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JACKIE LINK JAPAN PHOTO GALLERY
WHEN I was young, a merchant marine neighbor gave me a beautiful Japanese doll wearing traditional dress - you know the one, a geisha standing inside a glass case - and I always wanted to see Japan when I grew up.
 Now as I write this, Japan is already a sweet memory and some prized photographs - but no souvenirs. There were times, especially as I cycled in mist through forests of birch-like trees, when I felt as though I was moving through a scene in "Rashomon", but in vivid Technicolor. It was a dream come true. I traveled alone (except for the Bike Friday mascot, Robinson, tucked into a side pocket of my handlebar bag) in July 2005, to the north shore of the sparsely populated island of Hokkaido to meet other cyclists on a pre-paid tour. I was focused on making connections between one airport and another, and it completely skipped my mind to change dollars to yen while in Tokyo. This was to be a minor mistake; after all, I’ve made a career getting by on next to nothing. There were five others in my Hokkaido Bicycle Tour group plus four support staff; we in turn met a thousand other cyclists in the small coastal town of Omu for the 2-day, 24th International Ohotsuku Cycling Tour before going off on our own for three additional days. This made five cycling days all together, a total of 330 miles. |
On arrival in Omu we immediately put our bicycles together. I had the only Bike Friday, my much loved Petite Pocket Crusoe, which was together and ready to ride in minutes. I zipped around the immediate area, happy to be pedaling again after two days of air and bus travel. I was careful to stay on the left side of the road, which is where they drive in Japan.
Jackies's room at an inn - a nice change from puffy sofas and giant TV's (or maybe there's one in that cabinet).
That evening, during the opening orientation party, we were entertained by an infectiously joyous group of young dancers in red traditional costumes. During most of the party I couldn’t tell what was going on, but Japanese was not needed to enjoy the show. At one point our group was brought up on stage and given a warm welcome. When the crowd was told I was from San Francisco they gave a big cheer. (I wondered if I smiled as warmly at them when they were tourists on the Golden Gate Bridge - I hope so.)
After sleeping on a gym floor and eating a breakfast of dried salmon, rice, and other unidentifiable tasty items from a bento box - no coffee - we joined the ride under overcast skies along the Sea of Okhotsk. Whole families were riding together, dads helping the youngest with a push whenever we had a climb. People rode on every kind of bike, all ages and styles: ladies on town bikes wearing street clothes, racing types with familiar brand-name gear, and everything in between.
Almost all the jersey and T-shirt graphics were in English, about the only English I saw in Hokkaido.
During lunch, while balancing my bento box, the local press interviewed me and I now have the newspaper to show for it.
.jpg "Japan Newspaper")
Jackie was interviewed for a local paper. A great souvenir, even if she can't read it!
By the end of the day, 89.9 miles on my computer, those small children were still riding! And they were back the next day, too. Can you imagine? I have a theory as to why they’re such strong cyclists: sitting on the floor to eat and their squat-style toilets develops leg muscles early [Although most homes today have remote-controlled high tech toilets - Ed.]
The second night was spent on another gym floor, eating more tasty things I couldn’t identify from bento boxes, but no showers.
Some of our group elected to go to a bathhouse and we were driven for a long time, arriving only 15 minutes before it closed for cleaning. I was directed to the women’s side where I looked all over for a towel. I’d read how you’re supposed to first wash off outside the bath, which I did after surreptitiously watching what others were doing and figuring out where to go. Still no washcloths, no towels. One sits, naked, on a little stool and either pours water from a bowl, or sprays with a handheld shower for your cleansing bath. I shampooed my hair, washed off, and then eased my way down into the hot, hot, hot water in a huge pool overlooking a Zen-like garden of stones outside the wall-sized window. Ahhhh. Nice. But still no towel, so like every other resourceful cyclist, I used my dirty clothes to dry off. It turned out that towels had been given out at the entry, which I’d missed in my rush.
Our small group continued on after the big event ended at midday (46 miles), still riding along the ocean, headed to the mountains. Just before arriving at our inn for the night (another 24 miles) we were treated to some spectacular waterfalls near Utoro.
It had been raining lightly both days, but it was good riding weather and I didn’t mind. Often, there were dramatic skies with beams of sunshine, but looking toward the mountain where we were going it was dark and stormy. Of the six in my tour group, only the Yoshimori brothers and I chose to ride on in the rain. Our guide, Takahashi san, rode ahead to block the wind, gifting me with twenty miles of effortless pedaling while I kept reminding myself not to feel guilty for not taking a turn in front!
After another hot bath and great food - lots of coffee, at last - in a large ryokan (inn) we were off to climb the Shiretoko Pass.
A suburban garden - what a nice change from leaf-blowers, manicured lawns and concrete drives!
Although it was a slow climb it was never steep, probably never over a 10% grade. It was, however, very wet and cold, especially as we got near the top and into the remaining snowfields. The ride down the other side in a light rain was freezing, but wonderful in spite of the weather.
The sun finally made an appearance after two gloomy days, but not until we’d stopped for the night in Shibetsu. Before dinner, but after bathing, we drove out on a spit of land to a nature preserve where we could see an island about 14 miles offshore, now held by Russia, and where we walked through fields of wildflowers as the sun went low in the sky.
Three more days were spent on the bike, riding through a gentle, always beautiful landscape. One sunny afternoon we went walking through volcanic eruptions of hot mud and steam and sightseeing at a calderas lake. On our way down that mountain I saw a huge fox standing alongside the road; it was so big I thought at first it was a dog.
Evenings were devoted to steaming in the baths, lots of really good food and just relaxing in our inn. After a lifetime of chopstick awkwardness I surprised myself with a sudden ease and I was able to eat more than my share with speed and, dare I say, grace, even the noodles! The food was very, very good. But I was never able to sit with my legs under me; I had to lean against a wall when seated on the floor.
Dinner at an inn (ryokan). Delicious is an extreme understatement.
So. I didn’t need money, I didn’t need clothes. Everything was taken care of. You may, if you wish, wear the inn’s kimono during your stay. As you step indoors you put on their slippers; there’s even a separate pair to wear into the toilet. The inns and tourist places did have gift shops with trinkets and souvenirs, just like every destination you’ve ever been to, but without a yen I was even spared shopping.
(If you go to Hokkaido, remember to change your money before you leave Tokyo; we were never near anything like a bank during business hours and even the large hotels didn’t exchange money.)
On our last day of riding I let all the men ride my Crusoe. You should have seen the smiles! Takahashi san and Tomioka san, our support riders, seemed especially impressed. They knew I hadn’t been slow because of the small wheels - it’s the engine that counts. [I don't believe this! I've ridden with Jackie and she's a powerhouse; she must have been enjoying the scenery too much. As one should! - Ed]
We rode into Kushiro, the only big city we’d been to, and before checking in we repacked our bikes, ready for the airport the next morning. In five days, none of the eight bikes had a single flat tire, no falls, no problems - unless not having a yen counts. After another hot bath we walked to a restaurant for a celebratory last meal, and oh, what a meal it was! Dish after dish of the best dining I’ve had anywhere.
At the end, I knew I could use my credit card in the Tokyo Narita airport to buy lunch, but before I could, I was bumped to Business Class where I have to report that they do indeed live better than you or I. After a couple of hours, eating and drinking for free, I was boarded ahead of the crowd and royally wined and dined. I then turned my seat into a flat bed and slept through the night. Ah, yes. Japan without a yen.
Perfect.
Jackie Link, www.jackielink.net
Bike Friday Club of San Francisco Co-Leader, CA
Tour group: Paul, a Londoner living in Shanghai; Sangaroon from Bangkok; Yoshimoto and Yoshio, brothers from So. California; and Ai from Singapore. Support: Leader/translator: Yohei; bus driver: Sakaguchi san; support riders: Tomioka san and Takahashi san.
To plan your next trip to Japan, see "Living Abroad in Japan" by BF's Ruthy Kanagy Read excerpts at LivingAbroadinJapan.com