Day 25: (27 km) Shinano - Nagano
(08/23/06)

Strange dreams last night. I forgot one of them immediately, but the other two I managed to commit to paper before they escaped my head. The first was more of a half dream; I was sleeping in the cabin and a Japanese ghost--an old woman with long white hair and a little humanoid demon coming out of her head--was pulling at my head, sucking the energy out of me. It makes me wonder if I wasn't facing north, and if there's some truth to the Japanese superstition that from the North come ghosts. Back in my old Matsuyama apartment, I always had strange dreams when I would sleep with my head to the north. Emily always preferred sleeping that way. It helped her dream I think. I was always happier with a good, hard dreamless sleep.



After that I had a dream about being back at the school I used to teach at. We were supposed to do a presentation about the ride and couldn't pull it together. By itself, it was a pretty innocuous dream, but this was the third bad dream in a row set at my old school. I assume my subconscious is trying to purge itself of a seemingly cushy job that sucked more out of me than I realized.



Fresh air and the short, steep downhill into Nagano helped dispel the oily film of the night's dreams. On the way down, I saw my first ten-percent incline sign before stopping to see Nagano's famous Zenkouji Temple. The rest of the day was spent wandering the city and writing to keep the nasty feeling from this morning at bay.



In the evening, I headed back to meet the others for some urban camping at a park near Zenkouji temple. Though I never discovered the reason, there was a festival on at the temple and in a nearby neighborhood. After lugging around the extra weight for twenty-five days, I finally got to put my tripod to use.

Day 24: (25 km) Joetsu - Shinano
(08/22/06)

After a light couple hours of riding, Mary and I pulled into the Shinano michi no eki. Grabbing a bottle of local Shinano Ale and some oyaki (a veggie filled bread dumpling--one of Nagano's many specialties) we waited for the rest of the team to arrive and discover Shinano's many tasty treats for themselves.

As we were finishing our beer the sky opened up and down came the rain. A real downpour, the kind that would have soaked us through in minutes if we had not been happily sitting under the awning of the rest stop. The timing could not have been better. Safely out of the rain, we polished off another ale, some fresh baked rolls, more oyaki, and chocolate filled with dried blueberries. The rain lasted into the afternoon and we were happy to be just where we were.

Emily called and told me about law school orientation, while Chay made friends and talked religion and middle east politics with a Christian Jew we met at the stop. Unfortunately he left his trailer-suitcase out in the rain. It was a bit less waterproof than he thought, but we managed to dry out most of the map books eventually.

That evening, we found shelter at a shoddy old cabin camp ground near a lake. The cabins left something to be desired, but sitting down by the lake watching the light recede on the water made for a good night.

Day 20 - 23: (75 km) Ryoetsu - Ogi - Joetsu

(08/18/06 - 08/21/06)

Japan has its fair share of both small hippie dance-barefoot-on the-beach type festivals and mammoth big-name rock festivals like Fuji Rock nad Summer Sonic. The former are amateurish but welcoming, the latter polished but impersonal, and both lose their charm rather quickly. The Kodo Earth Celebration, however, merged the warmth of a small amateur festival with world-class music.

(A cyclist with style)

Every year, the Kodo drummers host a three day concert and festival on their home island of Sado. Throughout the day, there are a number of small events--drumming and dance workshops, smaller preformances, and a festival harbor market. But come evening, all of that clears out as people line up in front of Shiroyama Park, waiting to claim a spot near the stage. For three nights, visitors are treated to some of the best mucic Japan has to offer--the Kodo drummers and their annual special guest.

(Harbor Market Booth)

Ever since hearing about the Earth Celebration, I was convinced that it had to be the best musical experience in Japan. Three years ago, I missed the chance to see Kodo play with Fanfare Ciocarlia, one of the most charming and energetic bands I've ever seen. Since then, the festival had been in the back of my head as something I should do before leaving Japan. If it weren't for the ride, though, I probably would never have made it there.

(Yuske, the waramono--straw crafts-artist)

We were lucky enough to have a booth at the harbor market to fundraise, radiate environmental goodness, and chill. With an abundance of good veggie food options, cheap microbrew, old friends, and interesting people, the market was reason enough to make the trip out. The relaxation reached its peak on Sunday when Amy and I manned the booth, snacking for six hours straight. It wasn't just a hard chill, it was the hardest chill. We oozed ralaxation.

As good as the chilling was though, the concerts were better. After three years stuck in a provincial city where people think department stores equal haute coutoure, any good music and preformance is a treat. Seeing the most highly regarded taiko drumming group in Japan was spectacular. Add to that Tomango, an innovative jazz/urban tap group, and it was one of the best preformances I've seen in or out of Japan.

(Chill)

Day 19: (15 km) Niigata - Ryoetsu
(08/17/06)

After getting up early and spending the morning chatting with Emily and preparing materials for the coming weekend, I made it to the ferry port just before the team was ready to board the ship to Sado Island. The ferry ride was relaxing, with Pirori giving everyone a crash course in environmental Japanese.

That night we found a michi no eki to camp at just before the rain started. Audrey, Mary, and Sorcha cooked up a tasty curry, after which Adam played musical pots while washing up. Then came the dance party. In the bathroom. there I was, innocently brushing my teeth, when a funky beat came hopping over from the ladies' room. Peeking around the corner, I found Audrey and Pirori dancing away, perfectly in synch, rockin' the latrine. The whole thing made sleeping under the gaze of a big Thomas the Tank Engine ride seem a little less strange.

Day 18: (90 km) The Best Beach in the World - Niigata
(08/16/06)

The group seems to be getting along better now. Like a mildly dysfunctional family, we're all beginning to accept each others' quirks and habits. For the first time in a long while, I feel like I'm getting back to being myself again, back to being kind, relaxed, understanding. It's been a long time since I've felt like I did back in high school and college--like I put people at ease, am a good listener and mediator, and that people are genuinely interested in what I have to say. This summer is already beginning to heal a lot of things, allowing me to regroup and rebuild. Waking up for a pre dawn swim on a near perfect beach helps too.

Being route planner right now is an empowering position. It allows me to focus on the part of the ride I care most about--the actual riding. I'm sure I'll get tired of it eventually, but for now it's a good position to be in.

As sad as I was to leave the beach, today's ride was good with some more picturesque coastline and hills. Niigata itself isn't a spectacular town, but we found a good park to camp in and a neighborhood bath house where we washed our bodies and clothes. It reminded me a bit of the sento I used to go to near my apartment in Matsuyama--a little tacky, a few baths, anything but elegant. It was a good place. That night, I found a little pizzeria before heading back to the tents for a good night's sleep.

Day 17: (88 km) Sakura - The Best Beach Ever
(08/15/06)

We passed into Niigata-ken today, following highway 345 along a surprisingly concrete free section of the Japan Sea coast. On the way we hit the 1000 km mark. Around sunset, we camped at the best beach I've seen in Japan. It was a happy, supremely chill night. Even the long nightly meeting couldn't ruin my coastal euphoria. It was a day for pictures rather than words.

Day 16: (88 km) Iwaki - Sakura

(08/14/06)

Today we met Joe. On the way into Sakura, we passed by a Japanese cyclist on a snazzy but well worn road bike. A few kilometers and one wrong turn later, we ran into him again and he offered to guide us into town. After showing us a supermarket, giving us camping advice, he took us to the town center, right in the middle of a matsuri concert where we grabbed some beers and rocked out to the sounds of American Graffiti, the hottest surf-rockers in Sakura town.

(Rockin the Plaza)

Deciding that we were a cool bunch, Joe invited all ten of us to stay at his house. It turns out that he's quite an experienced cyclist and hiker himself. Not only did he take a six month solo cycling trip around Europe, but he hiked up around the North Pole in Canada among other trips. At his house, Mary and Sorcha made tempura while others shared stories and Audrey and I watched the town fireworks from his balcony.

It was a good night, one that reminded me of the importance of random hospitality. It's the kind of hospitality that can't be paid back directly to the host, but needs to be passed on to others. Traveling and hosting are two sides of the same coin, and all of us are racking up a big travel karma debt, one that should be quite fun to pay back.

Day 15: (90 km) ? - Iwaki
(08/13/06)

For anyone touring Japan, the michi no eki is a beautiful thing. It basically means road station, or highway rest stop, but bears little resemblance to its counterparts in the U.S. Instead of McDonalds and subway, one finds shops selling local specialties. Rather than a gas-station convenience store, there are small veggie stands. And the soft cream, oh the soft cream. Since we're eating vegetarian for the duration of the ride there are a lot of local foods we have to pass up. But the soft serve is always there for us, with each region having its own specialties. Fresh Milk in Hokkaido, Apple in Aomori, even Yaki Miso and Soba-cha in Akita-ken. Yep, that's right, miso soft serve. Not as bad as you'd expect, but it's a bit of an acquired taste.

Michi no eki are fun places and western Tohoku is full of them. Today we woke up at one, only to stop at another around nine AM for more snacks and free sake samples. Always the trooper, Amy cheerily tried most of them, working up a happy little buzz before riding on.

This evening we made it to one right on the coast, complete with onsen and plum soft cream. Mary, Amy, and I made a dash to get some icy goodness before the shop closed while Chay sat outside eating a peanut butter and cheese sandwich. We made the tastier choice. Later, I hopped into the onsen, soaking as I looked out over the one clean section of beach and watched little moths flicker like ice in the floodlights.

Day 14: (100 km)
(08/12/06)

After finishing off the leftover pizza we bid Yuske goodbye and headed south towards Akita-ken. Good riding in the morning, with the most beautiful forest road of the trip--a secluded, unmarked one lane road with verdant foliage and trees on both sides. Occasionally the trees parted to reveal a pine-valley vista. The air smelled sweet, like clover only stronger.

At lunch, I talked to Emily for the first time since she left. Just hearing her voice made me a bit giddy. She seemed apprehensive about Hamline, especially after meeting some flakey classmates when she went to buy books. I hope that it works out for her, but if not, I certainly hope she doesn't stay just to stick it out. We also talked about getting an apartment together. I'm quite excited by the idea of apartment hunting together. Maybe I am becoming a little less uncomfortable with the idea of being a tiny bit domestic. Just a tiny bit though, no yuppie dream for me.

That night, we stopped at a rest stop that let us sleep inside to avoid the rain. Amy, Adam, Mary, and Emily opted for a Tanuki funhouse tunnel though and I just pitched a tent after trying to sleep on a veggie shelf that I kept rolling off of.

Day 13 (50 km) Aomori -
(08/11/06)

The Higashi Nihon Ferry was a step up from the borderline ghetto Diamond Ferry I once had to take, but left a bit to be desired in terms of sleeping arrangements. Unlike the other ferries I've taken here, there are no assigned sleeping spots--just a big carpeted floor. Luckily, getting a spot wasn't too difficult, but I was happy to have a sleeping mat to claim my spot with. I can only imagine what the elderly couple next to me thought of the strange foreigner with an air mattress, using a stuffed shark for a pillow and messaging on his girlfriend's powder-pink cell phone.

Meeting the group again today was a bit of a shock after three days of relative solitude. I forgot how loud ten people can be. The ride to meet them was through some beautiful soba fields and back roads. Thanks to a wrong turn, I discovered the culinary delight that is natural apple soft serve.

We spent the afternoon and evening at an organic farm, learning how to make simple waramono--straw crafts--charms. Seeing some kids playing with the friendly family dog, Emily R. tried to make nice with it and ended up getting a good deep bite on her arm from the xenophobic pooch.

For dinner we made pizza using organic veggies we picked from the farm. Seeing a bucketful of fresh-picked organic basil was a joy. Far and away the best dinner of the trip so far. No idea how many of them we put away that night. Tasty goodness indeed.

Day 12: (60 km) Shiraoi - Noboribetsu Onsen - Muroran
(08/10/06)

(outside Noboribetsu Onsen)

(Highway 36 Seafood Heaven)

Onsen towns are strange places, somewhere between a very chill theme park and a village. At their peak, they are clean, pretty areas filled with Japanese families strolling around in hotel-supplied yukata. The streets are lined with souvenir shops offering local sweets and trinkets, restaurants that look just a bit too quaint, and onsen hotels with clouds of steam rising behind them. It's all a little kitschy, but pleasant all the same.

(Enthralled by the God of Hell)

Noboribetsu Onsen, however, is well past its prime. The tourist shops are still well kept, the onsen hotels steamy and imposing, but there's a seediness that has crept into the town. Nearly a quarter of the storefronts are vacant and in disrepair. In spite of it being summer vacation, the crowds are sparse. Occasionally people gather to watch the carnivalesque God of Hell get angry. But after the past few days, the onsen was relaxing.

After the Noribetsu Onsen detour, I headed to Muroran and learned how easy it is to kill five hours at a ferry port given a gift shop with a good supply of beer, coffee, and snacks.


(Trying too Hard: A Japanese theme park)

Day 11: (50 km) Shikotsu - Shiraoi
(08/09/06)

Yesterday's ride revived my discomfort with densely forested wilderness. I left Sapporo around three, but still spent two uncomfortable hours pedaling on unlit mountain roads after dark, tired and hungry, searching for anywhere to sleep. After being turned away from a posh onsen-hotel and a campsite that locked its gates at six, I came down out of the woods to see the yellow moon reflected by a vast mountain-basin lake. Surrounded by peaks, you can see the far shore, but only because the far shore is a mountain. It's the kind of lake that you can imagine people seeing creatures in--vast and mysterious.

In the distance I could make out a few yellowish lights that I hoped marked a town, but the winding road made the town seem to advance or recede at each turn. Seven kilometers later, I pulled into the most welcoming sight of the day--a tiny fire station with one light in the window. This being a town where even the ramen shop closes at eight, the fireman on duty was surprised to see a gaijin roll up on a bicycle well after nine. My friendly neighborhood fireman refilled my water, gave me a town map, and tried to help me find a room. It might have been easier if he hadn't used the phrase "foreigner on a bicycle." The local inns were scared, and the youth hostel full. One hotel offered me curry rice, a full breakfast, and a room for just 6000 yen, but by then I had already decided to camp.

Fortunately, the town had more flat green space per capita than anywhere I have seen in Japan. Ignoring the no camping signs, I pitched my tent under an oni-gurumi (ogre/devil chestnut) tree and polished off the last of my lentils and bread. I was sad and lonely, but I had a full belly, and was out of the woods.

. . . And on to today. . .

After a chilly night in the mountains, I arrived Tomakomai around eight in the morning, warm and ready for some food. As it was the only shop open at eight AM, I found myself visiting my good buddy Mister Donut. Sitting next to me were two largish women in their mid-thirties, chain smoking and passing a baby back and forth. They reminded me of small town, farm and factory America in a way that few people in Japan have.

Visiting Misudo (add some vowels, squish the name together, and say it three times fast) shops around Japan is a cultural study similar to going to Dunkin Donuts in the U.S. Depending on the location, each shop has its own distinct clientele. In Matsuyama, the city station Misudo is full of salarymen, office ladies, and high school students, each in their respective uniforms. A few kilometers away, next to a shopping center, one finds families, noisy children, and nosier children at tables arranged around a mock merry-go-round. The Tomakomai shop reminds me of nothing so much as western Illinois.

Wandering Tomakomai, I made a strange discovery--the MIR Space station. Of all the places for it to turn up, I couldn't figure out what a famous space station was doing in small town Hokkaido. I'd never been inside a space station before, and it was well worth the visit. The only thing I can compare it to is going in the submarine at thee Museum of Science and Industry in Chicago. It feels like being inside a piece of history, and in this case, a part of history I'm old enough to remember.


After the MIR, I planned to stay in one of Tomakomai's many parks, but a look at the sky convinced me otherwise. It looked as if a cloud of gray smoke was closing in on town, enveloping the buildings in a nasty smog. Knowing nothing about the town, but seeing factories on the coast, I decided it was best to make an escape as quickly as I could. Heading down highway 36, I finally escaped the clouds and found a nice campground in Shiraoi. As far as I can tell, the clouds weren't smog at all, just a very strange coastal fog that moved in out of nowhere. It was definitely the strangest weather of the trip.

Day 10: (60 km) Sapporo - Shikotsu
(08/08/06)

Emily left today. Took the 7:45 flight from Sapporo to Narita, then on to Minneapolis. After hitting the snooze button one to many times, trying to postpone our parting, we hurried to the station. It's not easy to hurry while carrying a full sized bicycle box, it results in a kind of hunched over scuttle-rest-scuttle routine. The silliness of it enhanced by Bill the Small Woodland Critter poking his big head out of my backpack.

We found a cart at the airport and managed to maneuver it into the elevator with a few inches to spare. One floor up, the doors opened to a flock of ANA stewardesses politely smiling in formation. They looked at us, we looked at them, they noticed Bill, and some very polite smirks broke out. Bill got some more attention at the check in counter, receiving an exuberant "kawaii!" from more of the ANA staff. The whole process was exceptionally smooth.

And then she was up in the air and I was on a train back to Sapporo, to the ride, to seventy days of cycling without her. Driftless, I wandered Sapporo for a few hours, running errands I didn't really need to, browsing in stores I wasn't going to buy anything from. I felt the same way when Emily moved to Poland. Then, I had to return alone to a city and apartment that we had shared for half the time I lived there. This time, I could move on, keep dancing--a left right left right 80 RPM jig taking me to unfamiliar places. Still, it's hard not to feel like a part of me is unreachably distant.