日本夏2025年

June 26, 2025

日本夏2025年 - Day 1

May 26, 2025

Tokyo to Kiryu - 134 Km

Start 9:02 AM

Finish 5:42 PM

Total Duration 8:40

Moving Time 6:21

Stopped Time 2:19

Ascent 480m

Descent 380m

Tour Total 134 Km

Details at: https://ridewithgps.com/trips/287577351

I slept well in Room 532 of the Mitsui Garden Hotel in Gotanda. Still on New York time, I woke in the middle of the night, took a melatonin, and drifted back to sleep. By 8:00 a.m., I was up and packing. After handing over my oversized bike box to a surprised reception clerk, I headed downstairs for a Craft Boss latte and a chocolate croissant.

Before setting off, I sat beside the Meguro River to enjoy my breakfast. The sky was mostly overcast, the temperature hovering in the mid-60s, with a forecast high of 70°F.

Describing Tokyo in a few words is nearly impossible. Like much of Japan, it’s a place of contrasts. At once drab and brutalist, it’s also immaculate, stimulating, and surprisingly quiet. Attention to detail is everywhere. Corporate districts resemble their North American counterparts, yet Tokyo's sprawl is eclectic—part Miami, part Mexico City, part Toronto. Narrow back alleys hint at an older, slower Japan. I especially appreciated the meticulously cared-for plants that dotted the streets.

I made my way across town via the Shin-Ohashi Bridge, spanning the Sumida River. I passed near the towering Tokyo Skytree and the infamous Asahi Flame—cheekily dubbed “The Golden Turd.” Cyclists shared both sidewalks and roads, with lanes and markings that made riding fast and fluid.

Crossing the long green Kinegawa Bridge over the Arakawa River, I spotted a school trip unfolding in the manicured marshlands below, while a massive freeway loomed in the distance. Then came the Takasago Bridge over the Naka River, followed by my first stretch along the historic Edo River. Tokyo was once called Edo, and I followed a scenic path atop its levee.

Wearing my Ostroy cycling jersey, shorts, over-shorts, Pearl Izumi beer socks, and gloves, I was geared up for both style and function on this tour.

Heading north along the wide river basin, I made good time on the smooth cycling path. A hazy mountain silhouette hovered in the northeast, still veiled by clouds. Twice, I passed schoolyards echoing with percussion and dance rehearsals.

One long segment stretched 40 km without a cue, so I put in my earbuds and queued up The Duane Train. I cruised past golf courses, incinerators, and—eventually—rice paddies. To the west, the mountains began to assert themselves.

I stopped at a rest area for another Craft Boss latte and shared the path with other cyclists out enjoying the day.

As the Edo merged with the Tone River, I passed Sekiyado Castle and crossed to the far side of the Tone. Hunger set in, and I found lunch at a place called Inaba. Creamy chicken ramen and a cold Asahi hit the spot.

After lunch, the river forked. I followed the east bank of the Watarase River upstream. Rice paddies stretched out to my right, mountains looming ahead. Some levee trail sections were closed, but I hopped a few fences to stay on course. Eventually, I crossed the Mikuni Bridge to the river’s west side.

Soon I found myself on a narrow, shoulderless two-lane road packed with traffic. Fortunately, Japanese drivers are considerate. I pulled into the Kazo-Watarase Road Station for a soft-serve at 3:15 p.m. The route continued to meander with the river, gradually leading me toward the mountains.

Back atop another levee, the path became overgrown with weeds. The mountains now stood in sharp relief against the sky. After crossing the Shinkai Bridge to the north side of the river, I rolled into Ashikaga—one of the last towns before the mountain foothills. I spotted a container hotel like the one I stayed in last summer, but it was only 4:30 p.m., and I had more in me.

In the next town, Kiryu, I found another Hotel R9 The Yard. I was tired and inquired about a room. They offered a better price than advertised, and the ease of checking in far outweighed the idea of camping.
My extremities were red from sun exposure—a mistake, forgetting sunscreen. For dinner, I wandered over to a nearby spot called Satsuki and ordered a comforting bowl of soba noodles. The place had a lively, slightly tipsy crowd, and my presence quickly became the evening’s entertainment. Curious about my journey, they peppered me with questions and, before I could leave, insisted on snapping a round of selfies to commemorate the encounter.

It had been a strong first day—good mileage, solid rhythm. Tomorrow, the climbing begins.