Day ten, and at seven thousand feet you can expect almost any
weather, and we were not disappointed. To go north from Flagstaff,
you need to get around the San Francisco Peaks. While crossing over
the pass ten miles north of Flagstaff a cold storm blew in, and we
actually saw snow in the air mixed in with the cold rain.

As luck would have it, Walter was just passing us. (I would also
like to mention that Walter's last name is spelt Schmitt and not
Schmidt as early written.) We flagged him down, and quickly changed
into our rain gear. We then high tailed it off the mountain. We
quickly dropped several hundred feet, and found a hole in the storm.

For all of the day we rode in the eye of the storm. There was
lightning and rain all around us, but we never got wet, once we left
the mountain. The winds were the strongest we have ridden in. By and
large they were tail winds, but they were so strong, that if the
road or the wind turn off a bit, it was extremely difficult to keep
our bikes on the narrow shoulder between the rumble strip and the
dirt. Especially at the speeds we were traveling at because most of
the day was down hill with thirty mile tail winds.

The winds were so strong that at Grey Mountain, about forty miles
into the day, we had a long debate if it was even safe to continue.
We were now well into the Navajo reservation and we had just come
out of a native restaurant when we realized how the wind was
howling. There were two motels across the street, and we were real
tempted.

In the end, we decided to push on to Cameron, on the Little Colorado
River. It was twelve miles further, and there was another motel
there. Once we started moving again the wind did not seem so bad. I
guess thirty mile tail winds are not as noticeable when you are
cruising at twenty miles per hours. The gusts were still terrible,
especially when the tracker-trailers came barreling by, causing all
sorts of wind shifts and turbulence. At times it seemed like we were
riding at a seventy-five degree angle, just to stay on the road.

But the same wind that was plaguing and aiding us, carved a
spectacular landscape out of the red rock. It was highlighted by the
contrast of bright sun and dark crossing storm clouds and punctuated
by occasional blasts of lightning.

By mid-afternoon we arrived at our destination; seventy-five miles
and our arms were more tired than our legs. Steering was harder than
pedaling today.

A special mention goes out to Seth who changed another flat today
completely on his own. So what if it took him an hour. We had our
first non-flat casualty today. Bonnie broke a spoke, and her wheel
bent. Walter had to take her back to Flagstaff for repairs, but she
still made it back in time to ride the last eleven miles up to Tuba
City. What a trooper!

And lastly, I would like to write a word about our accommodations at
the Greyhills Inn. It is part school and part hotel. The school
teaches the native children about the hotel business, and the
students run the hotel. It is really reasonable, if you do not mind
dormitory bathrooms. It is a great casual place with lots of meeting
places.