Steaming hot-springs in a vista of snow-draped volcanoes, or camping beside a coral reef with a sea like a bath. What better way to relax after a day in the saddle—Japan offers it all.
After nine weeks cycling Japan’s 4,000 km archipelago length with my brother Simon and Japanese friend Sumiyo, I’ve discovered it offers some superb cycling. Japan is a land of contrasts, which, from the cyclist’s point of view, means variety. Bikers encounter single-track lanes hugging the coast, linking remote fishing villages, or twisting through valleys that penetrate the volcanic mass, as well as hellish, busy roads with sprawling urban centers to negotiate!
Japan consists of 80 percent mountains. In 1899, when British adventurer John Foster Frazer cycled across the country on route from Europe to the U.S., he declared Japan “the wheelman’s paradise” but clearly he wasn’t thinking of wheelchairs! His judgment was untainted by the experience of cycling the Tokyo expressway, and while struggling up the hairpin bends of an unexpected hill in heavy snowfall, I began to doubt his opinion. By the end of the journey though, I had no choice but to agree with him.
We began our journey in the northernmost island of Hokkaido, but we had a few days after arriving in Tokyo before flying up there. We left final packing and organizing until then. Most companies manufacturing bike parts seem to be Japanese (Shimano and Migura, to name just a few), and with naivety we assumed that Tokyo would therefore be a great place to pick up a few essential spare parts for our journey. WRONG! The Japanese may be good at recycling glass bottles, but when it comes to bikes, a snapped chain is all the excuse required to go out and buy another bike. Our simple shopping list of a spare chain and inner tubes was nearly impossible to find. It took us over two days of hunting Tokyo shops and stores to find appropriate bike parts, and then we needed a small bank loan to buy them!
From the central heating of home, the idea of ‘traversing the seasons’ of Japan, starting in the north and cycling south to the sub-tropics, seemed great. I envisaged snow-capped volcanoes with early-spring sunshine, then blooming cherry blossoms of spring, into shorts and sun-cream weather farther south. I never imagined cycling through snowstorms, sleeping in snow-bound bus shelters, and filling my trousers with ‘instant-heat’ hot pads in an attempt to stop my legs from turning to ice.
One particular day, after an afternoon of cycling headlong into a snowstorm, we retreated into the open-garage shelter of an innocent local, who was soon convinced to pack his mini Suzuki van with our laden cycles, and take us over the blizzard-covered pass. We assumed the other side of the pass would be sheltered from the storm, but for some geographical reason, it was as deep in snow as the top. Fortunately we found a luxurious bus shelter equipped with heater and sliding glass doors for the night—strategically positioned next to a welcoming brewery, whose staff kept our snow-pile cooler stocked with beer!
People kept telling us how beautiful northern Japan is in summer, and how popular cycle touring is then. Fortunately, our bodies were compensated by a nightly soak in hot-springs, abundant in the mountains, and great for soothing tired muscles! They soon became such a lure that we were planning our daily route to end in reach of another hot-spring.
As we moved south, it could only improve. In the Alps of Central Honshu Island, the “Cherry Blossom Front” became all the gossip. An internationally famous wave of blossoming cherry trees spreads northwards through Japan in the spring. Following the television weather forecast are isobar maps of the blossom front and its current position. With all the hype we built great anticipation for the spectacle, but for weeks had no sighting. We were either too high in the mountains, or in a valley not yet touched by the bloom. Eventually we managed to camp under the blossoms, but we spent the subsequent days cycling in pouring rain and strong winds that stripped the blossom into soggy roadside confetti.
Fleeing the Weather
The rain persisted, and we decided to skip the busy Alpine valleys with their suicidal tunnels. Twenty-five kilometres was the longest we found (but luckily avoided). The ten kilometre tunnel we’d tackled the previous day and the subsequent black grunge that seeped from our noses was enough to encourage us to get out while we were still alive. We fled, and hitched a few hundred kilometres south to the sun, and some superb coastal cycling!
This was more what I had expected of Japan: fishing villages and beautiful beaches. Our food intake conformed to the healthy Japanese diet, mainly rice and fish, though we didn’t conform to the breakfast culture, as banana sandwiches were far preferable to us than raw fish at this time of day. Chocolate and calorie-laden desserts were off the menu, and combined with the hills, the weight began to drop off. It’s no wonder the Japanese don’t suffer from the obesity problem of Western countries.
Navigation was our biggest frustration. Despite a collection of maps with varying scales, and a car navigation system that Sumiyo insisted on carrying in her bar bag, the lack of Romanized street names and abundance of similar-looking Kanji characters became maddening after an hour of circumnavigating a town. The presence of a Japanese-speaker didn’t seem to appease our problem, and we concluded that construction was so fast, that neither maps nor people could manage to keep track. Our frustrations dissolved when we discovered the friendliness of the public transport system. The trains are great for dodging cities. We were told that carry bags were required, but whenever we just turned up, there was no problem with the bikes in their native state.
Sumiyo expressed that awareness of disability in Japan was low, and hoped that our cycle would increase people’s awareness of the activities that are possible for those with a disability. We met with various schools, community and disability groups along the way, but despite the Japanese perception that their country is not very “barrier free,” the modern buildings and abundance of lifts and escalators made getting around towns and cities very easy.
The scenery on the islands of Shikoku and Kyushu was fantastic. The “upudownu” (Japanese word for undulating . . . or was I being fooled?!) roads seemed less prolific, the sunshine bathed our tired limbs, and the forests hosted fantastic cedar and evergreen trees jumping with monkeys. Waves crashed or lapped at the varying golden or pebbly shore, and we puttered through sleepy fishing villages and camped on idyllic beaches. Shinto shrines and Buddhist temples provided the cultural dimension, along with friendly invites from various locals to join them for meals or a night in their homes.
We were, however, racing the rainy season to Okinawa. The season and all of us were due to arrive in May, and the prospect of heavy rain, sodden clothing, and typhoons seemed a masochistic option. The temperature and humidity rose to sweaty proportions as we cycled through the islands of Yakushima and Amami Oshima, but the skyline stayed clear with golden-ball sunsets. A memorable descent, twisting through the leafy green, back to a turquoise coast and another ferry journey. It seemed like days at sea before we reached Okinawa. Our race against the weather drew even, and the rainy season hit on our first day in Okinawa. We abandoned the bikes for a sea kayak, but withdrawal symptoms hit fast and, sadly, it was time to return home.
For anyone thinking of visiting, I would recommend Kyoto for its incredible temples; Sakurajima (known as the Naples of the East thanks to the constantly puffing, rumbling volcano that overlooks the city); Shikoku island for its quiet fishing villages and river valleys; and Yakushima, a World Natural Heritage site, rich in fantastic cedar forests, monkeys, turtles laying eggs on the beaches, and a spectacular coastline. Japan is renowned for its expense, but the prices are comparable to the United Kingdom (UK) on the whole. It is easy to find basic, reasonably-priced accommodations, and camping is easy too!
But also keep in mind that the cost and availability of bike parts is an issue for anyone considering cycling in Japan. The standard Japanese inner tube fitting is larger than our standard, and finding a valve small enough to insert through a European rim is a difficult task. A new chain cost three to four times more than elsewhere, and the difference in cost of a pannier rack was even more! Bike shops selling spare parts are not easy to find, as bikes tend to be abandoned (like the cars once they are more than a few years old) rather than repaired! Also, there is very little easy (i.e., flat) cycling apart from the coast-hugging narrow roads of Shikoku and southwest Honshu.
