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Jim Cochran
Jim Cochran

Jim Cochran

war bereits in 15 Ländern Weiterlesen🇺🇸Iowa City
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  • Japan

    🎌🗾Final Post🗾🎌

    28. Oktober in den USA ⋅ 🌧 12 °C

    Part 1: Trip Home

    We loaded the minivan with Justin at the English House in ひたちなか市 (Hitachinaka shi – Hitachinaka City) at 7:45 a.m. on Thursday, hearts full of gratitude and a bit of sadness that we were leaving Japan behind. Twenty four hours and a world of miles later we were in Houlton, Wisconsin, pulling into Adam and Danielle’s driveway like two sleepy homing pigeons. Pizza appeared as if by magic, and we surrendered to it gratefully with stories shared about travel with Adam, Danielle, and Tyler. One night of deep sleep, then a five hour drive through early morning fog and a blaze of autumn leaves across Wisconsin, Minnesota, and northern Iowa brought us safely home to Iowa City by about 1 p.m. on Friday. After all that distance and all those vehicles, it felt almost impossible that the same two bikes that carried us through Japan were quietly hanging in our garage, intact and ready to be reassembled for the next journey.

    Airports are usually just waypoints, but Denver gave us a welcome home surprise. We literally ran into our friends Kelly and Tammy Ruddick. I had been thinking of sending Kelly a quick photo since they live in Boulder, and then Lisa heard her name called. There they were, big smiles, a random reunion that felt like a small blessing. In 1993 I crossed the United States by bicycle with Kelly from Spokane, Washington to Niagara Falls. Seeing him again in that in-between place tied the past and present into one neat knot.

    ⸻

    Part 2: Readjustment and Reflection

    We always reach for something profound at the end of these journeys and then sometimes we skip the wrap up altogether because we can never find the right words. Jetlag fogs the thoughts, but even without jet lag it is hard to explain the reentry. We love our friends, our neighbors, our own bed, and the simple joy of a kitchen that knows our hands – it feels good to come home. And yet, how do we describe the trip in a way that truly conveys how our hearts and minds have been touched? How do we bring home the everyday grace we experienced in Japan while honoring and enriching our culture in Iowa and the U.S. through that perspective?

    In convenience stores across Japan, we heard いらっしゃいませ (irasshaimase – welcome) and ありがとうございます (arigatō gozaimasu – thank you very much) sung like small prayers. At airports, we watched staff step beyond their duties to guide a lost traveler with a quiet どうぞ (dōzo – please). Back in the United States, the contrast in pace and volume is noticeable. It’s not any one thing—just the collective hum of a culture that moves differently. Neither is right or wrong—it’s simply a reminder of the different rhythms that shape daily life.

    On the road, the difference was especially clear. After nearly 1,700 miles space was given, gentle words of encouragement were offered out of car windows and from the roadside. In Japan people seemed to accept us wherever the road, path, or sidewalk led us. Cyclists will understand how astonishing that is. We will miss dearly hearing the calls of encouragement – がんばって (ganbatte – do your best, good luck) and 気をつけて (kiotsukete – be careful) – called out as we climbed or turned a corner. It made us smile every time.

    We often think of rice as a metaphor for the way societies move. Japanese rice is short-grain and sticky, grains clinging close, forming something whole. American rice is long-grain and airy, each piece separate, proud in its independence. It’s an image that stays with us — the feeling of how people of a nation embrace or release one another. In Japan, the grains seemed to hold together, bound by invisible threads. In America, they fall apart more easily — in their own freedom, but less attuned to the shared pulse of a compassionate society.

    We do not pretend to fully understand Japan after fifty days. We know we barely scratched the surface. We saw temples where Shinto and Buddhism share space. We heard temple bells. We smelled incense. We ate noodles, raw seafood, and soft serve dusted with gold. We visited cities, stayed in small mountain villages, and rode along the coastlines on both the east and the west. We laughed with kids who wanted to practice English and us our Japanese, visited old friends, and chatted with elders who wanted to share their best advice on our route, places to visit, or the best local foods. We learned to say すみません (sumimasen – excuse me or I am sorry or thank you depending on the context) and いただきます (itadakimasu – I humbly receive, said before eating). Those words carry weight. They pull you toward humility and gratitude.

    Back home we rejoin our card group, and it is wonderful to be in that circle again. We took a 30-mile sunset ride with Pat, and the gravel roads and freshly harvested fields helped us feel the comforts of home. It brought back memories of 1991, when Pat and I rode 3,500 miles from Seattle to Washington, D.C. in 50 days—another journey that tied the past to the present. Still, our minds keep drifting back to ridgelines and cedar forests, to the way mist sat in the valleys at dawn, to the soft calls of おはようございます (ohayō gozaimasu – good morning) and がんばって (ganbatte – good luck) from Japanese locals as we rode by in the morning.

    Also, Lisa is back teaching her yoga classes at Oaknoll Retirement Community, a group of dedicated friends who followed our journey each day. She is happy to be back on the mat with them, sharing what she has learned in Japan — the calm breath, the quiet focus, and the simple reminder that kindness travels far. Together they stretch, laugh, and continue the spirit of goodness and compassion that carried us across Japan.

    Lisa and I talk about the feeling of being a little unsettled. Would we be better off living in Japan, or somewhere else in the world? Or is this just the fog of reentry, the ache that comes when the heart grows new rooms and is not sure which one to sleep in.

    We try to hold space for every kind of person. It can be hard to watch the shouting matches and the certainty that the other side is beyond reason. In Japan, even when opinions differed, we felt a steady attention to community. We still hold on to hope that the U.S. can be many grains that still cook together.

    Our head keep stitching threads between Stoicism, Buddhism, and the Enlightenment. Stoicism gives us the practice to focus on what is within our control. Buddhism, especially the gentle wisdom of Thích Nhất Hạnh, invites us to be fully in the present moment — to breathe, to notice what is right in front of us, and to let awareness soften the noise of wanting and worry. The Enlightenment reminds us of reason, curiosity, and the dignity of each person. In the end, it all points to the same simple truth: speak less, notice more, and practice Seva (selfless service done with compassion and without expectation).

    There is humor in all this too. We learned that convenience store rice balls and local curry udon (noodles) can make you tear up with their deliciousness. We learned that two 外国人 (gaikokujin – foreigner) fumbling through an ice cream kiosk can turn confusion into connection with nothing more than a smile and a bow. We learned that pizza in Wisconsin after a long flight tastes exactly like gratitude. We learned that ringing your bicycle bell and playing loud music on your iPhone seems to keep the 熊 (kuma – bear) away. And we learned that friendships in Japan can stretch across twenty-five years and still fold back together as if no time had passed—proof that the heart keeps its own calendar. Even in airports, the universe can hand you a surprise reunion.

    As for what comes next, we do not know yet. Maybe we settle back into our small Iowa City bubble for a while. Maybe we chase another long line on the map. Whatever we do we will do it together and enjoy every moment. That has always been our quiet promise under everything.

    Thank you to everyone who followed along, who sent messages and gentle words of encouragement. Thank you to our hosts and helpers in Japan who became friends. Thank you to the drivers who gave us space and the shopkeepers and guesthouses who warmed us with their greetings and kindness. Thank you also to the Japanese TV crew — in our short time together, we learned so much about the kindness and harmony of working within the Japanese work culture, and the quiet determination to create something meaningful and compassionate together. An especially heartfelt thank-you to Yuki, Kakeru, and Annie, whose guidance, generosity, laughter, and enthusiasm made this journey possible.

    We are home. We are a little lost. We are very grateful. And we are trying to bring back what we learned. Bow a little more. Thank workers. Let people merge. Have a little more patience. Say excuse me with feeling. Remember that in the end we are all grains in the same bowl.
    ⸻
    A few simple Japanese phrases we are keeping in our pockets:
    1. ありがとうございます (arigatō gozaimasu – thank you very much)
    2. すみません (sumimasen – excuse me or I am sorry or thank you)
    3. いただきます (itadakimasu – I humbly receive, before eating)
    4. ごちそうさまでした (gochisōsama deshita – thank you for the meal, after eating)
    5. よろしくお願いします (yoroshiku onegai shimasu – please treat me kindly, nice to meet you)
    6. おかげさまで (okage sama de – thanks to you, I am well)
    7. がんばって (ganbatte – do your best, good luck)
    8. 気をつけて (kiotsukete – be careful)
    ⸻
    Small suggestions we are going to try at home:
    1. Greet workers and say thank you out loud every time
    2. Leave places cleaner than we found them
    3. Wave at drivers who show patience
    4. Share food more often and say いただきます before the first bite.
    5. Practice Seva more.

    ❤️心からありがとう (kokoro kara arigatō – thank you from the heart).❤️    Weiterlesen

  • Japan

    🇯🇵💕Days 48 - 50 💕🇯🇵

    22. Oktober in Japan ⋅ ☁️ 15 °C

    Days 48–50: ひたちなか (Hitachinaka – City by the Sea)

    After nearly seven weeks of riding and exploring Honshu, we finally settled into a slower rhythm for a few days in ひたちなか (Hitachinaka). These were our rest and reflect days — a chance to recharge, reconnect with friends, and prepare for our upcoming presentation at The English House.

    We had intentionally planned this break to spend time with Annie and Justin, their longtime employee and friend Ethan, and our dear friends Mike and Yoshie — who had been such kind supporters to me twenty-five years ago when I lived in Japan. It felt comforting to be back here, surrounded by familiar faces, sharing new stories and memories that spanned decades.

    Most of our daylight hours were spent working on the presentation, a 45-minute interactive talk for the students, parents, and community members from The English House. Because their classroom space couldn’t fit everyone, they rented a hall at the local Chamber of Commerce — and by the time we started on Wednesday night, about fifty people had gathered. We gave the presentation in English, but communication went far beyond language. The audience was warm, curious, and full of great questions. Afterward, people stayed for almost another hour to look over our bikes and gear, point at our map of Japan, and talk about cycling and travel. Annie, Justin, and Ethan had even made a beautiful bulletin board display of our adventure, complete with photos and captions. Seeing it all laid out like that brought back so many memories — and reminded us how much kindness we’ve been shown along the way.

    On Tuesday, the whole crew — Mike, Yoshie, Annie, Justin, Ethan, Lisa, and I — went out together for a special lunch at a lovely local restaurant. It was a traditional Japanese dining experience, elegant and beautifully arranged, featuring something called 新米 (shinmai – new rice). Shinmai is the freshly harvested rice from the current season, prized throughout Japan for its softness, delicate sweetness, and slightly sticky texture. In Japanese culture, tasting shinmai marks the celebration of harvest and abundance, and sharing it together often carries a feeling of gratitude and renewal. The meal was artfully presented, with small dishes arranged like a painting — fresh baked fish, simmered vegetables, miso soup, and the star of the meal: that perfect, steaming bowl of new rice.

    After lunch, we walked together to train station where Yoshie treated us to some wonderful baked goods from a local bakery. Among them were what locals called “victory buns” — soft rolls filled with smooth, sweet black bean paste and a touch of cream. They were delicious, and somehow fitting — a small, celebratory taste of success after our long journey.

    Of course, these days weren’t just about work and food, though there was plenty of both.

    On Wednesday after the presentation, we wandered late down the street to find a 7-Eleven for an evening meal and we passed small Nepalese–Indian restaurant Justin had introduced us to over seven weeks ago. We couldn’t resist returning to get some takeout. The cheese naan was still heavenly — soft, buttery, and almost dessert-like, and the butter chicken curry in our opinion was award-winning! I joked to Lisa that if we weren’t leaving soon, I was sure we would become regular customers.

    Another small mission of mine was to finally revisit the golden arches. Yes, I was interested in sampling a Big Mac (for research purposes, of course.) It had been over a decade since I’d had one back in the States, and I was curious how the Japanese version compared. To my surprise, the Big Mac value meal was about only five dollars, and the whole experience felt… elevated. They even brought our meals to the table, bowed deeply, and thanked us for dining there. When we finished, the manager himself came out to thank us again. Love the amazing thing is the Big Mac actually looks like it does in the menu picture. I told Lisa, laughing, “You definitely don’t get that at home!”

    By the final evening, after days of work and food adventures, we invited Ethan over for a beer and taught him how to play the card game golf. It was a simple night but one of those moments that make a trip feel full circle — sharing stories, laughter, and friendship.

    Between all this, we found time to organize our gear, pack the bikes, and pick up a few souvenirs — small reminders of a trip that had become so much more than miles and mountains.

    That night, we stayed up late, talking and laughing, a mix of anticipation and melancholy in the air. We knew the long journey home would begin at sunrise. Justin was set to pick us up at 7:30 a.m. in the minivan to take us to 成田空港 (Narita kūkō – Narita Airport).

    As we taped the boxes shut for the journey home, we couldn’t help but feel that familiar blend of sadness and gratitude that comes when something beautiful is about to end. Our hearts were full — full of friendship, culture, kindness, and countless small moments that made Japan feel like home once again.    Weiterlesen

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  • Japan
    11

    🇯🇵🏁🎉Day 47🎉🏁🇯🇵

    19. Oktober in Japan ⋅ ☁️ 18 °C

    46 miles / 2,450 ft. / 4:08
    ——————————
    Total Miles: 1,628
    (2,620 km)
    Vertical Miles: 25.4
    (40.9 km)
    ——————————
    Today we woke at 6:30 a.m., full of the bittersweet excitement of our last day of this tour. I peeked out the window: the forecast promised no rain, and though the sky looked cloudy, the air felt calm, so I believed we were safe from showers.

    After some typical morning organizing and a pre-breakfast coffee from Lisa, we headed down to breakfast around 7:00. The buffet was a mix of Japanese and American-style favorites: small pastries, omelette bites, little smokies, salad, and potato salad. There was also onion soup, but we decided that might not be the best choice before a long ride.

    A bit more coffee and orange juice, a second round of chocolate croissants, and then it was back to the room to pack panniers, stuff the sleeping bag into its dry sack, double-check the room, and carry everything down to the bikes.

    We took our time this morning. We had only about 45 miles (72 km) to ride before reaching the English House in Hitachinaka between 3:00 and 4:00 p.m., but we knew from past tours we’d likely savor every last moment.

    Our route hugged the ocean for much of the way so we could enjoy the sound of waves and the salty air. The skies were grayer than hoped, but a gentle tailwind was firmly at our backs, making pedaling easier.

    Our first major stop was 高戸小浜海岸 (Takado Kohama Kaigan – Takado Kohama Beach) in 高萩市 (Takahagi-shi – Takahagi City). This scenic little bay, framed by steep sea cliffs and twin inlets, has been selected as one of Japan’s “100 Best Seaside Spots” thanks to its white sand, green pines, and the dramatic contrast of land, sea, and sky.

    We wandered across rocks and explored small caves and tide pools where tiny crabs hid among the boulders. Though I couldn’t verify whether those caves were once ancient dwellings, the area feels timeless. Geological records say the sand here was formed as granite from the 阿武隈山地 (Abukuma Sanchi – Abukuma Mountains) was carried down to the sea and sculpted by Pacific waves.

    Sunday meant a few more people than usual, but still far fewer than expected — perfect for our reflective mood.

    After Takado, we rode further toward Hitachinaka and passed a small tourist area decorated with statues and pictures of a bird that looked like a penguin… or maybe a crane? We guessed it commemorated a migratory bird but couldn’t quite identify the species.

    A bit later, we climbed to a viewpoint above the city near 日立大沼町 (Hitachi Ōnuma-chō), our “last highest point” of the trip. From up there we could see rooftops in every shade of color, the Pacific stretching beyond, and the winding road we’d just taken to reach it. A bit of height, a bit of wind, and a lot of gratitude.

    Lunch was magical — a small shrine out on a peninsula near the ocean in 日立相賀町 (Hitachi Aikachō). We sat together in the cool, stiff breeze with no cars, no people, just the sea, a giant ship on the horizon, and the two of us savoring our last rice ball on the road.

    By the end of lunch my cycling computer’s ETA had crept from 3:00 toward 4:00, so I messaged Annie to say we’d aim for 4:20 p.m. We continued through rolling hills near the ocean, sometimes right along the coast, sometimes inland, passing farmers harvesting sweet potatoes. We reminisced about how lucky we’d been to witness so many harvests: apples, pears, persimmons, cabbage, chestnuts, daikon, onions, and — of course — grapes in 山梨 (Yamanashi). What a privilege it’s been to see Japan’s seasons unfold from the saddle, and of course, the changing colors of the Japanese maple trees.

    About two miles (3.2 km) from the English House we stopped in a little park for a final rest and a sweet treat. Just before that, we had visited 村松山虚空蔵堂 (Muramatsu-san Kokuzō-dō) Temple in 東海村 (Tōkai-mura). Built in 807 by the monk 弘法大師 (Kōbō Daishi – Kūkai), this temple was long protected by the 佐竹氏 (Satake clan) and the 徳川家 (Tokugawa family). The main deity, 虚空蔵菩薩 (Kokuzō Bosatsu – Bodhisattva of Wisdom and Memory), felt especially fitting for our “memory-making” ride.

    Then, as we rolled toward the parking lot entrance of the English House at 4:19 p.m., there they were — our friends Justin and Ethan — cheering, pumping their fists, and signs that read “Congratulations, you did it!” in Japanese. Mike, Yosie, and Annie were also present to greet us with hugs and cheers. Justin held a little gold ball above our head and we were instructed to pull the string and a banner burst out with confetti.
    The banner read Omedetto おめでと(congratulation!), and we stood under the celebratory globe, laughing and posing for pictures. We celebrated in the in the parking lot for over an hour telling stories, laughing, hugging, and even shedding a few tears. The mix of exhilaration (“We finished!”) and melancholy (“This is it…”) washed over both of us. It was the best welcome home celebration!

    A little later we were shown to our mini-apartment. Surprise number two: a basket of goodies — a bottle of red wine with a bicycle on the label (perfect), homemade quiche with grapes and salad, butternut squash cake, and local dried sweet potato, a regional favorite. Another wonderful feast put together by Yosie! We ate quietly, full from both food and kindness. Lisa dashed across the street to the laundromat, completing our post-ride ritual.

    Collapsed on our beds, we reflected: another tour complete. Tomorrow, our focus shifts to preparing a presentation for about 50 students and parents at the English House. But for now, rest! ❤️    Weiterlesen

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  • Japan

    🎌🎉We made it!🎉🎌

    19. Oktober in Japan ⋅ ☁️ 18 °C

    Just a quick update to say that we made it back to our start point safely. Working on day 47, stay tuned.

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  • Japan

    🎌🍎Day 46🍎🎌

    18. Oktober in Japan ⋅ ⛅ 22 °C

    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!)    Weiterlesen

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  • Japan
    1

    🇯🇵👹Day 45👹🇯🇵

    17. Oktober in Japan ⋅ ☀️ 22 °C

    52 miles / 2,215 ft. / 4:15

    We woke to sunlight spilling through the windows, painting the mountainside in gold. Our lovely cottage was tucked quietly into the cliffside, overlooking the river below and the rocky bluffs across. Yesterday’s cold rain felt like a distant memory. Today promised warmth, calm skies, and gratitude for another beautiful day in Japan.

    Lisa did a bit of work while I dozed a little longer, then she handed me a hot cup of coffee and a chocolate croissant. Oishii! (おいしい – delicious). It was a slow, gentle start, the kind you feel thankful for. We decided to explore the town before heading out, and since we guessed there was a shoe dryer at the nearby laundromat, and to our luck we found the shoe oven, put our shoes in to bake, and wandered off to see the local sights.

    We climbed the mysterious “Demon Stairs,” crossed the long suspension bridge swaying gently over the river, and paused at a few statues that seemed to watch silently over the valley. There’s something about small-town Japan that blends myth, nature, and art in a way that feels both ancient and welcoming.

    On the way back to reclaim our shoes, we stopped by for our favorite quick breakfast: yogurt, bananas, and a flaky pastry. Simple pleasures always do the trick after a hard day, and we sat in our cottage with our breakfast and enjoyed the mountain view over Kinugawa River quietly taking in the morning.

    By midmorning, we had packed up our bags and were back on the road. The sun warmed our backs as we pedaled away from the mountains, their peaks fading slowly behind us. Around lunchtime, we stopped at a small clearing overlooking the valley, a perfect spot to say goodbye to the highlands. Maybe we were reflecting, or maybe just delaying the next climb—it’s always hard to tell.

    The rest of the afternoon unfolded like a familiar tune, a mix of rolling climbs and gentle descents through forested roads. The light filtered through the trees, and the scent of cedar and pine filled the air. With a slight tailwind pushing us along, we reached our guesthouse in Daigo, Ibaraki earlier than expected.

    Check-in was smooth and welcoming. The staff women smiled warmly and even let us wheel our bicycles right into our room. After a quick load of laundry, we cleaned up and headed out for dinner. Tonight’s meal was tonkatsu (とんかつ – breaded pork cutlet), one of our longtime favorites. It brought back memories of our trip ten years ago with Sebastian—his go-to meal back then.

    The little restaurant was alive with laughter, a group of young men in their twenties enjoying food, drinks, and friendship. Watching them reminded us of Sebastian and his friends, and we couldn’t help but smile.

    After dinner, we strolled back through the quiet streets under a clear autumn sky. The short walk was just enough to settle full stomachs and full hearts. Back at the guesthouse, we turned out the lights, grateful for another day of sunshine, warmth, and gentle miles.    Weiterlesen

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  • Japan

    🎌🥶Day 44🥶🎌

    16. Oktober in Japan ⋅ 🌧 17 °C

    59 mile / 5,625 ft. / 5:18

    We started the day in Gunma, in a small area called Okkai. With a strong forecast of rain starting at 9:00 a.m., we planned to get on the road early. We woke up around 6:15, hustled through our morning routine, and were out the door by 7:00. Our hope was to beat the rain over the pass and stay ahead of it.

    As we stepped outside the guesthouse, a cold mist was already falling, but we convinced ourselves it would clear once we climbed higher into the mountains. Once again, this was supposed to be one of the most beautiful rides of the trip — a long 24 mile (38.6 km) climb with about 5,000 feet in elevation gain on Route 120 over the pass, followed by a descent down the famous Tochigi Prefectural Route 120, known for its endless switchbacks and incredible autumn views of the Japanese Alps.

    Instead, the rain only got heavier. By the time we reached the top of the climb, visibility was down to about 30 feet (10 m). The tunnel at the summit felt like it might be a gateway to better weather, but on the other side it was somehow even worse — thicker fog, harder rain, colder wind.

    It’s hard to explain the feeling of putting hundreds of hours into planning a route, dreaming for 25 years about cycling through the Japanese mountains in autumn, and then not being able to see more than a few feet in front of you. All those brilliant red and gold leaves we imagined were just ghostly shapes in the mist.

    We were wearing almost every piece of clothing we brought—five layers on top, leg warmers, wool socks, plastic bags over our shoes, and two pairs of wool gloves — and we were still freezing. It’s hard to believe we started this trip in 100°F (38°C) heat, and now we couldn’t even feel our fingers. At this point, I’d say the Japanese typhoon season has officially beaten me.

    The descent, which should have been an incredible ride through the mountains, was pure survival — slow, tense, and wet. Every turn was slick, and we gripped the brakes so hard our hands ached. This was supposed to be the kind of ride you dream about. Instead, it was the kind that wears you down and tests every bit of patience you have left.

    Shivering and soaked from the descent, we spotted a Lawson (ローソン, Rōson) convenience store and knew we needed to take shelter and grab something warm to eat. Luckily, there were a few seats by the window where we could sit and watch the touristic city of Nikkō (日光, Nikkō) through the drizzle. Lisa had a hot bun filled with beef, and I had a steaming bowl of ramen. We also picked up some hot cans of coffee, which felt amazing just to hold in our frozen hands.

    While we were thawing out, a friendly guy from Australia struck up a conversation with us, and he told us about the Nikkō Tōshōgū Autumn Festival (日光東照宮秋季大祭, Nikkō Tōshōgū Shūki Taisai) happening nearby — a celebration with men dressed as samurai on horseback performing yabusame (流鏑馬 – horseback archery), all in honor of Tokugawa Ieyasu (徳川家康), the founder of the Tokugawa shogunate.

    We decided to venture up to see the reenactment and stood among the crowds trying to catch a glimpse of the event. With all the umbrellas and people packed together, it was hard to see much, so we slipped away from the crowd — and luckily, we ended up right along the path where the horses and samurai re-enactors processed toward the festival. It was perfect. We were nearly alone and got to see the horses and samurai warriors up close, their armor glinting with rain.

    We were too cold and drenched to go visit the famous shrine afterward. Nikkō is well known for its shrines, especially the Tōshōgū Shrine (東照宮), part of a UNESCO World Heritage site. Still, we weren’t too disappointed; we’ve often found more beauty in the smaller, hidden shrines where the big tour groups don’t go.

    By evening, we made it to a part of Nikkō called Kinugawa-Kawaji Onsen Village (鬼怒川・川治温泉郷) and were relieved to find that our hotel had an onsen (温泉 – hot spring). That small discovery lifted our spirits immediately. We had our own little private bungalow, and after a long soak in the onsen, a few encouraging texts from Annie and Yuki, and Lisa doing her best to keep me from losing it completely, I started to feel a bit better. It had still been a rough day — but at least it was ending warm.

    We decided to head out for dinner, hoping to finish the day with a proper meal. The curry restaurant we’d marked on the map was supposed to stay open until 8:00 p.m., but when we arrived at 6:30, the sign said “Closed for the night.” We walked another quarter mile to an Italian restaurant, only to find it was “reservations only.” At that point, we gave up and went back to 7-Eleven (セブン-イレブン, Sebun-Irebun). The food was warm, filling, and honestly not bad — but it still felt disappointing after such a long, tough day.

    Today was one of those days that reminds you cycle touring isn’t always magical. Sometimes it’s cold, wet, frustrating, and a bit demoralizing. But that’s part of what makes the good days so meaningful — you have to earn them.

    Tonight, we’re just grateful for a hot bath, a roof over our heads, and a bit of warmth. Tomorrow will be another day, and sunshine is in the forecast.
    ————
    About Nikkō and Kinugawa-Kawaji Onsen Village

    Nikkō (which means “sunlight”) has been a sacred site for centuries, blending Shintō and Buddhist traditions in a stunning mountain setting. The Tōshōgū Shrine, dedicated to Tokugawa Ieyasu, is one of Japan’s most ornate, covered in intricate carvings and gold leaf. The surrounding cedar-lined avenues were designed to honor the spirits of the Tokugawa shoguns and have inspired travelers for generations.

    A short distance away, Kinugawa-Kawaji Onsen Village sits along the Kinugawa River, known since the Edo period for its healing mineral waters. It became a popular getaway for Tokyo residents seeking relaxation after pilgrimages to Nikkō’s shrines. Even today, the air feels charged with that same calm energy — a quiet reminder that sometimes the best part of the journey comes not from grand views, but from simple warmth and renewal.    Weiterlesen

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  • Japan
    1

    🎌👺Day 43 👺🎌

    15. Oktober in Japan ⋅ ☁️ 19 °C

    49 miles / 4,940 ft. / 4:58

    We woke up to the sun trying to peek through the clouds, so Lisa quickly opened the curtains. The gentle warmth felt like it was thawing our spirits after days of cold rides. Before the city stirred, we decided to explore on foot with hot 7/11 coffee in one hand and a crispy apple croquette and chocolate éclair in the other. The streets were quiet and smelled faintly of sulfur from the nearby hot springs. A friendly Japanese obāsan (a kind word for an elderly woman kind of like grandma) waved us over to her small stall and offered us a taste of a warm steamed bun filled with sweet red bean paste, called 温泉まんじゅう (onsen manju – hot spring steamed bun). She was steaming them using natural onsen water. The kindness of people here never fails to amaze us.

    Back at the guesthouse, our host Mao greeted us with his usual big smile. Before we left, he wanted to take some pictures together. It was so sweet, and we were honored to pose with him in front of the house. With bikes loaded, we rolled out through the narrow streets of the famous hot spring town. As we were gradually pedaling up one of the first hills to leave town, we suddenly heard someone shouting from a car to our right. It was Mao, leaning out the window, waving and cheering, “がんばって!” (ganbatte – good luck, do your best!). Lisa laughed and said, “I love this place!” Moments like that stay with you.

    Once we were out of town, the clouds rolled back in, but there was no rain. The route promised plenty of climbing again, this time over several small passes that dipped and rose like waves. The first climb along 国道55号 (Kokudō gojūgo-gō – National Highway 55) was one of the most beautiful yet, curving through green valleys and tiny mountain hamlets. With hidden little shrines along the road side with luscious green moss showing their age.

    We stopped near 中之条・折田 (Nakanojō–Orida) at a small farmers market where we picked up beans, rice, and a cold grape soda for lunch. We carried it to nearby 臨勝寺 (Rinshō-ji – Rinsho Temple) and enjoyed it under a tall cherry tree, listening to the city chimes ringing softly in the distance. A nice man stopped and talked to us, inquiring about our adventures. We also discussed the cherry tree and together we thought it was somewhere around 100 years old.

    Not long after, we met Steve, a cyclist from Scotland who was also touring Japan. It was funny because we had just finished our lunch stop and you could tell Steve also was hesitant about stopping as he was on a downhill, but we both decided to stop. We talked for quite a while about travel, the kindness of people here, and the ups and downs of life on the road. He had endured a long, rainy day before, and we wanted to offer something small to lift his spirits. We gave him a bag of our favorite spicy peanuts and rice crackers, called 柿の種 (kaki no tane – literally “persimmon seeds”), a snack we’ve come to love. It felt good to share something after having received so much kindness ourselves. Steve seemed happy to meet us and cheerful to hear our advice. Encounters like that always brighten our days.

    The road ahead twisted through dense forest, where every surface was slick with soft green moss. We joked about not sliding out as we descended, warning each other to watch for fallen chestnuts and the moss-covered curves. It was one of the toughest descents of the trip, a road that had been shifted by earthquakes and washed out by storms.

    At the bottom, a local farmer waved us down. He looked worried and spoke quickly, and although we didn’t understand most of what he said, one word stood out: 熊 (kuma – bear). To make sure we understood, he mimed a big bite toward my arm with his hand. That got the message across. We thanked him with a friendly ありがとう (arigatō – thank you) and rerouted toward a busier road.

    As the day drew to a close, we rolled through the peaceful gardens of the 沼田城跡 (Numata-jō ato – Numata Castle ruins), once home to a 16th-century fortress built by the Sanada clan. The old stone walls, autumn trees, and quiet paths made it a beautiful way to end the ride.

    That evening we checked into one of our stranger guesthouses yet. It was an old wooden house run by an elderly couple—or maybe they weren’t a couple at all, we couldn’t quite tell. The おばあさん (obāsan – grandmother) greeted us with a shy smile, and at first, I thought neither of them spoke English. Then the gentleman surprised us with nearly perfect English, explaining that he had lived in Hawaii and New York years ago. Our room was enormous, with tatami mats and two soft futons laid side by side.

    When we finally rolled down the big hill to dinner, it felt like a reward. We ate at a small Chinese restaurant beside 大釜温泉 (Ōigama Onsen) along the 片品川 (Katashina-gawa – Katashina River). Lisa ordered sweet-and-sour pork, and we shared gyoza, chicken appetizers, and a big bowl of brown rice. I had a giant plate of 焼きそば (yakisoba – fried noodles) and a cold beer. Somehow, all of this was under twenty dollars, which still amazes us.

    The ride back up the hill was slow, and we were grateful for any reason to stop. We took night photos beside the massive 大蛇 (daija – giant serpent) that the town is famous for. This enormous paper-and-bamboo snake measures 108.22 meters long and is paraded through the streets during the annual 大蛇祭 (Daija Matsuri – Giant Serpent Festival). The snake represents protection, prosperity, and the strength of the community. During the festival, hundreds of locals carry the great serpent through town, weaving it like a living dragon to honor the river gods and pray for good fortune. Nearby stood a fierce-looking 天狗 (tengu – a mythical creature with a red face and long nose) mask, a guardian figure believed to keep evil spirits away.

    By the time we reached the guesthouse again, we were completely exhausted. The lights of the town shimmered below, and the quiet hum of the onsen drifted through the valley. This was another day full of kindness, laughter, and the unexpected moments that make traveling in Japan so special.

    Japanese of the Day
    温泉まんじゅう (onsen manju) – hot spring steamed bun
    熊 (kuma) – bear
    柿の種 (kaki no tane) – spicy rice crackers
    大蛇 (daija) – giant serpent
    大蛇祭 (Daija Matsuri) – Giant Serpent Festival
    天狗 (tengu) – long-nosed demon-like guardian spirit
    おばあさん (obāsan) – grandmother
    がんばって (ganbatte) – good luck, do your best
    ありがとう (arigatō) – thank you    Weiterlesen

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  • Japan

    🇯🇵🌋🌧️Day 42🌧️🌋🇯🇵

    14. Oktober in Japan ⋅ 🌧 11 °C

    38 miles (61 km) / 6,485 ft (1,977 m) / 4:20

    Today was one of those days we had circled on the calendar since the beginning of our trip. A true cycling challenge on National Highway 292, the highest paved national highway in Japan, winding through the volcanic landscape of Mount Kusatsu-Shirane, an active stratovolcano known for its striking crater lakes and 上信越高原国立公園 (Jōshin’etsu Kōgen Kokuritsu Kōen – Joshin’etsu Kōgen National Park). The route climbs from 山ノ内 (Yamanouchi) toward 草津温泉 (Kusatsu Onsen), and at its highest point crests above 7,300 feet (2,307 meters).

    We were up before dawn, knowing this would be a long day. Breakfast was served at 7:00 a.m. sharp, a traditional Japanese breakfast of grilled fish, scrambled eggs, rice, miso soup, tea, and a few small pickles. Before sitting down, we had already loaded the bikes so we could hit the road right after eating. While waiting for breakfast, I talked with two young men from New York who had just started their journey by train and bus through Japan. They reminded me of Tyler and Sebastian, full of excitement, ready for anything, and starting their own adventure.

    Outside, the sky was heavy and gray. We had received an alert earlier that part of Highway 292 was temporarily closed between the Manza Onsen Junction and Kusatsu Tenguyama Gate due to volcanic activity, so we knew the road might be unpredictable. Sure enough, about sixteen minutes into our ride, the mist turned to drizzle, and the drizzle turned into a steady, cold rain.

    The climb stretched on for 14.5 miles (23.3 km), gaining 4,732 feet (1,442 m). The higher we climbed, the harder the rain came down. We passed steaming vents and alpine meadows that disappeared into fog. Somewhere along the way, we stopped at 平床大噴泉 (Hiratoko Daifunsen – Hiratoko Geyser), a natural vent in the volcanic earth that releases bursts of hot water and steam. The warmth felt incredible against the cold, and we laughed at how it was the only heated rest stop we’d find all day.

    At the summit, we reached Mt. Yokote, home of the cozy Café 2307, named for its altitude. Nothing could have tasted better than a hot café latte at that moment. We lingered for a few minutes inside, dripping wet, watching the fog swirl around the volcanic peaks before we started the long descent.

    The downhill should have been glorious, but the weather had other plans. The wind picked up sharply, and the temperature dropped fast. Between the freezing air, the fog, and the slick pavement, we could hardly see the views we had hoped for. My hands were so cold I could barely feel the brakes. About ten miles from our overnight town, our turn did not exist. Our only choice was to continue riding down the mountain. Near the Tsumagoi Golf Course, we encountered a man stationed just before the tollbooth. We struggled to communicate, neither of us speaking much of the other’s language, but in true Japanese spirit, he refused to leave the situation unresolved. With patience, hand gestures, and a lot of smiles, he helped us understand how to proceed, and eventually we were waved through the toll road, knowing (or thinking we knew through broken Japanese and English) that we had to turn left at the gate. We passed several gates, and none of them seemed right. We ended up finding another climb that was a mountain road through the forest. Again, ringing our bells to keep the wild animals away while slipping on the wet moss and early fall leaves, we made it back to our originally planned route.

    Thinking we were in the clear and feeling good because “we were almost there,” it happened. Just four miles (6.4 km) from Kusatsu, my rear derailleur cable snapped. I managed to manually shift the chain into an easier gear, but it meant standing on the pedals for the last two miles (3.2 km) up a cold, steady climb. We rolled into Kusatsu Onsen soaked, frozen, and about two hours too early to check in at our guesthouse.

    Kusatsu is one of Japan’s most famous hot spring towns, known for its bubbling geothermal vents and constant clouds of rising steam. The sulfur smell hangs in the air, but in a strangely comforting way, like proof that the earth here is alive. The heart of the town, 湯畑 (Yubatake – hot water field), is a large, open-air basin where hot spring water gushes from the ground and flows through wooden channels. Around it are narrow streets, steaming footbaths, and the elegant 光泉寺 (Kōsenji – Kosen Temple) perched just above the springs.

    We walked our bikes slowly through the busy streets, scanning for somewhere warm. It felt almost like being in a parade, as people stopped to look at our loaded bikes and smile at the drenched foreigners trudging through the mist. We met a couple from California, Rachel and Jay, who were traveling around Japan in a camper van. Rachel works in the bicycle industry for Giant, and Jay and Lisa discovered they both knew of a playground that Lisa had designed in Ojai, California. It was a short but fun conversation, and their friendly energy lifted our spirits after a cold, hard day on the bike.

    Soon after, we found a small, quiet, and cozy Indian restaurant tucked on a side street. The owner welcomed us in and made us steaming chai, curry, and cheese naan that hit every note of comfort we needed. Just as we finished eating, the owner of our guesthouse, 草津温泉ゲストハウス暁天 (Kusatsu Onsen Guesthouse Gyoten), messaged that our room was ready.

    Mao, the owner, was incredibly kind, letting us bring the bike inside out of the rain so we could replace the broken cable. He even placed our soaked shoes next to the heater to dry. Once the maintenance was done, we showered and took a short evening walk to explore the city, umbrellas in hand. We found a small Japanese restaurant on the second floor of a building overlooking the steaming streets below. From the window, we could watch the Yubatake glowing with soft green and purple lights through the rising mist.

    We fell asleep instantly, our legs tired, our hearts full, and our spirits warmed by the kindness of strangers and the steady rhythm of the journey.    Weiterlesen

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  • Japan

    🎌🙈Day 41🙈🎌

    13. Oktober in Japan ⋅ ☁️ 18 °C

    Final Rest Day

    7 miles / 930 ft. / 1:05

    We took full advantage of our last rest day before the end of the tour. Sleeping in, enjoying a slow hotel breakfast in Japanese style, soaking in the 温泉 (onsen – hot spring), and even sneaking in a nap. It felt good to let the morning mist lift while we rested. By noon, the clouds were still hanging low, but the heavy fog had cleared enough for exploring.

    I had planned a 6-mile (10-kilometer) loop for the day, leading us to the famous 地獄谷野猿公苑 (Jigokudani Yaen Kōen – Snow Monkey Park). As we suspected, it was a bit too early in the season to see any monkeys bathing in the hot springs, but it was still a beautiful walk through the forest, and it felt good to support the park anyway.

    Afterward, we coasted down the hill to a small local ラーメン (rāmen – noodle soup) shop for lunch. Warm broth, friendly smiles, and the quiet hum of conversation filled the little dining room. From there, we spent the rest of the afternoon wandering through the touristic old-town streets of 山ノ内町 (Yamanouchi-machi), where narrow lanes wind between wooden houses and old storefronts. We hiked up to a few secluded 神社 (jinja – shrines) and 寺 (tera – temples), the smell of cedar and sulfur from hot springs in the cool mountain air.

    At one point, we climbed up toward 平和の丘公園 (Heiwa no Oka Kōen – Hill of Peace Park) and found the towering Peace Goddess of the World (世界平和大観音, Sekai Heiwa Daikannon – World Peace Kannon), a 25-meter bronze statue of Kannon that overlooks the town below. The statue was erected after World War II as a symbol of peace, and its pedestal houses exhibits and photos of an earlier version that was donated for metal during the war and later reconstructed. Nearby we visited a cemetery and a temple, which had some stone statues of monkeys.

    Just as we were about to head back, we spotted a small public 足湯 (ashiyu – foot bath). It felt wonderful to slip off our shoes and soak our tired feet in the warm mineral water while chatting about the day.

    When we finished, we decided to have our “lunch dessert” of a cream puff and a bottle of grape soda, a combination that somehow felt perfectly right. Back at our guesthouse — Miyama — we started our packing and made plans for tomorrow’s big ride.

    As evening settled in, our stomachs reminded us of the brewery from the night before. We returned to Tamamura Honten (玉村本店, Tamamura Honten), a historic sake brewery founded in 1805 that also produces the local Shiga Kogen Beer. We thought we ordered one small chicken meal that was for one or two people, but somehow this was lost in translation and we ended up with two full sets. Thinking we had ordered correctly, we were amazed at how much food arrived. Then it hit us — we had each ordered a chicken dinner meant for one or two people for each of us. We laughed so hard imagining what the staff must have been saying as we polished off every bite.

    We returned to our room at Miyama completely stuffed, still laughing, and ready for a good night’s sleep. It was the perfect way to close our final rest day — full of warmth, flavor, and quiet gratitude.

    Later we finalized our packing and turned in early. Big day tomorrow, of course rain is in forecast!    Weiterlesen

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  • Japan
    111

    🎌🦣 Day 40 🦣🎌

    12. Oktober in Japan ⋅ ⛅ 25 °C

    38 miles / 4,220 ft. /3:59

    After a cozy night at Guesthouse Sápmi, nestled between Mount Kurohime (黒姫山, Kurohime-yama) and the Seki River (関川, Seki-gawa), we woke to a calm, clear morning. Breakfast was our normal mix of granola, yogurt, banana, and coffee. We met again the friendly Japanese couple Lisa had talked with the night before. We chatted with them about about travel, work, retirement, and our bicycle trip. They were warm and excited for us, wishing us luck as we departed. We wish we had more time with them and hope our paths cross again, but moments like that, those small exchanges of kindness, are what make this journey so special.

    The forecast promised good weather, and since we had a shorter day with less climbing ahead, there was no big rush to get moving.

    We altered the route a little to cross over the Seki River, mainly because we wanted to make it into another prefecture. I’ve lost track of exactly how many that makes for us, but crossing into Niigata (新潟県, Niigata-ken) felt like an accomplishment in itself. We couldn’t find the prefectural sign at first, but after riding a gravel path along the river lined with numerous bear warning signs, we were ringing our bells like crazy. Eventually we found one, took some silly photos for Annie, and then crossed the bridge back over to the Nagano side.

    A little farther on, we spotted a beautiful statue of a woolly mammoth (ケナガマンモス, kenaga manmosu) and its calf, surrounded by flowers in full bloom, sunlight pouring down, and the mountains standing proudly behind. It was an unexpected and strangely heartwarming sight. The lake nearby was Lake Nojiri (野尻湖, Nojiriko), which turns out to be famous for the discovery of woolly mammoth and Naumann elephant remains, a glimpse into Japan’s Ice Age past. The little park there honors those finds, connecting modern travelers like us with the prehistoric landscape that once existed here.

    After taking a few photos, we stopped at a 7-Eleven and grabbed bite-size cream puffs and two cans of hot coffee. We rode down to the lake and sat on a concrete dock in the sunshine, watching paddle boarders drift by and a few boats cross the water while enjoying our second breakfast.

    Then it was off to explore more around the lake. I routed us up to a small hidden shrine (祠, hokora) and a viewpoint that offered a stunning view of the lake below and mountains in the distance. We both agreed that the small, quiet ones, hidden in forests or at the edge of a lake, are often our favorites. There’s something sacred about having them all to ourselves.

    Both of us had prepared for an easier day, but somehow we missed the part on the map that showed we still had quite a bit of climbing ahead. The climbing was much easier than yesterday though. The sunshine felt good, a light sweat built up, and our legs kept a steady rhythm.

    After one of the climbs, we reached Manzaka Pass (万坂峠, Manzaka-tōge), though even after crossing it there was still a bit more uphill to reach the Madarao Recreational and Ski Area (斑尾高原, Madarao Kōgen). Funny enough, at the pass we crossed into Niigata Prefecture again, meaning our morning detour across the Seki River wasn’t actually necessary, but we were glad we did it anyway.

    At Madarao, we stopped for pizza and a Coke while watching weekend tourists switch into hiking gear, grab snacks, and try balancing on a tightrope strung between two trees. After a short break, we looked forward to the descent, which took us back into Nagano Prefecture. It was about an 11-mile (17.7 km) stretch of mostly downhill riding, and absolutely beautiful. I had routed us through small farm roads, with scenes of pepper and eggplant fields, harvested rice paddies, and apple orchards glowing red and ready for picking.

    As we rode through the orchards, we hoped to meet a farmer and maybe buy an apple or two. When we crossed the Chikuma River (千曲川, Chikuma-gawa), I spotted a man out picking apples. With my broken Japanese, I asked how much: “りんごはいくらですか？ ¥100, ¥200, ¥300?” (Ringo wa ikura desu ka?). He smiled and said we could just have one, and then proceeded to hand us six or so perfect apples. It was a simple act of kindness on a Sunday afternoon under the Nagano sun, and it warmed our hearts.

    We continued through the flatlands, riding past orchards of harvested peach trees and grapevines, with just a few red and green clusters still hanging. Bright red apples, orange ripe persimmons, and the occasional loud blast of bird-scaring cannons filled the air as we pedaled eastward toward Mount Hakoyama (羽子山, Hakoyama). From there, we followed the Yokoyu River Valley (横湯川流域, Yokoyu-gawa) back up into the mountains toward our overnight guesthouse in Yamanouchi (山ノ内町, Yamanouchi-machi).

    The final climb was about 2 miles (3.2 km) at around 5%, and we were definitely ready to be done. Once we checked in, we rested a bit before soaking in the outdoor onsen (温泉, hot spring) attached to the guesthouse. The natural hot water felt wonderful on tired legs and aching muscles. It gets dark early in the mountains, and it was pitch-black by 5:45 PM.

    Later we walked about a mile to a small brewery we’d hoped would be open, and luck was on our side. We shared a plate of Japanese beef stew with rice, salad, potato wedges, and fried chicken bites, plus another big bowl of rice. The walk back felt good, and we were ready for bed by 8 PM, tucked into our futons and listening to the quiet mountain night.

    Tomorrow is a rest day, and we’re hoping to visit the famous Jigokudani Monkey Onsen (地獄谷野猿公苑, Jigokudani Yaen Kōen), where wild snow monkeys bathe in natural hot springs.    Weiterlesen

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  • Japan
    1

    🎌☔️ Day 39 ☔️🎌

    11. Oktober in Japan ⋅ ☁️ 18 °C

    56 miles / 6,200 ft / 5:07

    We got an early start this morning because we knew the climbs would take a toll on our weary legs—and the rain forecast didn’t help. Coffee and a simple breakfast of yogurt, bananas, and Yuki’s homemade granola was just enough to get us up the first few climbs.

    As soon as we stepped outside to load the bikes, the rain began to fall from low, gray clouds. The further we rode, the harder it came down. With the temperature hovering in the high 50s (about 14°C), we couldn’t afford to stop for long or risk getting chilled. Oddly enough, we looked forward to the climbs—they were the only thing keeping us warm!

    Our route from 松川村 (Matsukawa-mura – Matsukawa Village) wound deep into the folds of 長野県 (Nagano-ken – Nagano Prefecture), through the heart of the 安曇野 (Azumino) basin. This is one of Japan’s most beautiful rural regions, framed by the 北アルプス (Kita Arupusu – Northern Alps), where snowmelt becomes crystal springs that feed the rice fields below. Even though clouds hid most of the peaks, we could still sense their presence—massive, silent, and close. Missing the views of the peaks we observed closer beauties: Lush apple orchards ready for harvest, persimmon trees bright with orange fruit, the Japanese homes nestled on the mountainsides, and the low clouds surrounding us.

    The roads, slick with fallen autumn leaves, wound through tiny mountain hamlets. At 55.9 miles (90.0 km) and a stout 6,200 feet (1,946 m) of climbing, the route didn’t offer much flat respite. But that was part of its charm—relentless, scenic, and full of small surprises. Being a Saturday meant busier stretches near tourist areas, but we found quieter lanes that rewarded us with the soft sounds of rain on cedar.

    By lunchtime, we reached a little mountainside grocery store halfway down a descent. Shivering, we ducked inside and scoured the shelves for comfort: room-temperature Coke and canned coffee, cheese crackers, a pineapple sweet roll, and three rice balls wrapped in tofu. Not exactly gourmet, but おいしい (oishii – delicious) enough when you’re soaked and hungry. The rain kept falling, as we munched our quick lunch standing shivering under the overhang of the store. We were eager to get back on the road knowing another climb was waiting to warm us up.

    And then came our miracle moment—the roasted corn stand I had marked as a waypoint. 焼きとうもろこし (yaki toumorokoshi – grilled corn) glowing like a beacon through the drizzle. Cozy Japanese ladies worked behind the counter, smiling as the steam and the smell of caramelized soy wafted through the air. They invited us to warm our hands over the grill and even gave us two extra halves of corn.

    While Lisa changed into dry clothes and tights (finally!), I tucked the hot corn into my jacket. Instantly, heat spread across my chest, thawing the day’s chill. When Lisa came back wondering where the corn had gone, I pulled it out and tucked it inside her jacket as we smiled together. We huddled close, corn in hand, warmth returning to our fingers, and hearts full of gratitude. Today, we were truly saved by the corn.

    The last miles brought one more climb and a misty descent past a small shrine tucked into the forest. We didn’t stop—too cold by then—but nodded in passing. Sometimes a simple bow feels like enough.

    We rolled into our guesthouse just as the rain eased, finding small treasures: a shoe dryer, a hot shower, and a cozy room.

    Tonight we are nestled in the mountains, just below 黒姫山 (Kurohime-yama – Mt. Kurohime), resting between the 関川 (Sekigawa – Seki River) and 野尻湖 (Nojiri-ko – Lake Nojiri), at a guesthouse called Sápmi.

    The name caught our attention—it’s the word used by the Indigenous Sámi people for their homeland in northern Scandinavia, a region of wild nature, snow, and reindeer. Perhaps the owner chose it as a nod to that northern spirit of mountains, forests, and quiet connection to the land. Whatever the reason, it feels fitting here: a peaceful place where warmth and wilderness meet.

    We prepared s stir-fried rice dinner, and ate in the shared dining area. Now, chocolate and beer to finish the day in our warm room. Sunshine predicted for tomorrow.    Weiterlesen

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  • Japan

    🎌🏯Day 38🏯🎌

    10. Oktober in Japan ⋅ ☁️ 20 °C

    55 miles / 3,840 ft / 4:31

    At breakfast, we met a really sweet couple that shared their grapes with us. After learning that we are cyclists, they wanted to also share their new stretching technique (magic touch stretching) which Lisa entertained.

    Once we made our way to the bikes, we circled 白樺湖 (Shirakaba-ko – Lake Shirakaba). The lake shimmered like glass, surrounded by silver birch trees that give it its name. It’s a peaceful spot high in the 蓼科高原 (Tateshina Kōgen – Tateshina Highlands), part of 八ヶ岳中信高原国定公園 (Yatsugatake-Chūshin Kōgen Quasi-National Park). We took a short walk to 池の平神社 (Ikenodaira Jinja – Ikenodaira Shrine) on the small island in the lake, where the red torii stood quietly in the morning light and the cool air of the changing seasons.

    From there, we began the long climb up Nagano Prefectural Route 40 toward 霧ヶ峰 (Kirigamine – Mount Kirigamine). The road wound steadily upward through cool alpine air, past rolling meadows, and we noticed the early autumn colors beginning to show on the distant trees. The area is known for its panoramic views and wildflowers, and at the top we could see across the vast highlands toward the distant peaks of the Yatsugatake Range. The climb was tough, but the views from the ridge made every turn of the pedals worth it.

    What goes up must come down, and soon we were flying down Route 67 and a series of smaller winding roads, the scenery changing from open highlands to forest and farmland. The descent was a thrill of speed and switchbacks.

    Around midday, we stopped near Mount Chikato by Namatsuma Pond for a simple セブン-イレブン (7-Eleven) lunch. A few rice balls, sandwiches, and hot coffee, nothing fancy, but sitting by the pond with the mountains reflected on the surface made it feel perfect.

    After lunch, it was time to face my rear wheel problem again. I had broken a spoke a few days ago, and even though we found a local bike shop and took the wheel completely off, tire and all, the friendly mechanic realized he didn’t have the straight-pull spokes my wheel required. He was very apologetic, and even though it didn’t work out, we left smiling, another reminder that kindness doesn’t depend on success.

    On the way toward 松本市 (Matsumoto-shi – Matsumoto City), we stumbled across a small open-air antique market. We couldn’t resist stopping. Rows of old tea sets, wooden boxes, and faded signs lined the tables. I tried to locate a marble or an older baseball card, but no luck. As usual, we made a few friends there, friendly locals who asked about our bicycles and our trip, and we shared a few laughs before moving on.

    I had routed us by 松本城 (Matsumoto-jō – Matsumoto Castle), one of Japan’s most iconic castles. Built in the late 1500s, it is one of the few remaining original castles. We chose to observe from a distance to avoid the tourist crowds. The beauty was magnificent, and it is easy to see why it is one of Japan’s treasures.

    Not far outside the city, we found our next stop, a higher-end bike shop called Bike Ranch. This time, luck was on our side. They had the exact spoke I needed and replaced it, trued the wheel, and even applied some fresh rim tape. We were back on the road in less than thirty minutes, feeling relieved and grateful, ready for the final leg of the day.

    Our route then joined Route 19, heading north through Nagano toward our lodging for the night. It wasn’t the quietest stretch, but we cruised quickly downhill and were back on local farm roads soon.

    At last, we reached the Spice Road Curry House Lodge, tucked at the base of 有明山 (Ariake-yama – Mount Ariake). The owner, Atsu, greeted us with a huge smile and told us that this mountain is sometimes called 小富士 (Ko-Fuji – Little Fuji) because of its graceful shape. We even got a room with a mountain view, as the one we originally booked had a broken air conditioner.

    Dinner was one of Atsu’s set meals: roasted chicken, rice, salad, and naan, along with a few glasses of wine to celebrate the day. It was enough for both of us to share, and it tasted even better knowing we didn’t have to go anywhere else. Tonight was also the first night of the season he lit his wood-burning stove, and Lisa managed to claim the seat right beside it. Another guest joined us for a short chat before we headed to bed early, tired but content.

    As we lay in bed reflecting, it was days like this, with climbs, kind strangers, small frustrations, and unexpected joy, that reminded me why we travel this way.    Weiterlesen

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  • Japan

    🇯🇵🍁Day 37🍁🇯🇵

    9. Oktober in Japan ⋅ ☁️ 17 °C

    53 miles/ 6,380 ft / 5:50

    It felt as if something was gently pulling us back toward Yuki and Masa in 山梨 (Yamanashi) today. Every mile seemed to lean uphill and into a steady headwind, as if the mountains were testing our legs before letting us return. The road wound quietly upward, lined with autumn-touched trees and the soft hum of our bicycles beneath us. Conversation came in short bursts between deep breaths, but mostly we rode in peaceful reflection, thinking about all the memories we’ve gathered so far and a bit of sadness leaving Kushigata.

    As the elevation rose, the air grew noticeably cooler, brushing our cheeks with the crisp scent of pine. We stopped for a midmorning snack, sitting outside a small rest area overlooking the valleys we’d crossed days before. The view stretched endlessly—a layered watercolor of greens, dark blues and yellows with threads of roads we’d once traveled barely visible below.

    About 10 miles (16 km) from our destination, we spotted a little sandwich shop tucked off the main road. Its warm interior was a welcome escape from the wind and cold. Over sandwiches and hot coffe, Lisa caught up on a bit of work while I watched the locals come and go, exchanging polite ありがとうございます (arigatō gozaimasu – thank you very much) as they left. The small kindnesses here never stops feeling special.

    The final climb brought us to the edge of beautiful 白樺湖 (Shirakaba-ko – Lake Shirakaba), our home for the night. Just as we arrived, we met two retired men visiting from 台湾 (Taiwan). They told us they often travel to 東京 (Tōkyō), but love returning to this peaceful mountain lake. Their cheerful energy lifted our slightly melancholy spirits, and soon we were laughing about travel stories and favorite foods. Encounters like that are the heart of this journey.

    We rode around the lake, taking in its calm surface reflecting the sky, and scouted our dinner and snack options for later. The season is changing, and since it’s off-season and a weekday, most of the restaurants were closed. So, we embraced one of our Japan touring traditions: a コンビニ (konbini – convenience store) meal.

    After settling into our guesthouse, Lisa started the laundry while I arranged our konbini feast into something resembling a romantic dinner—complete with chopsticks, hors d’oeuvres, and drinks neatly spread out on the small table. We clinked our glasses, shared quiet stories, and watched the light fade from the window.

    It was a simple day—just wind, mountains, and gratitude—but those are often the ones we remember most.    Weiterlesen

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  • Japan

    🇯🇵😢Day 36 (B)😢🇯🇵

    8. Oktober in Japan ⋅ ☀️ 28 °C

    Day 36 (Part B):

    さようなら (sayōnara – goodbye),

    Oh, how hard it is to leave Kushigata (櫛形). To say goodbye to Yuki and Masa feels like leaving family. We came here as long time friends, but we leave as family, with hearts heavy and full all at once.

    There’s something about this place tucked in the shadow of the 南アルプス (Minami Arupusu – Southern Alps), with 富士山 (Fujisan – Mount Fuji) peeking shyly from the distance, that makes time slow down just enough to feel what really matters. The fruit trees glowing in the afternoon sun, the laughter around a shared table, the gentle rhythm of people who live with kindness at their core—it’s all a reminder that the world can still be kind.

    It’s impossible not to compare it with home. Back in the U.S., it sometimes feels like the air is filled with noise, political BS, anger, and division. So often now it seems driven by dishonesty, disharmony, and lying. A constant drumbeat of conflict that feels so far from what we believe in—compassion, nonviolence, honesty, the spirit of enlightenment, and the acceptance of diversity.

    None of this beautiful journey would have happened if more than 25 years ago people hadn’t been willing to open their hearts, minds, and homes to other cultures. When I lived here in Yamanashi back then, there was a sense of hope, of connection, of learning from each other. Programs like sister cities and sister states encouraged people to cross borders of geography and understanding. They built friendships, empathy, and respect. That openness is what made this return possible, what made friendships like ours with Yuki and Masa even imaginable.

    Now, looking at the U.S. and the world, it sometimes feels like that spirit has been buried under fear, suspicion, and lies. Too many people seem to have forgotten the value of curiosity and kindness, the joy that comes from sharing a meal or laughing with someone from another part of the world. And yet, being here reminds us that it’s still possible—that the goodness in people hasn’t disappeared, it’s just waiting to be nurtured again.

    But here, there’s a quiet dignity. People bow instead of bark. They listen. They care. It’s a place that feels like it’s still embracing and growing toward harmony rather than away from it.

    Should we move here? Could we really? It’s a question that keeps echoing as we roll away from these quiet mountains, hearts tugged between gratitude and longing. There’s a beauty in Japan that’s more than scenic—it’s human. It’s in Yuki’s easy smile, Masa’s calm laughter, and the way kindness seems to flow as naturally as the rivers that run through these valleys.

    いつかまた会いましょう (itsuka mata aimashou – let’s meet again someday). When will we share another meal, a cold beer, or a glass of 日本酒 (nihonshu – sake) together? When will we laugh again under these same skies? 心から感謝します (kokoro kara kansha shimasu – thank you from the bottom of our hearts), our friends.

    For now, it’s not goodbye, just またね (matane – see you later). Because a place like Kushigata doesn’t let go easily. It holds a piece of your heart and promises to keep it safe until you return.    Weiterlesen

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    🎌🛏️ Day 36 (A) 🛏️🎌

    8. Oktober in Japan ⋅ ☁️ 24 °C

    Day 36 (Part A)
    Rest Day recap:

    Just a quiet post today. A rest day, as Yuki, Masa, Lisa, and I savored calmness.

    In the morning, we lingered over breakfast, watching a bit of baseball on TV. At 12:30 PM, Yuki needed to be in 甲府市 (Kōfu-shi, Kofu City) for a local radio program that would feature her, so we all piled into the car and made the hourish drive through the familiar busy roads to Kofu.

    Lisa and I got to sit in the radio studio with Yuki, listening to her talk about 書道 (shodō – calligraphy), sister state relationships, and how she came to move from Hiroshima to Yamanashi. We loved hearing her stories spoken in Japanese. Although we could only understand less than ten percent of what she said, we could feel the excitement and love in her interview.

    Afterward, we followed Masa’s usual mission of ramen hunting. We stopped at a mom and pop ramen (ラーメン, rāmen) shop outside Kofu. Masa, one of many self-appointed “Ramen Critics of Yamanashi,” took an artistic photo of his bowl of ramen and then sampled with serious concentration.

    After the ramen lunch, we returned to Yuki and Masa’s home where we enjoyed a rest day nap.

    We work up to a glowing sunset and a quiet house. Masa and Yuki were out so Lisa and I went for a walk to savor the incredible glowing views of Fuji one last time.

    As we returned so did Masa and Yuki. We then gathered for a gentle dinner. We watched Japanese TV, mostly the news updates about the typhoon moving nearby. The current storm is Typhoon Halong, which is brushing the Japanese coast with heavy rain and strong winds. It is causing alerts in parts of the Izu Islands and prompting warnings for flooding and landslides. We should only feel the effects of some wind and chilly conditions.

    We turned in early around 9 PM because we had agreed to meet for coffee at 6:15 AM. Yuki had another calligraphy event to prepare for in the morning, and we would need to get rolling for a hard day ahead. A 98 on my rating scale of one to 100, with just over 55 miles and about 6,500 feet of climbing.

    As we settled in for the night, the house felt quiet and peaceful. There was warmth, comfort, and also a touch of sadness knowing tomorrow we would say goodbye to Yuki and Masa. The kindness, laughter, and generosity we shared here will stay with us long after we ride away.    Weiterlesen

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    🇯🇵🚙 Cute Cars 🚙🇯🇵

    8. Oktober in Japan ⋅ ☁️ 25 °C

    So many cute little cars. We hope you enjoy!

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  • Japan

    🎌🍜 Day 35 🍜🎌

    7. Oktober in Japan ⋅ ☁️ 22 °C

    Rest Day:

    After several days of pedaling through valleys and mountain passes, today was about resting and enjoying the small moments here in Kushigata, Yamanashi. We started our morning quietly, sipping coffee and watching a bit of the MLB playoffs on TV — the perfect blend of Japan and home. Breakfast (朝ごはん asagohan – morning meal) was simple and satisfying, and it felt good not to rush out the door.

    Lisa once again lived up to her title of laundry hero, tackling our dirty clothes with her usual calm determination. After that, we took our bikes for a gentle spin around town, passing familiar places from when I lived here years ago. It’s amazing how the rhythm of a small town can feel both unchanged and brand new at the same time.

    We stopped for lunch at a small local spot near the library and were treated to the best curry udon (カレーうどん kare udon – curry noodles) we’ve ever had. The broth was rich and comforting, and the noodles had that perfect chewiness only found in handmade udon. Afterward, we wandered through a few shops — some still exactly as they were a decade ago, others refreshed but still warm and familiar.

    A special stop was at the Kushigata Sports Park (櫛形総合公園 Kushigata Sōgō Kōen), where we found the dogwood tree that was planted in 1999 by Mayor Ishikawa of Kushigata and Mayor Floyd Harthun of Marshalltown, Iowa, as a symbol of friendship between the two sister cities. I was there the day it was planted, so standing before it again — now tall and strong with its branches brushed with early autumn colors — was a special moment.

    We capped off the afternoon with a bit of grocery shopping, token games, then a coffee and crêpe (クレープ kurēpu) near my old house. The town still holds that peaceful blend of nostalgia and quiet charm that makes it so easy to love. Later, nap time called, and we happily answered.

    Dinner with Masa and Yuki was the perfect ending to the day. We had miso soup (味噌汁 miso shiru) made with squash and tofu, and Lisa and Yuki prepared handmade gyoza (餃子 gyōza – dumplings). The combination of flavors, laughter, and the cozy sounds of Japanese TV in the background made it feel like home in every sense.

    We wrapped up around 10 PM, full and happy — a wonderful yasumi no hi (休みの日 – rest day). During our ride earlier, we snapped some fun photos of little cars that I’ll share soon as a separate photo post. One more rest day awaits tomorrow before we set out again for our nearly 600-mile (965 km) final stretch ( E Spoke.)    Weiterlesen

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    🇯🇵 🍇 Day 34 🍇 🇯🇵

    6. Oktober in Japan ⋅ ☁️ 27 °C

    58 miles / 3,215 ft / 4:55

    The D Spoke has been completed.

    D Spoke: 387 miles
    C Spoke: 255 miles
    B Spoke: 216 miles
    A Spoke: 285 miles

    We got up early at the Okaya Central Hotel (岡谷セントラルホテル – Okaya Sentoraru Hoteru), now fully understanding that breakfast in Japan is best right when it starts. The spread is warmer, fresher, and often better at 6:30 AM sharp. We made it down by 6:35, mixing both Japanese and Western dishes for our 朝ごはん (asagohan – breakfast) — miso soup, rice, and fish sticks alongside fied eggs, fried potato wedges, and toast — before loading up the bikes and heading out.

    Our goal was to make it to Yuki’s house in Yamanashi (山梨) early enough to prepare a pasta dinner and appetizers for Masa, Yuki, and their youngest son Masanori and his family.

    The morning began with a scenic ride along Lake Suwa (諏訪湖 – Suwako), a calm and peaceful ride that helped us avoid the morning commute traffic. The trail paralleled the lake shore with views of espresso cup shaped paddle boats and steam rising from the famous hot spring vents that give Suwa its character. Local legend says that in the coldest winters, the lake freezes so solid that long ridges form across the ice. These are called 御神渡り (omiwatari – the god’s crossing) and are said to mark the path of a deity walking across the frozen lake. Though the weather was much too warm for that today, it added a touch of magic to the scenery.

    From there, we climbed gradually into the foothills of the mountains. They were lined with dark green trees and the golden rice fields a perfect day for Tsukimi except for the clouds. Tsukimi, or "moon-viewing," and is an annual event celebrating the autumn harvest. The festival, which takes place in September or October, is based on a tradition that dates back to the Heian period (794 - 1185 AD.). The event is often celebrated by eating odango (rice dumplings with sweet bean paste) while viewing the bright Harvest moon.

    A gentle crosswind kept us cool, and every turn offered a new angle looking back over the lake and the city below, a good reminder of how far we’d already come.

    At the top of the climb, we turned right toward Yatsugatake (八ヶ岳 – Eight Peaks) and the prefectural border of Yamanashi. The weather couldn’t have been better: cloudy skies (keeping it cooler), no rain, and the joy of a tailwind that practically carried us down the road. We stopped at a visitor center along the way, where a small French bakery tempted us with the smell of fresh bread. We picked up two loaves for our dinner and shared a chocolate éclair with a couple of cold vending machine coffees. It was one of those simple moments that makes traveling by bike so special.

    From there, the ride into Yamanashi was pure bliss, with smooth roads, gradual downhills, and hardly any traffic. By 2:15 PM we rolled up to Yuki’s house, excited and happy. After a few stories and quick showers we took a short ride to the grocery store that I used to frequent more than twenty-five years ago. The name had changed, but the layout and feeling were the same. The McDonald’s that once stood inside was now a cheerful crêpe shop, a very Japanese twist on Western comfort food.

    The rest of the afternoon was spent cooking, a mix of our signature French-American-Italian pasta dinner, reimagined with a few Japanese touches. Maybe someday you’ll get to try our special pasta sauce, and if you’re really lucky, we might even tell you the secret ingredient.

    Dinner was full of laughter, stories, and that feeling of being truly at home in a place that once was home. We watched a bit of the TV show 「Youは何しに日本へ？」(Yū wa nani shi ni Nihon e? – Why Did You Come to Japan?), imagining how the episode featuring us might turn out. Just when we thought the night couldn’t get better, Yuki surprised me with a birthday cake for her and I. Her birthday is on the 15th of October and it was fun to celebrate together. Happy Birthday, Yuki! What a special ending to the D Spoke of our journey.

    Next up, a couple of rest days before we set off on our final “Spoke.” The pedals keeps turning, and so do we.    Weiterlesen

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  • Japan
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    Day 33

    5. Oktober in Japan ⋅ 🌧 22 °C

    We started our morning in 飯田 (Iida) with another forecast of rain, which was supposed to ease by 9 AM. So we took our time, enjoying our simple breakfast of banana, yogurt, left over maple bread, rolls, and coffee while finishing up the previous day’s blog post. The guesthouse was warm and quiet. The only other guests were a Japanese family, They were traveling together for a weekend getaway and kindly tried to chat with us again over breakfast. It’s amazing how much can be shared through smiles, gestures, and a mix of broken English and Japanese. Their kindness shone through every word. Before we left, they even brought us some freshly peeled apple slices — a small gesture of generosity that seemed to bridge every cultural gap.

    While waiting for the weather to clear, we spent some time chatting with the guesthouse staff member, Tassei, a friendly 26-year-old who had studied tourism but was now brushing up on mathematics, hoping to pass a test to move up in his career. We talked about U.S. sports, Instagram, and YouTube, sharing a few laughs and taking photos together out front before leaving. As we packed up our bikes, he stood in the misty rain, waving goodbye until we were out of sight. It was one of those quiet moments of kindness that stays with you.

    As expected, the forecast was a bit off, and the rain didn’t break until closer to 10:30. We lingered over one more cup of coffee, then finally hit the road toward our next stop, about 52 miles away, with roughly 4,000 feet of climbing ahead.

    The route followed the edge of the 天竜川 (Tenryū-gawa – Tenryū River), winding through valleys lined with persimmon and chestnut trees glowing orange against the damp gray sky. Eventually, we climbed higher into the mountains, tracing Route 8 northward through another beautiful stretch overlooking the river. The scenery was pure Japan — rolling mist over cedar forests, quiet farmhouses, and rice fields brushed with autumn gold.

    At one point, while pedaling uphill, I spotted a tree full of ripe 柿 (kaki – persimmons) and couldn’t resist plucking one. To my surprise, it was perfectly sweet, not bitter. I shared it with Lisa as we rode on, both laughing at how something so small could taste like a victory.

    Around mile 30, we rolled into a 7-Eleven (セブンイレブン) for our usual roadside feast: rice balls, a ham and cheese wrap, a few fried cheese puffs, chips, and cold drinks. We found the perfect dry spot for lunch under the wide overhang of an old Honda dealership. It wasn’t glamorous, but after hours of misty riding, it felt like a five-star café.

    From there, it was all business — or at least our version of it. We pushed through the last rolling twenty miles, rain coming and going, traffic buzzing around us, but the roads smooth and the miles falling away easily.

    We arrived in 岡谷 (Okaya) about forty-five minutes before check-in, but as is so often the case in Japan, the staff was incredibly kind and let us in early. Hot showers never felt better after a damp, cool day in the saddle. The hotel provided all the little comforts that always make us smile — yukata robes, disposable slippers, toothbrushes, razors, and even hairbrushes.

    Before dinner, we relaxed in the room with a few snacks: salted cucumber slices, baked sweet potatoes, a handful of mixed nuts, and a couple of cold beverages. Later, we decided to stretch our legs and walked about ten minutes to a nearby restaurant called Everest Dining, an Indian and Nepalese spot that turned out to be fantastic. The curry was rich and flavorful, the rice perfect, and the cheese naan absolutely addictive. It still amazes me that two full dinners, each with a small salad and drink, came to only ¥2,200 — about $14 total, no tax and no tip.

    Days like this remind us that even when the weather isn’t perfect, the rhythm of cycling, the kindness of strangers, and the small comforts along the way make every mile worthwhile.    Weiterlesen

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    🎌 🌧️ Day 32 🌧️🎌

    4. Oktober in Japan ⋅ 🌧 20 °C

    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.    Weiterlesen

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