日本夏2025年

日本夏2025年 - Day 4
May 31, 2025
Aizuwakamatsu to Fukushima - 98 Km
Start 8:59 AM
Finish 6:56 PM
Total Duration 8:57
Moving Time 6:18
Stopped Time 2:39
Ascent 1,446 m
Descent 1,590 m
Tour Total 423 Km
Details at: https://ridewithgps.com/trips/289573170

I slept surprisingly well in the tobacco-smelling Room 609 at the Hotel Route-Inn Aizuwakamatsu. The blackout shade did its job, keeping the early light at bay so I could sleep in until nearly 8 AM.

While getting ready, I noticed a small twig jammed into the cleat of my sandal—souvenir from yesterday’s ride. Breakfast downstairs exceeded expectations; it was so good I went back for seconds.

After checking out, I pedaled over to nearby Tsuruga Castle, easily recognizable by its distinctive red-tiled roofs. From the top, I had a stunning view of the snow-dusted mountains to the west—ones I had noticed the day before. That range, the 飯豊連峰 (Iide Renpō), is part of Bandai Asahi National Park. I followed up the castle visit with a relaxing stop at the tea pavilion, where I enjoyed a cold matcha and a Joyo Manju sweet. Then it was back on the bike, following the official route, which would take me over two mountain passes en route to Fukushima.

Interestingly, “Fukushima” could be interpreted literally as “Clothing Island,” though more accurately it translates to “fortunate” or “blessed island.” While I was still in the mountains, the prefecture is indeed home to the site of the 2011 nuclear disaster, though far from where I was traveling.

I wore a cycling jersey, shorts, lightweight pants, and socks, with rain gear at the ready on top of my pannier. The climb started almost immediately as I left town. I unzipped my gilet to cool down, breathing in the crisp forest air. A sign warned of aggressive bears—just the kind of motivation to keep moving.
Swapping music for a Japanese language lesson, I added a mental challenge to the physical one. The road followed the Su River upstream, which eventually became the Komori. Trees in bloom lined the way, and the solitude was almost meditative.

As I neared the top, radio towers loomed and a light sprinkle began. I stopped to throw on my poncho. In the distance, massive wind turbines spun slowly in the mist. On the descent, the route veered off onto a wooded trail. With bear warnings fresh in mind and the path overgrown, I decided to stay on the highway instead.

In the valley below, I joined National Highway Route 294, sharing space with cars. Occasionally, there was an adjacent asphalt path for pedestrians and cyclists. Rice paddies filled the flatlands, and clouds draped low over the mountains. Though the rain had stopped, I still wore my poncho.

Soon, I rejoined the official route—this time a jarring gravel path cutting through the paddies. The wind picked up, and I found myself pushing into a headwind, my poncho flapping like a sail. At a roadside restroom, I paused to readjust my kit—on went the leg warmers and rain jacket, only for it to start drizzling again. I swapped back into rain pants and the poncho and continued on Highway 49, battling the wind.

Skirting Lake Inawashiro, I rode alongside heavy traffic on a wide shoulder. In town, I stopped at a 7-Eleven for two onigiri and a grapefruit drink. As I sat out front, the rain returned with force. Poncho back on, I set off into a deluge. Wind and water made phone navigation nearly impossible—my screen kept reacting to the raindrops. Knowing that Route 115 was the only way over the pass, I stowed my phone and trusted the road.

Climbing again, I managed my body heat by opening and closing zippers on my gilet, jacket, and poncho. Lightning cracked across the sky, followed by a thunderclap that echoed through the mountains.
At 3:30 PM, I reached the turnoff for the Bandaizuma Skyline, but with Fukushima still over two hours away and rain still hammering down, I stayed on Highway 115. Then came the 3,360-meter-long Tsuchiyu Tunnel beneath Mount Adatara. A sign warned: no bicycles or rickshaws. But I had no real choice. The narrow sidewalk was unrideable, so I took the traffic lane. It was terrifying. Cars bore down behind me—my rear radar lit up with a long procession. I pulled over several times to let them pass, hoping to avoid disaster. At the far end, I passed through a short, clear bridge tunnel and then another brief tunnel before the road rejoined the Skyline.

Next came the 563-meter Higashikarasugawa Tunnel. I had skipped a number of onsens at this point—no time to stop. The final descent was long and steep. I stopped at the Tsuchiyu Road Station for a hot bowl of soba and a can of beer. I was soaked and cold. Two motorcyclists were inside, and I nodded to them, saying, “This rain is ridiculous, right?”

The rain didn’t let up. I was concerned about my brakes on the steep, wet descent. I had no glasses on, visibility was low, and traffic was heavy. One mistake could be disastrous. Eventually, I reached the valley floor, where homes, businesses, and rice fields appeared. I used Apple Maps to navigate through the outskirts of Fukushima City (population 282,693), winding along back roads and riverside paths.
Finally, I arrived at the hotel, drenched. The receptionist directed me to a designated bike parking area near the lot. Before heading up to my room, I grabbed some snacks at Lawson’s. Then I climbed into a steaming hot bath—a ritual that’s become a welcome end to these cold, wet days.

Today was brutal.