日本夏2025年

June 06, 2025

日本夏2025年 - Day 19

June 17, 2025
Furano to Rumoi - 155 Km
Start 9:13 AM
Finish 7:55 PM
Total Duration 10:52
Moving Time 8:10
Stopped Time 2:32
Ascent 735 m
Descent 900 m
Tour Total 2,173 Km
Details at: https://ridewithgps.com/trips/296999127

I slept well at Hostel Tomar in Room W. It had been hot when I went to bed, so I left the small round porthole window open. Sometime during the night the temperature dropped, and I woke up cold, fumbling to shut the window and pull the comforter over me.

After shaving and packing up in the morning, I headed downstairs for breakfast: scrambled eggs, hash browns, salad, toast generously slathered with Hokkaido butter, a glass of orange juice, and two cups of coffee. While eating, I tried to sort out the next stage of the trip and ended up booking a ferry for Monday from Otaru to Niigata. That would take me back to Honshu via the Sea of Japan coast, from where I'd begin the mountain crossing back to Tokyo.

Last night I’d noticed two touring bikes parked in the reception area. This morning, while getting ready to leave, I met Katya from Salt Lake City, Utah. She was riding around Hokkaido, having done some previous touring in Mexico. She mentioned that an inch of rain was forecast for Saturday—something to keep in mind.

I asked the woman at the front desk what the winters were like here. She said the town transforms into a ski destination—crowded and lively. For now, though, it was quiet, even sleepy.

Outside, puddles lined the streets—evidence that I’d made a good decision stopping here last night. I quickly reconnected with the route. The sky was overcast, with low-hanging, thick, cotton-like clouds. I rode with my gilet unzipped.

Just outside town, I saw something unusual overhead—a motorized hang glider cruising above the fields. I couldn’t tell whether it was for fun or if the pilot was surveying the farmland.

I was riding north through a wide valley, flanked by mountains on either side. To the east lay Daisetsuzan National Park, with Mount Asahi-dake rising up, still streaked with snow. I passed fields of onions, wheat, and corn, riding a quiet two-lane road paralleling Route 237 with almost no traffic.

The famous lavender fields of Hokkaido were nearby, but I was a few weeks too early for the bloom. I stopped briefly to remove my gilet as the sun threatened to break through.
In Kamifurano, I passed through rows of tired, pastel cookie-cutter homes. Then came Kamikawa—population 22,715. The name, derived from the Ainu language, supposedly means "Foul-Smelling Place," but to me it smelled just fine—at least at first. A few kilometers later, cresting a climb, I caught a whiff of cattle and realized the name wasn’t entirely misplaced.

From the top of the hill, I spotted a cream-colored Ferris wheel in the distance—or maybe it was a piece of agricultural equipment? It looked surreal against the landscape.

I passed a pavement marker for Cycling Route A61. The road undulated through rolling wheat fields, and I paused for a moment to take in the view. A strong westerly wind was at my back—good news for now, but it would likely become a foe later.

Crossing a salmon-colored arched bridge over the Biei River, I entered Biei (population 9,343). An electronic sign read 24°C. The town had the unmistakable energy of a tourist stop—bike rentals, ice cream shops, boutiques. Sightseers were out in force, snapping photos of the rural vistas. But the peak season wouldn’t arrive until July and August.

I pushed on through farmland—rice paddies, tilled fields, wildflowers. A light mist began to fall.

By 12:30 PM, I had covered 50 kilometers and rolled into Asahikawa (population 321,906). I passed a lovely park just as the sun broke through and began searching for lunch. I landed at the Asahikawa Road Station and ordered a bowl of soy pork ramen. I felt like a seasoned local, deftly navigating the ordering machine, while a few elderly patrons struggled with it. The meal was decent, but I couldn't get a beer. For such a large town, dining options felt surprisingly limited.

A fellow rider from the Facebook group had recommended heading to the coast from here and following it up to Cape Soya. Justin had ridden from here to Rumoi, so I loaded his route into my GPS and headed west. The wind was now strong out of the south—tricky for the moment, but hopefully a tailwind tomorrow.

Asahikawa itself was wedged between two rivers and felt a bit rough around the edges—ugly, even. I crossed a green bridge over the Ishikari River and soon found myself on a fantastic riverside cycling path—an old rail right-of-way flanked by embankments. The path traced the river on one side, a train line on the other.

Eventually, I left the path and crossed back over the river—unfortunately landing on Route 12, a noisy four-lane highway with heavy traffic and construction. I was squeezed against a curb as trucks roared past with inches to spare. Across the road, I saw another loaded cyclist gliding safely along a pedestrian path. I finally managed to cross over to that side.

That cycling path, once the old highway, was slowly being reclaimed by nature, though old avalanche barriers still stood sentinel along the route.

I passed a dam and then rejoined the main highway. Soon after, I crossed back over the river and rolled over a handsome white bridge. Though it looked antique, it was clearly a recent build. Across it stood the old Kamuikotan train station and a couple of antique locomotives. I was now back on the original cycling path I’d started on earlier, passing through a quiet old tunnel.

Later, I had to wait at a crossing for two express trains to scream past in opposite directions. At 4 PM, I reached Fukugawa—"clothing river" in Japanese—after covering 96 km. I stopped at a 7-Eleven for two grapefruit drinks and a bag of cashews.

Continuing west through the flatlands, I passed vast grain elevators and more rice paddies. I turned right onto Route 628, then left onto Route 94, heading for Rumoi. After crossing the Uryu River, I rolled through the small town of Hokuryu.

I passed a massive roadside station with ornate dragon gates. I could tell from Justin’s GPS track that he had stopped here, but I kept riding. Up ahead, I spotted a man in a neon yellow jacket and slowly reeled him in. “Konnichiwa!” I called as I passed. He knew a shortcut through town and soon pulled ahead again on Route 233. When I caught up the second time, I shouted, “Second time!” He laughed and replied, “You’re fast!”

At 5:30 PM I had logged 124 kilometers. There was a climb ahead before the coast, but I was committed. I knew of a free campground near Rumoi, where Justin had stayed. I could get provisions in town.

At 5:45 PM, I had 24 km left. The climb wasn’t bad by my standards, and before long, I was descending. The road paralleled the toll-free expressway. As I approached Rumoi, I passed an army base with rows of jeeps and equipment neatly lined up.

I had hoped for sushi, but the place I wanted was closed. Earlier, I’d passed a burger joint called Fire Burg and circled back. Japanese burgers don’t come with buns—my meal was three large patties with a few fries and some broccoli, plus a bowl of rice. I washed it down with a cold bottle of Kirin.

One last stop at a 7-Eleven for snacks, and then I rode into the dark, using my headlight. The campground was in a strange spot—right on the water, at the end of a narrow cape, bordered by road and embankment. There was a bathroom building and an open shelter with sinks. Eight or so tents were pitched, most of them belonging to motorcyclists. A campfire crackled nearby.

I set up my tent between two others, close to the bathroom. It was windy, but nothing I hadn’t dealt with before. I sat on the steps, listening to the crash of waves and tapping out these notes under a sky scattered with stars.