Japan Exodus - Day 11: Familiarizing Fatigue

"I don't know what happened", Kyle said to me this morning. "I got a good nights sleep, but I am still tired." I nodded my head in agreement. What he was feeling were the beginnings of the fatigue.

Fatigue of cycling everyday to be sure. There is also a mental fatigue, and an environmental fatigue that grasps you after a certain time on the road. This was the reason I ended up living in Thailand for a year. The fatigue of travel had worn on me. All I wanted was to have a door in my life, and not a tent flap.

He nor I are ate that point yet, but the fatigue can really wear you down without warning symptoms. It's also just a natural outcome to doing almost the same thing everyday; we wake up, pack our tents, cycle, enjoy the scenery and surroundings, eat, and do it all again. Despite the awesomeness, touring cyclists still feel the same fatigue a salary man might from punching the same clock every morning before spacing out at work and returning home.

The rest stop we found ourselves at in the morning hours were surrounded by mountains and sea. The mountains grabbed my attention. The way that any steep slope could be terraced is amazing to me, furthermore to have put to use for crop production, the manner in which people actually live in single room houses along the mountainous paths that one can only approach by foot, it all reminds me very much of my own mountain heritage born from the unforgiving Ecuadorian mountains. If you have never, go google images and stats on Cotopaxi and Chimborazo.  

Breakfast. You know when you're a kid and your parents would not let you eat what you want, like ice cream for dinner? This somehow is especially true when it came to breakfast. My parents seemed to automatically recite that popular phrase, "breakfast is the most important meal of the day." I disagree, and have even cut out breakfast entirely when I was working in Japan and for the better.

Point is, now that I'm older, eating chocolate for breakfast feels so wrong, but oh so right! It really is moments like these that I am afraid get over looked by adults. We forget, or take for granted, the amazing freedom denied to us as children! I mean, don't you ever remember wishing you weren't in school, how'd you'd rather be at the park or with your friends or reading a book? Well rejoice! We have that freedom! Just takes a moment to realize it.

Kyle doing morning stretches with the old folks who woke us up this AM. Not intentionally of course. We choose to camp in their public parks, and these people have their workout routines all ready to go with or without us. 

Before we left, we decided to walk through the fish market to see what there was to see. Marine life always fascinated me, more than Terran species, just because there is still so much to be explored. Did you know that there exists a type of photosynthesis that doesn't require light?! It's the only way things can live in the dark depths of the ocean 

There are somethings that photography does right. I believe the power of photography lays in its function to capture something in time that happens to quickly or too rarely to appreciate at normal life speed. However, for creatures like this, swimming around with their mouth fingers and waving fins, photography doesn't due justice. I wish I could show you a video of these marine animals gently swimming around their tank, it's so amazing to see them swim through the water.

Check out this fish guy up top. The fisherman coughs two for one, as it seems the top fish was mid meal.

Ah, the coast. That special place where land and sea touch. I have always loved this in between area, with different worlds, even opposing worlds on either side of me. I feel comfort in cycling these roads, and today, we cycled all along the western coast of Shikoku. I could not be more at ease than I was today, passing through the villages, mountains, and sea.

Kyle, trucking along a steepish hill. Looks like he is still enjoying himself! 

Kyle has a natural talent for findings just off the side of the road we happen to find ourselves on. He saw a sign a few kilometers back telling of a fish-god monument. No reason to not go, but I almost missed the dang thing seeing as the turn off happened while going up hill, and I was apparently too busy keeping rhythm to pay much mind. 

The path way down to the monument was not kept up with high standards of manicured gardens that come so frequently in Japan. It was very easy to see that this place had almost been forgotten over the years, that people have stopped praying to the fish-god for a good catch. Or maybe thats the way the locals wanted it. 

In any case, we walked down the shabby path of brown shrub and uneven rocks to reach this monolith of stone facing the sea. If you looked at the edifice from the correct angle, you can start to make out the silhouette of a fish in the sky between the two beams. Not by accident, I am sure.   

The first kanji character here is "sakana" which is Japanese for fishs. Thats all I know haha. But I understand the idea behind the sentence, even if I couldn't tell you the phonetic pronunciation of the characters. Kanji are unusual to alpha-roman alphabet letters this way; the former represent ideas even before being paired with anything else. 

I wouldn't not let the un-kept overall lay of the land keep me from thinking that the locals did not hold some respect to this place. Here, on a random bush near the monolith, a sing is planted in plant. It reads "Arigotougosaimasu" or, thank you very much.

Along the way since about the beer tour, there has appeared a blue line along the side of the road, a guiding line assuring us that we were following "the cyclists" path. It lists the next biggest your destinatio in km. This way, we have a rough sketch of not only how far we've gone for the day, but whether or not we want to push on to the next point. Mind you, there is very little between points. 

Sometime around lunch became a good time to call for a break. We stopped at a local mini mart and cycled another 2 km to rest at this beautiful beach to enjoy our individual bento boxes. Half way done, and I already feel like a win.

The scene is so nice that newly weds come down for some poised photography. Not my jam, but I can understand why some people are into it.

Quick note: In Asia, the sequence goes: pictures in full wedding attire first, then wedding. This way, the new couple can show off all the "fun" they've had, and how cute they look together on their big day. It works I guess. Anyways, so much for not seeing the wife in her white dress before the ceremony; different cultures, no one has all the answers.

Kyle up ahead. This remains the last picture of the coast for the day. Not because it wasn't beautiful, not because I was too focused and day-dreamed to stop. No, rather, because it started to rain. Sprinkles at first, then a little more. 

I started to plead with the sky, "Nooo, not yet. Just give us a little more time." But the rain could not be held back any longer. Next thing I know, I'm cursing our luck, "I. Hate. The. Rain." Four words for four pedal strokes. All the way up a nasty, wet hill, "I. Hate. The. Rain." 

And down a hill I went too fast on. But, desperation makes one do crazy things. Kyle was right behind me. The rain was now a sheet of water that we had the dis-privilege of navigating. We stopped under a truck garage, checked the map for a hide out, and pushed on to Mr. Doughnuts! in hope of waiting out a rain that turned out to be very stubborn.

After several cups of coffee and a long hesitation to put back on the wet clothes we thought somehow would dry outside off our bike frames, we finished the day with a 7km ride into the city proper and began looking for cover.

Oh, we found cover alright. Excellent cover. I'll tell you about it tomorrow. For now, know that we are very well at the sushi restaurant just across the path, and had no qualms about the day once our bellys had been filled with delicious sushi rice and fish.

Hey! Even snuck in some red miso soup. Not much else better to cure a good case of traveler's fatigue than a bowl of soup you crave.

The day was over. That's what I could say. We had survived a down pour in the rain. I didn't say it, but I think Kyle understands a little more now why I hate cycling in the rain. Clothes and tents get a certain dampness that won't evaporate, that wet smell lingers, you feel cold even though the night is ripe with humidity. But we had survived. And for now, that is enough.

Love from afar,

-A