日本夏2025年

June 11, 2025

日本夏2025年 - Day 15

June 11, 2025

Shimamaki to Lake Toya - 124 Km

Start 6:37 AM

Finish 5:44 PM

Total Duration 11:07

Moving Time 7:06

Stopped Time 4:01

Ascent 1,223 m

Descent 1,147 m

Tour Total 1,662 Km

Details at: https://ridewithgps.com/trips/294356481

I slept well last night next to the seawall just outside Shimamaki. The evening had been cold, and I went to bed early. I woke around 4 AM with the first light, managed another hour of sleep, then packed up under a brisk wind that made the morning feel sharper than expected.

Dark clouds loomed over the southern mountains—rain was forecast for later. I spent some time studying my maps before setting off.

A local cyclist in a Facebook group had recommended a scenic detour that would keep me hugging the coast a little longer. I decided to follow it. Back on the highway, I was immediately met with the imposing 1,100-meter Obira Tunnel. The second tunnel—Shin-Acchase, 330 meters long—had twin tubes

As I rode along the Sea of Japan, it felt strange to look out across the water knowing Russia and North Korea lay somewhere beyond the horizon. Cargo ships drifted in and out of view.

I passed the turnoff for the LOJ route but stayed on Route 229 to continue hugging the coastline. At 7:39 AM, the sun briefly broke through, and I unzipped my gilet.

A strong crosswind came roaring down from the mountains. I passed a line of wind turbines—smaller than the massive ones in the U.S., perhaps due to the narrower, curvier roads here.

As I approached Suttsu, I stopped to admire the Cape Benkei monument. The southern sky had grown darker, thick with rain-heavy clouds.

When the rain began, I ducked into a roadside bus shelter to put on my poncho and waterproof socks. These shelters are impressively built, with sliding glass doors and benches—clearly designed for the brutal winters.

I stopped at a SeicoMart for a Craft Boss latte, a baked chocolate doughnut, and a madeleine. The clerk was curious about my journey, though the language barrier limited our conversation. The rain had eased when I left, but I kept the poncho on.

I made a brief stop at a closed road station, then peeled off the poncho again as the wind picked up. After riding through the short Tane-Mae Tunnel, I circled around a vast bay.

Along the way, I noticed glass fishing floats scattered here and there—mysterious and beautiful. I’d never seen them used in real life before.

I passed a seafood shop that looked promising, but it was still too early—only 9 AM—and it hadn’t opened yet. I was nearing the end of my coastal leg and eager for one last taste of the sea.

Further along, I spotted a man walking with a backpack and a small cart—clearly on a long journey. His name was Sasagawa (笹川) from Osaka, and he’d been walking for six months. Last year, he’d made it down to Shikoku and Kyushu. He didn’t mind the rain and was camping along the way. I forgot to ask if he’d seen any bears.

Another roadside oyster vendor was closed. I was growing desperate to enjoy some seafood before leaving the coast behind.

I passed through the 570-meter Notsuto Tunnel and rolled into Minato. There, I found a fish store selling oysters, clams, and scallops—but no meals served on-site. I settled for some dried fish strips—perfect bear bait, I thought—and crossed the Shiribetsu River, which I would now begin to follow inland. The mountain wind was picking up again.

I stopped at another road station and bought dried squid. The neighboring shellfish museum was closed.

Route 229 strangely continued inland alongside the river, marked with blue bicycle chevrons. By 10 AM, I’d already covered 50 km.

I passed a sign for the Niseko Gran Fondo—80 km mark. I ride a Gran Fondo route back in New York, and it brought a flash of familiarity and comfort.

Hungry now, I rolled into the outskirts of Rankoshi and searched for food. A long downhill took me to Mendokoro Houryu, a packed ramen joint. I had spicy miso ramen with gyoza and two Sapporo Classics—only available in Hokkaido. Unlike the place I visited yesterday, this one served me beer, thankfully. The ramen was eye-wateringly spicy, just as I’d ordered. I also managed to charge my phone during lunch.

Afterwards, I rejoined Route 5—famous for heavy traffic, which wasn't too bad today. That was the tradeoff for a stellar lunch.

Route 5 paralleled a train line, and I started seeing signs for Niseko, the well-known ski resort.

Apple Maps rerouted me off the highway onto a quiet local road, which turned to gravel. I had to hike-a-bike up a steep section before returning to pavement.

Then, Mount Yotei appeared—a colossal, perfectly shaped stratovolcano. Its summit was veiled in clouds, but the sight was breathtaking.

Rolling into Niseko, I passed the train station, an art gallery, and a radio station. I stopped at the Road Station for a chocolate mint ice cream cone, then continued along Route 130 to the Niseko Ostrich Farm. Seeing those towering, alien-looking birds set against Mount Yotei was surreal. One laid an egg right in front of me.

From there, I joined National Route 230 heading toward Sannohara. Along the way, a massive machine was mowing the roadside weeds. The region had opened up into broad farmland, full of people and tractors busy with early planting.

In Sannohara, I stayed on 230 toward Lake Tōya. A sign warned of a lightning advisory.

I transitioned onto Route 166 and entered Shikotsu-Toya National Park.

Lake Tōya itself is a near-perfect volcanic caldera, with Nakajima Island at its center. After descending to lake level, I stopped at a SeicoMart for a grapefruit juice. I rode along the water, snapped a photo of Ukimido Temple, and made my way to Onsen Toya Ikoinoie for a deep clean, a shave, and a long soak.

The onsen was exceptional—a large, serene pool with wide windows facing the lake and island.

Afterward, I swung back to the SeicoMart for some provisions, then returned to Ukimido Park. Clear and explicit signs in Japanese warned: No Camping.