Kanto in January

Fuji-san from Otarumi

On Saturday, I agreed to head out with Jerome in the morning as he headed up to Yamanakako for a weekend with his sister, her family and a friend.  I decided to ride out to the area near Sagamiko and the base of Doshimichi, then return alone.  This meant I needed to decline the alternative of (1) a possible Miura loop with Tom S., and (2) a Saturday afternoon at the Keirin track in Kawasaki with Hiroshi and his club.  It is a rare winter day when I have three possible rides!

Saturday was a classic January Kanto riding weather, sunny and dry, above freezing but not much so.

Jerome and I were both feeling a bit sluggish at first, Jerome still recovering from the ride to Kansai at the New Year, me from exercise swimming at my local pool Friday  evening.  And we faced a moderate headwind on the first part of the trip, up the Kanagawa.  As on December 30, we headed out via One-kansen-Doro, and then the "tank road" and Machida Kaido, then around the South side of Lake Tsukui.  This time we refueled early, stopping at the 24-hour restaurant "Gusto" there.

We continued along National Routes 413/412, then veered left onto Pref. Route 517, the gem of a little road through the hilly countryside, with several small climbs, and to Magino where it meets Pref. Route 76 at a "T" intersection.

Self-timer ... not quite framed right.  Graffiti visible even on Route 76 at Magino!

A beautiful winter day -- looking NW from Pref Route 520, above the South shore of Sagami-ko

Jerome headed left to the South/toward Doshi Michi and Yamanakako; I headed right to the North/toward National Route 20 and Takao/Tokyo.

I made one stop on the return trip, at a little rest area in Obara, within a kilometer of the base of the climb back over Otarumi Pass and down to Takao.  There was a kind of exhibition, with lots of display of posters from previous "bunka no hi" (culture day) holidays, and the woman behind the desk asked me if I had visited the main building nearby "less than one minute's walk".  Indeed, I have passed it a hundred times if once, but had never gotten off the bicycle and taken a look behind the carefully tended hedge and impressive gate. The sign in front noted that it is free of charge, so the curious should not hesitate to enter.

What greeted me was a beautiful 200-year-old traditional building, used as a resting point by daimyo (feudal lords) on their way to and from Edo during the Tokugawa Shogunate.  The curator on duty explained that this rest-house was shared by The Takashima Han (a/k/a Suwa Han) and two other clans from the Nagano area. Another reminder that it is important to get off the bike once in awhile and enjoy the country one travels through!

Taking a leisurely pace the entire way, it was not the most strenuous of rides.  But then again, that was not the point.

Three years

On Thursday, it was three years to the day that I completed my first road bike day ride: http://positivo-espresso.blogspot.com/2008/10/izu-west-coast-cruising.html. A month earlier I had gone to the headquarter outlet of Canyon in Koblenz, Germany, and picked up my first road bike. On 13 October 2008, MOB finally found the time in his busy racing and training schedule to take me onto a weekday ride to Izu.

Little did I know back then that I would end up cycling at least once a week, become addicted of climbing mountains rather than staying in the flat, win a racing championship (more here:

http://positivo-espresso.blogspot.com/2010/01/championship-memoirs.html) and end up doing dusk to dawn rides, sometimes two to three days in a row.

In these three years, I cycled 37,275km: 11,800km in the first twelve months, 12,500 in the following 12 months, and 13,000km in the last twelve months. I did not keep a total tally of the altitude meters climbed, but it must be somewhere between 400,000 and 500,000 metres.

When I was deciding on what bike to buy, I was wondering whether a carbon bike would last more than 6,000km and then disintegrate. I took the risk - very naively. My Canyon carbon bike has clocked 27,300km by now, without anything more than normal wear and tear. I'm about to replace the break pads and wheels, as the breaking down the mountains has worn the rims a little thinner. Nonetheless the wheels are still perfectly usable and will move to my cheaper aluminium Canyon kept in Germany (which so far has seen a modest 3,800km).

The remaining 6,200km have been on my Red Bull cyclocross which has enabled me to expand my "discovery" of rindos (forest/mountain roads) to unpaved ones, and winter conditions.

I should celebrate the fact that I have been accident free throughout these three years. The worst that has happened to me is road rash when my cyclocross went sliding, twice, ironically both times on paved roads, once over moss, the second time over oil.

All this riding has also kept me fit and healthy. My cholesterol measurements have never been better, for example.

If only my back had not suffered. My first half a year on the bike was entirely trouble free. Since then, however, on every ride I would develop pain in my lower back. Depending on how long I was riding without break and how hard I was pushing, this pain would come earlier or later in the ride, and develop sometimes such intensity that I could not continue riding without a few minutes off the bike. On most rides, the pain from my back would far outdo any kind of exhaustion. What kept me still going was the wonderful scenery in the mountains, and the ambition to complete a big ride.

Since August of this year, things started to deterioate, steadily. My back would not only hurt on rides any more, but permanently. In early October, the pain became worse day by day, and it is now so bad my walking is impeded. MRIs show that two disks are squeezing the central nerve.

I must stay off the bike to avoid advancing things even more than they already do by themselves. Even if my back gets better again at some point, it is unlikely I will ever be trouble free. Passing a three-year anniversary in this state is not filling me with much joy. It is difficult enough to miss the best cycling weather in Japan, the mild and long autumn.

As my present state and a look into the future is filling me with pain, it perhaps wiser to look back and think of all the great moments I have had on the bike.

First of all there is all the great countryside I have had the chance to discover. Three years ago I largely ignorant of the geography surrounding Tokyo. When I landed in Japan 16 years ago, I would occasionally go on hikes in the Okutama, Jinba and Tanzawa mountains, but in later years hardly venture outside Tokyo on weekends.

Today I can proudly claim that there is basically no mountain road or pass in rural Tokyo, Kanagawa, Yamanashi and Saitama I do not know. I have also covered most of Gunma, Nagano and eastern Shizuoka. This includes the highest mountain pass in Japan - Norikura at 2,700m - which I have climbed three times.

It also includes unpaved roads, many officially closed roads and rindos, some hiking paths, a forbidden tunnel, and even an entire forbidden (but really stunning) valley somewhere in the Japanese Alps (I had to promise not to reveal more when I got caught).

I also have made occasional excursions beyond the Kanto-Joshinetsu area: Hokkaido, Kansai, Yamaguchi and Kyushu. There is still so much more to see of course.

In Europe, I have had a good time in southern Germany, England and the Tyrolian Alps in Austria. The "real" Alps are simply stunning, and also quite challenging, more for the variable weather than the slopes - though doing 1,200m up the Kitzbueheler Horn at an average of 13% (!!) is always a killer.

In these three years, I have on basically every ride "discovered" something new - never just repeated a previous route. The only exceptions have been group rides where I held back my urge to discover something new.

Apart from the mountains, there are idylic rural villages (almost anywhere), historic towns (notably Tsumago, Magome, Narai, Takayama), and great onsens.

The highlight has been ten days this year at the Kusatsu Music Academy where I was able to combine cycling (albeit far too little because of the bad weather) and music.

Then there is the great camaderie with other fellow cyclists. I owe to MOB a ride on his older bike in July 2008 which would get me all excited about buying my own bike and giving it a try. He then took me on many rides, teaching me all the basics about getting in and out of Tokyo, also about how to compete in the JCRC championships. We were a good match in me taking photos and him publishing entertaining ride reports.

After MOB left for Germany in Spring 2010, I felt somewhat on my own, and started expanding the length of my rides, often venturing beyond 200km and 3,000m of climbing a day. This is also when I completed my longest ride to date - 340km leaving home at 4am and arriving to just catch the setting sun across the Sea of Japan in Naoetsu 15 hours later (and this being Japan I was still back home three hours later).
I used the newly found endurance to do three-day rides with Mike, discovering the highest mountains in Nagano, which are all quite stunning. The mountain landscape changes above 2,000m - and so does the temperature, which is nice in summer.
Then Tom helped me to stretch myself not only in terms of distance but also pace. Tom rarely needs a break, and he takes all climbs at speed. By now we have done quite a few two-day rides together, where discovering a new (well, often, very old) minshuku to stay is part of the fun of the weekend out.

Finally it is always fun to join a larger group ride and meet new people or see old faces. And these rides almost always end differently as planned.

This is why I like cycling so much: there is always something new and unknown, and yet things always end well (at least so far).

I hope I can return some time in the not to distant future.

In the meantime, I will be as stiff as this monkey in Tama Zoo.

Rainy season in the Austrian Alps

The Japanese rainy season, especially towards the end of June when it is not only wet but gets also unpleasantly hot, is the perfect excuse for escaping to the more moderate climates of the European Alps. Or so David thought when he signed up for the TransAlp. So far the weather seems to be holding up in Sonthofen - sunny start this morning as the last minute photo proves, and a forecasts which suggests improving weather from today. So far so good.

My own escape was somewhat less lucky. I arrived in Munich on Thursday evening, to make it through pouring rain to Kitzbuehel, in the Tyrolian Alps. Rain throughout the night and into the morning. Perfect excuse to get a couple of phone conferences done, and a lot more e-mail. But wait - was this what I had come for to Kitzbuehel, a couple of days early before starting to teach a training programme from Sunday?

It finally stopped raining in the late morning and I was immediately on my bike for a short ride under still threatening skies. I managed to stay dry and returned for lunch.

In the afternoon another try. The sun was even lurking through the clouds occasionally. I went for the most famous hill climb course in Austria, the Kitzbueheler Horn. The start is just 10 minutes from my hotel. Over 7km it is a relentless climb at usually 12 percent, sometimes more, from 700m altitude to 1,670m.

Many famous riders have put up best times here, e.g. Cadell Evans (not yet on his Canyon). All nicely documented on a "Wall of Fame".

From the Alpenhaus it is possible to climb another 300m at similar gradient to the very top of the Kitzbueheler Horn. I did this twice last September and the 360 degree view from the peak is simply astounding, in particular in good weather.

But today the weather was not good, and in fact no sooner had I reached the Alpenhaus did some very cold clouds come blowing down from the peak. I plunged down the road in a desperate attempt to escape, but one kilometre down the rain caught up with me. From there it was a miserable descent: 900m down in 8 degree cold rain, wearing summer clothes (but even something warmer would not really have made much of a difference), desperately grapping the breaks to maintain a safe speed yet make it through this hell as fast as possible. I was dreaming of a hot bath back in the hotel...

This was not the greatest start to my stay in Kitzbuehel. As we say in German, "vom Regen in die Traufe", quite literally!

Again rain through the rest of the day and throughout most of the night. The next morning looked a little more promising, but still with threatening skies and a supposed 35% chance of rain. Good enough to give it another try, again without venturing too far before the afternoon, when rain was forecasted once more.

I chose a loop around the mountain range towards the northwest of Kitzbuehel, facing the famous "Wilder Kaiser". Google maps suggested it was possible to avoid the main roads for most of the loop, following side roads. Indeed, this was possible, but as always in Austria, many of those side roads turned out to be unpaved.

In fact, at some point the cycling path became a hiking path! Impossible to tell from google maps, making this section appear like a nicely paved back road...

I ended up doing a fair amount of riding on unpaved paths and even hikling, just as last year. Unlike Japan, most of the unpaved paths are easily passable by road bike. They tend to be so well maintained that it is possible to even climb up many unpaved mountain roads. But of course they add to the wear and tear of the bike, especially the tyres. My first back tyre on this bike lasted for only 2,000km before the top of the tyre came off in places. In Japan, I always end up wrecking my tyres through side cuts from sharp stones on rindos. Not so here.

There aren't actually so many paved roads here. Basically just one trunk road per valley. There are very few actual passes and almost no tunnels (and tunnels are always closed to bicycles). Unlike Japan, no attempt is made to connect roads over hills or mountains, just for the sake of connecting them. It is possible to ride to the top of many mountains, but with the exception of the Kitzbueheler Horn, the roads are always unpaved. A paradise for mountain bikers, but not really for road bikers.

Nonetheless, the scenery is a nice change from Japan, even in this bad weather.

As I will be teaching my younger colleagues throughout the week, I will be following with envy the progress the PE teams are making through the Austrian and Italian Alps, on what seems to be more interesting paved roads and passes which can be found in my immediate vicinity. With a bit of luck, next Saturday may offer the opportunity to repeat another attack of the Grossglockner Hochtor, the highest Austrian pass at 2,500m, 100km to the south-east of Kitzbuehel.

What's So Funny about Dark, Fog and Rain?

This was a difficult weekend to plan a ride in the Tokyo area.  On Thursday, it looked as if Friday overnight into Saturday early afternoon would be dry, with Typhoon 14 passing off the coast late Saturday into Sunday.  I talked with a colleague about a REALLY early start (5AM?) Saturday to get in a good ride, work permitting.  By Friday, the typhoon's approach had accelerated, with rain to start Saturday morning and landfall possible in Kanagawa/Chiba -- no point trying to beat the rain.

On Saturday morning we got bands of heavy rain and typhoon-like low thick clouds, ahead of the storm, and the predictions were for strong winds and rain -- real typhoon conditions -- in early evening.  I watched the storm from my office, during a lengthy mid-day conference call.

Many people (my wife included) canceled their evening plans.  But not Jerome.  He had arranged a dinner, with Nishibe-san and me, and Senju-san, their friend and Beeren teammate from Kobe, who recently moved to Tokyo for work-related reasons.  The four of us met at Yotsuya San-chome station and wandered the back alleys of Araki-cho, finally locating Tsuruya Vino, the wine bar run by Jerome's long-time friend Serge.  Like Nishibe-san, Senju-san does not only ride, but also runs, and swims.  He is a very strong tri-athlete, and is already commuting by bicycle from Ichikawa, Chiba to his workplace in Tokyo (Odaiba).

After a delicious, very reasonably price meal and numerous glasses of French sparkling, white and red wines, talk turned to the possibility of a Sunday ride. The typhoon had passsed -- another "near miss" as Tokyo escaped with only a few umbrellas turned inside out.  Earlier Saturday afternoon, the forecast had suggested a spell of good weather to follow, even sunny on Sunday until the next weather front would arrive Sunday night.  But a quick check of mobile devices during dinner suggested the break in storms would be very brief, with rain possible any time after Noon on Sunday.  Hmmmm.  How would we ever get in a good, dry ride this weekend?

Inspired by the food and wine, Jerome and I thought, "NIGHT RIDE!"  "If we leave at 1AM, we can ride over Matsuhime or Yanagisawa, ride in dry conditions, return by mid/late morning and sleep at home in a warm, comfortable bed, before the rain starts.  We each had taken a liking to the Brevet night-time stages, and had the necessary equipment.  So why not?  We each were well-enough rested to try this, and we would enjoy the ride, without traffic or interruption, and have the pleasure of a hot bath and a deep sleep, total physical exhaustion, to await us at home in the morning.

Jerome rolled up to my house a few minutes before 1AM.  Max, our poodle, demonstrated his worth as a watch dog, barking as if on queue as Jerome approached, while I completed my preparations.

Glows in the dark ... making pictures/contrast difficult!

We made good time to Oume, stopping at 2:45AM at a 7-11 a few kilometers west of Oume Station -- no point in trying Aurore at this hour.  Jerome tried to rest in front of the convenience store, but I urged him to continue, as I was getting cold while waiting.  There was a chill in the air now, a real change from the shorts/short sleeves weather at our start.  Worse, I realized that I had brought two pairs of arm warmers and no leg warmers.  Fortunately, one pair was big enough fit over my legs and double as "knee warmers", leaving only an inch or two gap at the bottom of my shorts.

Next stop was Watanabe-san's cafeteria at the west end of Okutama-ko.  Here we confirmed our plan for an ascent of Matsuhime Pass. Of course, the cafeteria was closed at 4:45AM.  Our only company were some young hot rodders, whose 3-4 cars were parked on the bridge to the road up to Kazahari -- it seems the signs warning of highway closing on that road until 9AM after a heavy rain -- were accurate.  The gate across the bridge was locked.

That really was a very filling dinner!

"We are here."

We continued on Rte 139, toward Kosuge-mura and Matsuhime.  The air got colder, and a misty rain started.  I stopped in the light of some vending machines to put on my glove liners to cover my fingers in the cold.  At least 3 dogs in the nearby house started to bark, so I moved on quickly.

As we approached Kosuge, we saw many signs for "Kosuge no Yu" onsen.  It looked like a day hot spring bath (hi-gaeri onsen), and we thought "what if it opens early, for the locals?"  If it opened at 6 or 7AM, it would be worth killing some time to get a hot bath.  A slight detour up a side hill brought us to the entrance of an impressive facility, in the middle of nowhere.  The only visible signs listed the CLOSING time ("last entry into facility, 5:45PM", "building closes, 7:00PM").  Nothing about opening time.  We rested on benches under a trellis and grapevines near the entrance -- a good cover ... unless the rain really picked up, as it did at times.  The survival sheets helped and we actually got 30 minutes or so of partial rest -- enough to revitalize me for the climb and plenty of time to take some photos of the scene.

Finally, around 6:20AM, a neighbor came by walking his dog.  We asked him what time the onsen opened.  "10AM."  We quickly packed up and headed for Matsuhime.

As usual, Jerome climbed a bit ahead of me, but I kept close to him, my body telling me it was morning now.  The mist and rain grew thicker as we climbed.  Jerome pulled off to have a snack at the 1000 meter level -- bonking from lack of food.  I kept going and was pleased that the climb seemed easy, easier than I remembered.  I was not sitting in my lowest (34-27) gear, but most of the way had a gear to spare, or 3-4 to spare when out of the saddle, a bit of extra motivation as I looked back to see if Jerome was visible behind me.

As I rounded one corner in the dark, I came across a deer about 30 meters up the road.  Not just any deer, but a big, noble looking buck, with what seemed like huge antlers, longer than my arms, and dark brown, heavy wet coat of fur.  He was more startled than I, and took off, his hooves clattering as he went further around the corner.  By the time I could get up the road and see the next stretch, he was gone, I assume down into the trees on the hillside below.  I thought, I might be the first person -- on bicycle or in car -- to come up the North side of Matsuhime today.

On top, as I waited for Jerome, I was joined by one car that came up the South side and parked, a man getting out and heading out on a walk or hike.  Otherwise, all was quiet, no view in the clouds, as I waited for Jerome to emerge from the mist.

That pass on the right shoulder of the next mountain is O-Toge.

Here comes the refueled Jerome!

The rain picked up and I started to get really cold as we started down the South side, going very slowly because of the wet, leaf covered surface.  But eventually we made it to the wider, clear road, the tunnels and reservoirs and picked up the pace, getting a chance to show Jerome how my nice new HED wheels can slice through the air, given a straight-away and downward slope.

After a stop along Route 20 to refuel, a nice fast ride back in toward town, zooming on the many flat and slight downward stretches), and a quick breakfast at the "Gust" at Sagami-ko, just below the Sagami-ko train station (the "Jonathan's" has closed since a group of us sought shelter there back in 2008), we parted.  I hopped the train home, ready to rest after 150 kms of night riding (and managed to doze off, if briefly, on each stretch of the train ride: Sagamiko-Takao, Takao-Tachikawa, Tachikawa-Musashi Mizunoguchi, and even Mizunoguchi-Kaminoge).  Jerome continued home by bike as is his tradition -- passing Tom and his daughter as they climbed Otarumi on their morning ride in the "mizzling" rain.

Mission Accomplished.  Really!

I slept very soundly Sunday afternoon, evening and night.

More high-altitude conquests

Day 1: back over the highest pass in Japan - Norikura, at 2,700m

Day 2: over Utsukushigahara Kogen at 2,100m

Day 3: over the highest national highway pass in Japan - Yamada Toge, at 2,172m

More here.

The Very Last Ride

After spending two months in the German diaspora, I will fly back to Japan on July 10th/11th to pack all our worldly goods (except my family) into a container which will be shipped to Germany in due course. Then, the plane for Germany leaves on July 16th and that might be the last time I will come and leave Japan for a longer time. I will be fully busy with rejoining my family, do last minute shopping, meet friends, organize paperwork and removal preps ........

Naturally I will also want to escape from all of this and it would be wonderful if we can organize a bike ride sometime between July 13th and 15th most likely. I have spoken with Ludwig already and I might be able to put my hands on his cyclo cross for a ride with him. I would like to do one of the nicer mountain climbs I have some nostalgic feelings for, perhaps Matushime, Yabitsu, Tsuru/Tawa or Gando or O-Toge, perhaps Yanagizawa or Doshi-Michi.

If you guys are out there and not vacationing in Europe or elsewhere, please let me know.

Michael aka mob

Bike movies / Last Ride