MToday marks the beginning of week number seven out of an allowed twelve in Japan. Not much time, better pedal faster.
My sister has come and gone, and the era of the cycling siblings has come to a happy end. Now, like the beginning of a second book in a series, it's time to introduce new characters, new plots, new adventures, and new revelations aimed toward (re)invention rather than some unknown discovery.
To begin, I am once again homeless. A cycling nomad. What's more, yesterday I didn't have the slightest goal or prayer to wish away if I found a dandelion. What I do have is a bike, a tent, a few clothes, no schedule, my iPod, half a can of pork 'n' beens, and a direction. North. North is a good direction to go when summer approaches; those ice and mountain views are more accessible by way of warmer winds and the longer days.
From the airport where I dropped off my sister and back up to Osaka I went, moving steadily, allowing every thought that entered my mind an appropriate amount of attention somewherein-between immediate dismissal and endless contemplation. Along the way, semi lost in a daydream stint, I came in acquaintance with another man who in similar cycling shoes sought accompaniment towards something grand. Life provides.
"Go" is the kind of man who would cycle around the world at the drop of a hat, eats anything just for the experience, loves beer and baseball, and who doesnt dismiss something for the weak argument that it may be "too touristy." A Japanese man from Wakayama, living in Kyoto. He and I have gotten along just fine.
Friendship aligned, now our schedule falls into place. It just so happens, by luck, that these next few days fall on a short national holiday in Japan: Golden Week. Almost everyone from school children to government officials are released from their obligations of labour for money exchange or service and given a golden pass, so to say. The pun is too obviouse to skim; my new friend and I are to fully abuse these days, we'll rigourously wring-out every possible opportunistic drop of state issued freedom and not flounder this "golden" week.
We decided that the day after Go's last university class concludes, we will cycle our way to Fuji.
This is Go. Nothing for nothing, we've managed to click together nicely. A university student and living in Kyoto, Go is no stranger to a cyclist's solitary life on the road. He has the credentials. A trip last year, alone, almost identical to my own; from Singapore, through Malaysia and Thaialnd, Vietnam and China on his metal and pedaled steed. Therefore, he is also personally familiar to benefits to having another, yours truly, supplement the journey, because he knows all too well the differences between riding alone and cycling with a friend.
Here he is researching routes in his apartment. Full blooded, educated, and reared in Japan, Go is able to make sense out of the handy Mapples book; a map, route and tourist sight guide sis and I could never utilize fully for our lack of familiarity with the script of the language.
It didn't take us long to decide where to go. Mount Fuji is close enough to manage an excursion from Kyoto within the given week, epic enough to weigh out the sacrifice, big enough to pose a challenge, more than mystic enough to cherish, and ideal in the sense that neither Go nor I have ever seen the great symbolic volcano or stood at its world Herritage base. We plan, of course, to cycle up her.
Go's fully loaded bike. It's a Surley, just as Chris', Rajiv's, and mine. Slightly altered to fit him, it's a strong bike that serves just fine. Didn't ask if Go gave it name or not.
This is day one of a new journey. Hair is getting long!
Right then, enough preamble. You look at this breakfast picture and wonder if we'll ever make it atop Fuji should we keep eating like this. Well, the bananas are full of potassium that help us keep hydrated through the many cycles of rehydration we will go through. Carbs in the bread help maintain the feeling of "full" as long as possible because 1. you don't want to feel hungry as you ride, that will lead to 2. pulling over and interrupting a good cycling momentum. Unlike my trip with sis, go and I are on the clock here, so it's time to put in work.
The white icing suger is certainly bad for our bodies if we were to stay at home and watch movies. Conversely, sugar is not great for cycling either because it will make you dehydrated, faster. But, the energy processed from the icing is needed when, like us, you are putting out more calories than putting in.
On the road. Day one has begun and the first visit is to a lake that Go has cycled around more than once. The lake's circumfrance of about 200km solidified my trust in his experience.
Buildings along the edge of the lake reminds me very much of the smaller Lake Merritt in Oakalnd, Ca.
A nice silhouette of fishermen, of which there were many.
Two green Surley bikes ready for more.
Never forget lunch. Raw eggs are something you might see served with some meals in Japan. Remember that if you get an egg in its shell here, it's likely to be raw.
This device easily separates the yolk part of the egg so you can decide: do I want egg whites or yolk? It's all yellow protein for me please.
We cycled a lot this first day, more than 160km across a few small mountains leading out of Kyoto. I don't always take so many pictures on such long days, though I'm glad I did this day because of the sun ray effects shining through the clouds.
Sunshine on our shoulders as we let the light guide us to victory.
At about 16:00 we arrived in Ise. This, and the very unique, very new shrine (explained shortly) are to be the first "first" as Go nor I have either been to this town before. So what? Many of the towns I've seen are for the first time and many I'll never see a second time around. That's part of traveling. Yet this is a rare part of old style Japan and so it remains an aesthetic and cultural stand out.
Large metal cars that made their way on to this road are conspicuous and apparent; they immediately clash with the hand built wooden houses and store shops that charm up this small village.
Absolutely beautiful dark wooden architecture and design patterned in angled textures; the distinct smell of moist bark and cold nails fills the air.
A wooden bridge that takes us over the water and into the forests where the Ise shrine is hidden.
This is a great example of how Japanese shrines subtly incorporate their presence into nature: these wide stone steps give visitors the chance to stay at the river's bank and walk in comfortably should anyone enjoy the time.
A long walk down eloquently maintained gardens.
Hedges, bushes, trees, and flowers are all looked after with so much attention; anything is rarely overgrown or out of place. But don't get me wrong. You don't get that nervous/apprehensive feeling of walking on eggshells in a well kept place. You know that feeling which comes along with, let's say, living with a super anal roommate who writes superfluous instructions regarding how to correctly wash your toothbrush every month or the correct way to fold the guest hand towels. Everything is rather peaceful here and inspires serenity.
I've seen this tree support frame many times and find the difference in how such a tree would be treated in America fascinating. Back home, this tree would not exist. The parks and rec department would have pulled it years ago.
I never got a clear answer to why this branch is held up on the pillar. Similar branches are placed at certain points in the shrine as well. Looks like it's been there a long time.
Here we are, the Ise shrine. Pictures are not allowed inside so you'll have to appreciate the few angles that anyone can snap from around the perimeter or between missed attentions of the omnipresent guard.
Once inside, you find a prayer sight right away. Never skip on this opportunity; so much of everyday life begins as luck from a chance encounter with a stranger, or from the fortune of being in the right place at the right time, or from those small coincidences with huge reprocussuins, that you ought not to forget to step away from it all and give thanks.
You might be thinking, "that wood looks...new. How old is this shrine? It's surely not as old as the wooden homes just outside the shrine gates..." And you'd be absolutely right. This shrine is actually only one year old. Stay with me.
The reason for the incongruity between the age of the town and shrine is this: the shrine is ritually destroyed every twenty years. And for good reason; for every twenty years that the shrine is purposefully destroyed and rebuilt, a new generation is trained in the art of architecture and construction in addition to the ceremonies involved with building a holy sight. I know I'm not supposed to qualify cultural customs but I really admire this practice.
So hungry! We cycled hard today and deserve this udon meal.
New tip Go taught me: if you don't finish your broth you can order MORE noodles for a mere ¥50!! Eat up!
After the meal and shrine, it was time to find a good spot to rest.
Problem was, there weren't many parks around. We did however see a campsight on google maps, so we hurried over, cycled up a very steep mountain to find that.....that there was no camp sight. But, Go did managed to meet the owner of the building where our camp sight supposedly was and turned us on to a small park where we could spend the already encompassed night.
When we came to the park and got off our bikes, this man stood alone under a light post.
You know, most people who hang out in quiet parks, alone, sparking conversations with traveling strangers late at night are probably selling drugs or up to something in my mind. Maybe an act to rob us. That's my jaded urban and hyper critical/paranoid part of my upbringing telling me we shouldn't probably give this guy too much attention. Let's just move on and get to the other side of the park I thought to myself.
And even though I tend to follow my gut here, he asked us something in Japanese and we ended up following him into a house. Not knowing what was said between Go and the stranger, I figured we were being invited into his home. I was wrong. As my friend Hyro said when Sis asked if she should lock her bike, "hey, this is Japaaaaan." Accordingly, this guy who I took for a drug dealer turns out to be a drum dealer. Taiko drums. And so goes our second "first," spontaneously playing a new instrument.
A taiko drum student for ten years, our new ally is also a good teacher and an excellent musician. His beatings against the stretched out, dried cow skin where loud and boisterous. You could feel the air move each time he raised his arm high over head with bouton in hand before it came thundering down, colliding with the drum to make that unmistakable beat reminiscent of war. Feelings of a beastial persona stirred within me.
Of course, we had to give it a go ourselves.
The drums were numerous and the room built to amplify the sound of an already incredibly loud pounded beat.
These drums are really huge up close and in person.
Already tired from the day and impromptu taiko drum lesson, I practically put up my tent as I fell asleep. I didn't even hear the peacock, natoriously territorial and quite loud, mini zoo that we awoke next too.
Yes, we camped next to a mini zoo and slept just fine.
If you're keeping track, that's three firsts in all. 1. Toured Ise shrine; 2. Played a taiko drum for the first time ever; 3. According to Go's cycling computer, we put in 185km (115 miles), fully loaded - that's his longest stretch on bike with panniers, good going!
Phew! That's a lot to cover and it's just our first day! We've made it more than a way to Fuji, if we cycle like this again we'll arrive tomorrow!!
Much love my friends,
-A
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