日本夏2025年 - Day 21 • Enbetsu to Wakkanai
June 19, 2025
Enbetsu to Wakkanai - 177 Km
Start 6:36 AM
Finish 7:39 PM
Total Duration 13:03
Moving Time 9:18
Stopped Time 3:45
Ascent 1,070 m
Descent 983 m
Tour Total 2,452 Km
Details at: https://ridewithgps.com/trips/297738187
I slept well on the porch of an abandoned beach complex in Enbetsugawa Kasen Park, just outside of Enbetsu. The wind was howling along the shore, but thanks to the roof overhead and the way I had wedged my tent against a wall, I didn’t feel a thing. The roof also kept the early morning light at bay, allowing me to rest longer than usual — though I still managed to get an early start.
A few cars passed by as I was packing up. The park was listed as a campground, but I was under the impression it was closed. A sign said ¥500 per night, but no one came to collect a fee.
It was an impressive space — expansive lawns, water inlets, a crescent-shaped monument, and sleek light fixtures lining the roadway.
I set out wearing a gilet and jacket, pedaling under thick morning cloud. The haze from the night before had lifted, and the sun was trying to break through. The wind was out of the southwest again — a tailwind for me, but one I wouldn’t want to face in the opposite direction.
I passed a sign marking the northernmost place in Japan where rice is planted. The end of this journey was drawing closer.
Highway 232 veered inland, and I noticed I could take a quieter local road along the shore. I opted for that, cutting across to the coast. New concrete tetrapods lined the shore, and I passed a site where crews were actively constructing a seawall. Very little of Japan’s natural coastline remains. It’s a sobering sight, but I understand the need to protect the land from the turbulent sea. To some, the tetrapods have a brutalist, Minecraft-like charm, while others consider them an eyesore.
I passed Seashols Farm, a sprawling complex of buildings and barns, surrounded by massive bales of hay wrapped in plastic. Wind turbines rose like giants in the distance — reminiscent of rural Iowa. The road turned to gravel, which started out manageable, but soon became too rough for my road tires. Fearing a sidewall tear, I decided to rejoin the highway.
I rode into Teshio and passed long, collective-style housing on the right. In town, I cut back to the coast, passed under a towering torii gate, and stopped to explore the temple grounds. From there I followed the Teshio River inland. The route led to a bumpy, gravel levy along the river, so I cut back to the highway. The surroundings felt remarkably remote — rare for Japan — and I felt as if I were pedaling through the middle of nowhere. To the northeast, mountains rose sharply from the plains.
In Horonobe, I stopped at a Seico Mart for two danishes and a Craft Boss latte. By 9:30 AM, I’d already ridden 44 km. Today I hoped to cross the island to the Pacific Coast and make it to Cape Soya, the northernmost point of my journey. The sun appeared as I peeled off my jacket and set out. I passed a tiny ski slope and lift as I left town.
On Highway 121, I passed a sign welcoming travelers to “Horonobe, the Geo-Frontier” and rode over long stretches of farmland, dotted with large puddles from last night’s rain. The sun came out fully as I began a long climb. I stopped to remove my gilet and apply sunscreen, startling a deer that slipped on the pavement as it bolted away. After reaching the top, I descended into a panoramic expanse of rolling hills and pasture. A herd of cattle grazed in the distance. This was easily the most rural area I’ve traveled in Japan. I pressed on over a long, gravel climb and spotted a brown fox with a bushy tail dart across the path.
The route eventually brought me to Route 138, which would lead to Sarufutsu. I followed the Nitatoroomanai River and passed a large gravel operation before tackling another climb. Near the top, I spotted another fox. After the pass, buildings began to appear again, along with vending machines — a sure sign I was approaching a town. As I drew closer to the coast, I could smell the salty air and felt a cold headwind coming off the sea.
From town, I set a course for a roadside scallop restaurant. I rode across expansive grasslands until I caught a glimpse of the deep blue Pacific. I was back on my original LOJ route, passing stables full of cattle. To my dismay, the scallop restaurant was closed, but I noticed a group of people enjoying prepared meals at a nearby picnic table. They pointed me toward the ice cream stand, where I salvaged lunch — two trays of scallops and rice.
Back on the road, I met two touring cyclists, Talia and Ben from Tasmania, drying their gear in the sun. They’d camped in the fog the night before and were making their way around Hokkaido, fresh from Wakkanai. They shared stories of swimming in the ocean and waved as I set off again.
A little further down the road, I passed locals dressed in colorful festival attire, riding in the bed of a pickup truck. One was perched in a small boat, chanting. It felt like a scene out of a summer festival. The first sign for Cape Soya announced it was just 29 km away — a reminder that this long day was far from over.
Highway 238 veered inland and then returned to the shore, bringing a challenging climb. At last, I was 7 km from the cape, following Hokkaido Scenic Road 7. A strong headwind greeted me, and I stopped briefly at a vending machine for a grape Fanta before pressing on.
I arrived at Cape Soya and stopped to document the moment. The gift shop offered a cold lemonade, and I watched a thick fog rolling in from the north, obscuring the view of Sakhalin, just 40 km across the strait. There were still 24 km to cover before reaching Wakkanai.
Unlike the deserted, wind-swept atmosphere I’d found at Kyushu’s southern tip the year before, Cape Soya was bustling with activity. Tourists crowded the gift shop and posed for photos by the monument. A young man in a graduation outfit smiled for the camera. Deer roamed the area, and the site was located right along the main highway, beside a bustling harbor. On the Pacific side of the cape, the weather had been mild, but the Sea of Japan side was wrapped in mist. As I rounded the point, the fog dissipated and the sun returned.
As I entered Wakkanai (population 30,590), I passed the airport and spotted the volcanic outline of Rishiri Island rising from the sea. At a Lawson’s, I stopped for peanuts and a grapefruit drink, and exchanged a few words with a motorcyclist. Exhausted from the long day, I rode past a restaurant called Victoria and was lured by the smell of sizzling meat. I stopped for a replenishing meal and a cold beer.
Afterwards I made my way to Minato no Yu Onsen, located right on the shore. I soaked in its hot pools — including an outdoor one with a view of the sea — before stopping at a Seico Mart to pick up supplies. As I climbed the steep hill to the campground, Google Maps led me down an overgrown path where I passed a cemetery and spotted several deer.
Finally, I arrived at Wakkanai Forest Park Camping Ground, where I found a lively scene — Japanese campers, motorcycles lined up, and families enjoying the long summer evening. I set up my tent, then sat down at a picnic table to write this report, grateful for another long and rewarding day on the road.
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