日本夏2025年

May 29, 2025

日本夏2025年 - Day 26

June 26, 2025

Sakaki to Honjo - 125 Km

Start 7:15 AM

Finish 5:04 PM

Total Duration 9:49

Moving Time 7:27

Stopped Time 2:22

Ascent 1,029 m

Descent 2,331

Tour Total 2,937 Km

Details at: https://ridewithgps.com/trips/300553607

I slept well last night while stealth camping beside the Chikuma River. It had started to drizzle in the evening, so I crawled into my tent early and drifted off to the sound of the river's steady current. Because I’d turned in early, I got a full night’s sleep. When the sun rose, I pulled the sleeping bag over my eyes and managed another two hours of rest.

I had pitched my tent on a paved section of the river levee, surrounded by wooded hills. It was a beautiful spot. The morning was quiet and unhurried—I took my time packing, drying out my tent and footprint in the morning sun as it poked through the clouds. I was nearly out of sunscreen and wore my arm protectors from the start.

My Wahoo GPS still couldn’t locate the route, so I relied once again on my phone for navigation. Rejoining the Ueda–Chikuma–Nagano Cycling Path, I passed a few locals commuting by bicycle. The river soon split to form an island, and I followed the right fork. The path hugged the steep valley slope; houses and rice paddies had disappeared—every scrap of flat land in Japan is claimed.

For a stretch, the bike path squeezed between the valley wall and the highway before the road ducked into a tunnel. From there, the path twisted through quiet marshlands, and I had it entirely to myself. The sky was dramatic—low gray clouds like cotton candy, others a bluish-gray streaked with violet, with one small patch of light where the sun fought to break through.

Just as I was enjoying the solitude, the bike path abruptly ended. I crossed a bridge over the river and rejoined the road alongside motor traffic. The mountains ahead were shrouded in low cloud.

By 7:45 AM, I rolled into Ueda (population 157,480), passing clusters of factories. It was rush hour on National Route 18, but luckily there was a sidewalk to ride on. Turning onto a secondary road was a challenge, especially with the added layer of Japanese politeness—waiting for the exact right moment to cross.

The route dipped back toward the river, then returned to Route 18, zigzagging to keep me on quieter roads. I stopped at Lawson for a Craft Boss latte, a butter kouign-amann, and a muskmelon cream bread.

I missed a turn and went briefly off course but got back on track and rode into Komoro, a town of narrow lanes, traditional buildings, and ceramic tile-capped walls. It had an old-town feel.

Soon I was climbing along Highway 134, rising to 444 meters across a wide plain. I followed the river again and passed through the town of Ōya, with its tiny train station. Back on the heavily trafficked Route 18, I saw my first sign for Tokyo—185 kilometers to go. I stopped for a Calpis cream soda at a roadside vending machine.

Komoro (pop. 42,489) had the feel of a tourist town: old wooden facades, sliding doors, restaurants, and ceramics shops. I veered onto Highway 134, a narrow two-lane road with moderate traffic. The sun was out now, and the heat was rising. I stopped again for a ginger ale.

I passed rows of red-leaf lettuce ready for harvest, many fields blanketed in plastic sheeting with crops poking through neatly spaced holes. The next town, Miyota (pop. 15,562), had a polished resort feel—hotels, onsen, ski lodges, golf courses.

Hungry, I chased a phantom restaurant on Google Maps, only to come up empty. Then I spotted Kikori, its parking lot full and a queue at the door. I wrote my name in katakana on the waitlist and sat patiently. Eventually, I was seated at a comfortable four-top with an outlet to charge my phone and power bank. Lunch was soba noodles with shrimp teriyaki, and a cold beer.

Afterward, I meandered through town past shrines and lanterns, realizing I was on a variant of the historic Nakasendō, the old highway linking Kyoto and Tokyo—much of which I’d ridden last year.

A roadside sign read: “1,003 meters above sea level.” I had rejoined Route 18, which was again busy. The sidewalk turned into jarring paving stones, so I edged back onto the main road to ride with the cars and trucks. An escape route soon presented itself: a dedicated cycling path. But it quickly became overgrown with tall weeds and I had to backtrack to Route 18.

I misread the route lines ahead, thinking a steep climb awaited me. With no GPS elevation profile, I had no idea I was already at the top of the Usui Pass. I passed a tire-chain area and braced myself—but the climb was already done. Mist settled in as I entered Gunma Prefecture and the Kantō region. Then came the descent: steep, winding, and shrouded in fog. This stretch of Route 18, the Usui Bypass, was mostly empty thanks to the tolled expressway drawing off traffic. Towering hills surrounded me, and I passed under the elevated freeway.

I glided into Yokokawa on a quiet local road, then rejoined Route 18 beside train tracks and the Usui River. The jagged mountains around me were spectacular. After a 620-meter descent, I was now at 380 meters elevation.

In the small town of Annaka, I followed local roads marked with bike symbols. A cyclist passed me heading the other way. Light rain began to fall, but I was already soaked in sweat and welcomed the coolness.

In Matsuida, I visited Fudō-ji Temple—number four of the 36 Fudō temples in Northern Kantō. Past a solar farm and an athletic facility, I found a bike path along the Tsukumo River. Behind me, lightning lit up the hills.

I hit swarms of tiny bugs that stuck to my wet arms and legs—it was revolting. The path led me onward through the rain, tracing the river. To my left, a major highway paralleled my route. I was entering Takasaki.

The rain grew heavier, making my touchscreen difficult to use. I crossed the Karasu River and found myself on a small road away from traffic. The worst of the rain passed, though thunder still rumbled over the western hills.

With rain in the forecast for the evening, I booked a shipping container hotel in the next town. Apple Maps avoided the urban sprawl, taking me through rice fields, vegetable patches, and past cattle barns.

I arrived at my hotel on the outskirts of Honjo, checked in, and soaked in a hot bath. For dinner, I rode to nearby Izakaya Horiguchi and enjoyed a sashimi plate and cold beer.