🎌🍎Day 46🍎🎌

37 miles / 3,380 ft. / 3:34

We woke up to a foggy morning in 大子 (Daigo – Daigo), the mist curling through the valley and wrapping the surrounding hills in soft gray. The air was cool, around the mid-50s °F (10 °C), and the world felt calm and still. It was one of those mornings that made the hot cup of coffee and the smell of miso soup feel extra comforting. The forecast called for warming temperatures and sunshine later in the day, which gave us something to look forward to as we got ready for the road.

The guesthouse owner, Hideo Kasi, had heard from his staff about our long bicycle journey across Japan, and when we came into the breakfast area,, he greeted us with a bright smile and a “おはようございます!” (ohayō gozaimasu – good morning). He was clearly proud of his guesthouse and especially proud of the breakfast he was preparing himself. It was a traditional Japanese breakfast: steaming rice, grilled trout, pickles, miso soup, and yes, the infamous 納豆 (natto – fermented soybeans). We chatted with Hideo as we ate, learning that there was a bicycle race happening nearby that day. Though our routes didn’t cross, we did spot a few volunteers at breakfast, clearly preparing for the event, all with that same spirit of cheerful busyness that seems to define Japanese mornings.

By the time we rolled out around 9:00 a.m., the fog had begun to lift, the hills slowly revealing themselves in soft sunlight. The promise of a beautiful day ahead put an extra spring in our pedaling. Though it was planned as a shorter day, there were still plenty of climbs ahead, and we joked that every “last hill” was never truly the last. “Well, this might be the last mossy descent,” Lisa laughed, and I replied, “Until the next one!”

Early in the ride, we made a pact that we had to stop at one of the apple stands we kept seeing along the roadside. This area around northern Ibaraki is well-known for its apples, and every few miles we passed handmade signs with cheerful drawings of bright red fruit. When we finally pulled into a small roadside apple market, it turned out to be one of the highlights of the day.

Five older ladies were working the stand, each one more enthusiastic than the next. They waved us over the moment they spotted our bicycles, smiling and calling out “いらっしゃいませ!” (irasshaimase – welcome). Before we could even ask for a sample, they were slicing apples, offering pieces on tiny toothpicks, and laughing at our expressions as we tried each one. We must have tasted at least six different kinds—some sweet, some tart, all so crisp and fresh!

The ladies encouraged us to eat more and more, clapping and laughing every time we reacted with “おいしい!” (oishii – delicious). One apple in particular caught our attention—it was crisp, juicy, and balanced perfectly between sweet and tangy. When we pointed to it, one of the women wrote down its name in romaji for us: “Nōko.” She explained, laughing, that her own name was also Noko, and she seemed delighted that we had chosen “her apple.” The moment turned into an impromptu photo session with lots of smiles, clumsy Japanese, and their equally clumsy English. When it was time to go, all five of them came outside, waving and calling out “気をつけて!” (ki wo tsukete – be careful) as we rolled away, their kindness echoing behind us. It was such a simple moment, yet so full of warmth and connection—it’s the kind of thing that stays with you long after the road bends out of sight.

The rest of the day carried that same lighthearted feeling. We climbed gently through small foothills, riding past orchards that glowed in the midday sun. The scent of ripening fruit lingered in the air, and the clouds finally gave way to blue skies and soft sunshine. After about 20 miles (32 km), hunger crept back in despite our hearty breakfast, so we stopped at a convenience store, gathered some supplies, and found an old schoolyard with a mountain view. There we enjoyed our picnic of potato-cheese croquettes, rice balls, a few chips, and a shared Coke—a perfect roadside feast. Simple meals always taste best after a good climb.

With about 10 miles (16 km) to go, we decided to stay on our mapped route instead of cutting straight to the coast. That small decision turned out to be a gift. The road narrowed and curved uphill toward a cluster of old buildings and a quiet cemetery on a hillside. Rounding the bend, we were surprised to see a golden pagoda shimmering in the afternoon light, with a giant gold Buddha gazing serenely east toward the ocean. Below him were rows of small stone figures dressed in red hats and bibs—the beloved 地蔵 (Jizō – guardian of travelers and children). Each seemed to hold a story, a prayer, a piece of someone’s love.

Although we couldn’t find an official name for the site, the location sits within the greater historic area of 高萩市下手綱 (Takahagi-shimotetsuna, Takahagi City) The town of Takahagi (高萩市 Takahagi-shi – Takahagi City) traces its roots to the Edo period as part of the Matsuoka Domain of Hitachi Province. The pagoda and Buddha statue are part of a small local temple complex typical of rural Ibaraki—places built by the community for remembrance and quiet reflection. The lines of Jizō statues dressed in red are expressions of devotion and protection, each representing prayers for children, safe journeys, and compassion. The whole place felt deeply peaceful, and we spent nearly forty minutes wandering the grounds, completely alone, marveling at how such a beautiful place could exist without a single tourist. Hidden gems like this seem to find us more than we find them.

From there, we coasted down winding lanes and soon caught our first glimpse of the Pacific Ocean. The sky was brilliant blue, and the waves were roaring. I tried to ride my bike down through the sand to the water—an instant failure—but it made Lisa laugh. Lisa joined me on the sand as she sprinted ahead into the surf , getting caught by a wave up to her shoulders. We spent time wandering the beach, picking up sea glass, taking photos, and just soaking up the sound of the tide. It felt like the perfect way to close another chapter of this adventure.

Our hotel was only a mile and a half (2.4 km) from the beach. After cleaning up, we found a small western-style Japanese restaurant nearby that specialized in ハンバーグ (hanbāgu – hamburger steaks). The young owner, Akito, was incredibly kind and a little nervous about his English, and that he didn’t have buns for his hamburgers. When we told him it was fine and used our favorite all-purpose Japanese word—大丈夫 (daijōbu – it’s okay)—he relaxed and laughed. He proudly explained that most men choose the garlic sauce and most women pick teriyaki, so naturally Lisa and I ordered one of each. While we waited, we sipped on cold draft ナマビール (nama bīru – draft beer) and watched him cook carefully in his open kitchen. When our meals arrived on sizzling iron plates, the aroma was incredible. The taste was even better. Lisa told him through the translator that it was the best hamburger she’d ever had, and he lit up with pride, bowing and laughing. We took a photo together before leaving, exchanging the usual long series of bows and heartfelt thank-yous.

Later that evening, we heard faint music coming from the direction of the train station, so we followed the sound through the quiet streets. There, we discovered a small festival wrapping up. On the stage stood a man in a tuxedo playing the cornet, surrounded by an adoring group of older women clapping and singing along. For his encore, he performed “You Lift Me Up.” Sitting there together, surrounded by lanterns, festival smells, and the warmth of a Japanese crowd, Lisa and I both got teary-eyed. We joked that maybe the Japanese TV crew was hiding in the bushes saying “we finally succeeded in making them cry.”

As the night cooled, we walked hand in hand back toward the hotel, stopping at a 7-Eleven for ice cream. A simple treat, the perfect end to an extraordinary day.

Tomorrow, we ride our last day along the Pacific coast toward 日立中 (Hitachinaka – Hitachinaka).

「りんごはおいしい！」(Ringo wa oishii! – The apple is delicious!)Baca lagi