page 9
by Jan Boonstra
Today would be the last leg of my tour in Japan, because I had made a booking on the ferry to Korea from Shimonoseki, at the end of the afternoon. The distance to Shimonoseki, along the coast (because that's nice riding and also to avoid cities) was more than 150 kilometres. That was why I hit the road before 7:30 in the morning. It was a beautiful morning. The sun was pushing the morning haze up the mountain slopes.
The road surface was getting worse...
I had planned a route of countrylanes for the first part of today's tour,
till Hagi. After half an hour I realised that I was on the wrong road
and I turned back
to find the right one. Yes indeed, I had missed my road. It was a small asphalt road,
climbing steeply up the mountain. After a few kilometres, the asphalt
ended and I hesitated. I considered going back to try another route,
but that would mean a fair amount of extra distance to ride. I kept going.
The surface was getting worse and I told myself that once I passed
the highest point, the situation would probably improve. I passed the
highest point and it did not improve. Going back was getting less and less
attractive and as I was pushing the bike over the stones, I was hoping that
I would soon get a better road. The track ended at a stream. I followed
the stream, but had to drag the bike over treetrunks and through the
water. Going back at this point was (I thought) out of the question. But
still the situation deteriorated. From now I made the distance three times,
first I took my bags and panniers ahead, then went back to get the bike
and do the same again.
There seemed to be no end to this torture. The slope was getting steeper and moving on was getting more and more difficult. Why was I doing this? How on earth did I get myself into this? Trying to keep my senses I dragged my bike and myself through bushes and over rocks. In the meantime my arms and legs were full of scratches from the branches and my face was covered with spider webs. But I did not notice that anymore, I was desperately struggling to make progress. At a certain point, while taking the panniers ahead and looking for a way for to take the bike later, I noticed a bright spot through the trees, that looked like an open place in the forest. When I arrived there, I was again disappointed: a river. The banks of my stream were very steep now and impossible to negotiate and along the river, the situation did not look much better.
Here I crossed the stream. .
Now I was in trouble, because going back was now really impossible. After all the hard work to get everything down from the mountain it was unthinkable to retrace my steps. Then suddenly, I saw a fence on the other side of the river. If there is a fence, that would mean that at least, there would be a path! But how to get there? With my panniers, I climbed a bit along the rocks, following the river, until I reached a rapid. I thought that this would be the best place to cross the river. My bike was still way back in the forest and I decided to try the river crossing first, with the panniers. But it was not so easy. Where the river looked shallow at a distance, the water came to my waist. The current was strong and the rocks were slippery. But I reached the other side. I sat down and thought. No feeling of victory yet, because the worst still had to come: I had to go back and do the same again, but with the bike.
First I surveyed the surroundings. Indeed, there was a footpath on that
side of the river. I took my time to find the best place to cross the river
again and went back. I found my bike and started the climbing along the
rock again, bicycle on my shoulder. I found the courage from the despair of
the situation. Sometimes I slid a few metres down the rock and got small
wounds on many places. But I was focussed on one thing: reaching the bank
near the rapid. And that I reached. I was exhausted and sat down.
Sweat was running down my face and the clear water of the river looked
very inviting. I took a dive in a deeper part. Marvellous! After 5 minutes
swimming around I felt rejuvenated and was ready for the next step.
Anything I could take off the bike I took off and put in my
shoulderbag. That bag I took first across to the other side. Then back
again for the bike. The saddle and the handlebar have remained dry, the
rest had a good wash.
On the other side there was a path...
When I finally had everything together again, I went to do fix the bike. Like myself, the bike had not come through this adventure completely undamaged. Then I followed the path, downstream along the river. Sometimes, I could even cycle some stretches. This path would certainly lead to some place or road and my worries disappeared. I began to enjoy the scenery. It was a lovely place!
It was around midday when the path ended at a paved road near a restaurant. I went inside, ordered drinks and consulted the map. Shimonoseki was at least still 100 kilometres away, taking the shortest road. No, that was too much and I'd better forget the boat for today, pedal the remaining 30 kilometres to Hagi at my ease and find a hotel there. After I arrived in Hagi, I made a new booking for tomorrow's ferry by telephone and found a hotel. I went downtown for some food and after that I found a quiet corner in some cafe to write this story.
