🍇🇯🇵 Day 8 🍇🇯🇵

35 miles / 3,315 ft / 3:41
The morning at Vineyard Vista began with inari-zushi (稲荷寿司), sweet rice tucked in fried tofu. Before leaving, we gave small gifts — bicycle earrings for Kikuchi and an Iowa City bicycle sticker for Takeshi. We then rolled out into the heavy heat. By 9 a.m. it was already over 90°, and we aimed our wheels toward the Minami Alps, known as Kushigata when I lived there from 1999 to 2001. This ride would complete the first spoke of our journey, Spoke A. I told Lisa today would be like an Iowa City loop, 30 miles with a little climbing. Optimism, in the extreme heat, was a hopeful wish.

We cut through vineyard lanes to avoid the traffic basin. Farmers looked up as we climbed; one called out “すごい!” (sugoi – “amazing!”). I returned a breathless “こんにちは” (konnichiwa – hello), though I think he was more amazed we were out in 100° heat than impressed by our heavily loaded bikes.

At a grape stand, a proud farmer handed us samples of every variety he grew. After sweet muscat (マスカット), koshu (甲州ぶどう), and one he referred to as “black something,” we bought a single すもも (sumomo, plum) for the road — easier to carry. In Yamanashi, grapes (ぶどう, budou) are the pride of the region, and it was clear from his enthusiasm that each bunch was a treasure.

At Daizen-ji (大善寺), the “Grape Temple,” we ate the plum in the shade. The temple’s history goes back to the 8th century, when a monk had a vision of Yakushi Nyorai (薬師如来), the Buddha of healing, and introduced grape cultivation to the region. Wooden carvings of grapevines still adorn the temple buildings. We sat in the shade near a line of stone statues enjoying the juicy, cool plum, and we are learning the Japanese mosquito are quiet, sneaky, and extremely itchy!

Not long after, we had one of the day’s funniest challenges: Highway 20. To cross under it, the “path” was not a road but a long staircase. Together we manhandled Lisa’s bike up the long staircase, sweating and laughing like a two-person pit crew. A few minutes later we realized we could have just taken a bridge a block away and stayed on our bikes the whole time. Call it the scenic route.

By the time we reached Misaka Tōgenkyō Park, the heat was brutal. We watched koi circling lazily in the pond while we tried (and failed) to buy a drink. Again, another learning lesson to keep more change with us.

The salvation from the heat was Mitamanoyu Onsen (みたまの湯). After two bottles of icy cold water, one where we added green tea powder, Lisa and I split into men’s and women’s baths and reunited an hour later glowing clean, cool, and refreshed. While in the onsen, I rotated between the mineral-rich hot baths but spent most of my time in the cold plunge, exactly what my body needed to forgive the abuse of the sun and heat.

Our last stop before Yuki’s was the Kabuki Culture Park, where we stumbled upon two young women in yukata posing with a photographer’s crew. The photographer kindly assured us that it was OK for us to take pictures also. The park preserves the art of 歌舞伎 (kabuki), a theater style born in the 1600s and famous for its flamboyant makeup and exaggerated movements. Though kabuki began with female performers, they were banned in the Edo period, leaving an all-male tradition. Seeing the girls pose there felt like a playful reclaiming of the stage. It was also a reminder that kabuki, like cycling in Japan, is dramatic, stylized, and sometimes requires more energy than you expect.

Before we reached Yuki’s house, hunger got the better of us and we ducked into a 7-Eleven for a much-needed cheese curry croquette (チーズカレーコロッケ) and a shared Coke. The salty-sweet crunch and sugar hit were exactly what we needed to keep pedaling those last miles.

Finally, we rolled into Yuki and Masa’s home. From the driveway we heard pounding footsteps, then Yuki ran from her calligraphy studio, arms open, wrapping us in hugs that erased the tiredness of the miles ridden. This led to our first sighting of Mt. Fuji, majestically rewarding us from the clouds for completing the first part of our trip.

Before settling down to dinner, Lisa and I took a short walk in the dark to another 7-Eleven we thought we had visited a decade earlier. Whether it was the same one or not didn’t matter — Japanese convenience stores blur together in their neon familiarity. It felt like another thread of connection across the years, a small ritual before the evening meal.

After showers and relaxing, dinner was at their table — the same one I knew 25 years ago — with skewers of yakitori (焼き鳥, “grilled bird,” though plenty of vegetables and meats appear too), beers, salty snacks, more grapes, cheese, and the sweet cake. We half-watched the Tokyo Giants and the Hiroshima Carp while laughing at the commercials, which were easily the highlight reel.

Spoke A at 285 miles, not the 280 I had promised. Let’s just say our wrong turns and U-turns were “cultural detours,” and leave the math at that.

Japanese lesson of the day: 焼き鳥 (yakitori) — “yaki” (焼き) means grilled, “tori” (鳥) means bird. Traditionally chicken, but the skewers often include pork, vegetables, or even liver and skin. Best enjoyed with cold beer and good company.En savoir plus