Date

2022-12-03, Saturday

Distance

13.40 km biked (2937.93 km in total)

Still not recovered from yesterday's exhaustion, we were in no rush to get moving. We didn’t check out of the hotel until around noon — a remarkably late start by our usual standards. Our plan for the day was loose: spend the first half exploring the town centre, then pedal westward for as long as our legs — and spirits — would carry us. There was no milestone, no finish time set. Everything hinged on how well (or unwell) we felt after the previous day's brutal climb.

Our pilgrimage to the Hakone Open-Air Museum was an easy ride downhill. With over 120 sculptures spreading across the grounds, the outdoor space alone was a feast for the senses. The park's layout was intuitive and well thought out: densely packed with art, yet never overwhelming. Even more inspiring was the museum’s commitment to emerging talent, regularly showcasing temporary installations by up-and-coming artists. Works by the same artist, like the powerful pieces by Henry Moore, were thoughtfully grouped together, often by form or aesthetic.

What left the strongest impression, for me personally though, was Gabriel Loire’s Symphonic Sculpture — a hollow tower adorned with 480 stained-glass panels on its sidewall. Inside, a spiral staircase allows the visitors to climb to the top of the tower while being enveloped in a kaleidoscope of colour and light. Intricate display of geometric patterns shimmered with every step. It was the kind of glittering beauty and reflected hues as in a dreamscape — the kind of installation that makes you forget where you are entirely.

The Picasso Pavillon was equally impressive. As its name suggests, the interior space highlights a rotating selection from the museum's Picasso collection. At the time of our visit, we got the chance to view paintings from his Cubist phase and Blue Period, together with his lesser-known ceramics and small-scale works.

As we biked around Hakone, traces of the upcoming Hakone Ekiden (箱根駅伝) were everywhere to be seen. Even on our way biking along the uninhabited mountain road, we came across workers trimming roadside weeds and branches, preparing the course for the runners. The sense of anticipation was palpable — it felt like the entire town was readying itself for the big new year event.

In the afternoon, we set off toward Lake Ashi. Compared to the brutal climbs from the night before, this ride felt like a breeze (though our legs were still wobbling). On the way, we ran into two older men on a cycling trip, accompanied by a driver-guide who was coordinating their customised bike tour. He spoke both English and Japanese, offered us some snacks, and chatted with us about his past guiding adventures. We exchanged contact info, and who knows — maybe he will send us some route recommendations in the future.

We arrived at the lakeside shopping street near dusk, only to find that most food options were overpriced and underwhelming. If you ever find travelling this way, we recommend pushing a few more kilometres down the road — you will find better dining spots beyond the tourist-heavy stretch.

Just as night fell, we caught sight of the Hakone Kaizoku-sen (箱根海賊船), an extravagant sightseeing cruise ship decked out in gold and crimson, pulling in under the night sky like something from a fantasy film. On such a pitch-dark lake, it was hard to tell whether we were meant to enjoy the lake's natural stillness or marvel at the floating spectacle.

We camped that night at the roadside station that's just beyond the highest point of this national route, perched at an elevation of 874 metres. There was a chill in the air and fatigue still in our muscles — but there was also a sense of peace. We had climbed the mountain, wandered among great art, and made it to the water’s edge. Sometimes, that’s more than enough.