naka naka umai ne. They'd say over and over as I pumped up the tires, put the bags on, etc.
translation: just keeps getting better and better.
I love old Japanese men. They crack me up.
And so began day 6, but to tell the truth, the next 5 days are pretty blurred together. I had my groove. I'd hit a hill and say to myself outloud, "hai!"
or as was often the case, I'd just chant to myself, "climb fucker climb!!" in creepy Micheal Jackson voice.
Perhaps needless to say, my own company and only my bike to talk to for 10 days made me a little loopy.
LESSON LEARNED: Though I was glad to have done the difficult finding my groove stuff by myself, some company might have been nice too.
That said, most days I got amazing streaks of clarity about myself and my life and WHAT IT ALL MEANS. A month later I'm still panning through it all.
I love graffiti.
This a famous place in Iwate prefecture called Kita Yamazaki. It is as beautiful as the posters but really, the trip as a whole can't compare to anything I was able to catch on film.
Highlights of the last half of the trip included staying with a cool couchsurfer. I would have loved to stay with more couchsurfers but not having a schedule was a very good thing too.
Aomori prefecture in the north was beautiful too. I spend all my time on the ShimoKita Peninsula. ShimoKita translates to something like "Below North" To futher clarify, it's advertised like this
Paris
New York
Beijing
Hawaii
Seoul
I felt kind of near the edge of the world.
Now, Aomori Prefecture is known for many things: great seafood, apples, big flashy August festivals... but for me I will most remember THE FLIES. The swarms and swarms of BITING FLIES. Circling the peninsula required a good amount of climbing at a decent grade. And by day 8, my body was starting to get tired... ok, more than just starting. None-the-less, I hit the hills with a good attitude, my groove was on. And then the flies came. I think I smelled well well dead. Or rotting or something. Perhaps it was better I was cycling alone. Anyway you cut it, to those M*&%$*F$#*#$ers I smelled delicious.
Now, I'm not an especially fast climber. I think I'm a strong climber but I'm not fast. So with my bags and everything, I'd hit the 10% climbs in my slowest easiest granny gear and "spin" up the mountain. At a blistering 6 km/hr. Now, I didn't really care. I was happy just to be doing it for hours a day. But the flies are faster than 6 km/hr so suddenly, I had to push it. Ever time I dropped below 12 km/hr, they'd attack. And no talk of stopping to catch my breath! Only on very wind exposed corners could I stop to get a drink or rest for a minute before they found me.
It was a day of much cussing.
A local later told me that it was because my bike shorts are black that they attack me and sure enough, they were going for the thighs more than the exposed calves. What this meant is that in addition to huffing and puffing my way up the hills, cursing all the while, I was also reaching down to swat the buggers off the bottom of my thighs, causing me to swerve like a mad woman.
I was lucky. I ended up with less than half a dozen serious bites and didn't fall of a cliff. It was a good day. And the scenery.....
oh, life giving food. how I love thee. somehow, I'm always still hungry.
Day 8 finished clocking out at 135km and over 7 hours in the saddle, I was very sore. I was so sore, and not just the muscles, that I wasn't sure if I could ride the next day.
but I did. I couldn't really stop myself. I was very lazy though and wanted to stop and take pictures every 5 minutes. It was so beautiful and my body was so tired, it was hard to resist.
me: yeah.
Boy2: whoa, those are weird tires.
Boy1: Where are you from?
me: America, but I live in Tokyo.
Boy3: You rode from Tokyo?
me: no, from Sendai.
Boy4: Are you tired?
Boy2: Wow, that's far.
Boy3: Fight-o! Fight-o! (yelled for encouragement)
Boy4: Aren't you tired?
me: I'm ok, it's fun.
Boy1: Where do you sleep?
Boy2: Where'd you come from today?
me: at hotels, from Mutsu around the peninsula
Boy4:Aren't you tired?
etc. I love kids. I could have been from the moon and gotten the same reaction to them.
Boy3: Fight-o!!
And finally, clocking out at more than 1040km, I arrived back at Hachinohe station and put my bike on the train. Perhaps the next bike journey will start here again but will go west, across the mountains. In many ways, I feel I can do anything now and I miss being on the road. I don't know when I'll be on the road next but I look forward to it. What and incredibly beautiful world...
the adventures continue.
I arrived home, tried to arrange to meet a few friends for drinks and food only to find that I was locked out of my apartment. When I had mailed my wallet back on day 4? I had left my keys in it. They'd been mailed to my school, which is not near where I live. Joe was out of town for the weekend and the key to his place was with the key to mine. My triumphant return was not so triumphant, tired and hungry and very smelly, I emailed a friend and asked if I could crash at her place No tears were shed. And in the end all was well.
the adventures do indeed continue.