JULY 18: 10 miles west of Dolores, Colo. to Blanding, Utah, 73 miles via U.S. Routes 491 and 191. Average speed today, 14 mph. Total trip mileage to date, 2,724. Average daily mileage since June 1, 56.7.

The trip started out smooth and downhill. We rolled into Utah just after 11 a.m. and it began to look like we’d end the day early.

Early on, we ran into what we figured could have been our last group of eastbound cross-country cyclists: An LA guy bound for NY and, far behind, his girlfriend and two more women bound for DC. 

“Lollygaggers,” complained the lead rider,  saying his female companions regularly  slept late in searing-hot Nevada, condemning themselves to miserable rides.

“Get started at first light,” the LA guy  advised. We plan to do better than, that – starting at 4 a.m. and riding with lights.

The three women passed us 30 minutes later and said nothing of lollygagging.  We pedaled on, making good time.

Then, outside of Monticello, Utah, the skies darkened ahead of us, lightning strikes began and huge squalls kicked up on both sides of the town ahead. One kicked up huge clouds of dust.

We had a decision to make: seek shelter immediately or make a three-mile run into town for lunch. We put on our rain gear, climbed on the bikes and set out. Monticello was only a mile away when the skies opened and the lightning amped up a couple of notches.

Hammered by the deluge, we ducked into a Point of Entry truck weigh station a mile from downtown. The clerk welcomed us to stay in the lobby, and from there we watched trucks roll over the scales and lightning bolts boom on the horizon for an hour.

We then rode into Monticello for a 1 p.m. lunch at the R&F Café.

After barbecue beef (me) and a club sandwich (Ben), we ran into something that made the couple we metr towing their Jack Russell terrier in Kansas look sane: A family of nine riding cross-country – Santa Cruz to Maine.

“Five of us have ridden the whole way,” the dad boasted. Outside a van driven by Mom were a variety of bikes ranging from a full-size recumbent tandem to a cycle so small a 5-year-old could ride it. And occasionally did, apparently.

“The little ones take turns,” said Dad.

He admitted coming up with the family trip plan a couple of years ago.

“So everyone was on board and enthusiastic?” I asked.

“Not exactly,” said Dad, whose teenage daughters then commenced some friendly eye rolling and head shaking.

After our rendezvous, the Castroville Clan headed east for Maine, where they should arrive in October. And we headed for Blanding, where the Patio Drive In served up one of the trip’s Top 10 shakes (Oreo mint).

After checking in at the Super 8, Randy and I went to the grocery store and stocked for the next two days – and 125 miles without services.