Date

2022-12-04, Sunday

Distance

103.38 km biked (3041.31 km in total)

We were blessed with clear skies this morning — which, for me, meant only one thing: time to grab my camera for another solo sunrise shoot. While my friend continued snoozing peacefully in the tent, I hopped on my now-luggage-free bike and sped back toward the shores of Lake Ashi.

This time, the view was nothing short of magical. Mount Fuji was finally visible in the distance: its snow-capped peak glowed softly in the golden gleam. The flamboyant Hakone Kaizoku-sen (箱根海賊船) cruise ship sat moored on the water, its elaborate silhouette framed by the shimmering lake and Fuji’s grandeur beyond. From where I stood, I could make out the vermilion torii gate of Hakone Shrine, standing quietly by the forested lakeside. As the winter sun rose higher, the great mountain gradually revealed itself — solemn and dignified.

Not far from the lakeside path lies a plaza that marks an important point for Hakone Ekiden (箱根駅伝). Every new year, this historic relay race runs between Tokyo and Hakone, and here lies the turnaround point — the end of Day 1 and start of Day 2 — commemorated by two modest stone markers. One denotes the finish line of the outbound leg; the other, the starting point of the return. It’s a quiet place, humble and unassuming, with just a weathered stone monument and a simple signboard explaining the history of the race. I had hoped to visit the Hakone Ekiden Museum (箱根駅伝ミュージアム), just a short walk away, but it hadn't opened yet. Had I not needed to be back on the road soon, I would have gladly lingered.

Just as I was about to leave, a group of young athletes arrived by car, clad in sportswear. They were preparing for what was clearly a practice session. I struck up a conversation with them using my broken Japanese, and learned that they were from a university in Tokyo. Judging by their gear and demeanour to make the trip out here on a chilly Sunday morning to train on-site, it was obvious they were part of a serious team. One face among them looked oddly familiar; I might have seen him before in a magazine about the race. Hakone Ekiden was really drawing near. I wondered where I would be to follow the event at the new year.

After this encounter, I climbed with my bike across the highest point of this mountain road (for the 4th time!). By now, I was feeling stronger and more confident in coping with ascents. The past few days of effort have surely helped train both my muscles and my mindset.

Another fun fact for anime fans: Hakone serves as the prototype for Tokyo-III in Neon Genesis Evangelion (新世紀エヴァンゲリオン, 1995 – 1996). As such, not only was there an official gift shop located, some spots in town were decorated in the style of this anime classic of the 90's as well. For instance, right next to where we camped at the roadside station, a charging point was painted in the colour scheme of Evangelion Unit-01!

Leaving Hakone behind, we were treated to a rare luxury: more than 10 kilometres of continuous downhill on a perfectly maintained seaside road. It felt like gliding. With each turn, I only had to turn my head slightly to see the majestic figure of Mount Fuji. Even as we reached the coast near Numazu, Mount Fuji’s silhouette remained visible against a backdrop of blue skies, drifting clouds, and windswept pine trees. A view like that — wide, serene, and quietly powerful — stays with us all along.

For lunch, we made a stop at a small, family-owned restaurant for the much-anticipated kaizoku-yaki (海賊焼き, literally, 'pirate grill'), a hearty local dish my friend had heard plenty about. Afterwards, we swung by the Fuji Roadside Station, which was full of regional Shizuoka tea and Laid-Back Camp (2015 – present) merchandise. My friend joked that if they had produced themed sake or character-branded drinks, she would have been tempted to part with more yen than she should have. Perhaps it was a mercy they hadn't. Outside the convenience store nearby, we had an unexpectedly heartwarming moment: a local gifted us a few drinks and snacks, simply curious and supportive of our journey. This random act of kindness meant a lot.

By nightfall, we rolled into Shizuoka and pitched our tent at the Utsunoya Roadside Station. The evening was unusually warm — a welcome contrast to the chill of previous nights — so my sake-loving friend opened a small bottle of umeshu, ready for a quiet toast (alone of course, because I don't drink alcohol). However, just as we stepped away from the table momentarily to wash up some cookware, we returned to find our senbei gone! Of all things, the first item we have ever had stolen (apparently) by a human being in Japan turned out to be a limited-edition thick-baked rice cracker that's supposed to be perfectly crisp, slightly sweet, and absolutely delicious. My friend was more amused than angry, standing there with a wet cup in hand and a mix of laughter and disbelief.

The full take — 18 more photographs from this day

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.

Date

2022-12-02, Friday

Distance

65.22 km biked (2924.53 km in total)

While my companion was still sound asleep, I rose at dawn and biked to the beach overlooking Enoshima Island to catch the first ray of the sunrise on camera. Dozens of surfers were already in the water or unloading their boards from motorcycles and bicycles parked neatly along the roadside — many equipped with custom racks to support their gear. It's too bad that clouds glung low on the horizon, obscuring the distant silhouette of Mount Fuji. After capturing a few shots, I crossed the bridge onto the island and pedalled through its sleepy lanes — past shuttered storefronts, the shrine, and a few early visitors waiting for the whole area to wake up — before returning to the hotel just as the day was beginning to stir.

It's funny how different our sleeping rhythms are — my friend is the type of sleeper who needs a solid 8-hour of sleep, whereas I am of the type who needs little sleep and would wake up every 4 hours or so. I am doomed to wake up at midnight and / or before sunrise, not knowing what else I can do with these quiet hours besides capturing them on photos. I am sure once I show her my photos of Enoshima bathed in the golden amber of the early hour, my night owl friend will once again marvel at the beautiful scenery she had missed and wonder when I took those photos.

After leaving Fujisawa, we followed the coastal route across the scenic Torasuko Shonan Ohashi Bridge (National Route 134), then picked up speed on the levee’s smooth cycling path. A curious detail we noticed: in rural Tohoku, Google Maps often doesn’t allow us to set an itinerary using the cycling mode. But as we rode further south toward livelier cities, the cycling mode that we had been relying on in Hokkaido miraculously returned. Come on, Google — maybe it’s time to give Tohoku some love too?

By late afternoon, when our climb started getting serious, it became clear just how devoted the Japanese people take their onsen getaways. All kinds of motorised vehicles zoomed up the mountain like it was nothing. In contrast, we climbed this famous route like lumbering oxen, slowly hauling our bikes uphill.

This was no ordinary road either — it's the same mountainous course that participants in the Hakone Ekiden (箱根駅伝) must tackle each New Year. One of Japan’s most celebrated long-distance university relay races, the event spans over 200 kilometres between Tokyo and Hakone, with young runners battling steep elevation changes and bitter winter winds. I first learned about this tradition through the animated series Run with the Wind (2018 – 2019), which, though idealised, brought to life the spirit of determination and camaraderie behind this gruelling event. As we creaked our way uphill, it was humbling to imagine those collegiate runners sprinting past us in icy January air.

On some of the hairpin turns with 10–15% inclines, even the lowest gear made us feel like we were pedalling through molasses. Cars queued behind us waiting for their chance to pass, while we paused often to catch our breath. The deeper we got into the hills, the fewer lights there were — by nightfall, only the switchbacks were lit. However, when we were about to lose heart due to the seemingly endless steep hills to climb, we came upon some decorations for Hakone Eikan, standing silently beside us like unseen supporters cheering us up.

Our hotel was located beyond Gora Station tucked even further up the hillside. Originally, we hadn’t planned on spending the night in Hakone. The problem? Ryokan stays in Hakone are infamously expensive — typically starting from ¥10,000 and soaring well into the six figures. After much scrolling and comparing, we lucked out and found a place for our budget. A deal like that? Booked instantly.

And then we learned why. Just when we thought we had survived the day's worst climbs, we faced one final obstacle: a killer +20-degree slope leading to the hotel. Pushing the bikes up was well nigh impossible. In the end, it took both of us to drag one bike up at a time, then returning downhill for the second. That 500 metres felt harder than the entire day’s ride.

But all was forgiven the moment we stepped inside at close to 10pm, after being received by staff who came down from a facility that's located further uphill. The hotel had its own private onsen, and though we had booked a double room, what we got was basically a full 2LDK unit — living room, dining area, kitchen, and a whole suite of home appliances: fridge, microwave, electric kettle, coffee machine, cookware, and tableware. Honestly, it was a fully furnished apartment. We could have moved in with nothing but a toothbrush.

As we sank into the hot onsen water that night, our muscles still aching, it was hard not to feel a quiet sense of triumph. The day had been long, the climbs steep — but there, in that steamy silence, it all melted away. The roads we had taken were not easy, but perhaps that made the journey all the more memorable.