Date

2022-11-04, Friday

Distance

42.58 km (1407.17 km in total)

From Obihiro onward, we have two choices: (1) biking directly through the mountain ranges, Hidaka Mountains, that separate Obihiro and Chitose via Nissho Pass, the highest point of which sits at 1022 m; (2) going around the mountains via a flatter route in the south. We choose # 1, for # 2 takes considerably much more time to finish.

Despite our determination, we are not free of apprehension of the difficulty we are facing. In the midst of our nervous worries, my friend came up with an idea to avoid biking through the snow-covered mountain peaks: that is to rent a semi-truck to carry us and our bikes through this stretch of the country. The trajectory would only take a few hours instead of 2 days. However, as soon as I applauded her brilliant idea, she told me that she couldn't find her international driver's license. To receive a replacement in Japan would require one week of waiting time, so I guess we are simply destined to face this challenge.

In the morning, we headed out on the road that we were supposed to travel through yesterday. We took the main road, the landscape was typically suburban with tons of shops and restaurants along the way. Traffic was fairly heavy, so we biked on the sidewalk most of the time. The climb didn't start until we reached Shimizu, the town where we couldn't find a vacant hotel room. The last hour of today’s daylight was spent in entering Nissho Pass. As the light got dimmer and dimmer, a steadily escalating sense of foreboding was creeping over me. By the time it became completely dark, we arrived at a parking area (450 m in elevation) where a restaurant and a souvenir shop stood.

There is a large roofed area, buildings that could act as wind blockers, a vending machine that sold hot drinks — everything pointed to an excellent shelter for one cold windy night of camping. I convinced my friend to forsake her original plan of sleeping at the lookout area (590 m in elevation) that was still 6 km away, for the latter's only advantage was having a public washroom, which I didn't judge essential to our survival, and which might not even be open at this time of the season. Tired and still not fully recovered from her illness, she was disinterested in arguing and simply trusted me, who was the more experienced of the two of us in wild camping.

As soon as we stopped, fine snowflakes began to fall. The snow didn't accumulate on the ground, the temperature of which was still above zero, but this was certainly one of the toughest nights we had so far, and the one farthest from all resources.

Today we met two nice individuals who came to encourage us. The first was a man who brought his folding bike on this business trip. Having studied in Taiwan allowed him to speak a bit of Mandarin, so we were able to have a long conversation with him. The second was a lady outside of a post office. She gave us some snacks to share between us.

Date

2022-11-03, Thursday

Distance

28.37 km (1364.59 km in total)

Travelling slowly by bike is all about making compromises and being open to all sorts of unexpected things. There are places where we simply cannot go and there are things that happen without us wanting them.

We have to give up our plan of visiting Naitai Highland Farm, Japan's largest public ranch located in a remote place (about 50 km to the north of the city of Obihiro) to where no shuttle bus operate, because with all our gears, it's well nigh unpractible for us to climb up to 740 m (elevation) on a steep hill. We also have to give up visiting the renown Japanese architect Tadao Ando's 'Chapel on the Water', located within the boundary of Risonare Tomamu (a skiing resort west of Obihiro owned by Hoshiro Resort), because of its proximity to the express highway that is quite inaccessible to cyclists.

Nevertheless, as a huge fan of Hiromu Arakawa's manga series Silver Spoon, there is no excuse for me to miss the 'Silver Spoon 10th Anniversary Exhibition' currently held in Obihiro where the story is set. This fiction relates the coming-of-age of a highschool boy who, without farming background, is enrolled in a farming school to learn how to raise livestock and grow vegetables. As a semi-vegetarian at home, I find that this work has a rather sympathetic approach when dealing with economical animals.

The exhibition showcases about 200 pieces of Hiromu Arakawa’s original drawings (原画), including manuscripts and promotional illustrations, that can be photographed, together with some supporting materials used at the series' pre-production stage that cannot be photographed. The drawings showcased are the originals, not reproductions, therefore contain visible stroke works and correction marks that I particularly like to observe.

We also visited the Obihiro shrine that appears briefly in the series as the shrine that offers horse-shaped ema, and the Obihiro Racecourse dedicated to a form of Japanese horse racing called 'Ban'ei' where we learned a great deal about horses. On my own, I also biked to see the farming school and university that serve as the prototypes of the teaching institutions in the manga. Of course, a Butadon is a must-eat for every (non-vegetarian) fan of Silver Spoon.

Pleasant things aside, today we were unfortunately hit by a major blow: both of us got sick with symptoms of common cold (coughing, sniffing, weariness but no fever). Maybe because the temperature at night dropped to sub-zero when we were sleeping in our tent, maybe because of other factors. We couldn't find any rapid test kits in local drug stores, so there is no way of knowing whether we got COVID-19 or not. At the end of the day, we got so drowsy that it appeared increasingly unfeasible for us to bike to our next destination. When we were looking for hotel to stay, to our surprise, none of the 7 hotels in Shimizu and Memuro — both situated outside of Obihiro — we called had a vacant room, so we were doomed to spend the night in Obihiro.

We went to bed as soon as we got into the smallest hotel room we have ever seen. I only remembered to feed myself when I woke up at 10:30 pm. Walking around Obihiro’s famous Kitanoyatai (北の屋台), some sort of night market with food stands that can accommodate only a small amount of clients, I found half of the food stands was closed, while another half was filled with people drinking, eating, chatting loudly. This contrast makes some part of Obihiro ‘a city that never sleeps’, and some other part nest of early birds.

The full take — 131 more photographs from this day

Date

2022-11-02, Wednesday

Distance

91.04 km (1336.22 km in total)

We woke up at 2 am to a pool of water around our tent. It rained heavily and we happened to have picked a hollow part of the ground in a park to pitch our tent (to our defence, it’s hard to see the hollowness unless it’s covered by water — which is too late). In the morning when the sun rose, we had to spend extra time in drying our tent before resuming biking.

We took Roads 38 and 1038 along the shore, riding through a landscape composed of mountain on our right side, and the ocean on our left side. The beauty of the scenery really made me marvel at Mother Nature’s ingenuity. Signs of human civilisation are spare along this stretch of the road, except a couple of dairy farms sitting on the top of a hill.

Once the road in the direction of Obihiro deviated away from the seashore, we immediately felt the imposing presence of passing trucks. This area seemed to be still under development, along the way we saw a lot of ads about construction companies on the one side, and farming communities on the other side. There was virtually no rest stop. At one point we were so badly in need of a washroom that we knocked at the police station’s door to ask for help. We ended up being politely directed to komin-kaikan (公民会館), some sort of community centre in a town. My Taiwanese friend was surprised that Japanese police station cannot lend out their washroom, because it’s the opposite in Taiwan. Moreover, camping next to the police station is common in Taiwan, and at night the policemen would even bring hot soupe to travellers — hence Taiwan’s policemen are given the nickname of ‘people’s nannies’.

By the time the sun set, we entered Tokachigawa area that is known for onsen (and milk production) and arrived at the roadside station that offers spa and onsen. Originally interested in trying out their service, we became right way discouraged at learning that both their spa and onsen are of the mixed style. (According to someone who commented on my friend’s post, he only encountered men in the mixed bathroom; no woman was ever presented.) However, this roadside station is also the first place that still offers at this time of the season foot onsen which we have enjoyed.

Tomorrow, we will enter Obihiro — a must-visit for all Silver Spoon fans!

The full take — 19 more photographs from this day

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

Date

2022-10-31, Monday

Distance

90.10 km (1202.29 km in total)

Both of us woke up early before 5 am from our sleep near a golf court. We picked this location hidden by the bushes for camping for its secrecy and its closeness to a convenience store where we could use the washroom in the early morning.

We are now very used to eating in front of a convenience store: in fact, many locals do the same but in their vehicles at the 3 meal times. I like to observe people and guess what their profession is. At breakfast time I have noticed it's mostly men who have to get up early to work, and the line up outside of the men's washroom — if there's any — is longer than the women's (usually it's the opposite, because women need to spend more time in the washroom). Most of them seem to be working in the primary sector, judging from their attire.

Gender ratio at the lunch and dinner times is more balanced; many of them wear office suits. I am not sure why those people regularly eat at a convenience store; maybe after a long day at work, they no longer have any motivation / energy to spend on cooking for themselves. (In my case though, laziness is the main factor.)

Today, I finally saw a semi-truck with 4 seats — the only one I have seen so far. I have been looking for this kind of vehicle because I was considering getting a lift due to my knee injury. Surprisingly, it was a lady who came out of the semi-truck, wearing waterproof high boots. I was wondering if her works require dealing with water a lot such as in the fishing industry.

Today, away from the Nemuro curse, we bike fairly well in the warmth of sunlight, with an average speed ranging from 18 to 20 km/h. Just outside of our starting point in Attoko, we met a Japanese couple (IG: @futari_aruki) from Kansai area who were volunteering their time and energy in walking around Japan (!!) with a two-wheeled cart and picking up garbage left on the ground which will be brought to where it should have been sent to — the garbage processing centre of each administrative unit. After walking through much of the Honshu, they are now circling Hokkaido.

The man who pulled a gigantic mobile cart was wearing impressively little clothes, because the cart that carries all their travelling essentials and collected garbage weighted so much that pulling it was tantamount to running a marathon or something. Usually they walk 15-20 km a day then sleep in their tent in a park; they do go to hotels in urban areas every now and then. The amount of garbage they collect is massive, which overturns my impression of Japan being a clean country.

According to them, the one thing that we need to be careful of while bicycle-touring in Japan is the car. They think Hokkaido's average driving speed is fast, and many drivers are wont to do dangerous bypassing and/or use their smartphones at the same time. Sometimes cars pass them very closely. This assessment from two native Japanese people really makes me rethink whether my rosy impression of Hokkaido's drivers' good behaviour is tenable.

From Attoko to Kushiro, we passed through the coastal town of Akkeshi, famed for its oysters — and naturally, we couldn’t miss the chance to stop for an oyster rice bowl and ramen. Following National Route 44 alongside the Hanasaki Line, the scenery was a stunning blend of mountains, wetlands, and ocean. Although roadside stations were sparse on this stretch, the convenience stores in each small town were a lifesaver, especially when it came to washroom breaks.

Kushiro does have some terrible hills, but they tend to concentrate in one area instead of being scattered all over the place. Once we pushed through the hilly part, the ride became smooth. Our hotel is located right next to the commercial district, home to a wealth of restaurants, izakayas, karaoke bars, etc. Despite it being a Monday night, the town felt especially lively — rows of taxis and drivers lined the shopping street, waiting for customers. I took my bike to tour around the area and found that this city offered interesting lighting and dynamics to be photographed.

Today we attracted the attention of several people who came to speak and encourage us. They even took pictures of us! (When touring in Canada, a lot of people asked to take pictures of me, but in Japan it seems a rather rare request from total strangers.)

The full take — 24 more photographs from this day

Date

2022-10-30, Sunday

Distance

60.24 km (1112.19 km in total)

Being the easternmost point of Japan, Cape Nosappu is the place currently held by the Japanese government that is the closest to the sunrise. Many people therefore came to this humble place at dawn. The actual monument commemorating the easternmostness of this location is a very simple and unflattering wooden column, which, compared with the gigantic monument for the irredentist movement, can be easily left unnoticed if we didn't pay attention.

There was only one restaurant at Cape Nosappu open, ready to serve us breakfast on early Sunday morning. Its menu includes the prized Hanasaki crabs that are special to this area, the price of which is very affordable as per its dimension. Before we left Cape Nosappu, a man of 75-years-old travelling from Nagoya came to speak to us and gave us some snacks. He manifested great curiosity (which is unusual for Japanese people) in what we were doing. Despite the language barrier, I felt his good heart most ardently.

We headed back to Nemuro via the south shore with the aid of partial tail wind. Our assessment of Nemuro is negative. We are guessing that being so close to the ocean makes the weather rather changing: it rains a lot when the forecast announces sunny. Uncontrollable things aside, Nemuro presents no point of interest to us: no restaurant was open on Sunday where we had surveyed, no store that carries what we were looking for, etc. There is nothing except wandering cats meowing for food to see — if you like these creatures. Overall, we were just happy to finally get out of Nemuro.

For tonight, my friend originally planned to pitch our tent in a campground in Hamanaka, which was still 30 km from where we were at 4 pm when the sun started setting. As soon as I convinced my friend to call it the night in Attoko, not far from a convenience store, it started raining.

Date

2022-10-29, Saturday

Distance

40.58 km (1051.95 km in total)

After having fully rested despite sleeping just right off the road, we felt replenished to head towards the easternmost point of Japan — Cape Nosappu — passing by Nemuro. Either we didn't have very good luck with this part of the country or Mother Nature which I found unreservedly capricious was simply behaving as usual, the weather became horrible after we reached the Nemuro peninsula. We arrived at Nosappu all drenched and cold, because the wind messed up in all directions and the rain was pouring. Not only so, the level of fitness required in order to bike around the easternmost city was incredibly high. I thought Abashiri was hilly, Nemuro was no less — if not more — so: a hill after a hill after a hill … and they were all fairly steep!

Landscape-wise, the easternmost region of Japan feels even more desolate than the northernmost region; it is mainly populated by fishing communities. As we approached our destination, the number of signs and slogans for reclaiming the 4 disputed Kuril Islands / Northern territories which had been annexed by the Soviet Union since the end of WWII (interestingly, there are signs printed in Russian in the city of Nemuro). Relatively speaking to Cape Soya, there were much less things to see here and almost nothing was open today (Saturday). The park around the monument includes a wide expanse of meadow but there was nothing that could act as a shelter against the wind and the rain. I do not recommend coming here unless you are after the mention of the 'easternmost'.

We ate and waited in the public washroom for the staff to leave so that we could pitch our tent in the area. Actually, one staff member came to tell me that I couldn't stay / camp here tonight (I think this is what she meant, though I am not 100% sure), but car and truck drivers are freely allowed to park here and sleep in their vehicles, why can't we cyclists do the same? In the end, we ignored the staff's warning by pitching our tent next to the public toilet. Let’s hope we can see the earliest sunrise in Japan tomorrow.

Date

2022-10-28, Friday

Distance

75.85 km (1011.37 km in total)

Japan is full of surprises. At about 1 am, my friend woke me up, saying that a certain ‘small animal’ stole our breakfast kept in the vestibule. When I went out to examine the situation, a relatively fat fox stayed there, gazing at me, pretending innocence, acting cute, and rolling around like he owned the plaec. Absolutely shamless and unafraid of humans, this creature even tried to attack the remaining food while I was collecting garbages left on the ground. He only ran away when my friend also came out of the tent. The fox ate up most of our breakfast and even drank the entire cup (500 ml) of milk! The only survivor of the fox attack is the relatively heavyweight youkan (羊羹) that he was unable or had no time to carry.

We lost all of the locally made Japanese confectioneries, including an ooshima manju (大島饅頭) about which neither of us knew anything. The moral of this story is that, next time you see something which you are so madly curious to try, don’t wait, eat it right away. Or else a clever fox will come to get it.

At the sunrise I went for a photo shoot and ran into a man walking with his dog named Leo. He is quite talkative a fellow and told me a lot of things related to this place, although I could only grasp a fraction of what he said. He lives in another town and comes here every day with Leo on his way to work in the fishery industry, which roused my curiosity but sadly I was unable to keep the conversation going. Then Leo’s friend Allen, a husky, appeared with his human who also takes a walk around here everyday even when it snows. I got the permission to photograph both of them.

During today’s ride, I finally got the chance to photograph some fishing related equipments left on the shore. I wonder how these objects are being used.

We constantly saw rainbow flags that marked with ‘Marine Bank’ on the side of the road. It seems to be the symbol of a local financial institution, not something I am accustomed to in the West.

We also ran into a wandering cat begging for food, as we approached our destination today. He seemed so hungry that he ate up whatever we gave him. I wonder how such a creature that was born in this remote part of the country would survive the winter.

By the time we reached the next roadside station, it was already closed. Since there was nothing further down the road, we stayed here, close to the washroom, and found a spot next to Lake Furen to set up our tent. Personally, I really like the liberty, afforded by travelling slowly with a tent, to go everywhere and stop anytime I feel like. However, my friend is unhappy because she likes to take showers.

The full take — 33 more photographs from this day

Date

2022-10-27, Thursday

Distance

58.34 km (935.52 km in total)

Of today’s travelled distance, 26 km is uphill; the steepest part of which is of 9% of incline and the highest point sits at 490 m (which we climbed from the sea levl).

The scenery was stunning, but the climb was absolutely brutal. Even worse, the entire stretch had zero supply point. At the beginning we could still see farms and houses scattering all over the place, but once entering the hill (or Montrealers would call it a mountain) and passing beyond the last vending machine that was miraculously standing in the middle of nowhere, there was absolutely nothing beside trees, streams, and the road. Absolutely no 4G signal either for the first time since I arrived in Japan. Luckily, this seems to be an unusual route to take, hence the traffic was very light, which gave us a sense of safety and serenity.

Going downhill in the shade is more scary than climbing up for me. However, thanks to my new eyeglasses that don’t jump up and down on my face, I was finally able to see things with a constantly clear sight. Once we biked across the long stretch of slope, we began to see farm houses again. Unlike in most central part of this country we had passed through, here farms (presumably of dairy nature) are large, and houses are sparsely distributed. This part of Hokkaido, like Canada’s landscape, finally resonates with what had been described in the manga / anime Silver Spoon: you need to walk 2-3 km to meet your neighbours.

After taking a bath in the nearby onsen, we camped in a public campground next to the ocean in Shibetsu (標津). It’s quiet and relaxing except something is to happen at midnight …

Date

2022-10-26, Wednesday

Distance

48.39 km (877.18 km in total)

We tarried in Abashiri because of some last minute purchases and a bike adjustment. The bike shop we went to is operated by its sole owner, who, despite speaking barely English, is very friendly and helpful. He served us coffee, let us wait in the heated room, and charged only 500 yen for spending more than an hour in removing a dead screw on my rear rack.

Abashiri is a strange city. It feels more like a town rather than a city. I am saying this not because of its number of population, but of its dynamics. I saw barely any car or pedestrian on the street on a weekday morning. About 1/3 of stores in the main shopping district was closed at the time of our visit (1 pm). It feels empty and lifeless. There seems to be not very much going on here. Maybe that’s why most of the cars’ plates are issued by Kitami, which may be a more animated city with appropriate government agency.

National Route 244 that we took along the shore offers smooth pavement and wide shoulders, perfect for cycling. Moreover, it's absolutely scenic. The sky was so clear that the snow-covered mountain ranges in the distant background were astoundingly visible. This part of the country is dominated by flat surface that stretches far and wide, populated by pampas grass that shine in golden colour under the sunlight; biking in it feels like reaching eternity.

Japan never ceases to surprise me. Not only does it have a Montbell store located in the middle of nowhere (within the boundary of Koshimizu), it also offers me opportunity to discover things that I didn’t expect. Today’s moment of serendipity is seeing for the first time in Japan horses standing in the field next to the country road (as well as cows, but the latter was significantly more common in this part of Hokkaido). The addition of these creatures to the whole scene suddenly made me feel as if pedalling straight into a movie set, maybe Forrest Gump. At Montbell’s store I purchased a down sleeping bag in preparation of the colder weather. My old one was rated at only 10°C, which is no sufficiently warm for these night with single-digit temperature.

By the sunset, we arrived in Shari, at the entrance of which stood a 8-storey modern hotel, signalling the unexpected prosperity of this little known town. The roadside station is impressively decorated and cleaned. There we learned that as part of the economic revival project, a certain number of participating shops offered special (rubber) stamps featuring the town’s mascot Shiretoko in the shape of a polar bear. Since both of us love collecting (rubber) stamps and we were looking for a restaurant to dine, we gladly accept the challenge and tried to add as much (rubber) stamps as possible to our collections.

We were only back to the roadside station to discretely set up our tent after dinner and a bath in the nearby onsen. The onsen is more like a public bath: its old-styled building with Showa-era decoration and complete with retro Japanese pop hits appears to have certain history. The water, smelling a bit like rust, smooth to the touch but didn’t leave a sticky feeling, and its reddish-brown hue was unique. It was also hotter than any other’s. Post-bath, my friend treated herself to a bottle of cold milk in a glass bottle — and drank it in the classic, almost iconic pose of standing with a hand on hip like a proper onsen veteran. It doesn’t get more onsen than that!

The entire bathhouse offered a nice nostalgic vibe to local people's evening gathering. Communal bathing seems to be comfortably embedded in the Japanese custom; many locals come at night to take a bath with their families, friends and/or acquaintances. That the staff knows every regular customer makes us feeling like intruders to their ritual of socialisation.

The full take — 27 more photographs from this day