Day 1: From Nishihara to Ikei Jima
 |
| Red = Day 1. Green = Day 2. Blue = Day 3. |
This was a walk in the park. I knew the route well, as I had done most of it on one of my warm up sessions, and of the three legs of my trip, this was the shortest. Most of it was flat, and there were no navigational challenges.
The clouds were out, the breeze was blowing, and I was cruising through mostly neighborhoods on the way to the Katsuren Peninsula. Once I got there, I knew I'd have to climb some hills, but they were small, few, and known commodities to my legs. I took my time, marveled at manhole designs along the way, and generally was feeling pretty good about myself as a cyclist.
I was wearing a short sleeved cycling jersey because of the clouds (less of a chance to get scorched as I had in days past), and had the pannier covers on the bags just in case some rain started falling. Early on in the ride I realized that affixing my speakers to my bar bag mounting brackets was better that sticking it in my bar bag, and keeping the top flap wedged open to let the sound out. These were the types of things I had on my mind, easy as my ride was.
The west end of the Katsuren Peninsula is where the climbing began, but it was short. My plan was to go to a taco truck, of sorts, that I know about to get some Okinawa Soba for lunch. It was a little off course, but the Soba is great, and so were the folks who work there. However, by the time I got over the hump of Katsuren, I was way, way ahead of schedule. The Soba stand would never be open that early, so I skipped it and detoured on a very small island that is apparently home to some sort of historical site. I had never gone there before, I had time, and my legs were fresh, so what the heck?
It was short lived. I crossed the bridge, rounded a corner, the pavement turned to dirt, and the dirt road forked 5 different ways obviously intended for farmers to navigate to their fields by. The thing I love about my Trek 520 and its beefy tires is that I'm never really concerned about terrain or bumps. This beast can take a hit, and is not afraid of a little mud and gravel. But the roads didn't appear to be going anywhere, if even if they did, it seemed like more trouble than it was worth. So, I turned around, and went back to my original course, taking me across the Kaichu Bridge Road.
About a third of the way across this bridge is a rest stop/viewpoint area complete with public washrooms. It was well timed, because I needed to...wash up. I did not want to dehydrate on this trip, so I was swilling the Acquarius (Japan's version of Gatorade, found in every vending machine, on every corner in every community and neighborhood in Okinawa - no kidding. There's no excuse for not drinking enough in Okinawa. If you have money, you'll never lack access to liquids.)
The other part of my cycling costume this day was cycling knickers that have the shoulder straps and go half way down my calves. For those of you who are familiar with these types of knickers, its not easy for a guy to ... wash up. It's a bit of a process, but in the public washroom that was vacant, I was able to take care of business in no time.
Back on my donkey, I got to Henza Jima just in time for the rain to start falling. It came down a bit while I was tooling around in some of the neighborhoods, again, killing some time. I ducked into an open garage, stowed my speakers in my bar bag, and stashed my shades in there as well. The cloud passed, and I went on my merry way, heading to the Hamahiga Island Bridge (yet another time killing detour).
Just as I got on the road to the bridge, the heavens opened again, and this time the rain stuck around for a while. But this time, as with the last, I found a convenient shelter just in time. This one was a covered area in a park abutting the bridge. I took this as an opportunity to pull out my iPhone and take a short video of my status, eat some bread, and drink some Acquarius, and chill out. On this point, I need to make a point. I brought an old fashioned journal and pen with me to capture my thoughts and ponderings along the way. But I found that I captured most of that on my iPhone with either photos or videos. Something to think about on your next tour. I carried unnecessary weight.
Eventually, the rain stopped, and I got going across the bridge to Hamahiga Jima (Jima = Island), and quickly found a covered Soba stand to grab some lunch at. When offered water, I presented one of my empty water bottles to the old lady who was serving me. She was very kind, and came back with it filled up ... with something brownish. It looked like bad well water, but after a small sip, I knew it was mugicha (wheat tea). It tastes like dirt, but it really cools you down inside, quickly. She asked about my other water bottles, and while I needed those filled too, I didn't offer them because I really wanted water so I could drop some Nuun tablets in. But I didn't want her to think that I was ungrateful for the mugicha, so I passed, and thought to get water later.
I took about an hour, or so, exploring the island and diving for shelter every so often when ridiculous storms passed by. I spent some quality time straddling my bike in a public washroom, avoiding a couple storms. After 3 scorching days the previous week doing training rides, the slight inconvenience of dark clouds and periodic rain delays was welcome.
Crossed back over the bridge and got back on schedule heading north on the east coast of Henza Jima, up to Miyagi Jima and just as I left Yonashirotobaru (the village on the southern part of the island), the heavens opened again and never stopped. There was no place to hide either. I spent a few minutes under a tree limb, but that was hopeless. I was going to get soaked one way or another, so I sucked it up, and peddled out in the thundering down pour - much to the amusement of the motorists driving by.
It was refreshing. I was hopeful that because of the intensity of the rain and the thoroughness of my drenching I might actually lose some stink I had collected along the way. It was also too darned wet to pull out my iPhone and make sure I wasn't taking the wrong roads. But, the Force was with me, and I made it to my destination, noting a few alternate camping locations just in case. "Just in case" because when I called these folks earlier (a small little beach resort that allowed beach camping...and had showering facilities for about $10), they said they close for bad weather.
I got there just as they were battening down the hatches, and shutting things down. No camping on the beach, they firmly told me. I started thinking about a tunnel the road took through part of the previous island as a good place to stay the night. Seriously, it was covered (dry), had a shelf, of sorts about waist high with more than enough room for me and my bike, and a safe location, believe it or not. The only thing it didn't have was privacy (don't want a cop driving by and noticing my bivy sack and bike up there in the middle of the night, and kicking me out).
As I sat there, pondering my options, I was more than happy to sit there as long as they would let me take shelter under their awning. They were hustling to and fro, taking down beach umbrellas and chairs, stashing them in storage lockers etc., so I walked around a little to look at stuff. Noticed a few bungalows off to the right near the beach, and asked if I could rent one of those. Long pause..., but they offered me a small discount on the regular price, then told me, they're shutting everything else down. I coughed up the cash, and they left. No kidding. They locked down everything (including the showers), and left.
 |
| The storm had passed. |
I dove inside the small room I rented, unloaded my bags to find a few things moist (see my gear review for further information on this), at which point I noticed everything fell silent. I opened the curtains to find that the clouds had parted, the sun was out (but setting), and the wind had died. Dry and warm, I pulled out my iPhone with movies on it, plugged it into my Goal Zero speakers, and watched Rear Window while I charged all of my other devices through my Anker USB charger.
Then I slept.
Day 2: From Ikei Jima to Kouri Jima
If you look at a map of Okinawa and can find Ikei Jima, then follow the road down south toward the Katsuren Peninsula, circle around and up the east coast of Okinawa past Ishikawa, Kin, and Ginoza, you can see that you more or less do a near complete lap or circle. You almost end up where you started, but for some water between where you started and where you ended up. But there I found myself, straddling my 520, chewing on a Strawberry Cliff Shot Block, staring at Ikei Jima with some level of disbelief. So close, yet so far away. There were a lot of hills on the route so far, and I hate hills.
But I had many miles in front of me, and these were unknown miles. I'd never driven any of the roads ahead of me to Kouri Jima, but I did know I'd have to cross a mountain range at some point to get from the east coast to the northwest town of Nago, then north to the islands.
 |
| Rockin' the long sleeves. |
The heat was out. Around noon I looked at the heat index on my phone and it read 108f. The long sleeves were on from the get go, and they were definitely protecting my arms from bursting into flames. I slathered my face, neck, and a mid calves in SPF 50, and wondered to myself what happens to Nike Dry Fit shirts when there's just as much moisture on the outside as the inside?
No matter, I soldiered on - which seems to be the appropriate phrase, since I was peddling through heavy American military base areas. The ride was long and monotonous. There really were no neighborhood streets I could take up the east coast. Just a fairly quiet country highway going through one town after another. But this is where the tunes came in handy. It really did help the miles go by, and keep my morale in fairly good spirits.
I've watched Bear Grylls programs enough to know how highly he values morale as a survivor's best asset. And I believe it. Time and again throughout this trip, when I was getting bored, tired, or unmotivated, I found something to lift my spirits. A cold can of Acquarius, some tunes, or just taking a short break and checking with my wife via text. Those little things put a little juice in my legs, and kept me going.
The further north I got, the more and more I was looking forward to the sharp turn west taken by highway 329 that signified the crossing over the mountain range. What I was genuinely worried about was that mountain range would be one of those false summit after false summit type rides. When, even though you've passed the summit, you still do a lot of up and down hill climbing, gradually working your way back down to sea level.
So, you can imagine how thrilled I was when I hit what I correctly thought was the summit, then glided down, down, down into Nago (at sea level) with not a single uphill slope on my way down. In addition to that thrill, I was greeted at the entrance to Nago by a Blue Seal Ice Cream Shop. Oh the joy!
And this is when I realized how badly I stank. Holy cow, I felt bad for the ice cream gal who had to serve me. My stink was unbearable for me. I can't imagine what she thought. And this is the point that I began to be more strategic about where I ate. I didn't want to stink up everyplace I went to, so I decided to limit myself to restaurants that had outdoor seating. So, after I meandered north through Nago, and up to Yagaji Jima, I found a little snooty place just before the bridge to Kouri Jima (my destination) with outdoor seating, and the best darned chicken I've had in ages. When I took the first bite, I was immediately reminded of a scene out of the movie Ratatouille when the restaurant critic took a bite of the ratatouille. Wow, that was good.
I got out, dried off, changed into somewhat clean clothes for the night, and realized that by jumping into the ocean, I didn't exchange one stink (sweat/B.O.) for another (dead fish and seaweed). Rather, I combined the two. Oy!
So, sleeping on the beach seems like a great idea. Especially in a small and compact bivy sack. Bad, bad idea. 1) Bivys don't breath very well. If it is at all warm outside at night, you will sweat all night. I sweat buckets that night. 2) The beach comes alive at night. There were buggers of every kind, but the crabs were having a party on my legs (on top of the bivy) all night. Do yourself a favor, and take a proper tent. It will mean more weight, but it will also mean a decent night's sleep.
Day 3: From Kouri Jima to Nishihara
So, I adopted a phrase (as I had numerous conversations with myself along the way) to never hurry while cycle touring. Just don't be in a hurry. Hauling 40+ pounds on a heavy bike is a bit like riding a road bike with your breaks on. There's no point in hurrying, and since I had no juice left in me, I couldn't hurry anyway. 1 mile at a time.
The views were spectacular, and, for the most part, the sun was at my back. And I took just about every opportunity I could to take a break and get out of the sun.
The west coast is fairly well populated by resort towns, so there's no shortage of quickie marts to get cold water at, so I was never low on fluids. The challenge was getting some proper food fuel in me. Power bars weren't doing it for me (I think I've given up on Cliff Bars. They're better than most energy bars, but they still taste like flavored dirt.), and I needed to get some real food in me. But I stank so badly, I had to find a place with outdoor seating - or, a place empty of other customers.
To my delight, I found a spacious lunch joint that was empty, and had the air conditioning blasting. The menu had a calorie count next to each item, so I ordered the one with the most calories. Ahh, beef. And the sauce, there, in the little bowl was spectacular. About the time I got done eating, a few other customers came in, so I went outside and layed down on one of the picnic benches for a few more minutes before continuing into Yomitan.Yomitan is one endless hill. Not an especially steep hill. Just one that never seems to end. Previously unfamiliar with Yomitan, I did not expect this obstacle. It nearly drained my will to live, and it was at this point that my pocket wifi overheated and stopped working. It was also around this time that I noticed I had a kink in my neck, as if I had slept on it wrong. Surely, I did. So, turning to my right to see traffic coming up behind me was nigh unto impossible. But the proper meal had boosted my morale, so I kept peddling up that darned hill.
Somewhere along the way, I found a surf shop, and seeing that as an opportunity to take a break, I stepped inside to talk to the guy about rentals. He asked if I surf much (yup), and if I've ever surfed Okinawa (nope). Sorry, he told me. We don't rent to folks who haven't surfed in Okinawa. The reefs are dangerous, he told me. But, dude, I replied in Japanese, I've surfed the North Shore in Hawaii. I think that might qualify me. Nothing doing. I enjoyed a few more minutes of the air conditioning (he, as well as several others along the way, asked me about my ride, and all responded with some level of disbelief that I was doing it in this heat.) in the shop, then got back on my donkey and continued up the hill.
 |
| Downhill side of Yomitan hill. Seems short. |
Urasoe was where I stopped on the stoop of an apartment building, layed flat on my back, and blindly emptied a bottle of water on my face. That felt great. It is also where I found a wifi signal that I used to ping my wife and let her know I was still alive (I had been radio silent for several hours). She offered to come get me, but I had come too far to give up at this point. The only thing that was between me and a long cold shower was Naha and Shuri - that dirty rotten Shuri hill.
And it just about killed me. I won't say how many breaks I took going up that hill, but I peddled to the point that I thought I might have a problem, then stopped and rested. Then peddled more, dumping more water on my head along the way.
If I had known how brutal the ride would have been, I probably would not have done it. Then again, that's what I thought about summiting Mount Adams in Washington, but I'm glad I did it. I won't do this ride again, but I'm so glad I did it.
A few lessons for the next tour:
1) long sleeves in the sun. I don't need cycling jerseys. Plain dry fit shirts are just fine. Anything that would go in my jersey pockets will go in my bar bag.
2) take a proper tent.
3) go in the fall or spring, not in the summer or winter. Cooler weather has to be better than the radical weight loss plan I completed on this tour.
4) work out proper meals more thoroughly. I don't want to pack them, but bring some just in case I can't find a decent restaurant along my way. Carrying a little extra weight is okay if it's fuel.
