The love hotel

As I mentioned before, all of my current cycling trip was pre-booked in advance, except one night. It's the only time I'm staying in a big-ish city, so I assumed that there would be loads of hotels available to choose from. But it was also a Saturday night and by the time I started booking my trip everything was sold out. I kept checking back on booking.com and Google maps but nothing became available, until a few days ago. One hotel, just added to booking.com, had some rooms available. It actually had rooms available before, but at insane prices. Now prices were reasonable. Still way higher than regular business hotels, but reasonable. The only catch: it's a love hotel.

I pondered a lot about whether or not I should reserve it. On the one hand I felt it wasn't in the spirit of my cycling trip to pre-book any accommodation that was above the bare-minimum business hotel level of service. The only available cheap business hotel was 30 miles away though. I considered booking that and going there by train and then back again to my parked bicycle in the morning, but that definitely wouldn't have been in the spirit of the cycling trip. In the end my fear of the rain and the cold won out, so I booked the love hotel.

I actually considered just winging it and maybe sitting at the steps of the train station looking like a poor lost foreigner wanting help and waiting for a good samaritan to show up and offer me to stay at their place. Given the kindness of Japanese people I actually suspect this would have worked, but that's also kind of the reason I didn't want to do it, since I'd be taking advantage of their kindness. I'm not a lost foreigner any more; I have the technological, linguistic and financial means to book a hotel on the fly no matter where I am. So, better to save that kindness for someone who really needs it. The other reason I ended up pre-booking is that I was still worried that it would rain. Not having an overnight plan sucks a lot more if you're drenched with rain and icy cold.

My only previous experience with a love hotel was indirectly via a story told by a (non-Japanese) friend, who actually got thrown out of a love hotel because he couldn't figure out how it worked and couldn't communicate what he wanted. I quite dreaded that this would happen to me. After almost 90 kilometers of cycling and some unintended extra exercise (more on that later) I really needed some uninterrupted sleep. So when I showed up at the reception desk I was mildly anxious. Fortunately the man at the reception was quite helpful and quickly helped me get set up. He even fixed the wifi for me, although it broke again soon after he left. But hey, I managed to get into my room and was left alone, so I was happy.

Except for the fact that the door wouldn't stop talking and wouldn't let me out. There's a little something I could have known had I investigated a bit first: once you're in the room, you have to pay to get out. Since I had booked the hotel on booking.com and was expecting to pay by card I was reluctant to use the machine at the door, since I kind of suspected that any overpayment on my part would end up not getting refunded. So I stayed in my room, which wasn't too bad, since the hotel provided a free welcome beverage (alcoholic or non-alcoholic) and a dinner menu to order from, delivered to the room. The door finally shut up as well so all was good.

The room itself was fairly decent. It was a bit as if a karaoke room and a regular hotel room had sex and squirted dildos and condoms everywhere. It was soundproof, had a PS2, karaoke machine, dildo vending machine and even the mini-fridge was vending-machine-style. You have to pay for everything. The view was excellent. You can tell the owners wanted to go for the premium kind of feel to make it feel nicer than a business hotel, but they went about in a really sleazy way so the end result somehow felt worse than a business hotel. If I wanted to impress a girl I'd never ever take her to a love hotel, unless my goal was to show her how messed up Japan is.

There were two major issues with the room, both of which I had to leave unsolved. The first was that the bloody lights didn't turn off. I looked all throughout the room, pressed every switch I could find, but the lights would not turn off. I guess that must have been on purpose. The other thing that annoyed me hugely was that the heating was set way too high and there was no way to turn it down. Again, I suspect that was on purpose. Helps to get people to take their clothes off, I guess. After dinner I was just so tired that none of these things even bothered me, and I fell asleep just like that, with the lights on in a room that was way too hot.

I was sound asleep in my bed when the door machine started talking to me again at 23:30. I didn't wake up fast enough to hear what it actually said but I was worried that it had unlocked the door. The last thing I want is for some horny couple to show up expecting the room to be available. I stayed awake in my now insanely hot room for a few minutes to see if anything would happen, but everything seemed fine. I assume the owner reserved the room for the whole night since I booked online. I solved my overheating problem the only way I could think of: I opened the balcony door just wide enough to get a pleasant temperature. The heating didn't seem to care anyway and was full open all the time. Still couldn't get the lights to turn off, though..

All in all it was a really strange experience. Japan is absolutely fantastic in being convenient. Everything you can imagine is convenient, and the way of thinking of making things convenient is embedded in everything they do. You could clearly tell that the love hotel was made with the concept of convenience in mind, yet somehow it executed that concept incredibly poorly. I really don't know how much of that is on purpose because of the cultural concept of what a love hotel is, or how much of it is just because of lack of thinking things through. I also don't know which of those options is worse. This is a country that has a 'play soothing sound' button on toilet seats so that other people don't hear you take a shit, so anything's possible really.

I could have done a late start on the following day and even could have gotten a free breakfast at the hotel, but I just felt like leaving early and getting on with the trip. Love hotels are definitely not for me. It'll do in an emergency, but it's pretty low on my list of places I would stay at.

Right, back to travelling. I'm still going through my backlog so I've got some fun blogposts coming up. Stay tuned.

Posted in Cycling , Japan

No wind means a great day

I'm still catching up on blogging because of lack of internet at my previous hotel and laziness on my part in sorting photos. Oh well, it's a short trip, I can afford to have a bit of backlog.

After my exhaustion on the first 'real' day of cycling I was mildly worried about the second, but the weather was on my side for the whole day, and it even got nice and warm during the afternoon. I woke up earlier than I intended to, I guess jet lag is catching up with me. I had planned to leave later so that the sun could warm things up a bit before departing, but I was deep inside a valley anyway so it wouldn't have made much difference. That said, it was about 3 degrees C when I set off and I could see my breath with every exhale. This time I was wearing the appropriate attire, and the wind was gone, so it actually felt way more comfortable than the day before.

Before setting off I had to do some maintenance. I used the bandage tape to wrap around my handlebars to make them a bit softer to the touch, since my hands had been receiving some damage already, even with padded cycle gloves. I suspect this is more of an issue on touring bikes with front panniers since there's more mass to turn with the handlebars, but honestly, that's the way I prefer it. The bike just feels horribly unbalanced with all the mass on the back. After the handlebar was dealt with I pumped up the tires, which had lost a lot of pressure after the first day - way more than I expected. I probably have slow punctures on both tires since they lost about half their pressure over the course of the day. That very likely contributed to me having a miserable time at the end of the day before. After pumping the tires I used the disposable toothbrush each hotel in Japan kindly provides to clean my chain and then gave it a little lubricant spray. I'm not sure how much this helped but when I set off I felt a lot more positive and excited than I did at the end of the day before.

My route took me along a road which, during the planning of the trip, I thought was a mountain pass, but as it turns out it was more of a valley between mountain ranges, and it followed a river almost all the way until the end. It was an extremely gentle incline, going up to about 400 meters over the course of 30-40 kilometers. There were some ups and downs but nothing major, and all in all the cycling part of today was way easier than the worst case scenario I had prepared myself for. And there was hardly any wind! I hate cycling in the cold if there's wind but without wind it was downright pleasant, and maybe even preferable over cycling in hot weather. Provided you have the right clothes, at least.

The scenery was amazing. Since it was a Saturday I was expecting tourist traffic, but there was hardly anyone anywhere. I guess it's still too cold for Japanese sensibilities. All the better for me, since it meant I had the valley road all to myself for most of the time. It was a pretty good road, too. It's likely part of a popular pilgrimage path, or at least I think that must have been the reason that the road nearly always had a wide pedestrian/cycle lane next to the main road, with hardly any bumps or ramps on it. Contrary to my usual stance on not cycling on the main road, this time I took advantage of the side path so I could stop frequently to take photos. Have I mentioned the scenery was amazing? The scenery was amazing.

The barometer in my cyclocomp was somewhat erratic today, which caused the elevation measurement to jump around a bit. It might actually because of varying air pressures in the valley, but I'm not sure. The only other times I've seen the altitude measurement go weird was during climbs in mountain passes, so it seems related.

After reaching the 'top' of the route after a very gentle climb spread out over dozens of kilometers, the way down was only several kilometers, and quite steep. After the first 200 meters or so I immediately stopped and had to reclothe myself because it was way too cold. More layers, better gloves, winter hat. Still no traffic. Awesome downhill. It's the ultimate payoff that rewards you for putting in all the effort to climb those heights. I went down so fast that my ears popped.

Back at sea level, now at the other side of the mountain range, it was a bit more windy, but very warm. I stopped at a conbini to take off some layers again and had a look at the map. I wasn't quite at my destination yet, and to be honest I wasn't much in a hurry to get there. The destination for the day was a city (bad) I had been to once before (bad), and that I couldn't find a decent hotel in in advance so I had to book a rather sleazy place because that was literally the only option available to me (bad). Instead, I wandered around a bit. Apparently the Japanese call this 'pottering'. It's yet another bastardization of an English word that is so ridiculous that only the Japanese could think of it.

I found a rather famous temple on my map only a few kilometers from where I was, so I took some random zig-zag roads to get there and had a look. There were a few tourists there, but only a handful. It's just ridiculously quiet everywhere and I'm not sure why. 

After the temple I wandered my way down towards a major road and managed to find a Sukiya for lunch. If the temple is the goal of the pilgrim then the Sukiya is the goal of the touring cyclist. .. to be honest I prefer Cocoichi over Sukiya lately. Sukiya's curry seems to have gotten a bit too bland for my taste.

Feeling refreshed after the food I had a casual cycle into the city, which was still quite a way away. I cycled on a main road, which was main enough to have a large wide foot-and-cycle-path next to it. Quite flat, and quite appropriate for 'pottering'. Nope, I still hate that word. Can't get myself to like it. I had some time to waste before the hotel would allow me to check in so I wandered around the town a bit. Lots of nice canals, and the usual family restaurants, conbinis, post offices, delivery services, etcetera. Good old Japan.

I wonder if by now you can guess where I'm cycling. I've given some fairly major hints in this post. I'll do the reveal after the trip is over. This post has gotten quite long so I'll save the bit about the love hotel for the next post. Spoiler alert: it wasn't great.

Posted in Cycling

Enter Title Here

So, I'm in Japan again for a little cycling trip. I arrived two days ago, had a somewhat casual day yesterday and the first real day of cycling today. It's the earliest I've ever done a cycling trip. It's cold..

No matter how much I improve, every time I go on a cycling trip something goes wrong. I'm getting better and better at managing it though. I use wheel spacers so my frame doesn't bend. I pack everything nicely so my gears don't get messed up. I remember how my derailleur works so I don't get confused trying to untangle my chain when it doesn't need untangling.. Ok, some of these things are pretty stupid. Somehow it only ever occurs to me after it goes wrong that it could go wrong, though. Anyway, the hardest lessons are the best, and none of these things are likely to occur again. Instead, I get new and exciting problems that I don't know about yet.

First problem: two days ago I built the bike without any issues whatsoever. Since my plane arrived early and I couldn't check in to my hotel yet I had plenty of time to build the bike to my liking. I spent some extra time fine-tuning the brakes to make sure they're as tight as can be without hitting the wheels. Then, yesterday, I set off on my fully loaded bike and suddenly noticed that the 'handrest' bit on my handlebar, the bit that houses the lower brakes, was bent inwards. It's happened before after transport, and it's gotten so loose that I can easily bend it back, which I've done during past cycling trips without issue. I only noticed it while I was cycling, so I bent it while continuing to cycle. As soon as I bent it I came to a sudden stop. Turns out I had tuned the brakes so tightly that bending the bit that houses the brakes caused it to overtighten. I made the brakes a bit looser to compensate, but now every time I brake the handrest bit bends inwards..

For as long as I can remember I wear either two or three layers on my upper body when cycling: an underlayer to keep me warm and a layer over that to not look like an idiot. Sometimes in really hot weather I get the stupid idea of not using my underlayer, and every time I don't wear it, I regret it. I suspect it's a consequence of my ever-present belly fat that my belly gets really really cold when exercising. As such it seems that I need more layers than most people to feel comfortable. So when other people are wearing their one spandexy cycling layer I'm wearing two layers and a thin coat on top. I've had a really crappy Nike anti-rain/wind coat for ages. It's not meant for cycling at all but it's exactly the right combination of airy plus warm that I need. I finally decided to buy a proper wind-stopping cycling layer for cold weather, with super magical properties that let it wick the sweat away, let air through while still stopping air etc. etc. It's terrible. I'm still cold when I wear it as a second layer, and it's way too hot to wear in combination with my crappy Nike coat. I've tried it for two days now and it's just not as good as my usual 2-3 layers. At least not for me. Experiment failed.

Another mishap happened to me today. I was cycling along as usual when I suddenly noticed my front left pannier hanging on only one hinge. This happens every once in a while if I hit a pothole or ramp too hard, so I stopped to re-hang it. But that's when I noticed that the little hook that normally connects the pannier to the rack had just completely snapped off. I'm not entirely surprised by this: the hooks normally connect with two pins to the pannier and one had already broken off. I've had those panniers for 10 years. I guess it's time for some new ones when I get back. In any case, I did some McGyvering with tie wraps to tie it to the rack, and it seems to be holding on for now.

 Every time I start cycling again after not having been on a proper ride in months, I simply forget how to cycle right. I just don't naturally know how to pick the right pace. I always pick a gear or a cadence that's too high and then I tire myself out. I have to make that mistake a few times at the beginning of every time until I eventually find my rhythm back. Today was the day where that kicked me in the ass in the worst possible way. Tomorrow is the designated 'tough' day, with a route that'll go through the mountains and is longer than today. Today was supposed to be a relatively easy ride, but I managed to tire myself out long before lunch time, to the point where my muscles were pretty much useless and I could only go at really slow speeds. There's probably several things that contributed to this, mainly me underestimating the nasty headwind I had all day and picking the wrong pace, but there are some issues with my bike as well. I noticed after about an hour in that the front brakes were hitting the front wheel again, so I had to loosen them up a little more. It wasn't much, but it was enough to stop the wheel almost immediately when lifting up in the air and giving it a whirl. Another thing that may or may not have contributed to my crap performance today is that the chain is full of gunk and needs some fresh lube. I shrugged it off yesterday because the bike seemed fine then, but that was a much shorter ride. Today I passed a single bike shop, selling old lady bicycles. When I asked if I could borrow or buy some chain spray the guy told me he didn't have any. I think my jaw literally dropped in real life. How in the bloody hell can a bicycle shop not have chain spray? I asked him again to make sure he heard me correctly, but he insisted he didn't have any. Now, given that this was in the countryside, in the middle of nowhere, and I interrupted the guy while he was talking to some other guy, combined with the fact that my appearance is very foreign and his appearance was very cantankerous, I suspect he simply didn't want to help me. So he either sucks at operating a bike shop or else he's an asshole. Meh.

The morning cycle had tired me out so much that I took two really long breaks to give my muscles a chance to recover. The first didn't do too much but after the second break I felt a little bit better. Before that I really felt as if my legs were just going to shake and give up. The only time they've ever done that was when cycling to the Fuji five lakes area on the first day of my first solo cycling trip. I thought I was more prepared now, but I guess not. After the second break it was no longer freezing cold, the wind had died down a bit and I had switched from the crappy cycling overlayer to my good old windcoat, which made me feel a lot better. Cold, wind and bad gear is not a good combination.

When I finally arrived at my destination, a lovely little town right at the end of a valley where the two mountain ranges meet, I did not expect to find a giant shopping mall with a 100-yen shop. It took away from the quaintness but also gave me an opportunity to buy chain spray and fake handlebar tape (roll of bandage tape).

Tomorrow it's off into the mountains. It doesn't actually seem too bad in terms of height or inclines based on Google Earth, but it is a long ride. I did finally manage to get a hotel for tomorrow, but it wasn't easy. Might be an interesting story tomorrow.

Posted in Cycling

Still going

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There's something utterly fantastic about finishing up all your chores ('adulting'...) on a Saturday and then going cycling on a Sunday. Today was just perfect to pick up cycling again after a short break, and I definitely felt the cycler's high upon returning home. I've been keeping cycling on the exercise bike indoors. I was expecting myself to be weaker than I actually was today, so I was pleasantly surprised when I found myself actually overtaking some people on an uphill. Keeping in shape for the next trip. Still not sure when, but I'm already looking forward to it.

Posted in Cycling

Just do it

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I never feel like going out for a cycle but I always feel better when I do.

Posted in Cycling , Photography

Tips for touring cycling in Japan

The very first touring trip I did in Japan was in 2007, and I've done many more since then. Over the years I've gathered a whole bunch of data as well as personal experiences that I thought would be useful to put into a blogpost. Hopefully someone will find this useful. I tried to categorize things a bit, so here goes.

The language

First, to get the obvious thing out of the way, I speak Japanese and can read enough of it to be useful for a cycling trip. I think this is a huge help for me, but I have no evidence of the contrary because I don't know anyone who's cycling in Japan without knowing the language. Japanese people are extremely helpful and friendly and will do anything they can to help you find a camp site or point you in the right direction. I can't even count the number of times random people have come up to me and given me food or drinks. They're great people. That said, I don't doubt that being able to speak Japanese will reduce the barrier to conversation and make it easier for people to connect with you. Quite frequently people ask me where I came from and where I'm going, how much kilometers I'm doing in a day, etc. I can imagine such a conversation is more difficult to start if it's in English, since a lot of Japanese people are still shy about their level of English. I'd recommend learning at least a few words and phrases for basic conversation. Words like 'camp site', where', 'left', 'right' are hugely useful. Still though, in this day and age, if you have offline maps and a bunch of placemarks on your phone then you can easily get away with not knowing any Japanese. I'd still recommend learning at least a bit of it though. Trips are more fun if you can talk to the locals.

Trip planning

First tip about trip planning: don't :) . That is, don't plan your every day schedule way in advance. I usually plan the starting point and destination and roughly the route/area I want to go through, but I don't make detailed plans until one or two days before the actual cycle. That gives me the freedom to change course or even go somewhere completely different, or linger in a place that I like a bit longer. Touring is absolutely more fun this way.

Japan allows this kind of trip style because 1) hotels and camp sites are readily available wherever you are and rarely full, and 2) there's always the option of sending your bicycle via Kuroneko delivery service to the airport (or anywhere) if you end up running out of time. Kuronekos are everywhere, and while your bike is in transit you can catch the Shinkansen back. One thing I will definitely advise against is to bag your bike and carry it with you in trains. I'm not even sure if the Shinkansen allows it, and besides, a touring bike is heavy, and so is your luggage. Cycle as much as you can, all the way to the airport if possible. Bagging the bike never takes me more than 2 hours even in the worst case scenario so if you arrive at the airport a little early that's plenty of time.

Airports and flights

Take a direct flight! Direct flights mean less people handling your bicycle, and that's absolutely worth the extra cost of a direct flight. You don't want your bike to be broken on arrival. I took Turkish airlines to Japan once, with a stopover in Istanbul, and my bicycle frame got bent on the flight in and the flight out. Never again.

If you're using a soft case, on the last day of cycling, try to carry around some spare bits of cardboard to pad your bike's sensitive bits with. Always carry a roll of duct tape with you. I've actually hardly ever had to use it, but feel comforted just having it with me. Be sure to get the airport people to put a fragile tag on your bike, and preferably a 'this side up' tag as well. I also duct-tape a giant arrow on each side of my bag to make sure it's obvious which side is the top.

Day to day cycling - what to expect

Japan does not have a lot of dedicated cycling paths, and in areas where there dedicated paths, they're not always right for touring. Japanese cycling paths are made for mamachari bikes. They're often narrow, bumpy, and cross a lot of roads with a little bump on entry and exit. Definitely not ideal for touring. I'm not saying you shouldn't go on these, because sometimes you'll end up on a beautiful stretch of coastal cycling road, devoid of cars and with a beautiful view that you couldn't get from the road. But when it doesn't work out it's perfectly ok to head back onto the main road and make some speed. I've never seen a cycling path in a mountainous area so chances are that even on a touring bike you'll be able to make better progress on the main road than on a cycling road. It's a tradeoff though, just give it a try. Also, most useful things, such as conbinis (convenience stores), vending machines and restaurants tend to be on the main road, not the cycling path.

That leads to probably the most important tip I can give you: always stay on the road! You're allowed to cycle on sidewalks in Japan, and occasionally, in the countryside, there'll be a beautiful wide sidewalk with no one on it. But don't go there! Because you'll regret it. The sidewalk will get narrower and narrower until your wide touring bike won't fit any more and you'll have to carry it over some barriers to get back onto the main road. Sidewalks are also always bumpier and have drops whenever a road intersects with it. Lastly, it's just more dangerous, because inevitably there'll be a point where you'll be rejoining the main road, and you need to make very sure that drivers see you when you're going from sidewalk to main road.

The safest and most comfortable position for a touring cyclist is on the road. Close to the left-most bit, but not too close. On very narrow roads I tend to be well to the right of the white line to make sure that cars don't attempt to pass me when I think it's too dangerous for them to pass me. On wider roads I try to stick to the left of the white line if possible, leaving myself some space to maneuver around obstacles. There's always grates, little bumps or other things that suddenly pop up that you'll have to evade. If you leave yourself enough space to do that then that's no problem.

Quite frequently a road's asphalt is worn down by the countless trucks passing over it, and will have a little valley where each truck's tires hit the asphalt, pushing it to the side and creating a narrow ridge right where bicycles usually feel at home. It's flat-out dangerous to cycle on this ridge. Stay to the right of the it and just drive in the valley, even if that means taking a wider line. Cars and trucks will have to navigate around you and it will be harder for them to overtake, but in my opinion it's their fault that the road ended up like that anyway, so that kinda balances out.

Day to day cycling - some numbers

Distance: I rarely do less than 60 kilometers per day, even on hilly days. The days that I do less than 60 km is because I am setting up for the next day, or because there's an interesting thing I want to see on the way. If you don't have any other plans or things blocking you, plan to do at least 60 a day. The most I've done was 160 km in one day but that was a fluke: just a very long coastal road with the wind in the right direction and not much interesting to see along the way. I wouldn't recommend doing more than 100 kilometers a day. Probably around 80 km is my personal sweet spot. It largely depends on how hilly the terrain is as well. If you're climbing all day then 60 kilometers is already quite an accomplishment.

Speaking of climbing: inclines! Most major coastal roads in Japan don't have inclines over 6%, and 6% is definitely doable by even an unfit person in the lowest gear of his/her touring bike. But there's a lot of qualifiers in that statement: most, major and coastal. You'll definitely encounter inclines of around 10% if you go into the mountains or on smaller roads, or even some coastal roads in more rural areas of Japan. There's something even worse though, something that you're very likely to encounter on a touring trip: the slopes that lead up to a hotel or youth hostel. Those are the absolute worst, and can easily get up to 15-20%. If you can avoid it, don't ever push your bike up a hill! You'll be using different muscles, which may feel like it's less of an effort, but only for a very short while. After that you'll end up being even more exhausted. Just select the lowest gear you have and start cycling, even if it's only at walking pace. If you feel like you can do more, just slowly work your way up the gears as you're climbing. But more often than not you'll find yourself being overly optimistic about what gear you can do. Just take it easy.

For that matter, try not to stand on the pedals. I know it looks cool and it's a great way of powering over a small hill, but hills are seldom small in Japan, and when you're touring you need that energy for the rest of the distance. Just keep a steady rhythm and a sustainable pace.

Tunnels

I hate tunnels so much. They're the absolutely worst place to cycle, yet they're completely unavoidable in Japan. Even if you're sticking to the coast, some coastal areas are just so mountainous that the only way to get from A to B is a single road with at least one long tunnel on it. Expect tunnels of at least 500 meters, but tunnels of up to 2-3 kilometers long are also not uncommon. They tend to be quite narrow: cars coming up behind you will have difficulty passing you if there's oncoming traffic. It'll also be cold and very noisy, so you won't be feeling comfortable in there. Dirt and debris tends to get left behind in tunnels so the side of the road tends to be more difficult to cycle on.

Before entering, always turn on your lights, preferably in super-annoying blink mode. You can't afford to have a car not see you. The front light is important too because some idiots like to overtake in tunnels, and the last thing you want is an oncoming car hitting you full frontal. Most tunnels in Japan are somewhat lit, but a lot of drivers still don't turn their lights on in tunnels, so it's up to you to make them aware that you're there. Take a fairly wide line, staying away from the debris on the side, and actively block drivers from overtaking you if you think there's not enough space to overtake. Sometimes when I know a long tunnel is coming up I stop just before the tunnel to put on my wind-blocking coat, which makes tunnels a lot more comfortable.

Don't worry about inclines. Tunnels are almost often at the top of a climb, or only have a very slight incline. If you do end up in a tunnel with a bit of a climb, don't worry about cars too much, just take it easy going up the hill. It's very easy to feel stressed out about exhausting yourself in a tunnel, but it's worse to actually exhaust yourself and have to stop to catch your breath. Slow and steady.

Lastly, the best way to deal with tunnels is to not take them. Quite often there's a side road that will go around the mountain or hill that the tunnel is crossing. These old roads are often closed down or converted to bicycle-use only. They might be a bit more of a climb, but they're always worth it compared to the stress you get from cycling in tunnels. Alternatively, when you're doing pre-cycling-day research, try to find a route that avoids the tunnels altogether. Even if it's up to 10 kilometers detour I'd say it's still likely to be worth it. Think about it: a lovely path that follows a river slowly upwards over 10 kilometers, with vending machines and beautiful nature along the way, or being cold and miserable in a tunnel for several kilometers? I know which one I prefer. Lastly, do watch out for mountain roads with crazy steep inclines.

Places to stay

Business hotels. Business hotels are awesome. They offer private rooms for affordable prices. They're always clean and predictably always the same no matter where you go. If something says business hotel then you know exactly what you're going to get. I know it's not as glamorous as staying in a traditional ryokan or camping out in the wild, but it's just so damn convenient. During all my trips the places I stayed at the most were business hotels. Use the booking.com app using the free wifi you get from 7-11 or Family mart to book a business hotel nearby. If you book on the day you arrive you sometimes get discounted rates too.

The booking.com app is not the cheapest though, since the cheaper business hotels tend to not do booking.com. It's usually enough to just cycle to a town's train station, where there will inevitably be all the business hotels. If you're in a big town or city there'll be loads and one of them will have a free room. If you're in a small town there might only be one, but that will also have a free room since small towns seldom get a lot of visitors. Unless it's golden week. Fuck golden week. Do not go to Japan during golden week, or pre-book your stays during golden week, preferably to be far away from any tourist spot. It just gets crazy busy.

I should talk about ryokans (Japanese inns). They're... quirky. You never know what you get if you stay at a ryokan. The major plus for me is that, whenever I'm traveling in Japan and really can't find anything else, there's somehow always a ryokan nearby. The best way to find one is to ask the locals when you're at your destination. They tend to be old, family-run, sometimes with onsen. The rooms are tatami and everything creaks and there's usually no other guests around. Or perhaps that's just my experience. It's quite fun, but also... challenging, somehow. Still, would recommend.

Hostels: use Japan Youth Hostel. They're great. Run by Japanese people, always in useful locations in interesting buildings, and you meet a lot of local people there with interesting stories to tell. Don't go to any other international/youth hostel. They tend to be run by foreigners and attract the cheapest kind of tourist.

A trip wouldn't be fun if it was just business hotels and hostels, though. Sometimes you'll want to go camping! There's a lot of camping sites in Japan. In earlier trips I used to ask around for 'a place to set up my tent for one night', avoiding the words 'camp site', because camp site in Japanese implies making a camp fire, doing a barbecue and generally being loud and annoying, which no local wants. But if they see that you're a traveler who will be out of their way again the next morning you might get some interesting recommendations. I've camped (with permission) in front of a hotel, at a temple and at a private camp site on an island which was not officially open yet because it was "still too cold". All fantastic experiences.

If you're pre-planning your endpoint for the day then I recommend checking Google Maps for camp sites in the area and marking them on offline maps, then you don't have to ask the locals. Or at the very least you'll know that there's options. During my last trip I marked all camping sites on the entire route I was thinking of taking, from beginning to end, so I knew I always had options. I was betrayed once by a camp site that did indeed exist and was available, but it was crazy expensive, so I had to go somewhere else. That's way worse than a camp site that's closed, cause you can always camp out at a closed camp site if you're quiet and don't cause trouble.

..which leads to the last option: camping out at places other than official camp sites. It's a great way of saving money, but really, I wouldn't do it. Your average 'sanctioned' camp site will cost about 1000-1500 yen, and a shitty business hotel (which is way more comfortable than any camping) will set you back around 5000 yen. Not crazy prices. But if you do find yourself in the middle of nowhere with no hotels, hostels or camp sites nearby, there's always options. Rivers are your best bet. They snake through the landscape and often leave free areas around them that are great for setting up a tent. Under a bridge might seem like a good idea, but I'd recommend against that. The one time I tried that it was just damn noisy and I was worried that someone would show up and chase me away. Beaches are also a good option, but it's tricky to find a remote one that also has a safe (eg. not-sea-level) area that you can put your tent on. In any case, a little prep work means you can avoid all this hassle.

Seriously though, there are loads of cheap hotels in Japan, even in the middle of nowhere, and they almost always have availability. I take my tent with me because I enjoy the flexibility and I enjoy camping every once in a while, but if you're not into that you'll have no trouble at all just sticking to hotels, youth hostels and ryokans.

Weight / Loadout

Short answer: don't worry about carrying too much, and be sure to put a fair bit of it in your front panniers, so that your bike will feel nice and stable.

You'll inevitably be carrying too much things with you. Tools you don't need, too many spare tires, too many clothes, that one camera or lens you think you might use once but end up never using, and so on. Rather than forcing yourself to to go ultra-lightweight, just pack what you need, or whatever fits comfortably inside your panniers. In my case I've got:

  • One front pannier for tent and sleeping bag - full.
  • One front pannier for only clothes - full.
  • One rear pannier with sleeping mat and bike stuff (spare tires, pump, rain wear, duct tape etc.) - maybe 80% full.
  • One rear pannier with day stuff: wind coat, food, bike lock, sometimes a DSLR for easy access - maybe 70% full.
  • A backpack with electronics and documents and things, bound down on top of the rear rack.
  • The soft travel bag that the disassembled bike goes into is quite huge and goes under the saddle. I used to have a smaller bike bag and a bigger sleeping mat, but they swapped places.
Weight really does not matter as much as you think. You're going to be on a heavy bike regardless of how many kilograms you manage to shave off, and you will be suffering when you go uphill, but that's what gears are for. And muscles. Your muscles will adjust within a few days and then start getting stronger at your own pace, so all you really need as a minimum is a bit of muscle that will keep you comfortable in the lowest gear at the steepest incline. Losing maybe 10% of your luggage weight is not really going to help you a lot with that. It might make you a little bit slower, but then you've already committed to being on the bike all day. Doing an extra 30 minutes or doing 5 kilometers less per day is perfectly doable.

Even if you've decided to not carry a tent, sleeping bag and/or sleeping mat with you, I'd still recommend taking four panniers with you. The reason for this is that the balance of the bike will just be so much better with a bit of weight in front. If you've got two ultra-heavy rear panniers and a backpack on top of that you'll end up with a dangerously light front wheel, which will trip you up at some point, most likely when you're putting in some leg muscle at the start of a steep incline, but also at higher speeds after a nice downhill. My bike feels a million times better with two panniers at the front pushing the front tire to the road.

Weather

The weather.. is fantastic! Usually. That said, do not cycle on rain days. Seriously. If you can avoid it in any way, don't cycle on rain days. It's just not fun, at least not for me. I ride a bicycle to have fun, enjoy and see beautiful scenery and sights along the way. The rain ruins all of that. Better to wait a day and see things when they're dry. That said, I have been foolish enough to cycle during the rain from time to time. From the last trip, 3 out of 30 days were rain cycle days, and 2 of those 3 were avoidable. (The unavoidable day was cycling to the airport, for which I still preferred rain cycling to bagging the bike and taking a train).

If the rain is only a little then you can probably get away with cycling. It's very unpredictable though. I was frequently checking the weather report at convenience stores during my last trip, and even when the rain radar showed that the rain was over there were still some scattered showers, some strong enough to seriously soak me. But light rain dries very quickly thanks to the wind, so if you're in a fairly built-up area you can risk cycling in light rain and stop at a convience store or restaurant or cafe when it gets heavier.

Rain coats don't help in heavy rain. If you're cycling on a touring bike you will sweat, and if you're wearing a raincoat you'll sweat more and faster. Wear it or don't wear it, you'll be uncomfortable either way. Seriously, just don't cycle. Spend a day walking around town, catch up with blogging or go see a famous temple or shrine. You can even take a train to another town and sightsee there.

Your bike won't like rain either. My panniers are fairly waterproof but still the bottom bit gets a little soaked. And everything gets dirty. Mud gets everywhere when it's raining, all over the panniers, in the chain, in my shoes. It's a good idea to clean the chain and re-grease it after a day of rain cycling.


Yup, I think that's all I can think of right now. Most importantly:

  • Always stay on the road. Don't take the sidewalk. Don't go out of the way for cars. They need to go out of the way for you.
  • Never cycle in the rain. Because wet.
  • Don't plan ahead. At least not too much. Randomness is part of the challenge :)
Have fun!

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Update 2016/06/12: fixed some wording, added Weight / Loadout section.

 

Posted in Cycling , Japan | Tagged , , ,

Cycling trips

Why am I still doing cycling trips? I can't deny that, over time, my reasons for cycling have changed. I've done cycling trips for sightseeing, for staying fit, for doing something amazing together with friends, for nostalgia, and for the sense of accomplishment. But I'd say that none of those are currently the true reason that would motivate me to do another cycling trip.

Coziness is a word I would definitely associate with a cycling trip in Japan. You're never far away from society, and you can be pretty much sure that you will not encounter a single person that will try to do something bad to you if you're on a cycling trip in Japan. You don't have to worry (well, worry less) about safety, theft or crime there; the only challenge is the primary challenge: that of cycling and fitness. For every single cycling trip I've done I've been overweight, yet I've managed to cycle up mountains 1000+ meters high while carrying four heavy panniers and a backpack full of crap with me. Your body adjusts. You can go anywhere. And Japan brings with it the coziness that you need to not have to worry about all the 'side quests': no matter where you go, there will be a vending machine with an energy drink or a person who will offer to let you set up a tent in his garden (or temple).

Another part of cycling trips that I cannot do without is the freedom it gives you, but you need to plan it properly. By 'plan it properly' I mean: don't plan it at all, and give yourself plenty of time to get to your destination so you can make detours and change the plan as you go along. It's such an amazing feeling to learn about something exciting during the trip and to take a multi-day detour just to check it out, or even to just find a random road and decide to see where it goes, without having to worry about whether you'll make your flight or not.

This freedom is a thing that cannot easily be shared. As soon as you start traveling with another person you'll end up in a situation where you're trying to maintain a schedule, and/or one person feeling like they're following the other. That is actually a great thing, and some of my most memorable cycling trips have been with others, but as I do more and more cycling trips I'm starting to lean towards being a solo cyclist. I definitely would still go on trips with friends though.

This post hasn't remotely done justice to the feeling I'm trying to describe. I can list the aspects, I can try to tell you why I enjoy them, but in the end, you just won't understand unless you do a cycling trip yourself. So, get going!

Posted in Cycling , Japan , Thoughts

The end of the Long Haul Trucker

Last year in October I ventured out to Japan for a 2-week cycling trip with my good old Surly. It was a tough trip, not because of the trip itself, but because I was just not very fit, and only started improving near the end of the it all. Still, it left me wanting more. Sadly, that won't be happening on my Surly.

It started on the trip before that, actually. After a long flight I took the bike out of the bag and noticed I couldn't fit the rear wheel into the frame. But with a little applied force it went in anyway and I had a great trip out of it. When I arrived at my first destination of the October trip the issue had gotten worse, and I can only blame Turkish Airlines for not taking good care of the bike. It had plenty of 'fragile' stickers and even signs saying 'this side up', and instructions to not put the bike on its side but to transport it standing up. No such luck. It was extremely bent on arrival. I had to bend it back with all my strength to even have a cycling trip. Yet somehow, on the return trip, they managed to make it even worse.

In all honesty, I didn't expect any airline crew to take good care of a bicycle transported in a soft-case. But also, I never expected a frame made of high-quality steel to bend that much just from transport. I'm not blaming Surly here. Everything I've read and heard from people indicates that their frames is one of the better, seriously tough ones. Then again, speaking from personal experience, I've taken the Surly out for maybe 6-8 flights and it is now irreparably bent according to an expert touring bike shop guy, whereas my first aluminium bike has been on at least twice that many flights and never suffered any frame damage at all.

I seem to be going against the prevailing opinion here. Everyone online and everything I've read seems to agree that steel bikes are the way to go, because of the way the frame flexes under stress and how it's more comfortable to ride because of that. Aluminium frames seem to be ranked under the lowest of steel frames in the mind of many tourers, yet I can't help but wish for my old aluminium bike back. I distinctly remember when I first got the Surly and went on my first long ride. The first thing I noticed was how incredibly tough the ride was compared to my old Giant Great Journey. Part of that was me being out of shape, not being used to the bike yet, etc. etc., but I've never been able to shake that impression. So in the end, at the end of the Surly's brief but eventful life, all I can say is that I have not been very impressed by the Long Haul Trucker. It always seemed to be a bike that was meant for road racers who were willing to compromise in the direction of touring, not for touring people looking for maximum utility.

So, now I'm left with the option of getting a new frame in the UK and getting my old parts fitted on it, which will apparently set me back at least 800 pounds, getting a second-hand beater bike online and doing it myself (not my style, I am lazy af), or buying a bike at the start of my next cycling trip, which will save at least one flight of transport, which, in the case of Turkish Airlines, also cost me extra (a bit less than 100 pounds per flight if I recall correctly). At the moment I'm very much thinking of getting a new Great Journey, since at the current exchange rate the entire bike will cost less than the price of buying a new frame in the UK and getting the parts transferred, and I don't have to pay extra for the first flight. As a special bonus, my compass bell will finally work again. I honestly never realized that that wouldn't work on a steel frame until it was too late..

Anyway, the bike shop's judgment was pretty conclusive. I don't have to worry about trying to get the frame fixed because it's just not worth it. It means I can move on and get a new bike now. It amazes me how I'm actually kind of happy about this, whereas when my first touring bike got stolen I was utterly gutted. Let's hope that the third time's the charm.

Posted in Cycling | Tagged ,

Suffering is living

IMG_2472PS

Based on my experiences during a cycling trip versus my experiences of working / living the daily life, I infinitely prefer the life of the cycling trip. Cycling triggers strong emotions in me, both positive and negative, and a week of cycling inevitably ends up being more memorable than a week of grinding the day job. It's not just that: cycling holidays give me a feeling of serenity that I just cannot get anywhere else. It's the combination of physical exhaustion, seeing new sights, the possibility of unexpected things happening, being in full and sole control of everything I do all day, and not having to worry about possessions, obligations or anything else.

The best way I can describe this feeling is with an anecdote. When I'm at home I always need to be doing something: I need to play Minecraft, I need to do house chores, I need to learn some new programming technique, I need to pay some bills, I need to do some work thing. Even if I force myself to 'do nothing' for an hour and just sit on the couch trying to clear my mind, it has little effect. It's real life in progress. There's many things to be thought about. My mind cannot rest.

Here's the contrast: yesterday I went cycling to a mountain lake I know very well, and a mountain pass that leads up to the ocean at the end that I've cycled once or twice and have really good memories about. The sun was high in the sky, not a cloud to be seen, and I had the mountain path all to myself with hardly a car passing me by all day. Just me, nature, a tough-but-not-too-tough uphill and a superfast downhill with a gorgeous view. That's all I needed to think about all day. Not a single 'real life' thought entered my mind that day. At the end of the pass I was pleasantly exhausted and had a rest at my favorite beach spot. And then I just sat there, for an hour, thinking of nothing much in particular. My mind was at rest. I did not feel the need to think about something, to solve something. I was just content with being there in that particular moment. Real life provides me with so much things to think about but the beach is just.. the beach.

IMG_2304

During the past few years of my life I have made some important life choices; choices that at first glance might seem to take me away from that serene moment at the beach. I cannot pretend to know what I'm doing with my life, nor that I am doing the right thing at this very moment, but every once in a while, thanks to cycling trips like these I get to insert a little moment of serenity in my life that allows me to evaluate my life choices in a more detached manner. Having done that, I can say that I am not disappointed at all at the choices I made so far. I think for me the key lesson of this trip was:

You will never truly appreciate something unless you have suffered for it.

This is a mental thing, and nothing anyone can tell me can convince me that it's wrong. It's just hardwired into my brain. I have experienced both sides of it: sometimes I get something without making an effort, or the slight effort I make has a huge payoff and I pat myself on the back for being clever. But emotionally speaking, it's a billion times more satisfying to work really hard for something and then finally get it in the end.

And that's the irrational part. Human beings are irrational. Logically speaking there should be absolutely no need for us to prefer the working-hard version over the get-things-for-free version if the end result is the same. But human beings are not wired that way. Our emotional payoff is triggered by irrational things, so we must adjust our logic to sometimes prefer the irrational instead. I could optimize my whole life so that I never have to work hard for anything ever again, but I would hardly feel a thing about it. Why would I want to lead a lifetime of meh versus a grand drama of emotional ups and downs? Sensations, that's what life is all about. Experiences. You need to feel in order to be alive. That is the one truth that needs to take precedence over rational thought. Otherwise you're just a machine.

To moderate and contrast that last statement a little: my little cycling trip of beautiful physical and mental ups and downs was paid for entirely by mind-numbing machine-like labour, done in a rationally optimized way to be perfectly efficient with the time I had available to me. I'd like to think that I do my job well: I don't waste time, I use all of my brain to keep track of everything that's going on and I always try to deliver quality work. It's kept me employed so far in a deadliney environment so I must be doing something right. It's not bad at all; I'm quite passionate about how to do my job right. But somehow all of that pales in comparison to the intensity of a cycling trip. If people would pay me to cycle without telling me what to do I would absolutely choose that over my current job.

But nobody does, of course. Also, nobody would pay me to be an astronaut or a formula one driver. Which is exactly why my current life style is as rational as it gets. I get paid for something I am really good at and also quite enjoy, and I use that money to finance the things that I couldn't possibly do without. And then some things on the side too, because why the hell not.

I blogged previously about the mental fog that I was in before and when I started this trip. This kind of statement, this kind of clarity about my life and what I will go back to, is easy to see when you're on a bike on a clear-blue day, cycling some lovely country lane towards a mountain, but it will be tough to keep a hold of when the daily drudge comes back and I'm commuting to work on a cloudy, rainy day. That is also why I write: to be able to read this back again later so I can draw inspiration from it. They're a way of realigning my future self to the path that I know is right, my way of saying "Trust me, dude. We know what we're doing".

And on that note, I'm flying back home tomorrow. I won't be using the word 'drudge' or 'grind' to describe my life any time soon; we've got a lot of fun things planned in the months ahead. And thanks to this trip I'm completely mentally ready for anything. Bring it on!

Posted in Cycling , Thoughts | Tagged

Zen and the Art of Bicycle Maintenance

Hi blog, it's been a while. This is going to be a long one.

Let's start at the end. Two days ago I stood with my bicycle on the bridge connecting Kitakyushu airport with the mainland, on my way to catch a flight back to Tokyo, and later back to the UK. Despite all the troubles I've experienced on this trip, which I'll talk about more later, I realized that I did not want it to end. Every single cycling trip I do starts with deadening preparation and a start so tough that it makes me think "Yup, this will definitely be the last one". Then the end nears and I just don't want to stop, and I know there's going to be another one after this. It's become what I do and who I am.

Cycling trips are my way of staying sane. I recently read The Martian by Andy Weir. A brilliant book. Spoilers following: the book has a great contrast between the main character being stranded on his own and taking care of everything himself, versus him being in contact with NASA and them doing all the complicated stuff for him. I love cycling trips because they force me into a situation where I cannot rely on anyone else to do things for me. I'm the one who needs to plan, who needs to fix the bike when it's broken, who needs to deal with route changes, bad weather and everything else that could possibly happen. It's a good feeling, that of doing everything yourself. And unlike in The Martian there's less risk of death. So I've got that going for me, which is nice.

There's so many things I want to write about now that I'm in the mood for writing. I really want to write about the trip but I need to get something out of the way first: why did I not blog for the past few months? I could come up with many reasons here, but the main reason is that I have been a braindead coward. I'll elaborate.

First, the braindead bit: I have been utterly fulfilled in my daily life for the past few months. Our apartment purchase finalized without issue and I have been living happily together with my girlfriend. We've done all the critical housy things needed to make the place our own and are now no longer in such a hurry for further improvements. Things are good. Not much happens in my life. And when stuff does happen I have the opportunity to fire off a real-life status update to my girlfriend immediately, so it goes out of my system before I have a chance to even consider blogging about it. Which is probably a good thing, because most of the stuff that's happening to me is just boring, personal, house life stuff, like comparing various types of blinds, discussing best methods of hanging up shelves or figuring out where to put the exercise bike. It's all stuff that has been occupying my mind, but I never once thought it would be worth sharing with the outside world.

That sounds happy, right? It absolutely is, but a lack of variation in experience does dull the brain. I have only myself to blame for this: in addition to the 'normal' housy things, I have also been pretty enveloped by Minecraft. Whenever I feel sleepy or absent or otherwise reluctant to focus my full attention on something, I play Minecraft. I create massive worlds with elaborate backstories, and there's always something more to do. It's the most gratifying 'game' I have ever played, especially in the long term.

But I digress. The point was to illustrate how a lack of variety in experience dulls the brain. I pretend it doesn't. I tell myself "Sure, I play Minecraft, I don't have a social life any more, I don't have much other hobbies, but that's ok because I can change my life any time and mold my brain into something else whenever I want to". I tend to use planned holidays as an excuse because I know that exactly what is happening now, will happen: here I am sitting in a cafe in Japan typing this up, a clear achievement of a brain that is once again creative and out of the Minecraft trap. I know trips have this effect on me so I let myself indulge in mind-numbing activities before the trip. Then after the trip finishes I tell myself it won't happen again and I'll stay in that creative first-person real-world mode this time for sure. I don't think that's ever worked, but there's always a next trip to reset me.

So that's the braindead part of the 'braindead coward', what's the coward bit? A braver me of the past explains it better than I could.

The internet has changed. In 2005 you could write whatever the fuck you want, in my post of 2011 I mention the possibility of potential employers stumbling upon something they might not like. In 2015 writing on the internet is downright toxic for your career no matter what you write. It's a given that people will find out everything about you before they consider you for an interview, and it's foolish and naive to assume that they'll take the time to consider your full background and context of whichever remark you wrote that caused them to scratch you off the list. I've made the mistake in the past of writing stuff in the heat of the moment that could really only have negative consequences for me. When I was confronted with that I deleted my blog for a while, thinking it's better to have nothing at all than something that could be used against me. But, against my better judgment and what I think is rational, it just doesn't feel right to censor myself on the internet. I'm having trouble constructing a useful train of thought for my wanting to keep my blog online, which is probably proof that it's not rational. But my gut feeling tells me I should keep it, so I'll listen to my gut. It hasn't betrayed me yet. I can't promise that there will be frequent future updates, but I will try.

Right, back to the cycling trip.

London had been grey and terrible for weeks when I left for Japan, bike in bag, driven to the airport by my lovely girlfriend. Well before the trip started I had cycled a few times a week on our exercise bike, but lost motivation about 2-3 weeks before the trip. I was incredibly overweight, and unfit. This, like letting the mental fog take me over, is another thing I thought I could get away with because I had a trip coming up that would 'fix' it. Because I only had a little under two weeks available for this trip, and very fixed inbound and outbound flights, I decided the only useful way to plan the trip would be to pre-book flights and hotels, which meant fixing my route and the minimum amount I would have to cycle each day. But, given the location of start and end airport, that there might be rainy days and that I would have to allocate myself some extra daylight time to fix potential mechanical mishaps, the distance cycled each day was not actually that much: anywhere between 40 and 80 kilometers per day. Quite manageable. In fact, for the first few days, I arrived at each hotel very early in the afternoon, giving me plenty of time to think, which is usually a bad sign. And because I already had accommodation and didn't  to cycle more, I didn't bother to take a longer scenic route or cycle to somewhere else after checking in.

I need to elaborate on that, because it wasn't just a lack of motivation, it actually involved a fair amount of physical pain. Partly because I am overweight, but mainly because of a bad saddle angle, being on the bike for longer than 30kms caused me to have incredible saddle pain, which also carried over to the next day. It made cycling utterly unenjoyable because all I could focus on was the saddle pain. The worst thing was that I didn't realize at the time that it was because of the saddle. I just assumed that I was hopelessly unfit and just really fat; I couldn't get any power down on the pedals because every time I did I would feel the pain in my behind. Because of this I would take it easy, go slower and coast a little more, but even when coasting I'm sitting on the saddle, and it's actually only making it worse because I'm not spreading the load between my legs, arms and butt: it's just my butt that's supporting my weight.

The worst day happened early on in the trip: it was a beautiful blue sky day. I was cycling along some perfectly flat coastal roads; not much traffic, with some nice scenery on the side. I didn't have to go too far that day so I took it easy. It should have been the perfect cycling moment, and I recognized that as well, but somehow I could not make myself enjoy it. My mind was in a fog from spending too much time in hotel rooms and not on a bicycle, and my body was just hurting from the saddle pain which at the time I had not identified as being worse than it should have been. I just could not get my brain to reset and appreciate the moment, which led to frustration, which led to more frustration at being frustrated even though it was a prefectly beautiful day. I felt clueless and helpless.

It took me a long time to realize that my saddle angle was wrong because a) I had a plausible explanation in the fact that I was overweight and unfit, b) I had taken the time at the start of the trip to finetune every bit of my bike (gears, saddle height, brakes, fenders, chain), so my mental image of the bike was that it was perfect. And finally, c) the saddle angle actually slipped back more as I cycled along because the bolt was not tight enough. Later, much later, during the second-to-last day of the trip, I finally learned of all these things. The day before, after reaching my destination, it occurred to me that maybe my saddle could be angled a bit more forward. I thought it would make a minor difference, but when I made the adjustment it immediately solved all my saddle pain issues! It was an incredibly liberating moment because I could suddenly put all my power on the pedals again and go much faster than before. I was not as unfit as I previously thought after all. It was the best feeling of the entire trip, and I'm sure that one single moment of adjusting the saddle triggered the mental reset that I so desperately needed.

It's not a magic solution of course: I'm still overweight, so adjusting the saddle angle just put a lot more stress on my arms, but they had nothing to do for the entire trip and could use the extra work. I can tell that I'm not nearly as fit as I was for last year's trip, but I'm definitely not as unfit as I thought during the beginning of the trip either. After making the adjustment I was finally able to cardio-exhaust myself, no longer being limited by the saddle pain. It felt great.

There were many other mechanical mishaps during the trip. Fresh off the plane, when I first set up the bike, I noticed I couldn't get the rear wheel into position at all: the two rear bits of the frame were bent inwards even further than they ever were in the past. I had to use brute force to bend the frame open again, which was probably a very bad thing to do, but I didn't really have a choice at the time, since I didn't want to abandon the trip. When I finally bent the frame back enough for the rear wheel to fit in, I noticed that one of the rear brakes was pressed against the wheel, preventing it from turning. Looks like my bending wasn't exactly even and now the rear wheel was not quite in the center any more. I didn't want to take it out again after all the effort and brute force I'd gone through just to get it in, so I took out all the spacers from the side that was hitting against the wheel, and put them on the other side. It actually resulted in a very usable rear brake.

Then I found out that the rear luggage rack didn't quite fit any more, probably because of the bending. Lacking the tools to adjust it, I asked the taxi driver to help me out as I used yet more brute force to push the rack into a position where the screws would fit onto the holes in the frame.

There were some more minor mishaps as well during the trip: two of the bolts connecting the fender spokes to the actual fender fell off because I didn't tighten them enough when building the fenders back home. With the bolts gone I just duct-taped them into place and it's worked fine since. The gears have been surprisingly fine considering the amount of stress that the rear derailleur has surely been through during transport. The front derailleur needed a minor adjustment to prevent the chain from running into it at high gears, but it worked fine without the adjustment as well. Lastly, for some reason my handlebar-mounted gear lever came loose near the end of the trip. I haven't quite figured out why this has happened, but rotating it 90 degrees tightens it again, so I've settled on that for now. I can fix it properly when I get home.

I could talk about many travel-y things here: how the skies were so blue and nice, how the roads were beautiful and quiet and devoid of traffic, how chilly it is in the morning. Or about the random guy who gave me a drink while I was having my morning conbini break. But the main focus for me during this trip was the mental fog and my struggles with the saddle and my unfitness. It may sound petty, but that stuff affects me a lot. In the beginning of the trip I was mentally sheltered and avoided social interaction. As the trip progressed I gained confidence again and began to sort-of return to my old self. Everything just came naturally again. An odd example of this: when the trip started and I first unpacked my bike at the airport, I took a long time to set everything up and eventually had to enlist the help of a nearby taxi driver. I hesitated for a long time before initiating the interaction. At the end of the trip when I had to unpack my bicycle, once again at an airport with nearby taxi drivers, I was swift, efficient and was not phased at all by a nearby taxi driver who seemed to scrutinize my every move. As soon as I first assembled the bike and returned from a test lap I crossed eyes with the driver, smiled and lifted my thumb up. I would never have been able to do that at the beginning of the trip. I can do many things when I am confident.

So here I am. Once again in Atsugi, the inevitable final destination of every Japan cycling trip I do. Yesterday I cycled from Haneda airport to Atsugi, via Enoshima. It was tougher than I thought; the damage done to my butt from the bad saddle angle isn't quite healed yet, and the adjusted saddle angle did get painful near the end, but the feeling of returning 'home' quite compensated for that. I say 'home', but I've been back so many times and have settled into the UK life so thoroughly that Atsugi really does not feel like home any more. Nor any of Japan, for that matter. Japan is no longer mine, but I am content with occasionally returning to check up on it. It's looking good so far. I've changed far, far more than it has.

I think it was on that worst day of the trip, the day that I just couldn't get myself to enjoy, that I started a re-read of Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. Barely a chapter in the mental fog lifted from me and a lot of things made sense. I have been paying way too much attention to the classical aspects of everything and not at all on the romantic. I'm getting all the technical details right, planning everything in advance with just the right safety margins, etc., but I never once thought about the romantic aspect of the trip - how to enjoy it - until I was on the bus to Haneda. The moment was brief, but amazing. I remembered what I was here for and it filled me with giddy excitement. It's only now, near the end, that I feel like I've connected with the romantic aspect of the trip. I can see the bigger picture again.

Today I've booked a bus and a taxi so I can get home again on Saturday. I've still got two days left. I'm planning to cycle to my favorite lake, over a mountain pass and then back down again to the sea. On the second day I might climb the big mountain, but perhaps not. It's not important what I do, as long as I enjoy it.

Every time I go on a cycling trip I find out what I truly need.

Posted in Cycling , Thoughts