As many people who have blogged have likely experienced, I’ve long ago reached the point where there has been so much going on in my life that the mere thought of trying to catch up on my updates has rendered me incapable of making the attempt. You’ve gotten the basic summary – got married, went to Greece, moved to Japan. There are volumes that can be written about each of those events, but as it were I’ll need to focus about blogging on the present or I may never get back into the habit of writing regularly, so I’ll have to assume that I’ll get to writing about the past sometime in the future.

My time here in Japan has, for the most part, been a rather simple affair. Being unemployed, I spend most of my time filling the role of househusband for Bronwyn, who is employed as a Coordinator of International Relations for the local government office here in Tottori City. My days involve more or less cooking, cleaning, shopping, and video games – mostly the video games. While spending one’s days playing video games may seem like a good way to pass the time, I can attest to the fact that it gets old very quickly. It’s leaving me antsy and lethargic, much like the later months of summer break in high school. Fortunately, I’m starting to pick up some part-time work here and there. Hopefully one thing will lead to another and I’ll find myself gainfully employed.

To break up the monotony and take advantage of my copious free time, I took a bicycle tour of Japan at the beginning of the month. The Bicycle Film Festival came to Tokyo the first weekend of September. Being busy with moving preparations in July, I missed the festival when it came to Los Angeles. So I took the train to Kyoto, Starbuck in tow, and began the approximately 650km ride to Tokyo. Photos from the trip are up on my Flickr.

I only had five days to make the trip so I kept a pretty strong pace for the load I was carrying. The first day, after disembarking the train, I wondered around Kyoto briefly, making sure to find Doshisha University where Bronwyn studied abroad for a semester, then headed up the eastern shore of Lake Biwa where I camped for the night.

Having started late with the train ride to Kyoto, I only rode 60km that day so I had to make up for it the next day. I rode 180km, over the mountain pass between Biwa and Nagoya in a heavy but refreshing rain, and then beyond. The mountains weren’t too bad, except for when I crossed the prefecture line and started my decent. The road suddenly narrowed, changing to a ridiculously steep grade with sharp switchback turns and shoddy pavement. Rain water was flooding down the road and strewing gravel all about. This made for a dangerous combination and my brakes were unable to bring the bike to a complete stop, forcing me to do a bit of Fredstone-style stopping and actually walk down many of the hairier bits. Once the road normalized, though, I flew down the rest of the pass, letting out a whoop of exhilaration and relief. The rest of the day involved navigating the outskirts of Nagoya so that I could make my way to a campground. I did get lost a bit in Nagoya, but eventually managed to find my way, and as if to punctuate that accomplishment, I passed a fellow bike tourist (presumably American) headed the other direction who raised his fist in greeting shouting, “Ride on!” That phrase is something of a Midnight Ridazz mantra, and raised my spirits.

I made good time, and though I reached the vicinity of my supposed camping accommodations well after dark near Gamagori, I was still feeling good. However, problems arose when I couldn’t find the campground in the dark. I had to ride uphill along an unlit forest road which was at times unpaved. I had to call Bronwyn to help me navigate via Google Maps, but I had apparently passed the camp completely while twisting and turning through the dark. I found myself at some sort of community nature center on top of a small mountain. On the plus side, I could see the Pacific Ocean to the south from where I was, which is where I was headed, but there was no way I was going to back into the dark to try and find the campground. So I decided to sleep on a nearby bench and hope that nobody from the nature center would object.

I didn’t end up getting much sleep at all that night, being very anxious about my surroundings. What’s worse, even in daylight the roads I had just traversed were twisted and confusing. I actually ended up going north down the mountain, rather than south, setting back my arrival at the coast several hours. Eventually I did find my way and I was able to relax a bit as I rode down the coastal bike paths (though the bike paths were interrupted at one point by a festival of drunken men in their underwear. I would have loved to have asked about the occasion, but I had to continue on my way). I decided to treat myself to a hot bath and a warm bed in a youth hostel in Omaezaki. I travelled 120km that day, but the last 20 were absolutely painful as I was feeling the fatigue from lack of sleep.

The hostel did help a great deal, though. They provided a delicious Japanese dinner, a welcome diversion from the usual fare of convenience store food I had been eating along the way, and I met a young Japanese woman who was touring the country by motorcycle. She was on the second month of her journey and had a lot more left to see. I was a bit envious, wishing I had my Vespa with me so that I could cover similar gorund. The woman had spent her working holiday in Whistler so spoke very good English, and I was eager to engage in conversation. I imagine a travel companion would be a good thing to have for future tours.

I slept in the next day (“sleeping in” meaning I woke at 7AM rather than 4AM) making the most of the comfort of my bed, but knowing that I had another long day of riding ahead of me, including more mountains in the evening, I scrambled to get ready and head out. I wanted to cross the mountains before it got dark. I headed up the coast of the Suruga-wan, past Shizuoka, skirting the coast of Fuji city. Unfortunately, I didn’t even get to see Mt. Fuji as it was obscured by clouds.

I reached the mountains at dusk, stopping at a gas station to ask for directions and confirm my route. As I climbed the mountain pass to the resort city of Atami, the sun set and I was beginning to regret not putting in a bit more hustle during the day. After the first big climb, though, I saw the man from whom I had asked directions on the side of the road. He waved me down and offered me a ride to Atami. I had only 15km to go, but it was going to be a rough distance. Knowing that this would save me a couple of hours on my trip, I happily accepted. He drove a large soccer van and I was easily able to fit my bike inside. The route I had selected went through a tunnel several kilometers long. The driver, who spoke very little English, commented as we passed through it, “Very dangerous.” I was indeed quite lucky to be getting the ride. We were soon in Atami, and the driver dropped me off. I was only 20km south of my campground along the Sagami-nada coast of the Izu peninsula just south of Odawara and I arrived shortly after 8PM. I clocked in 170km that day, along with the 15km in the car.

The last stretch of the tour was an easy 90km into Tokyo. The only trick part was navigating the traffic of Yokohama and Tokyo itself. Tokyo, however was surprisingly not bad and there were a fair amount of cyclists on the street (as opposed to on the sidewalk as most Japanese riders do), so I was able to comfortably mix it up with the cars just like the good old days of L.A. riding. I arrived in the Daikanyama neighborhood of Tokyo around 4PM just in time for the Film Festival.

More about the festival itself in my next post.

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