The Himedomachi Cycling Club

Julian and I spent most of Wednesday sitting in his garden and drinking coffee. In the late afternoon we drove to a town called Kawaura on the southern island. While Julian taught English I cycled through the town and down to the sea hoping to catch one of Amakusa’s west coast sunsets. It was too cloudy. Three cranes that had been standing on a sandbank in the shallow tide took flight at my arrival.

After class, Julian drove me down the small roads to Sakitsu, a world heritage site. Because of its obscurity, Amakusa was a hiding place for secret Christians who faced execution during the Tokugawa era. The church in Sakitsu was built fifteen years after the ban was lifted and has tatami floors and a stained glass window. It is one of only three towns in Japan where the genkan, entrance halls, open onto the sea, a relic of the time when the town was only accessible by boat.

The road from Sakitsu to Hondo – the old road I mean, a twisting, narrow strip of asphalt hemmed in by foliage on either side- visits hidden villages and secret beaches. Although we were in a rush, it was hard not to linger and look over the calm water, the rocky islets, the distant horizon that merged with the water.

“Next stop, Okinawa,” Julian said.

We just had time to squeeze in a visit to an onsen where the receptionist recognised Julian as a regular customer. It’s slightly strange as from the indoor bath you have to walk down a public corridor to get to the outdoor bath. We only had time to visit the outdoor bath. It was one of the most beautiful I’ve seen and we were the only bathers.

I’m going to leave this blog here. The next few days with Julian and his family and the Yamashitas are personal to me and I cannot share them. I’m writing this in Singapore airport as I wait for my next flight and fret over the safety of Ribena.

People have asked me if I enjoyed the ride. It’s not a straightforward question to answer. It was an adventure. Nothing could have prepared me for the shock of Hokkaido. It seems dreamlike now, the wind, the scrublands, the empty houses. Parts of Honshu were incredible, the guesthouse in and visit to Eiheiji, the Sea of Japan, the countryside in Fukui. Once I realised that I had to plan as Alan Booth would plan now and not follow his path blindly, everything became better. Kyushu was the real treat. I’ll never forget cycling up Mount Aso or the vapour billowing from the jungle on Kirishima.

Most of all, I’ve loved the people. Julian, his wife and daughter and I revisited the rice terraces near Onta and Julian chatted to a farmer there. Probably in his fifties or sixties, his muscles buldged from years of labour. He told Julian that the fields were 3 or 4 hundred years old and the stones for the walls were dragged up by horses. The young people had all left for jobs in the city and yet Julian saw that he was still proud of the beauty that he and the other farmers had created. I suppose that’s what draws me to the Japanese, their self reflection, their ability to see the wider picture. I’ll remember those roadside conversations for years to come.

It was deeply touching that Jared came out to make new memories, the Oyu Stone Circle was a special treat. I can’t put into words the generosity of the Yamashita family and the joy of being a part of their family again for a short while. I’m deeply grateful that Julian was willing to drive me around. A part of me is still drinking coffee in his garden, laughing and chatting and putting the world to rights. I will miss them all terribly.

I’m looking forward to being home. I’m looking forward to hugging my children and girlfriend. I’m looking forward to not moving, to sleeping in my own bed, a cup of tea from my own kettle. My son has told me he’s coming to Zurich airport with a sign that reads, “Dad. So happy you’re out of jail!” I wouldn’t put it past him.

– The Himedo Machi Cycling Club

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