Japan - Kyushu Day 9, The Waves That Crash

Come what may, today's morning is my last on the wet island of Kyushu for a while. At least until another stretch of vacation comes my way. Unsure of the future, I took a few moments to embrace this morning sunrise. Despite not being the most elegant or inspiring scene, it held true the predictions, for the day at least, of rain and wind.

Today's errands are not at all exciting, I'll warn you now. It's been a little over a week of getting on my bike everyday and cycling a good if not great amount of traveling distance. So, with my home in Tosa city about 220km away, and through a route I was already familiar with, I mostly kept my eyes forward and enjoyed the nice ride from the central mountain ranges down to the coastal city of Saiki without taking many pictures. There, I'd hop on the ferry back to Shikoku.

Morning view outside my tent. Not holding my breadth for much sun today, the air already is moist and heavy.

And so I rode,  and rode about 80km down to the docks to catch my boat. The winds arrived at the end of the ride, just enough to push me in the right direction of the ferry terminal. And when I did arrive, all before breakfast or quick convenience store rest, I realized I'd have to wait an hour before the three hour ride back to my home island. 

Quickly after buying my ticket ($47 and change for me and my bike) I switched out of my clothes and into something looser and dryer than the moist spandex that has been my uniform these last nine days. 

Finally on the boat home, I quickly fell asleep under a well used rectangular foam pillow on the matted floor, the appropriate space for general travelers. Divided into six areas and partitioned by a simple grid of low reaching shelves (enough for currious children to tippy toe their questioning eyes over), families and other people claimed their space and we all fit comfortably with ease. Some people ate, some people began reading, most did as I and rested.

When I did wake up, it was was with a quick and immediate sense of trepidation that snapped me from groggy to alert. I looked around and many people where anxiously looking out the window, many people looked nervous. 

Taking a survey of my surroundings yielded a sobering feeling, the ferry boat rocked from left to right hard in the outside water, the sides of the ferry colliding rough against the waves; so much so that if I was to look outside my nearby window I could see the bottom of the sea at one moment, and be aimed at the ominous sky the next. We were being rocked heavily against the waves which battered us with impunity. 

After a while of being shook awake by the waves, we settled down a bit and I managed to sneak outside to watch the great sea. The snappy, salty wind rushed into the cabin hallway as I opened the door and knocked over some free standing flyers behind me. I shut the door, grabbed an outdoor rail, and made my way down to the viewing area reserved for passengers.  

You can't tell from the photo but the small propeller on this model airplane twirled so very very fast you'd think it was ready to zip off on its own.

I am trying to capture here the degree of tilt that the ferry swayed with. Take a look at the bottom cross, right next to the dingy boat. Compared to the sea line underneath it, we swayed back and forth heavily for a good enough time to silence the guests. Fortunately enough, I've never been sea sick. I cannot say the same for some unlucky soul who locked himself in the men's toilet stall. 

Despite looking calm at most times, waves took turns crashing into alternate sides of the ferry, creating huge shots of white water that sprayed me as I stayed outside for a while, peering off into a vanishing horizon of sea salt and rainy clouds. 

As we came between the two islands, the waters calmed until only the normal back and forth of any boat rocking was slightly felt. Staying outside through it all makes you feel so uncomfortably helpless. For if anything serious were to happen, I question how long anyone of us would survive the cold, open water. 

They say space maybe the final frontier, but there areas of the ocean we can still not reach, species we have not confronted, and a wealth to learn for underwater excavations. Ass the old adage goes, the ocean provides.

Once across and back on my own turf, the day had already crossed into afternoon/early ravening with a good 130 km left on the trip home. I reasoned that since I had rested for a good time on the ferry that I should make the trip. After all, being so close, I was eager to lay in my bed again. 

But, I was hungry. Starving really, I hadn't eaten more than a vending machine snack all day. So I put a corner store snack on hold in exchange for quick 20km to the next town for some real food. And, I found it.

Looking back, I guess I was too hungry to snap a photo of the Udon I had at the restaurant. Yet I do remember the conversation I had with the waitress. She was currious about my bike and handed me some more tempura after I told her where'd I'd been the last few days. She didn't like the sound of me taking on 130 km with only three or four hours left of sunlight, and all I could do was to shrug my shoulders. 

Despite that, I couldn't help a feeling that she might be right. A sigh is all I gave myself when I realized that I'd be one more day on the road. Not because I would stay one more night outdoors but because I had wanted to take on a 200+km/day fully loaded ride, at this would be my last chance. Oh well, nothing for nothing, I still found a sweet spot to camp and am supper happy to set up a space wilhile the sun was still warm and the Mosquitos not yet on the hunt. 

Not bad huh? Yeah, it's ideal for all intents and purposes. A table, some cover, and a level ground. Knowing that tomorrow will be a familiar route back home means I can switch over to auto pilot, kick up my feet, and cruise on home with little dismay. Oh, what a life.

Ok peoples, I'm hopping offline now. I'll be back tomorrow with a last entry and future plans. 

Much Love,

-A