Date

2022-10-18, Tuesday

Distance

93.32 km biked (492.78 km in total)

From Otoineppu northward, we have the choices to go to Wakkanai via National Route 40 then head to Cape Soya or to bike along the shore to get to Cape Soya. We choose the latter, for even though we are curious how the northernmost city of Japan looks like, we don’t want to delay our journey further. Snowing season is approaching.

Light showers have been on and off since this morning when we embarked from Bifuka. The weather in this part of Hokkaido is absolutely wild. Not long after we resumed our biking ritual, the skies cleared — just enough for us to take off our rain gear — only to be pelted in the face by a sudden hailstorm. As we scrambled to put our gear back on, the sun popped right out again. After getting played by the weather too many times, we finally learned our lesson: by the afternoon, we were bundled up tight for the long ride north.

I think we are getting more and more accustomed to biking after sunset. We are lucky in that it seems that most people are heading to Wakkanai via National Route 40 from Otoineppu so National Route 275 we picked had very light traffic. This is particularly a bonus when we climb a hill and need space to take a break. When I was climbing a hill, always in the rain, a car tooted and pulled out next to me, then a couple handed over me a bag containing hot tea and snacks and said: ‘Take this. Drink it. It’s warm. 頑張ってね！(Ganbatte-ne!)’ This gesture of kindness immediately made us so encouraged and grateful! It feels really good to have someone showing us support on an unusual journey.

There are many signs on the road warning people to be mindful of animal crossing. We find it funny that in Hokkaido, these animals include deers, bears, and even domestic cows!

We were able to make it all the way to Hamatombetsu by the end of the day. On this rainy night, we found a shelter, which is a roofed stage, in a park next to a lake. The lake is truly a swan lake — there are countless swans warbling on the surface of the water, making a lot of noise at night. We have come to called this place 'Piggy Swan Lake' (豬天鵝湖) and these creatures ‘piggy swans’ because the mascot of this town is a pig embedded inside a swan, resulting in a weird looking fusion that's meant to represent ‘the fairy of the lake’ (湖の妖精). It’s by far the least flattering mascot I have ever seen in my life! These piggy swans are so loud at night that my friend thinks its icon was designed in such an ugly way because the locals hated them.

We also took advantage of the fact that an onsen hotel was located nearby to have a warm shower and a bath in the hot spring. Let’s hope it does good to my left knee!

Another peculiarity about Japanese people’s obsession with cleanliness is that in most public toilets I have been to, signs are everywhere to teach users on how to flush the toilet. They require that in order to ‘prevent the spread of the germ’, the toilet lid be closed before flushing. And the toilet seat be disinfected using appropriate materials. I don’t understand how this way of flushing the toilet helps to prevent the spread of the germ. Can someone tell?