The Himedomachi Cycling Club

The morning started with a minor panic. Many of the roads around Sata are closed because of rock falls. It took me a while to decipher the kanji on the fact sheet from the prefecture. All good though. I think. This has been such a feature of this trip, though. Road closed due to landslide, flooding, some other natural disaster. When I got to my accommodation tonight I had to wash off the soot from the local volcano, Sakurajima (pictured above.)

The road from my hotel in Kirishima this morning went steeply downhill. After my climb yesterday I knew I didn’t have it in the legs and I had to push Ribena up the first climb we came to, the sort of tiny hill that I have sailed over in the past.

We passed the Wake Shrine just outside town. That’s actually its name. Although pronounced wa-kay, it made me smile as I stopped to photograph the signboard outside. I heard a rumour that the plastic recyclers are going to hold a yearly festival in honour of the two shipping containers of rubbish I’ve generated on this trip. I didn’t go up to see the shrine. In my debilitated state, the road was too steep.

I stopped at the Ushinedakaite Railway Memorial Park, a park I supposed dedicated to the now defunct station that used to stand there. I’ve seen so many derelict stations that I supposed there would be some kind of stone or plaque commemorating its demise and explaining its history. The sign in the park was instead a list of things you couldn’t do while sitting on either of its two stone benches or walking through the overgrown grass. I walked up the steps to where the station and track used to be. Sheep were tethered in a pasture and you could just about imagine where the tracks were. When I’m not tapping this blog into a phone just before I go to sleep, I’ll write a proper eulogy to all the derelict stations I have seen and the ghost trains that still run along the tracks.

A primary school stood locked and empty just down the road and I stood outside it taking photos of its windows that still have printed signs of what they rooms were used for: lunch room, headmasters study, office. A car approached me and I had to move out its way. That was when I realised that I had depressed myself picking over the bones of forgotten history. I cycled away, cross that I had pitched myself into a dark mood.

The central feature of life in Kagoshima city and the surrounding area is Sakurajima, Japan’s most active volcano. I have heard that people work out which way the wind is blowing before they hang out their washing for fear of getting it covered in ash. I stopped at a michi no eki to admire it, and the motorist who had stopped to dip their feet into a thermal footbath.

I cut down a road to avoid a bridge, stopping to read a sign that blocked my carriageway. I could only read one kanji – fear – so I guessed it would be closed at some point, however I didn’t feel like taking the busy road that climbed through the mountains so I took it anyway. A tunnel further on was guarded by a Do Not Enter sign, which I chose to ignore. I had to climb a barricade to get back to the main road but it saved me having to climb another hill.

The roads today were too fast to say hello to farmers and too busy to want to linger. I watched a road cyclist labour along with his pain face on, shadowed by an articulated lorry that wanted to pass. I tried not to think about the amount of times I’ve been in the same position. It looked like the cyclist would be crushed at any moment.

I’m whining a lot in this post because I’m tired. The views along the coast were stunning and I had to remind myself not to be grumpy and to enjoy them.

It’s my second to last day, I’ve cycled more than 2,000 kilometres in the last month and climbed the height of Mount Everest. I passed the first signpost pointing the way to Cape Sata, the southernmost point of Japan’s four main islands and the end point of my trip (although I’ll still have to cycle back to the ferry). The end is in sight.