日本夏2025年

May 31, 2025

日本夏2025年 - Day 24

June 24, 2025
Niigata to Joetsu - 127 Km
Start 9:18 AM
Finish 6:30 PM
Total Duration 9:13
Moving Time 6:37
Stopped Time 2:36
Ascent 631 m
Descent 600 m
Tour Total 2,701 Km
Details at: https://ridewithgps.com/trips/299866283

I slept soundly in cabin 608 aboard the Shin Nihonkai Ferry from Otaru to Niigata. After an incredible dinner, I visited the onboard onsen—yes, an onsen on a ferry. I bathed and relaxed in two indoor pools, then braved the open-air bath, where cold wind and sea mist turned the experience into something exhilarating.

Though my curtains were drawn, I woke early to the soft patter of rain. We pulled into port around 8:30 AM, and I realized my eSIM had expired. Thankfully, I still had enough free international days left on my Verizon line to get through the rest of the trip.

I packed up and went down to retrieve my bike. In the lower hold, a truck loaded with cattle was idling beside me. This time they let me off before the motorcycles, though I still had to walk the plank in the rain. I threw on my poncho immediately—luxury to discomfort in minutes, but that’s part of the adventure.

I had arrived back on Honshu, in Niigata (population 1,060,013), part of the Chūbu region. I picked up my route and found myself cycling along a path beside the Shinano River. I stopped under a bridge to plug in my iPod to make the ride more enjoyable. The raindrops were interfering with my phone touchscreen so I had to put it away.

In Hakusan Park, I was drawn to a pair of seated figurative sculptures sprouting trees. I recognized the artist: Jaume Plensa. I’ve seen his work before, including a large piece on the Hudson River in Hoboken, NJ, and another in Calgary.

I continued along the river, crossed a fork, and joined what seemed to be a converted railway line—an old right-of-way turned peaceful bike path. Soon I was cutting through city streets in the steady rain.

Though I was riding south along the Sea of Japan coast, you wouldn’t know it. The gray skies, urban sprawl, and misted distance obscured everything. But gradually the city thinned, and I found myself among open rice paddies. This region is known for some of Japan’s best rice and sake.

I hit National Route 110, a four-lane highway, and endured it for a few kilometers. Relief came at the Namitete African Bakery, where I stopped for a hot, dense pocket bread packed with raisins and walnuts—comforting and warm.

The rain eased as Yahiko Mountain emerged, sharp and dramatic. I’d be skirting its eastern flank. To the southeast, snow-covered peaks loomed faintly in the distance. I paused to shed my poncho and switched to my gilet. At the massive Yahiko Torii gate, the rain returned and I put the poncho back on. Later, the sun broke through, and I had to peel it off again.

By 1 PM, I crossed the vast Okozu Bridge over the Okozu Diversion Canal—48 kilometers behind me—and rejoined National Route 116. It was busy, so I ducked off onto quieter local roads. I was starving, and restaurants were scarce. A Lawson’s convenience store came to the rescue: a grapefruit drink and two onigiri hit the spot.

It was warmer and more humid here on Honshu. Hydrangeas bloomed in every imaginable shade, lush and heavy with color. The sun stayed out, and I passed through villages and rice fields under clearing skies.

The architecture had changed—more traditional, older, and wood-built than what I’d seen in Hokkaido. I passed buildings with curved eaves and tiled Japanese-style roofs, each one speaking of another era.

In Kashiwazaki, I stopped at a vending machine for a Calpis cream soda—my favorite Japanese soft drink. I’d made it back to the coast for one last stretch of seaside riding. I passed a port, then a beach, which got me wondering—does sunbathing even exist in Japan?

I entered the day’s first tunnel, short and uneventful, and soon arrived at Fisherman's Cape. It was lined with restaurants, all of them closed. Two more tunnels followed: one short, then the Bashogaoka Tunnel. Then—an unexpected detour. A bridge was under repair, and I was rerouted onto a steep, winding coastal road. It clung to the cliffs, and out across the water, Sado Island came into view.

Back on the route, I rode through another tunnel before stopping for dinner at お勝手場おら家 (“Home Kitchen”). The meal was fantastic: a sashimi plate, miso soup, salad, rice bowl, and a full bowl of ramen.

My final destination for the day was the Jouetsushiikoinomori Dai 3 Campground, a little off route. A few other campers were there, likely fishermen. I pitched my tent beside a picnic table and settled in to edit this report under a sky glittering with stars.