🎌 ⛰️ Day 20 ⛰️🎌

44 miles / 4,825 ft. / 3:54

Breakfast at Irodori set the mood for the day—simple, cheerful, and playful. Lisa and I couldn’t resist making a funny little video in our hotel’s 浴衣 (yukata – casual cotton robe), laughing at ourselves before the serious business of climbing began.

Less than a tenth of a mile into the 13.5-mile ascent toward the famed 乗鞍スカイライン (Norikura Skyline), a wild fox darted across the road, its auburn coat flashing in the morning sun—a rare and auspicious greeting. The climb itself unfolded under perfect conditions: cool mountain air at about 56°F, skies painted with drifting white clouds, and a road nearly silent save for the whir of a few cyclists’ wheels and the occasional tour bus winding its way upward.

This Skyline is no ordinary road. It is one of the highest paved roads in all of Japan, cresting above 2,700 meters inside the 中部山岳国立公園 (Chūbu Sangaku National Park). Private cars are banned, leaving the route to buses, taxis, hikers, and cyclists. The pavement threads through alpine meadows, volcanic slopes, and vistas that stretch across the Northern Alps. Our goal was to reach the top in two hours, and we rolled into the summit area at 畳平 (Tatamidaira) in one hour and fifty-eight minutes—just under the wire.

Along the way we kept leapfrogging with another cyclist, exchanging nods and encouragement each time one of us pulled ahead. Near the summit we finally stopped together, shared a few laughs, and took some photos to mark the climb. Sadly, I forgot his name, but the memory of that shared effort—a strangers pushing toward the same goal as us—will stay with us.

From there we traded cycling shoes for hiking shoes, wandering for nearly an hour and a half among short trails to windswept peaks. Souvenir shops clustered at the plateau offered the usual trinkets, but we chose something a little more personal: a pair of socks embroidered with the mountain’s name and elevation, a reminder of the climb and the thin air at the top.

The descent was nothing short of exhilarating. Switchbacks stacked one after another as we dropped into 岐阜県 (Gifu Prefecture). For a stretch we tucked in behind a construction truck that served as a windbreak, our speed soaring beyond 40 miles per hour. Eventually the Skyline delivered us into the valleys, where I had marked a soba shop on our map. True to form, it delivered exactly what we needed.

One thing we’ve noticed is the difference between Japanese and European lunches. In much of Europe, lunch can be a leisurely ritual—multiple courses, long pauses, perhaps a glass of wine, often stretching into two hours or more. In Japan, even at sit-down restaurants, lunch feels purposeful and efficient: order, eat, and be on your way. It’s not rushed, but there’s a kind of respectful quickness, perfect for travelers who want to keep moving.

Afterward, the road grew busier for a while before turning quiet again, shafts of afternoon sunlight filtering through the trees and warming our shoulders. Soon the spires of 高山 (Takayama) appeared—a city often called 小京都 (Ko-Kyōto – Little Kyoto) because of its beautifully preserved Edo-period townscape. Its prosperity was built on the timber and carpentry skills of the 飛騨 (Hida) region. Hida craftsmen, known as 飛騨の匠 (Hida no Takumi – master carpenters of Hida), were so skilled that they were summoned to Kyoto and Nara centuries ago to build temples and palaces, a legacy still honored today.

We checked into the Sunset Jinya, a hotel perched just across from 高山陣屋 (Takayama Jinya). This historic building once served as the shogunate’s regional headquarters from 1692 until the Meiji era. Because of its rich forests, Hida was placed under direct Tokugawa control, and the Jinya became the seat of magistrates overseeing taxes, forestry, and justice. Today it stands as the only surviving jin’ya in all of Japan and is preserved as a National Historic Site, complete with tatami-lined offices, interrogation rooms, rice granaries, and tranquil gardens.

From our window, the view framed both the landmark and the setting sun, so we order craft beers from Guston, a young Argentina man who is spending a year working in Takayama, and carried them up to the rooftop bar to watch the evening light fade over the tiled roofs and the surrounding hills.

There we met Bart and Jill, a friendly couple from Melbourne on a sightseeing tour of Japan. Conversation flowed easily—travel stories, impressions of the country, and laughter carried on the breeze. Later, Lisa and I strolled the lantern-lit streets of 三町筋 (Sanmachi-suji – preserved merchant district), Takayama’s historic quarter where dark-latticed machiya houses line narrow streets. At night the atmosphere is hushed and timeless, broken only by the soft glow of paper lanterns. I stopped often to take photographs—wooden facades glowing under warm light, noren curtains swaying in the breeze, and the sense that these streets have barely changed in centuries.

We ended the day simply, with a few snacks from ファミリーマート (FamilyMart – convenience store) and the comfort of a peaceful hotel room. Tomorrow we’ll rise early to wander the 宮川朝市 (Miyagawa Asaichi – Miyagawa Morning Market) and 陣屋前朝市 (Jinya-mae Asaichi – Jinya-mae Morning Market), when farmers and craft sellers set up their stalls along the river and in front of Takayama Jinya, a tradition stretching back more than 300 years.Read more