🇯🇵 Day 4 🇯🇵

Pedaling with Heart: Mountain Shrines, Kind Encounters, and Riverside Serenity:

60 miles / 2,500 ft / 5:01

We started our second day cycling in Japan at a 7-Eleven, after a warm goodbye from Megumi. We grabbed breakfast and headed toward a quiet hilltop shrine. The climb was steep enough to wake up our muscles and get our sweat rolling. The view at the top made it worth it! We ate our breakfast overlooking the city we had stayed in the night before. Later, we walked around the shrine, marveling at the architecture of the buildings. That’s where we met an 86-year-old man who had also made the climb hiking. He smiled proudly, bent down to touch the ground with ease—like it was nothing—showing us how active he still was. No words were needed. His pride emanated from his smile.

At one of the lookouts during the day, we met a kind Japanese man who was proud of the area he lived in. He shared how he used to come to that very spot as a child to observe the mountains, the forest, and Mount Fuji in the distance. You could tell by the way he spoke how much he loved his country, his prefecture, and the land he called home.

From there, we rode through mountain roads still damp and scattered with leaves from yesterday’s typhoon. We took it slow, letting the quiet guide us. Eventually, we dropped down to a riverside trail, following the water as it made its way to the Pacific. The path felt comforting—like a mother’s hug. Tall grasses lined the trail, brushing our legs as we passed. It was 92°F, and the salt on our biking shorts told the story of the heat.

As we entered the basin, mountains rose around us, though many were hidden behind the thick humidity. Mount Fuji stayed out of sight again today, but Yuki sent us a photo from Yamanashi where she caught a glimpse of the majestic mountain.

You could tell it was Saturday. Japan loves its hobbies. We passed hikers, cyclists, baseball games with parents sitting under umbrellas, fishermen standing in the river, golfers on the greens, and a remote-control airplane club. One group was playing park golf—a simple game with a wiffle-style ball and a club like a croquet mallet, often played in parks by people of all ages. Still, the heat kept things quiet at times. We’d go long stretches without seeing anyone and joked, “Where is everybody?”

We crossed into Gunma Prefecture and ended our ride in Takasaki, following the Karasu River. Around 3:15 PM, we wrapped up the day’s cycling but had to wait to check into our Airbnb. So we found a shady spot near the river and enjoyed a cold drink while the day settled around us.

The simple moments today were some of the most rewarding. The clerks at 7-Eleven helped us figure out the checkout machines and how to use our Suica cards—a rechargeable transit card used for trains, buses, and even convenience store purchases. Strangers smiled and bowed as we passed, curious about our loaded bikes. We heard many greetings—ohayō gozaimasu (good morning), konnichiwa (hello)—and felt welcomed at every turn.

One moment stood out: a kind woman at the shrine, where we were wondering if it was okay to eat our breakfast, hurried off to find the owner of the outdoor seating area to ask. She returned, smiling and excited, saying daijōbu desu—a phrase that means “It’s okay” or “No problem.” It’s one of the most commonly used expressions in Japan, often said with a reassuring smile to let you know everything’s fine.

Later, in Sano-Horigomecho, a young entrepreneur waved us down from his car and asked us to stop at the next convenience store. He showed us the bicycle bags he’s making from recycled inner tubes—named after dango mushi, the Japanese word for roly-polies. He was so excited to share his work, and he’s already emailed me more info. Communicating was fun—some hand gestures, a little Japanese, a little English, and our phone translators doing their best to keep up.

Dinner was at a traditional izakaya—a cozy Japanese pub where people gather for small plates and drinks. The word izakaya comes from i (to stay) and sakaya (sake shop), hinting at its roots as a place to linger. We had tonkatsu (crispy pork cutlet) and udon (thick noodles in broth), served by the Airbnb owner’s mother, who ran the place with quiet warmth.

Tomorrow’s ride is shorter—about 50 miles—but with nearly double the climbing. For now, we’re grateful for a day filled with kindness, connection, and the subtle magic that makes Japan feel so alive.

If you’re following along and there’s anything you’d like to know more about—whether it’s the food, the route, the people we meet, or the little cultural details—feel free to ask in the comments. We love sharing! 💕Read more