🎌 🌧️ Day 32 🌧️🎌

We got an early start because we knew we had a lot of climbing ahead. One of our toughest days yet, a 101 on my mathematical equation of difficulty (out of 100). We also knew it was going to rain all day. Not a problem. We’ve ridden in the rain before.

The first climb hit us fast and early. There was something familiar about it since part of it overlapped with the section we’d ridden on our rest day. The higher we climbed and the deeper we moved into the mountains, the more the outside world fell away. Soon it was just us, the mist, and the rhythmic click of our gears echoing in the quiet. Lisa described it as a “morning quiet you can only hear if you’re present enough to listen.”

Even though the rain soaked us and streamed down the road beneath our tires, it felt cleansing. The layers of the Japanese mountains seemed endless, ridges upon ridges folding into one another like waves of deep green and gray silk. In this region the mountains form natural corridors between tiny farming villages, dense cedar forests, and rice terraces tucked into impossible slopes. We would climb for an hour, descend for ten minutes, then find ourselves completely surrounded again and heading right back up.

Because of the cold rain, we didn’t stop much. Our bodies fell into a steady, rhythmic motion that felt almost meditative. Despite the clouds and fog, the views of the valleys below were still beautiful, soft and dreamlike, like something painted in 水墨画 (suibokuga – Japanese ink wash painting).

We started the day in Nakanohocho, north of 恵那市 (Ena-shi – Ena City), heading toward 馬籠宿 (Magome-juku), the old Edo-period postal village along the historic 中山道 (Nakasendō – the old mountain route between Kyoto and Tokyo). Somewhere before reaching the village, we hit the 12.21-mile mark that brought our total distance for the trip to 1000 miles. We stopped in the rain to take a quick photo, grinning under dripping helmets, proud of the milestone even if our socks were soaked.

When we reached Magome-juku, the rain was falling steadily as we pushed our bicycles up the steep cobblestone street through the Saturday crowds. Umbrellas opened and closed all around us while tourists in clear plastic raincoats shuffled past the old wooden inns, teahouses, and shops. Everything about the place felt frozen in time, just as it might have looked in the 1800s when 侍 (samurai), merchants, and travelers passed this way on foot or horseback. Even through the fog and drizzle, Magome had a timeless beauty.

Just after leaving the village, we came across a lively local festival where the rhythmic beat of a drum carried through the mist. Men in colorful 法被 (happi – traditional festival coats) shouted encouragement as younger children carried a small float shrine up a hill. There was a lot of chanting and vibrant energy. As we pedaled carefully through the crowd, we heard voices calling out “がんばって! (Ganbatte – Do your best!)” and smiled, warmed by the shared spirit of the moment.

After that the climbing grew tougher and the weather colder. The road wound higher into the mountains until we reached a tunnel filled with scaffolding that looked closed. Without hesitation, we rode right in, squeezing our loaded bikes through a narrow gap. When we came out the other side, we stopped for a photo. Lisa looked back and smiled, “Awww, they built this for us.” It looked freshly constructed, like we were its first travelers.

From there, we climbed still higher before the forest came alive with strange sounds. There was a rustle, a shriek, and heavy thumps echoing through the trees. Moments later we saw them, 猿 (saru – monkeys), peering from the branches and roadside brush. They didn’t look thrilled about our presence. We rang our bells and shouted “行け! (Ike – Go on!)” as we rode by. At one point I asked Lisa, “What do you want me to do if one jumps on your back?” Without missing a beat she yelled, “Save yourself!” and then, laughing, started shouting, “Go on git, monkeys!” which somehow made the whole scene even funnier.

Soon after, we began the long, slick, and cold descent toward 飯田市 (Iida-shi – Iida City). The pavement was covered with leaves and wet gravel, so our hands were tight on the brakes the whole way down. The temperature hovered around 59 °F (15 °C), and we were soaked through. Halfway down, our hands and feet went numb again, and we stopped to shake them out before continuing.

Eventually we rolled into town and spotted a コンビニ (konbini – convenience store). We grabbed steaming cans of coffee from the heated shelf, the kind that can warm even your soul. Holding them in our palms, we could feel life returning to our fingers.

Revived and thawed, we rode the final 2.1 miles (3.4 km) to our guesthouse. Lisa kept saying, “It’s like going to Pat and Renae’s, we can do it!”

When we arrived, we could see people inside but couldn’t figure out how to get in. Maybe it was the fatigue or the cold fogging our brains, but eventually we made it through the door. The young man running the place was incredibly kind and welcoming. Once we reached our room, we stripped off our wet layers and cranked up the dehumidifier. After a quick celebratory beer and hot showers, hunger set in fast.

Dinner ended up being カツカレー (katsu karē – pork cutlet curry rice) from Lawson’s because the local restaurants hadn’t opened for dinner yet. It warmed our bellies perfectly after the cold, wet ride. Later that evening, before calling it a night, we took a quick walk and then did a quick bit of bicycle maintenance, cleaning the chains and applying fresh wax so they’d be ready for the next day.Read more