Tour de Hokkaido
NOTE TO THE READER: This is our story of our bike packing trip. Detail about the ride for cyclists is located in this separate post.
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I woke up this morning, writing this after last night having returned from 19 nights in Hokkaido on vacation, really aware of just how good I felt. Not an ecstatic good, but a loosely felt, deeply permeating and easy joy. The kind of happiness, satisfaction, and ease I am now recognizing that leaves me nothing in life to want. Nothing and I mean it. Nothing. I have been on vacations where I am looking FORWARD to returning and getting back "into the groove." Actually this is all of my vacations. Our Hokkaido cycling trip was an unwitting microcosm of perfection and the first time I haven't experienced the feeling of looking forward to returning home. It is the first time I am looking backwards and wanting to bring elements of how I experienced my life these last 19 days more deeply into my daily life.
I designed/intended for the trip to be easy, chill, not super challenging, thinking we needed some light, easy time outside in sunshine and thoughtless relaxation. It did not turn out that way and that, interestingly, made all the difference, paving the way for the more meaningful experiences listed below.
Rather than recounting each of the days, Justin and I chose our 5 favorite aspects of the experience for you below, none of which would have been so memorable had the vacation just been an easy ride from point a to b… Enjoy!
#5 - The Food
Salt & Sun Cafe in Abashiri - Justin and I discussed whether or not to end our ride early while eating the BEST chocolate cake.
I love food. I love eating. A slowing metabolism has not been my favorite thing about growing older. As much riding as we did my metabolism turned into a woodchipper. For 2.5 weeks I was 18 again and frolicked through menus and convenience marts ordering almost whatever I wanted. 3 or 4 times a day. From blue beer to king crab legs, world-famous convenience mart food to Japanese curry rice on mountain tops, mochi and donuts to mochi donuts, Clif bars and kaiseki… Japan is world famous for food and good food and drink is the yin to the yang of cycling.
#4 - Nakamuraya
In a land that never ceases to surprise me, Nakamuraya Ryokan in Nukabira Town was a magic find...
Nakamuraya Ryokan, Nukabira - we stayed a few nights indoors. When planning the route, there were a few days of unavoidable big distances and elevation gains. The Mikuni Pass day was 60 miles and 6100 ft of elevation gain. To boot the weather forecast going in to the trip showed a wall of rain for the days in this section of the trip. After the absolute misery of the Shiretoko Pass on the third day (a long, soaking wet, utterly frigid descent), we were glad to have this place for shelter in our back pocket. We ended up in several places that we never would have routed to had we had a car. This was the most magical of all of them. A random, funky, quirky, hippie outpost with mind blowing kaiseki dinner and breakfast buffet, a super eclectic lounge where they played jazz, kept tea out all day warming on fire pits, with snacks like fresh Hokkaido potato potato chips and these sugared bean snacks, beautiful crafts and food on sale in a giftshop. My only complaint about the trip was that we had no rest days planned - Justin's vacation day count was on fumes. On the level of serendipity I have not experienced in this magnitude EVER outside of this trip, the universe granted us a rest day here. At breakfast the next day, our server from dinner the night before was in having a meal on her day off. After breakfast we were in the lounge and for whatever reason she came and sat next to us and asked us where we were going that day. We had planned to ride the Pearl Sky Highway up to Lake Shikaribetsu - a huge climb in 12 miles. She very simply told us that that road was closed for the last two years after it washed out. REST DAY GRANTED! Neither Google, nor RidewithGPS, nor our Japanese 2018 Mapple (a Japanese road guide) had anything about the closure. Interestingly the hotel had a huge mac in the lobby for guest use (perfect for modifying our GPS files for the reroute), they had our room available for another night, it was perfect. It was the only place in the trip where skipping a day of riding was so easy - anywhere else we would have had to suck it up and ride double in one day. But here, we had instead a downhill day, only slightly more riding, and routing through a town where we had looked longingly at an ice cream shop in Nukabira brochures that we would now ride right past. Would I like another kaiseki dinner and scrumptious breakfast buffet here? Why yes, yes I would.
#3 - Sugimoto-san AKA "Cleats Angel"
Abashiri CSS Cycle Shop Owner and his shop. Sugimoto-san is one of the kindest humans around...
We made an error going into this trip which we only caught once we were riding. Justin's foot started feeling funny in his pedal on the third day of riding. Upon examination the front edge of his cleat on his shoe had been so worn down from walking on it - it had broken off. The only thing holding his foot in his pedal was the back of the cleat and the angle at which he pulled the pedal on the upstroke. The next (fourth) day of riding was up Shiretoko Pass, our first big pass. The forecast was horrendous, it contained one of the highest grizzly populations in the world - the national park guy had just finished telling us minutes ago there are DAILY sightings of bears. Not the first choice of places I'd like to hang around during a mechanical failure. I had randomly remembered seeing a pair of Look cleats at Sugimoto-san's shop in Abashiri (he had received our two bikes and assembled them together for us to pick up and start the ride). With no way to have them shipped with any level of guarantee on delivery time to any one place we planned to stay before the second half of the trip, we counted ourselves lucky and continued on, Justin's foot periodically coming out of his pedal - uncomfortable and dangerous. We could swing back in the shop on our way back through Abashiri. A few days later his other cleat had the same thing happen. We even found a bike shop along the way which had a pair of cleats that devastatingly once installed just barely didn't fit his pedals. A few hours outside of Abashiri we thought we'd call Sugimoto-san to let him know we'd be in just in case. His shop was closed and he was out of town (I hadn't realized he was only open Saturday and Sunday and had come in on his day off for us to pick up the bikes on a Thursday). Furthermore he didn't have Look KEO cleats - I had been mistaken. The chances of completing our already daunting second half of the ride looked suddenly grimmer. The only city of any size was no where near where we'd routed ourselves. I put my phone into my top tube bag and we rode on towards Abashiri disappointed such a dumb oversight could cost us the rest of the trip for which we had planned so much and so carefully for the past MONTHS. Anyone familiar with Japanese people and the word 'omotenashi' might guess what happens next... At our campsite destination, I pulled my phone out of the top tube bag on my bike and my mouth fell open - 12 missed calls from Sugimoto-san. I called him back and he said he was in Kitami (the nearest big city) and had found us a pair of Keo cleats and would meet us at the shop in 30 minutes. The universe began to answer the question in my heart about whether we'd be continuing on to finish our trip one serendipitous and kind gesture at a time. We rolled into Sugimoto-san's shop and found a smiley and happy Sugimoto-san - cheerfully setting up his bike stand for our bikes outside on the sidewalk. He charged us only exactly what the sticker said from wherever he got them. We knew enough about Japanese culture not to even try to tip him (although we'd have emptied our wallet in America for a gesture this kind). Free soloing El Cap is easier than getting a Japanese person to accept a tip. Gestures like this leaving us feeling completely inadequate with only 'arigatou gozaimasu' switching into English in the off chance he could understand just how much his gesture meant. I don't even think 'tasukarimashita' (you helped me, rescued me) captures it. We took another picture and he ran into the bike shop and emerged bearing a cup full of Japanese candies and insisted we have some. Our hearts melted a little more and we thanked him, riding off down the street and turning around to wave.
#2 - Salt & Sun Cafe
Serendipitous incident recommitting us to our finish out our original journey as we had planned it. Here I am pictured with the amazing ladies running this awesome little spot.
The day after "Sugimoto-san, the Cleats Fairy" we had packed up camp and were moving slow in Abashiri. We headed to find lunch and discuss more seriously if we would continue riding or create a plan b (likely getting a rental car and doing some car touring of the island in whatever the forecast could throw at us). My achilles tendon was aching and a little swollen. Justin's knee was really hurting him. The infamous 6100 ft day loomed ahead - the forecast for that day and the days around showing thunderstorms and a wall of rain still. The cleats issue was a huge one, however that was now taken care of. Best case we make it through the ride despite our pains and enjoy it. Worst case, one of our aches and pains takes hold of us in horrendous weather coming up a mountain pass, stranded with the only choice to call a taxi and somehow transport our bikes and trailer. It was in this limbo that we rode to a little café with good reviews to sit down for lunch and talk this the rest of the way through. Arriving at the café, there was no where to park our bikes and trailer. It was a neighborhood with private homes and no visible public 'vertical supports' against which to lean our loaded bikes and trailer. As we were just about to head back down the road to a little guard rail the cheeriest most energetic Japanese woman I have met to date literally bounded out of the café and ushered us to come park our bike in her private workshop/garage area on the side of the house. The café was on the second floor - we had no idea how she saw us down there looking around. We chuckled at this. We followed her up a cute little wooden staircase into the cutest tiny little second floor café and onto the back porch and sat down at a table in the shade and light breeze. I asked hesitantly if they had an outlet and she responded with the same enthusiasm and allowed me to hang our small octopus-like arrangement of charging items in the walkway by the kitchen. A minute later she reappeared beaming with a huge tray of cakes - a walking a la carte display . Wouldn't we like some cake? How about coffee? We ordered from her photo menu of two items and each got a slice of cake for after the meal. While waiting for our food, we were moved to a table that opened up inside, and we got down to the serious discussion of what our fate would be. We sat with expressionless faces having a serious discussion at the noticeable contrast of the vivaciousness of the three women who ran the café. A tiny open kitchen - the size of an American closet - and the energy and happiness with which they bounded around serving everyone. They had a love for this place and their work and despite our serious conversation, we couldn't help but comment on it continuously. The food was incredible and the chocolate cake was some of the most delicious I have ever had. Neither of us could know how we'd finish the ride. Justin's knee hurt pretty badly and I honestly did not want to end the ride here. I literally just finished telling him - we are a team. I have continued training for a marathon and had pain go away with adjustments and so I was willing to continue riding in hopes my heel would stop hurting with some adjustments. His knee pain however had to be his honest call and I supported him in whatever he chose. Only he could know (and by know I mean guess) if he felt it would be dangerous or enough to ruin the ride. Justin chose to continue. It was exactly here where the café guests and staff became interested that we had come by bike. We chatted with them for awhile, noting the outgoing and open nature of other café guests (Japanese people tend to keep to themselves) and on the way out they were trying to communicate something to us about a festival. We paid and gathered our electronics and the café lady and the lady sitting behind us lead us downstairs to outside. It was here it became obvious we hadn't understood them. The Tanabata Festival was being celebrated at the café by the visiting customer's each writing down their wishes and hanging them on a tree at the entrance to the café. We had passed by this on the way in thinking it was a craft table for a kids art project. They were overjoyed that we'd agree to write our wishes down on little colored pieces of paper and hang them from the tree. The only wishes written in English, signed with our name and Seattle in what probably looked like 4 year olds katakana. The ladies exclaimed at the Katakana, my heart was further warmed and we all took photographs together with the tree. I think you can guess what we'd wished for…. In great detail. ;-) We rode away from Abashiri feeling a huge emotional buoy to usher us down the uncertain road ahead filled with hope and joy on to the second huge leg of our journey.
#1 - The Challenge...
(Mental and physical)
The ride as I had planned it was intended to be easy and relaxed with some longer days in two spots. It was supposed to be, like, a VACATION hahaha.
We had a huge reality check on only our third day of riding going over Shiretoko Pass in horrible weather. All of the focus was on the climb. Ascending a mountain with a huge load, being pelted by rain and blown around by swirling and unruly mountain winds in a national park known for one of the highest densities of grizzly bears in the world is NOTHING compared to descents of over an hour with the double whammy of no physical effort to keep your body heat up and the WIND from going quickly downhill (see how I am still joking and smiling in my video below - taken at the pass). My body was soaked from head to toe, I was losing feeling in my hands and feet despite full finger gloves (makes braking down a mountain more difficult) and rain booties and I was beginning to shake involuntarily from being so cold. We stopped in a tunnel while the rain came down even harder and my body was so exhausted from trying to keep itself warm I just cried. More riding, settling at a campsite, finding and going to an onsen - warmth was hours away and that was an unbearable thought. I imagined challenge but I never EVER expected to be freezing to death anywhere along this ride... We passed our campsite and stopped at the first hotel and I succeeded in getting an early check in by offering to pay for the previous night. This is the first time in the thousands of years of the history of this country an early check in has happened. Japan is infamous for making guests sit on lobby couches until the clock hands move from 2:59 pm to 3:00 pm. Vacation off to a great start!
In addition to Justin's knee pain and my achilles tendon pain which were getting worse and the cleats issue mentioned about, we had a bigger pass and more than double the miles with another horrible forecast looming for our second-to-last day (Mikuni Pass). And, unlike last time (our Kyushu tour) we had no easy way to bail ourselves out by getting on the train if we needed to - our bikes and gear with the trailer and extra panniers were no longer easily portable and we didn't have bags to fit them which are required to port gear on trains in Japan. That and there were not trains along many of our routes this time, in Hokkaido.
The miserable pass experience at Shiretoko and the looming, likely miserable (impossible?) pass experience of Mikuni along with the smattering of smaller challenges set the vacation in a whole new light and focus. One for which each uneventful day of riding was appreciated and enjoyed for the simple things. In the end, we chose to stay open to continuing. If one of our pains became prohibitive or the weather remained or became worse we could handle it then. It wouldn't be easy or cheap or fun, but the alternative (sending our bikes home half way from Abashiri) was somehow even less appealing.
Rolling into Asahikawa on our last day - a larger city - and realizing our ride was coming to an end I was surprised to find tears welling up in my eyes behind my sunglasses. We had maybe 5 or 10 more miles to ride until we reached our hotel however the ride had ended before I had mentally prepared for it. Ended in the sense that all of a sudden we had been joined by a flow of cars that didn't end, didn't leave us any extra space on the road because they couldn't see us in advance with the cars in front of them blocking their view. We were stopping frequently at long stop lights. The same feeling I had riding into Kagoshima after our tour of Kyushu last year. It wasn't over, but it was over in that the flowing, meditative sense of riding had ended. I was taken aback that after two weeks of riding I wasn't overjoyed to get into our hotel and cleaned up and onto fresh sheets to sleep. This is how I knew I had walked straight into and been held by whatever balance had been missing in my life in our time in Hokkaido.
On our bikes we were physically and mentally challenged and vulnerable. Focused and completely open. The most unpleasant times were the most superficially uncomfortable - applying bug spray and erecting a tent as fast as possible while mosquitos fly into your ears after arriving at a campsite where the SHOWERS CLOSE at 5:30 pm and you are covered in a greasy, crusty layer of sweat mixed with sunscreen and bug spray and having to use 5 body wipes that are slightly too dry to clean off as best as possible. The hardest times we came together effortlessly. We had times of extreme discomfort that prepared us to be so much more appreciative of the times of simple comfort that would have gone by unnoticed otherwise (how good it feels in 90+ degree weather to wash your hands in an airconditioned convenience mart in the morning after not washing them since the day before). We faced real danger and uncertainty and in coming out the other side okay there is some type of enrichment of experience that cannot be had any other way. Riding has a feeling of boundlessness and yet simplicity that all else drops away. We felt every single bump in the road (and then some on 25 mm tires!!), every buttery smooth piece of pavement, every beam of sunlight or light chill of shade, raindrop, smelled every scent - flowers and salty ocean water perfuming the wind and cow manure steaming in the breezeless unrelenting heat between Abashiri and Asahikawa. The same openness to the elements and to nature extended to people. Away from the safety, independence and enclosure of cars and hotel rooms we were more connected to ourselves and others around us and more dependent on the people around us. Most of the magic of the trip flowed from this fact. It was completely heartwarming how people innately sense this vulnerability and they respond by flowing towards us - being curious, connecting, saying hello, helping us however they could in surprising and generous ways, and in sometimes going well out of their way to do so. Several times along the trip left us questioning the viability of the trip and in continuing the way we had planned - was the trip as we had planned it even doable much less enjoyable? Every single time this happened we got something from someone that redirected us back towards our original path. It was as if there was a higher power reaching down to let us know we should continue on our way as we planned and that it would work out even if we couldn't see how in the moment. Each challenge we met miraculously further opened my heart and faith in this way to continue to follow what we could not see as a guarantee - we couldn't know for certain we would be okay or that we would make it to our journey's end. Being out in nature and riding so much undoubtedly disconnected us from our thinking minds, reconnected us more to our bodies and our "non-mind" senses and we were open to being guided by these more than we ever allow ourselves in our daily, independent and civilized lives where our mind rules over everything. Reflecting back on the trip, the simplicity of our days and the slowing down of everything is allowed intuition to break through and the joy of the people with whom we connected to influence us. In a daily life and world ruled by mind everything speeds up in attempts at achievement and to dos and the level of inner wisdom and heart feeling we experienced on our trip has no chance to surface. Life is lived like a rock skipping on water merely reacting to things. (I would argue the mind could rule one to living a life that feels more like death than anything else if one allows it. ) THIS FLOW was the magic of our trip that I crave more of in my daily life. This is the guidance I seek to tune into and follow more in my life - it feels much more like a magic carpet ride than it did a carefully, planned destination from point a to point b. It felt much more ALIVE. The thinking mind and the presumption that it contains the ability to 'figure out' happiness is the great red herring in a search for depth, fulfilment and satisfaction.
On our third day of our Hokkaido bike tour, our Shiretoko Pass experience put finishing the ride into question - we had a bigger pass with worse weather forecasted in about a week...
The second to the last day, hauling our touring load up 11%+ grade in blazing heat and zero breeze. Correction: walker passed us on our break in the shade... Still, we were riding 3-4 mph... We were creating our own ‘mini switchbacks’ by zig-zagging back and forth across the road to entertain ourselves and to ease the exertion a bit.
What goes up must come down (unless you keel over and die on the way up!)… One of our more gorgeous descents after Mikuni Pass on 273.
