pay anywhere east of say the Colorado-Kansas border.
Tuesday, August-20
I'm up fairly early, excited by the prospect of riding up, and up the highest paved road in America. Standing at 14,270 feet [4,349 m] Mount Evans is a 'must do' ride, even for a vertigo sufferer like me. But there again, why-oh-why do I continually put myself through this sort of torture .. huh?BTW, did I ever mention that I can't stand heights?
I notice that overnight my bum-burn saving 'AirHawk' seat cushion has mysteriously sprung a leak. Bugger-it! I really don't fancy riding a few more thousand miles on a hard saddle. I must give this problem some more thought. But right now it's time to head for the clouds.
Except there isn't any significant cloud cover this morning. I have arrived at the base of Mt Evans on a perfect summer’s day. Not a breath of wind either.
My National Parks annual pass comes in handy again.
Around half way up the ascent and I pass the Summit Lake Park.
To my left-hand side the climbing road narrows to little more than a single track.Gulp!
As I gain altitude the views along the track are stunning ...
.. if not a little challenging for a fully laden 700 pound [318 Kg] top-heavy motorcycle ... 
.. plus nervous rider!
But at the summit the views across the region literally take your breath away; or maybe it's just the thin air up here that is making me go all giddy? 
Click here for a better view
After around 20-30 minutes I inspect the imminent reverse pathway that I’m obliged to renegotiate
Hope my brakes are working well this morning!
Succesfully down at 'base camp' - I decide to go into the nearby city of Denver and see if a rubber type factory/manufacturer can fix the join on my leaking heat-sealed AirHawk’s forward seam.But it's a 'No-can-do' from the one factory manager I hunt down in Denver's southern suburb of Englewood.
I know! I'll buy a bicycle tyre puncture repair kit; and fix the leak that way - I conclude. But this doesn't remedy the problem either.
Ho-hum! It's now getting on for 4:00pm. Not much point in going any further today, so I find a [comparatively expensive] motel in the north-eastern suburb of Golden. I'll get away early tomorrow morning to make-up on the time I've lost this afternoon .. pratting around in Denver City.
Wednesday & Thursday, 22 & 23-August
525 miles [845 km] later - passing through another state line into Wyoming; more 'nothing prairie land; a nasty thunderstorm; a not-good-value-for-money Super-8 motel in the township of Rock Springs [aka: 'The ArseHole of the West'] 
.. riding through terrain ... 
.. that reminds me of so much of Oklahoma-Kansas, but without the friendships I made in that particular region of America’s Heartland 
I notice that I have now just clocked-up just over 8,000 miles [12,875 km] since leaving Halifax, in Nova Scotia, over eight weeks ago. 
I re-enter the more dramatic landscape of the Rocky Mountains .. and pull into a motel's front car park in Jackson Hole Tomorrow there is the expectation of riding further northwards through the nearby national parks of Grand Teton .. and the more well-known Yellowstone beyond.
Should be good days ahead.
