Day 9: (Rest Day) Sapporo
(08/07/06)

Business hotels aren't the most romantic lodgings. At first glance they're sterile and indistinguishable, clean but lacking any hint of personality. Stay in enough of them though, and you notice the little differences--the firmness of the pillows, the ceiling molding, three washlet settings rather than two. The clean uniformity becomes comfortable with no hints of someone else's life to interrupt a peaceful night in hiding. After the past two weeks traveling with Emily, business hotels have developed an air of romance--crisp white sheets, smooth molded-plastic showers, air and music controls on the headboard. They're sexier than you'd think.

After a restful night at the Toyoko-Inn, Japan's quintessential business hotel, Emily and I found a sunny little bakery for breakfast. As we were nibbling away, a quiet, somewhat dorky father and son came in for soft serve. They didn't say much, but their closeness was apparent. Something about it reminded me of going out with my dad when I was that age. The whole scene made me wonder if I don't want to be a father someday. It's something that I resisted for a long time, but, like my feelings on marriage, it seems to be shifting a little with age.

Later, Emily and I had a shopping date at Zara and the Loft. Silly as it is, there's something about buying your girlfriend clothes that's a lot of fun. At the Loft we found stuffed animals to fulfill the dual roles of pillow and bedtime buddy. She got a woodland critter in honor of our night in Asahibetsu and I got a (very comfy) shark. The staff gave me a few weird looks as I lay down to test out my new shark-pillow.

(Afterglow)

That night, our last together in Japan, we headed to Odori Koen in search of a good beer garden. For three weeks every summer, Sapporo's central park hosts what must be the largest beer festival in Japan. Asahi, Sapporo, Kirin--all the major breweries have countless rows of tables, endless supplies of beer, and snacks to match. But still, something about them is off. They look more fun than a typical Japanese beer garden (usually a concrete department store rooftop), but are too commercial. The bad pop music drowns out all but the loudest conversation, and mediocre macro-brew drunk from a glass boot is still mediocre. I expected better from a city that prides itself as being part of the Munich - Milwaukee - Sapporo trinity.

And at the end of the park, in the smallest, least noisy beer garden, I found it. The Otaru Beer area was a godsend. A real Hokkaido microbrewery with true pilsner, weiss, and dunkel beers. And pretzels. Real pretzels. The big German kind, crispy on the outside, hot and soft on the inside. After countless months of Asahi and bad bread, Emily and I were in heaven. Matsuyama may not have been the best place for us, but Sapporo, we decided, could make for a very happy summer.

Day 7 & 8: (Rest Days) Sapporo

(08/05 & 08/06)

Sapporo is a good city in the summer; full of parks, beer festivals, and some of the less stressed people in Japan. It feels like a good mid-sized city, not too crazy, plenty of space to relax or get away, yet with a lot going on. The only other time I was in Sapporo was during the Snow Festival--the biggest event of the year. My impressions then were nothing but positive, and seeing the city in the summer confirmed these.

In between team meetings and preparing for the presentation, Emily and I had a chance to slip of on our own for coffee and relaxation. Finishing the presentation was a little stressful, but it came together in the end. The presentation itself went over well, in spite of my fumbling Japanese and a few quiet voices. Basically it was a good crowd. Very forgiving. Afterwards we made veggie sushi rolls with the audience and watched Adam and Kaki have a wasabi-roll face off.

Done for the night, I slipped off to meet up with Emily at the hotel. Kaki's pad was a fine place, but not exactly where we wanted to spend our last two nights in Japan together.

Day 6: (120K) Asahibetsu - Sapporo

(08/04/06)

We finally broke 100 km in a day. The ride from Asahibetsu to Sapporo was much nicer than expected, with very little urban sprawl. After just five days in the countryside, arriving at Sapporo Station at night was a bit of a shock--people, cars, and neon lights everywhere. It's really not that hectic of a station area, but after the rural calm it felt like Shinjuku at rush hour.

Tired and shell-shocked, we headed to the Peace Boat Center to meet our event hosts and have dinner. Afterwards, we split off to go to our host's places for a good hard sleep. Emily, Chay, Adam, and I stayed with Kaki, a laid back twenty-three year old from Osaka. Cool guy, cool post-collegiate bachelor pad, complete with a string of clothes drying inside and a dartboard. It felt cute, shich I suppose means I'm a little old for it. It would be fun to have a dart board though.

Day 5: (80 km) Hokuryu-cho - Ashibetsu

(08/03/06)

(obasan)

We quietly slipped out to the greenhouse for a banana pancake breakfast with melon and onigiri supplied by our hosts. Passing through Hokuryu-cho, we miss a turn but Emily spies a local bakery and we stop for a quick snack that turns into another round of extreme generosity. We are treated to coffee and cakes while chatting with the family that owns the shop. They even bought one of our t-shirts.

Moving on towards Ashibetsu, we had our first tunnel fiasco. Instead of just riding through, we stopped to discuss how to divide into two groups to ride through. I fail to see how this makes things any safer, but hope that people will get used to the tunnels eventually. A man pulled up to us and offered to ride behind our group through the tunnel. We took him up on it, thus holding up traffic for a few kilometers. There has to be a better way to do this.

Out of the tunnel, we continued on, nearly passing through the famed lavender fields of Furano. With a better pace, we might have even had time to see them.

That night we found a car-camp site that wouldn't allow campers with motorized vehicles. Just as well since it was expensive and had turned a beautiful lakefront into a dystopian camp-complex. While some people opted for a nearby parking lot, Emily, Adam, Mary, and I camped up near a shrine. Emily and I awoke to something scrabbling about near our tent. It would've been easy to assume it was nothing if the camp watchman hadn't taken the trouble to warn us about bears. It sounded small, but then, I'd never heard a bear cub before. Maybe they step lightly. Finally I went out to investigate, and seeing no trampled grass, I figured it was a small annoying critter. After investigating the strange nylon object in its yard, our little friend finally went away and left us to a short, fitful sleep.

Day4: (80 km) Tomamae - Hokuru-cho

(08/02/06)

After a filling breakfast of leftover miso-barley soup, we had our first semi-punctual start of the day. In a small town on the way, Adam's good, clean all-American charm won us some free cherries. After pledging to share our new treasure with the group, the　few of us present quickly devoured them.

The morning was slightly marred by a very drawn out discussion of whether or not we should take tunnels, leading to a vote (7-3 in favor), and culminating in the rider who called for a vote saying she wouldn't take the route under any circumstances. Audrey then went into an animated speil likening peoples' views on tunnel safety to faith in god.

Thus enlightened, we end up taking the hills instead. It turns out to be a good choice, with beautiful scenery the entire way and none of the sprawl I expected. At lunch, a farmer and her 14 year-old son stop by with free melons for us. Like most Japanese parents, she tells us how good his English is and prods him to converse with us. We find out that he likes baseball, but after that, the conversation reverts to Japanese.

(en route to Hokuru-cho)

After lunch, I show people how to change a flat tire. Surprisingly, the team quietly pays attention to the entire 20 minute demonstration. Though I'm surprised everyone hadn't practiced changing a flat before embarking on a 4000 km bicycle ride, I'm a little more comfortable with people's ability to help themselves on the road now. Or I will be once everyone actually buys tire levers.

The pastoral hills continue all the way to Hokuro-cho, where we stop by a croquet course, eyeing it up as a potential camp site. Amy and Emily scout ahead and are ensnared by a generous fifty-something vegetable seller who gives them corn and peaches. The rest of us catch up and Emily slips me one of their peaches--one of the best I've ever had, perfectly ripe and juicy. The veggie seller then plys us with more free produce, insisting that we call him oniichan (older brother/bro). After hearing our plan to camp somewhere, he insists that we stay at his house and that we use a spare greenhouse to cook our dinner. Stunned by fresh fruit and generosity, we eat, head to the onsen, and sleep until Pirori and I wake everyone up with our snoring.

(Oniichan and his lovely wife)

Day 3: (41 K) Shosanbetsu - Tomamae
(08/01/06)

(sharing our roads)

When you get used to riding alone--or with the one person whose rhythm you match so well that the two of you even shift gears at the same time--it's hard to adapt to group riding. The pace right now is so choppy that it's hard to get into a good steady cadence, much less a mental zone. Stopping to wait for people every 45 minutes is a bit much. Presumably the group will find a better rhythm and way to manage the different skill levels, but it is frustrating when all you want to do is ride.

Going on ahead to Shosanbetsu with Emily yesterday was a smart choice. In addition to a wonderful night last night, we had all morning to relax together. We awoke around six and Emily explored the beach while I took some photographs. Then we had a quick breakfast, packed up, and went back to the onsen to try out the (public) baths this time. Though nothing compared to the private bath of the night before, the rotenburo (outdoor bath) offered a refreshing view of the beach below.

After the bath, we still had time to wash our clothes at a campsite before meeting the team at 9:30. True to form, we wait another 45 minutes for everyone to pull in, then another 20 while people rest, stretch, and snack. Finally, we head out on our stop-and-go ride, have lunch, and then stop to camp 6 kilometers later.

(roadside decay)

The site is convenient if a bit overpriced at 3,000 yen (which is 3,000 yen more than camping should cost in a country where you can camp next to an elementary school). Emily and I had soft cream (or soft serve if you're not Japanese) with Mary and Adam, then took an onsen before meeting them again to share a bottle of wine on the beach. I'm glad they're on the trip. More than anyone else right now, they seem to be the two people who will always be cool, interesting, and sane.

While I was down on the beach with new friends and wine, Brian called from Matsuyama to say hi. Other than Emily, he was really the only person I spent much time with my last year in Ehime, and it finally hit me that after 3 years, Matsuyama is no longer home. Simple as they were, I miss our mornings hanging out at Starbucks, joking around, rarely talking about anything important or personal, bonding all the same. I may not miss Matsuyama yet, but I do miss B.

Day 2: (85 K) Numakawa - Tesshio - Shosanbetsu

(07/31/06)

Anywhere else in the world, a school principal would be more than a little upset upon finding eleven strangers camping in his schoolyard. But here in Northern Hokkaido, he bid us good morning and apologized for disturbing us so early. Then he gave us a pile of vegetables fresh from the school garden. This was a lot to take at six in the morning. Here we were ready to apologize for using the school grounds and he cheerily hands over a daikon.

The way out of Numakawa is slow going. The differences in speed and endurance among the team members are already becoming apparent. Audrey is having knee problems either because of a poorly sized bike or lack of training. By our lunch stop in Tesshio, her joints need a rest. Emily and I want to see as much of Hokkaido as we can before she leaves, so she suggests to Chay (the group leader) that we split the group for the night, with some people going on ahead. He tosses the idea around with a few people. It turns out to be a bad idea and the beginning of group tensions.

We cycle a few more kilometers to a dumpy campsite on an industrial coastline. Emily and I decide to move on a bit in order to have a much needed night alone. 30 K up the road, the two of us stop in Shosanbetsu at a beautiful campsite overlooking the sea. After a romantic private onsen (for a mere 1600 yen), Emily makes a delicious red-lentil and veggie dhal while I set up camp. It starts to rain and we move into the tent for dinner. That night, warm and dry, curled up listening to the rain with the woman I love, I think about how lucky I am.

Day 1: (73 K) Wakkanai - Soya Misaki - Numakawa

(07/30/06)

Things got off to a slow start this morning as we waited for the owner of a local cycle shop to check each of our bikes. He was kind enough to come out in spite of having a family funeral later that day. Next was a reporter from the Asahi Shimbun doing a brief article about the ride.

(Bike maintainence workshop)

Finally, Emily and I led the way to Soya Misaki only to lose two thirds of the group somewhere in Wakkanai. Figuring that they'd catch up sooner or later, we headed on to the cape. On the way, I got to chat with Mary, a true blue Minnesota farm girl with the accent to prove it. Granted, she is an exceedingly well traveled Minnesota farm girl, having lived in both rural Japan and Nepal.

Soon after, the rest of the team arrived; we took group photos and headed south to Numakawa, where we found a welcoming patch of grass behind an elementary school. A few people even slipped into the greenhouse-like school pool for an after dinner swim while I tried my hand at some nighttime photography that didn't quite turn out.

Meeting the Riders (07/29/06)

Kids are scary. One on one they're interesting, loveable little buggers, but encountered wild in packs they're vicious little brutes. Wakkanai's Chuo Koen, the small park that was our designated meeting place was full of them.

After waking up with the sun, looking at some not so nearby cows, and having coffee and rolls with our touring trailer friend, Emily and I made our way back to Wakkanai. At Chuo Koen, we cooked up a tasty breakfast of coffee, fried eggs, tomatoes, and toast. With two strange foreigners cooking a decidedly non-Japanese breakfast in the park, it wasn't long before some shogakkusei (elementary school students) swarmed us, questions at the ready.

"What's that?"

"An apple."

"And that?"

"Peanut butter."

"You eat it?"

"Yep."

"Is it good?"

"Of course."

"Gimmie!"

"Nope."

The 6th year girls had more interesting lines of conversation, but they were outnumbered by the enthused little ones.

An hour later the water fight broke out. Two hours later, I was tired of being mobbed and having a six year-old girl repeatedly squirt my crotch. Three hours later, the same six year-old tried to feed Emily and me poisonous berries. Six hours later, the mob had left us alone and the oldest boy and girl were taking turns trying to break each other's bicycles--tears, feet and accusations flying. So much for the innocent summer fun.

After the Littlest Gang in Wakkanai left, all of the riders sat down for our first dinner and meeting. Most people didn't open up too much, but it seems that we have a good crew for the ride ahead. We'll just have to get on the road and see how it goes.

Pre-Ride (7/28/06)

(Sunset at Soya Misaki)

After a relaxing two days in Tokyo and a few more riding the local trains north, Emily and I arrived in Wakkanai, ready to stretch out our legs. The trip up was a good break after our hurried escape from Matsuyama. Tokyo alone reminded both of us how interesting Japan can be and days on the slow train gave us time to simply be together.

Getting out bikes from the takkyubin center, we rode off to Soya Misaki (Cape Soya), officially the northernmost point in Japan. On the way we found the best seafood-medley curry rice I've ever had, full of crab, tender squid, and scallops. The rest of the short ride to the cape was unimpressive, as was the hollow, caulked together photo-friendly marker. But there we were, the frustrations of ALT life in Matsuyama behind us.

Like everyone else there, we took part in the required photo-op. A friendly ex-trucker took our pictures and chatted with us for a while. He was in the middle of a year-long journey around the country in his pickup and camper trailer. It reminded me that there are still a number of interesting, unconventional people in Japan.

Dinner was a bag of chips washed down with cans of Sapporo Classic while we chatted and looked out towards Russia and the setting sun. Later that night, I saw my first Japanese fox. We looked at each other for a time, then I bowed to it and it walked away, seemingly satisfied. Mystic and tricky critters that they are, one does well to not piss of foxes in Japan.

Introduction

Back in November, I got an e-mail looking for people silly enough to ride over 4000 K across Japan in the name of environmental education. At the time, I had been in Japan two and a half years, made friends and watched them leave for less restrictive frontiers, made new ones only to slowly lose touch with them. Any balance I had established in Japan was slipping away, leaving me more reclusive than ever. I needed something to jolt me out of this, something I could commit to and prove to myself that my life was still my own. It was a good time for a silly proposal.

Nine months later, I joined 9 other people in Hokkaido for a two and a half month trek across the country. This blog is a chance for me to share my personal experiences and thoughts on the ride. For a day by day overview, hunt down the official blog. Chances are that the two won't always agree.