Now for day two, the so-called Hell Day. You can't tell it by looking at anything but a quality contour map that Highways 388 and 122 that run along the coast out of Oita into Miyazaki is a very challenging bit of tarmac for cyclists. This is not coastal plain happy land, it's more like Big Sur in that it's rocky, twisty, rises and falls quickly and towns are either at the top or bottom of cliff walls. Only recently have the Japanese--who love doing it by the way--started punching holes through mountains with some almost-sea level tunnels, but I avoided all but one of these on alternate routes. One of those routes was entirely by accident and wasn't, I found out, an approved alternate, however there was something about that burning scrapyard (no, really) the map said I should ride through that didn't hit me as kosher. Better take the 400 meter pass instead and go a few kilometer and half an hour out of my way.
Scenes from Highways 122 and 388 along the coast. Beautiful until you think that one has to pass over all those mountains.
I caught up to the other "real" cyclists across the border in Miyazaki's Kitaura-machi and hung with them for a bit until I ran out of water and stopped for a break. They went ahead and I didn't see them until the end of the day. After another excruciating few-hundred-meter pass in Kitaura I dropped down into the merciful flatlands of Nobeoka--the only flat stretch of the day at around fifteen kilometers. Still, I had to lament the beautiful places I'd just passed. I was a man on a mission this day, but plans are already in the works to return for some beach camping and cycling with some of the folks I bonded with this trip.
I stopped for a very quick bite in Nobeoka at what must be the Japanese equivalent of Whole Foods or Trader Joe's called "San Live". Not to be confused with the "Sun Live" chain of stores in Japan, this place was amazingly well-stocked and modern--so unlike the sterile, bland (in appearance and selection) markets I've visited here. Getting back on the road was some kind of hell though as two opponents came at me simultaneously to make the rest of the day's ride an exercise in pain suppression. First is that my body was protesting the previous 150 kilometers it had ridden in the past day-and-a-half. As I said before this is the longest ride I've ever done and now it was also the most climbing I've ever done in such a short period so my knees were starting to ache, my ankle was sending shooting pains when I bent it certain ways and my arms were jumping on the wagon also since I was putting weight on them for prolonged periods. The second opponent was nature, specifically wind. I just don't get the wind patterns in Kyushu--there wasn't a day when we weren't riding into a bit of a breeze, at least. This day though it was like a typhoon battering against your chest making you give twice the effort to gain the same ground and normal. Just horrible.
But you can't fight Mother Nature on such things, just curse her name in your sleep. Other things though, like the human practice of taking wrong turns, they can and should be helped. Unless you're me on a bicycle, that is. See, part of the appeal of cycling for me is that it's my form of meditation. The rhythmic peddling and controlled breathing that dictate pace, these things clear my mind and allow me to think clearly or to just be. Despite the gusty winds I was enjoying the riverside ride our route guides suggested out of Nobeoka, but they neglected to mention that one must be vigilant for the Highway 326/10 split, with 326 being the one I wanted. From the river it was hard to notice it and in my bliss I kept on keepin' on Highway 10...for another five kilometers. A railroad crossing that I know shouldn't have existed on 326 tipped me off I was going the wrong way, but I'd tacked on an extra ten kilometers to the ride by that point.
Highway 10's riverside bike path is gorgeous and a joy to ride. It just happened to be the wrong way...
326 is, as major highways in Japan go, not a bad road to ride by any means. There's plenty to see and wide lanes, as opposed to the narrow, barely-two-laned 122 and 388 of earlier in the day. The only issue I guess I have with it is that going north into Oita and Ume-machi (today's goal) it is entirely uphill. Steady, yes, but all of it for almost twenty five kilometers never sees any respite from the climb. Two things broke the monotony though, first being the group of three American riders from Colorado I met who'd started two days earlier in Kagoshima and were biking all the way to Hokkaido--the entire length of Japan! Simply astounding. Second was our four Japanese riding companions who had somehow got in front of me and were resting at a convenience store. How did they get in front of me? If you look at the map from my last post you'll see a small twisty bit of road above the map edge, where it says "Kitaura Town". Yeah, they cheated and took that, cutting about forty kilometers off their ride. Oh, I'm not angry or anything, I just found it amusing.
Me. The finish line. My precious bicycle. Am I not like some beautiful ballerina in those riding pants?
With acid running through my veins, aching ankles and a crotch chafe that I'll have to talk to a therapist about some day I pulled into Ume-machi and the "Umeria" campground, which sounds more like some rare jungle disease than anything else if you ask me. It was 2:30 PM and the 85+ kilometer ride had taken my six hours including breaks. I rode about for a bit looking for the support cars or just anybody in our group and didn't find anyone. Was I first? I couldn't believe it given the detours I'd taken. I kinda lounged around in the shade wearing my full biking regalia scaring locals for a while. Good times. When Mike, Oita's resident Ironman Mormon and the previous day's leader, pulled in at 3:15 PM on his bike saying he'd been riding like to hell to catch me I knew it was true--I'd won (this non-contest)! Time for a celebratory soft serve ice cream, blueberry/vanilla swirled mix! Mmmm...the taste of victory.
Mike was followed fifteen minutes later by Guy, Joe and Alaska, then the Japanese cyclists, then Moe and Daniel from South Africa and everyone else spread out over the next couple of hours. The cabin we all crammed into was the scene of much laughing, storytelling and philosophizing that evening and it stands as one of the best nights of my life. There's just something about shared physical exertion that brings everyone together, you know? The running gag/game of the night was to find the best movie title that could be following by "...between your legs." Dinner was salad, spaghetti and cookies from (OMFG!) Fukuoka Costco. Sleep was sudden, deep and absolute.
--Matt
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