🇯🇵 🎂 Day 23 🎂 🇯🇵

46 miles / 3,875 ft. / 4:41

Lisa started my birthday by sneaking into the room with a steaming cup of coffee ベッドでコーヒー (beddo de kōhī – coffee in bed) before she started her 6:00 a.m. meeting. Once she wrapped up, we had a quiet breakfast at the guesthouse in 五箇山 (Gokayama), reading my birthday card from Sebastian, a card from Lisa, and a few thoughtful messages from friends back home. It was a peaceful start, though the morning radar gave us little confidence that the rain would hold off. So, with panniers wrapped in their bright rain covers, we wheeled the bikes out, ready for some sightseeing and the much-anticipated “mystery climb.”

The “mystery climb” had been nagging at me ever since I pored over Google Maps back in Iowa City. No Street View, fuzzy satellite images, and no clear indication of whether the road was even open or washed out. Our host, Hiro, whom Lisa affectionately calls “Hero,” urged us not to try it. After a few rounds of iPhone translation struggles, he finally relented with a shrug: “Well, you can try… but beware of bears.” 熊 (kuma – bears), he repeated several times, and then insisted we blast music and ring our bells the whole way up. Nothing says adventure like pedaling uphill while doubling as a one-man marching band.

Before testing our luck with the climb, we stopped at the 世界遺産 (sekai isan – World Heritage) village of 菅沼 (Suganuma). The steeply pitched 合掌造り (gasshō-zukuri – “praying hands” style) thatched roofs were striking, designed to shed the heavy snow that buries this valley in winter. These homes, some more than 200 years old, were once shared by extended families who raised silkworms in the attic and rice in the paddies below. Just as the skies opened, we ducked under the eaves of shelter near one of the farmhouses and stayed dry for a bit.

By late morning, we rolled toward the base of the climb. True to Japan’s reputation, the road was blocked by construction. But instead of turning us away, the crew paused their crane and chainsaws, helped us heave our bikes over the barrier, and even cleared the path with a leaf blower. We bowed, muttered countless すみません (sumimasen – excuse me) and ありがとう (arigatō – thank you), and pedaled on. In Japan, everyday kindness feels woven into the fabric of life. Whether it is helping two soggy foreigners through a work zone or greeting strangers with a polite bow, these small gestures remind us that culture here is built on respect, humility, and an unspoken sense of community.

Then the climb came along, steady, warm but relentless, as we ground our way up grades between 7–9%. I cranked the only offline playlist I had on Spotify, Moodswings, through my phone, tucked under my rain jacket. The soundtrack was strange but perfect: part dance party, part survival strategy. Between bear warnings, the dense forest, and the constant bell ringing, we were a traveling circus on wheels. At one point, a pair of wild boars burst from the brush, scattering up the road ahead of us. Heart pounding, we laughed nervously—better boars than bears.

The climb dragged on for more than an hour, finally easing as pavement gave way to gravel. The views were worth every soggy pedal stroke: mist rising from the valley, mountains stacked in dark green layers, the kind of scenery that you could not think would get any better, yet did with every pedal stroke upward. Lisa tried to describe it as a “real life oil painting.” At last, we reached the top, relieved to find the road continued, and dropped into a paved descent. We rang our bells out of habit, dodged boulders, and eventually spilled out by the tunnel exit that we could have taken had we gone the “easy” way. But easy does not make for birthday memories.

The valley below was warmer, and the sun broke through the clouds to help dry our soggy bodies and clothing. We grabbed supplies at a grocery store, then picnicked by a small lake with vegetarian sushi and golden potato croquettes. By 3:30 p.m. we rolled into our guesthouse, tucked away in the foothills. Lisa rode back to the コンビニ (konbini – convenience store) for a few extra birthday treats, and when she returned, our host immediately noticed her damp shoes. Without hesitation, she offered a stack of newspapers to stuff inside and dry them overnight. Lisa had felt a little embarrassed about putting wet shoes in the shared shoe storage area but that simple yet thoughtful gesture was another reminder of how 日本人 (Nihonjin – Japanese people) go out of their way to make guests feel comfortable, often anticipating needs and offering kindness.

We spent the evening snacking, chatting with a fellow traveler, Arnaud, and having a quiet birthday dinner of curry. It was, in every way, an unforgettable birthday: kindness at every turn, history under our wheels, and a reminder that adventure is always richer when it is shared with the one you love. 明日 (ashita – tomorrow) we will close out the “C leg” of our journey, rolling into 金沢 (Kanazawa) where we will visit Kakeru’s family. A fitting end to this part of our trip.Read more