Date

2022-11-01, Tuesday

Distance

42.89 km (1245.18 km in total)

At blue hour, I set out for a photo shoot at Kushiro’s iconic bridge, where the Four Seasons Ladies sculptures stood gracefully along the railings. With the soft light of dawn reflecting off the river and a faint sea mist rising, the bronze figures seemed to glow.

Later, after soaking in the quiet beauty alone, with my friend we made our way uphill to Kushiro Shrine. Nestled in the forest and wrapped in morning stillness, the shrine offered a peaceful contrast to the bustling waterfront — a serene spot to pause, reflect, and start the day with intention.

Today, I feel like Super Mario who can break all obstacles after eating a super mushroom. This Super mode was attained thanks to two encounters with good people in and near Kushiro.

The first happened when we stopped by a convenience store in the city, a retired man initiated a conversation with us. In his youth, he had studied in the UK for 4 years, hence in his old age he could still speak a bit of English. During these years aboard he used to hitchhike throughout Europe and was so profoundly touched by people’s hospitality that once back to Japan, he tried to pass down the same gesture by hosting exchange students and inviting us to have a lunch with him and his wife.

Kushiro’s population has shrunk to half in the past 50 years due to job shortage. Their children too are among the expats working in Tokyo who will probably never return to Hokkaido (in the couple’s own words). They speak less and less to each other in this increasingly lonely retired life. They said our appearance made them genki (元氣, in good spirit) again.

When being on the receiving end, I have always assumed I am the one who benefits; this let me feel beholden to people. I never thought I could be on the giving end too. I think I have come to understand a bit better what someone I met in 2009 while biking across Canada explained to me: that everyone in every encounter is a giver and a taker at the same time; it’s futile to demarcate the two.

The second encounter happened when we resumed our biking ritual toward the next town Shiranuka. An old lady pulled out her car on the side of the country road to offer us home-grown grappes and snacks. She seemed to be immensely sorry that her vehicle was too small to give us a ride. Upon learning that we usually sleep outdoor in a tent, she put a scarf on my friend’s neck and said: ‘Take this.’ We had limited conversation due to language barrier, but her good heart really warmed us up.

I have been telling my friend how ‘unfriendly’ (of shy in their own word) Japanese people are, compared with my fellow Canadians. Every time something happens, I would tell her in such a situation, how Canadians would behave. For instance, when I get visibly lost, Canadians would come to offer help without my asking, but Japanese people just pass me by. When I have difficulty in handling my heavy bike, Canadians would lend me a hand but Japanese just watch me struggling. And the instances abound. My friend used to say that Japan is a different nation with different mindset embedded in its culture, comparing the two groups of people using the same standard is unfair. Now that she has experienced the same level of hospitality I am accustomed to, she has no word to describe her feelings. It can be addictive, I told her.

At the end of the day, we arrived in Shiranuka. After a simple dinner in a local restaurant, a couple who had been to Taiwan came to encourage us. When we went for a bath at a community centre, in the dressing room two ladies also initiated a conversation with us and showed great interest in our endeavour. I don’t know if there is any cultural difference between the northern and the southern parts of Hokkaido, but it seems that we had more chance to speak with Japanese people in the south …

The full take — 20 more photographs from this day