🎌 🌊 Day 27 🌊🎌

70 miles / 1,425 ft. / 5:10

Today was not about sightseeing or strolling through gardens, but about the long road ahead. From 金沢 (Kanazawa – golden marsh) we pointed our bikes south toward 鯖江 (Sabae – mackerel river), covering nearly 70 miles (112 km). Although the route wasn’t heavy on elevation, the forecast promised rain and a stiff 頭風 (atama kaze – headwind). And sure enough, the wind greeted us the moment we rolled away from Kakeru and Kaori’s house and reached the Sea of Japan coast.

The bicycle trail hugged the shoreline, and we were treated to an endless view of gray-blue waves colliding with concrete walls. Occasionally, one wave would leap high enough to give us a misty kiss. Sand and moisture filled the air ahead of us, like a blurry painting. Still, we kept pedaling, whispering a determined “let’s go!”

The rhythm of the ocean and the steady whistle of the wind were interrupted at times by the thunderous roar of fighter jets streaking overhead. I always enjoy watching them fly by when I’m cycling. They were clearly rehearsing for the 小松航空ショー (Komatsu kōkū shō – Komatsu Airshow) happening next weekend. The sight of them carving across the clouds added an unexpected thrill to our ride.

We took a brief detour to gaze at the windswept beauty of 尼御前岬 (Amagozen misaki – Amagozen Cape). Legend has it that the cape is named after a court lady who threw herself into the sea centuries ago, choosing loyalty over dishonor. The view was powerful and melancholy, fitting for the story. The cape itself juts into the sea, battered by centuries of storms, yet still standing strong. It reminded us of why traveling by bicycle is special: history doesn’t just sit in books, it lives in the land, the waves, and the wind.

By midday, as we reached busier streets as we turned inland. The miles seemed to tick by like pedal strokes.

As lunchtime grew near, we found a quiet corner for our usual picnic. Today’s lunch was simple: おにぎり (onigiri – rice balls), potato chips, and cold drinks. There’s something humbling about eating such humble food while thousands of years of history swirl around you.

The rain teased us all day, and just as we thought we’d escaped, dark clouds opened up ten miles from our destination. We sought shelter under a bridge along the bike trail, where Lisa lit up with joy—not because of the weather, but because she could finally eat the 相撲せんべい (sumō senbei – sumo rice crackers) gifted to us by Seira and Akinari. We laughed at how snacks often seem to be the best part of any storm.

The last stretch passed quickly, with a stop at a small shrine for photos before rolling into 鯖江市ホテル (Sabae City Hotel) around 3 PM. We had managed to cover the 70 miles in just over five hours, a small victory for our weary legs.

Sabae itself is a city with a unique claim to fame: it produces the majority of Japan’s eyeglass frames. Nearly every pair of glasses you see in Japan likely started here. Walking its quiet streets in the evening, umbrellas in hand, we reflected on how this unassuming city quietly shapes the daily lives of millions.

Dinner was something unexpected yet comforting: Japanese-style American pizza at テキサスハンズ (Texas Hands). The familar toppings of pepperoni and jalapeños, the warmth of the place, and the familiar scent of pizza, made us feel at home.

Back at the hotel, we discovered our floor had been overtaken by a lively high school girls’ hockey team. The giggles, running feet, and door-slamming chorus lasted until about 9 PM, when suddenly, silence fell. We finally drifted off to sleep, legs heavy but hearts grateful. We had dodged most of the rain, met the sea head-on, and ended the day with pizza. Not bad at all for the start of our D Spoke.Baca lagi