To Kamikochi and Back: The Finale

The last two days were an absolute sprint out of the mountains and down the coast. I ended up pushing it a little too hard and didn't have the energy to write in the evenings, so I'm writing this post factum.

19/05/04 - Day 7

The mountains I came from

Came out after 48 hours off the bike, ready to get some mileage under my belt. On the way to Kamikochi, I had  been steadily rising for 5 days, barring a few dives into the cities tucked away in the valleys. That meant I had a 67km downhill saunter from 1400m to sea level. The weather was hot, not a cloud in the sky, so I loaded up on sun cream and set out on the road back home.

With the momentum of all my junk balanced on the back, I really flew down. Got to my intended campsite by about 1pm without doing anything you would call cycling. I just sat there, clutching at the breaks occasionally, watching the world go by. My wrists were more sore than my legs.

It would have been a shame to waste such lovely weather, and this seemed a good chance to see how far I could go in a day. I decided to get back on my bike, and powered on another 63km to Kurobe. Arrived as night fell, my first ever sunset to sundown. 130km in a day. Took a quick onsen bath, set up camp in the dark with my head-torch, and promptly passed out.

19/05/05 - Day 8

The Beach

Got up the next day with a measly 46km ride to Itoigawa on the coastal road. Now in my mind, Coastal road means flat easy riding next to the sea. The coastal road between Kurobe and Itoigawa was not like that. In fact, it's basically steep cliffs dropping into the sea. Apparently travelers of old used to camp in caves at the bottom of the cliffs, and would be trapped in them for weeks if the weather turned nasty and the waves rose.

The Cliffs

I was forced to climb back up into these terrifying half-tunnels they have here to protect the roads from snow and falling rocks. Made it to Itoigawa for lunch, back on my home turf in the prefecture of Niigata. I don't think I have a strong Japanese accent, but apparently I do. I had been having trouble getting myself understood for large chunks of the trip, especially in Nagano. I don't know if it was psychological or what, but as soon as I crossed the border line suddenly I was fluent again and everyone could understand what I was saying.

First sign of home.

The last bit of the route I've ridden loads of times before, a lovely bike path along an actual coastal road. Again, I was planning on camping in Itoigawa, but again I decided to push on. The promise of sleeping in my own bed with an actual mattress called me home too strong.

I pulled into town exhausted, quite possibly heat stroked, but victorious, 2 days before schedule. I've spent the last few days recovering, as Sunday I could hardly walk. Turns out I can do 220 km in two days, but I definitely shouldn't.

Post Game Reflections

I love doing this, and will be going full steam ahead with the China plan. When you cycle a long distance, you get into a somewhat zen-like state where you aren't focused on your thoughts. They just kinda float about, sorting out your problems in the background. There are no distractions, just me and the bike and the place I'm going. I hope I can keep up this positive mind set when I'm weeks or months into the long haul. 106 days and counting till I hop on the ferry.

I was mainly worried about being alone for over a week, but actually it's quite refreshing. It has however turned me into one of those weird people who start awkward conversations with you if you sit down next to them for too long. Some of the conversations were less awkward. I met a 60 year old guy walking home from Joetsu to Tokyo, a Mountaineer from Osaka who had been hiking up all the highest peaks in the Japanese Alps, and a couple from Korea who had quit teaching to cycle round Japan for 3 months. I am not alone in being crazy.

I also learned a lot about what is actually important on a long distance ride, and have come out with a whole new packing list. Hopefully I wont have to spend the first week in China buying things I need (or replacing stuff I stupidly forgot at home like my ground sheet.)

Best Stuff

3) Rain gear (jacket and trousers) from a workman's store. Just as good as the North Face #swankycampgear equivalent, at 1/10th of the price.

2) A bag of plastic bin liners, on my Mum's advice, that kept my camp gear dry in the rain and my dirty clothes separate from the clean ones.

1) My bike, I love her.

Worst Stuff

3) Ski Jacket. It's huge, and it never got cold enough to really need it. Walked around with it on in Kamikochi, but ended up carrying it when the sun came out.

2) Those damn shoes I started with. Gave me blisters, and almost lost my toes to frostbite. Much happier with my waterproof lavender abominations.

1) Loving a bike is much like being in love with a person. When you love the bike, everything that goes right re-affirms your affection. Everything that goes wrong... well that's not the bike's fault, it's just a difficult part it has. That said, I have a deep, burning hate for the front derailleur, where you have to be going at Mach 5 to get into the lowest gear. Heading to the bike shop right after this to get it adjusted.

Back in one piece.

To Kamikochi and Back: Part 2

19/04/30 - Day 4

What was originally meant to be a rest day turned out to be my highest mileage day yet. Had a bit of a slow start, because apparently 2 beers is enough to give me a bit of a hangover these days. Got up with the mission of getting a ground sheet and making inroads on the 158. Turns out sports stores in Japan are crap, and only sell ground sheets in with a tent. I guess Japanese people never leave them at home. Ended up getting a rather lovely blue tarp I found at the home center next door. It isn't exactly #swankycampgear, but it will do the job.

Set out towards the mountains, which looked ominously cloudy, foreshadowing what was almost the catastrophic end of my trip. I was trundling up happily enough, when I saw one of those digital signs giving out warnings. It said some fairly confusing things in Japanese, but from what I could gather, the upper part of the 158 was closed for some reason. The only other way through is a toll-tunnel for cars only. Lacking 2 wheels and a motor, I was a tad worried I wouldn't get by.

Got to the nearest information center. The guy there is absolutely lovely, but has no idea what I was talking about. Thankfully he called someone who did. The 158 mountain pass is closed, because it is still completely covered in snow. And it won't open again till the end of may. At this point I'm starting to panic. I really don't want to head back the way I came with my tail between my legs, but it's starting to look unavoidable. In a last ditch attempt to score a lift, I suggest maybe a car could give me and the bike a lift or something... My lovely guy jumps back on the phone. After some quick back and forth excitedly informs me that I can throw my bike on a bus at a stop half way up, as long as I put the bike in a bike bag. Overjoyed that I a) wouldn't have to go home early, and b) wouldn't have to climb the highest and worst bit of the 158 guilt free, I headed back into town to buy said bike bag.

I was so overjoyed in fact, that I pushed through some mental barriers and got even further up than attempt 1. Now camping in a deserted park next to a dam, full of beautiful cherry blossoms with no one but me to see them.
38km + 14km down + 19km back up = 71km! Nice going kid.

19/05/01 - Day 5

Started off the day real early, all packed and ready to go by 7. See I had woken up at 5 and couldn't get back to sleep on account of the nerves starting to grow in the pit of my stomach. From the Dam to the bus stop, I'd have to pass through 9 tunnels, two of which were over 1000m long.

Fear is a funny thing. I was anxious about the tunnels all the way up, cresting into full blown dread as I prepared to enter the first one. They are long, narrow, dark, and a good fifth of the traffic here is giant tour buses lugging people up to the nature. The reality though is often far better than what your fear builds it up to be. I could do with remembering that a little more often in everyday life. Going to work on Monday mornings, big parties with loads of people, doing the dishes... its never as bad as you imagined it would be.

Anyway, I'd come this far, and there was no other way round. I waited for a break in the traffic and took the plunge. Adrenaline kicked in big time, so I didn't stop and flew through as fast as I could all the way out the top.*

After the tunnels, everything was peachy. Well, comparatively so. It started chucking it down with rain, but I was so relieved to be alive that I didn't care. Made it to the bus stop, had a much needed bath at an onsen, then stuffed my bike in a bag to get on the bus. Got to Hirayu, where I dropped off my unneeded stuff and bike at the place I'd be staying on the 3rd.

The next two days I'd be camping up in Kamikochi, which meant another bus into the national park. Everyone at the bottom told me not to bother going with all the rain, but I had no where else to be, so I figured I'd risk it. Things were looking pretty grim, but the rain let up at 6pm, so I seized my chance and set up camp. 2 beers later, I was fast asleep in every single piece of clothing I'd brought, as the temperature dropped to about 2°C overnight.**

19/05/02 - Day 6

Woke up in the National park, glad to see the sun peaking through the clouds. I thought about sleeping and lounging about the tent all day, but it would have been a real sin not to walk around a bit after coming all this way. Ended up hiking about 15km up and down the river, but compared to the daily 45km+ up to this point, it felt pretty easy on the legs.

Where winter meets spring

When I planned this trip, a few people told me I was going too early. Turns out they were for the most part right. Spring takes a long time to make it this far up the river, and had only just really arrived. Snow still sat in the shadows, and none of the spring flowers had yet come into bloom.

As I am alone, I spent the larger part of the day people watching. Kamikochi is an interesting place. Near the center, there are a bunch of ridiculously expensive hotels and lodges for the super rich to experience The Nature™. The paths are flat and easy. Everyone on them is out in their prada and gucci. It really is the wild, cornered off and made safe for easy consumption. Capitalism's commodification of nature, exhibit A.

Spotted these two mad lads
hiking up with full packs AND snowboards

Step 20 minutes outside the center, and it's a completely different story. There you see the real pros, dressed to the nines, ready to take on the mountains. Helmets, ice picks, crampons, #swankycampgear galore. Kamikochi for them is just the first checkpoint on long treks up to the nearby peaks.

I felt under dressed for both camps, so resorted to watching the two tribes mingle and eating a bunch of ice cream.***

19/05/03 - Day 7

Took it even easier today, and mozied on out of Kamikochi at about 3. Good bye, you've been good to me. I headed back down to Hirayu to stay in a fancy ryokan, before charging down to the coast for the home stretch. I've had little internet or phone charge for the last two days, so I haven't been replying to messages, or keeping up with the world in general. It's been bliss. Now I'm back, so I'm writing this. Stay tuned for the final chapter. Who knows, I may not even have to go shopping next time.

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*Anyone who is foolish enough to bike anywhere in Japan will inevitably hit tunnels. Unless there is a really wide hard shoulder, my advice is to take an

aggressive line and make cars go round you wide into the other lane. Unless it is a giant tour bus. Then you hug the wall and pray.

** Thank you Lorna for getting me that giant -10°C sleeping bag! When it first came I thought it was a tad unnecessarily bulky, but now I'm in love. Top 5 birthday presents ever.

*** Of course, I am being rather hyperbolic. I'm sure plenty of visitors were just normal people up for the day to get some fresh mountain air. Kamikochi's accessibility gives everyone a chance to see the Japanese Alps in all their glory without having to invest thousands of pounds in camp-wear.