Although my own blog has long since been confined to the rusty bike shed in the sky, I’m honoured to have a guest spot on Jack’s world famous website, for our latest (and possibly last ever) instalment of cycling in Japan. Because today we have finally reached the southern most tip of Japan, Cape Sata at the very south of Kyushu. 14 years after we reached the northern most point of Japan at Cape Sōya in Hokkaido, 16 years after I did my first Japanese cycle tour between Tokyo and Kyoto, and 8 years since cycling across Shikoku, I have finally joined up the entire length of Japan.

My ride in 2009 was the longest trip of my life at the time, and even then I knew I’d want to do more cycling in Japan. It’s not been the fastest journey – in total it’s taken 16 years, with 45 days of cycling, covering over 3,500km, climbing over 33,000m. There have been headaches- flying with bikes, typhoons, sleeping next to shinkansen tracks, camping on bamboo spikes, trying to dispose of rubbish in a country which glosses over it’s low recycling/high incineration rates with inconsistent and arbitrary rules of bins and waste segregation, and many many hills and mountains. But it was all worth it, both as a whole, and in their own parts. Cycling in Japan is unlike any other country. And it’s not just the stunning landscapes or picture perfect scenes of cherry blossoms fluttering across the road as you pedal over a mountain. Even the things that are strange or less enjoyable become charming when looked back upon.

And while so much has changed over the years, so much is still the same. I feel like not a day has passed since the first time I scrunched myself awkwardly into my tent. The same tent I had 16 years ago, the same sleeping bag, the same clothes, the same everything. Time has moved on, but I’m still 24, worried about to trying to find somewhere to pitch my tent in a country which is either urban sprawl of dense hillside.

But clearly not everything stays the same. Our bodies have aged, with more groaning as we climb the hills, more complaining about forcing ourselves into sleeping bags, more clambering out of tents in the middle of the night to go to the toilet. And the bikes have definitely aged. So much so our journey was almost cut short 10km from our goal. After leaving the last proper small town in Kyushu heading south, Jack’s rear hub failed catastrophically, meaning he could no longer pedal. Stopping by the side of the road, with no one around, we quickly determined the problem was not one we could fix ourselves. With only a couple of hours of daylight left, we decided to push on (literally), to the campsite to come up with a plan.
Fortunately my dad was able to locate not just a taxi who could pick us up, but a bike shop who was willing to look at the wheel (and subsequently find 2 failed pawls and a hub full of rusty grease).
And so, with only one functioning bike between us, we took it in turns to cycle the final 7km from campground to southern most point of Japan, Jack that evening, and me this morning. Waking up at 4am, I packed up and raced the dawn to get to the observation deck for sunrise. And being there with my bike, watching the first burst of gold as the sun breached the horizon, it felt utterly magical. 16 years since my first leg of cycling in Japan, 14 years since being at the northern most point, it felt like the journey in Japan had come to it’s perfect ending.