日本夏2025年

June 18, 2025

日本夏2025年 - Day 8

June 4, 2025

Ofunato to - Hanamaki - 118 Km

Start 9:06 AM

Finish 7:01 PM

Total Duration 9:55

Moving Time 7:52

Stopped Time 2:04

Ascent 1,465 m

Descent 1,384 m

Tour Total 839 Km

Details at: https://ridewithgps.com/trips/291292808

I slept soundly in Room 718 of the Hotel Route Inn in Ofunato. The blackout curtains did their job, keeping the early morning light at bay. I started the day refreshed—showered, shaved, dressed in a clean kit, and back to Buddha-level cleanliness. I even managed a quick button repair before heading out.

Breakfast was complimentary, though not as satisfying as my previous two hotel stays. I had scrambled eggs, sausages, a variety of fried items, and several cups of coffee. Outside, the weather was sunny with scattered clouds and a steady breeze. It was in the mid-60s, so I wore my standard kit with a gilet. I began riding inland, away from the coast and toward the mountains.

I followed National Route 107 upstream alongside the Sakari River. After a long, steep climb, I reached my first tunnel of the day—the 770-meter-long Shiroishi Tunnel. A breezy downhill followed, into a quiet valley dotted with a few scattered homes. I turned off onto a smaller road that soon turned to double track and then gravel, beginning my second major climb of the day.

At first, I passed a few homes, stacks of firewood, and pots of flowers. A small white truck pulled over to let me pass. The sun began to break through the clouds, and I stopped to apply sunscreen. The gravel climb steepened into a series of switchbacks. In my lowest gear, I started to spin out—my road tires struggling for grip. I had to dismount and hike-a-bike. A sidewall tear here would’ve meant real trouble.

This stretch was the most rural terrain I’d encountered in Japan, a sharp contrast to the highway riding of the past few days. I startled a large brown monkey sitting squarely in the middle of the track.

Eventually, I reached the summit, and the descent began—fast, narrow, and overgrown. Tree branches whipped at my face as I dropped down. Gradually, buildings began to appear, and then pavement returned.

I rolled into the small town of Sumita, nestled on the Kesen River. The wind had picked up again in the valley. On Route 167, the roadside flowers were extraordinary—dozens of iris varieties in pink, violet, purple, and yellow.

From there, I joined Highway 340, following the Sakamoro River upstream. As I climbed, the noon chime echoed across the valley—one of the many musical tones broadcast daily over Japan’s extensive public address system, which doubles as a disaster alert network.

Climb number three began. The weather had turned overcast and cool—perfect for climbing. Traffic was minimal. At the entrance to the 2-kilometer Akabane Tunnel, a flag person held traffic. After a short wait, vehicles were allowed through, and I followed behind. Cones divided the tunnel for alternating traffic, though no visible work was underway. In the middle of the tunnel, a second flag person gestured for me to continue in the unused work lane.

A swift descent followed, delivering me into Tono, population 26,378. The route shifted onto local roads, and I briefly got turned around. The roads were scattered with walnut shells, and I watched crows working them open with sharp precision.

Hungry, I stopped at Sanrikutei Ramen. The proprietor was friendly, and the locals were curious about my ride. Seeing me in shorts, they asked if I was cold. I asked about bears, and they pointed to a photo on the wall—yes, they live around here. The appetizers had a satisfying kick, the beer was ice-cold, and the ramen with rice was deeply satisfying.

Leaving Tono, I got onto the Tonotowa Cycling Road, but it didn’t last long. Soon, I was grinding up another steep pass. I stopped at a vending machine and grabbed a ginger ale to fuel the final push.

At last, I topped out on climb number four. The descent was narrow and wooded, occasionally gravel, winding through farmland into yet another breezy valley. I passed vineyards and a small flock of sheep penned near a barn—my first livestock sighting of the entire tour. I still have no idea where Japan keeps the rest of its farm animals.

I passed through a quiet town and joined Highway 283, which had light traffic. Riding west into the sun, I followed the Sarugaishi River toward Hanamaki—which, if my Japanese is right, translates to “Flower City.”

After cresting a rise, I caught my first glimpse of Hanamaki, population 92,500. Behind the city loomed a massive mountain range, but luckily my route would now turn north. Still, my elevation profile warned of more climbing ahead.

I stopped at a MOS Burger for a protein boost, knowing the day was nearing its end and I’d soon need to find a campsite. I was riding through a wide valley between two ranges. As I left the city behind, rice paddies reappeared.

I began Googling parks and shrines—searching for a secluded spot with a picnic table or at least a bench. I finally found Kuzumarukawa Kasen Park and set up camp behind a gazebo. I startled a local woman walking her dog and watched as a small group of cyclists cruised by on a night ride.