Motorcycling in Japan

Months before my Rhode Island buddy and I met in Tokyo for our motorcycle tour of Japan, our preparations began. I had lived in Tokyo for 5 years at 22 and got to know the city and its nightspots inside out. However, I had failed to see Japan. After 30 years it was time to take a closer look and answer a question. Why did I ever leave?

To get ready, I went back to study the Japanese language for half a year. This was essential, because a motorcycle takes you to the most unseen places and where ever you stop, you're in contact with the local world. Without some Nihon-Go this trip would not have been possible.

To many the idea of touring Japan by motorcycle was strange. The Japanese consulate in Boston asked my buddy: “Don’t you know that there are excellent train and bus networks in Japan?" Many wonder why people ride motorcycles at all. Is it dangerous? Don't you get wet? Aren't big bikes hard to maneuver? There are as many answers as questions, but to me riding a motorcycle it’s the solution. I don’t know for what problem, but it is the solution.

And there's another aspect. A motorcycle allows for little baggage, so here's a great way to find out how little you really need.

On 12 September 2008 – the weekend the world’s banking system disintegrated - my buddy and I rented 2 big HONDA ST1300 PAN EUROPEANS in Odaiba at the hefty cost of Yen 11,000 a day, plus insurance. The two bikes, however, were in near-pristine condition. My white HONDA had 1960 kms on the odometer and my buddy's 3600. And except that his front-wheel developed a slight wobble, the bikes performed without incident.

We initially were unaware of - and later ignored - the unfolding financial cataclysm, and rode 35 days and 10,000 kms around Japan: north to Hokkaido and Japan’s most northern point, south through Honshu, across to the islands of Shikoku and Kyushu, and back along the Japan Sea and through the Japan Alps to Tokyo.

The ride took us off congested main roads, into mountains, down coastal roads, over ridges, into gorges, through amazing country, with the friendliest people on earth… and fantastic food. (See Gourmet Food - Motorcycling Japan).

We had a discipline. To ride and move on every day, regardless of how much we liked a place. And we rode without pressure, destinations decided daily.

Many places I’d visit again: Hokkaido, the mountains of Gifu, the Tottori coast, Shikoku Island. Shikoku was a discovery. Unknown Japan: remote, scenic, rugged, colorful, beautiful. People friendly but also willful and independent. Roads narrow and isolated. No traffic. The mountain routes unique. The best we’d ever ridden.

Japanese people: practical, consistent, precise, serviceable and friendly. In a post office with all counters are busy the post-master jumped up from his desk and opened another counter to serve us immediately. And a manager of a business hotel in Akita ran around, clearing his parking lot for us to park our motorcycles in a wind-sheltered spot.

It can be hard though getting people's attention and you will require a small magic word: “Sumimasen”. Without it you’ll be talking to the wind. But Sumimasen unfreezes anonymity and signals the receiving brain that it’s being spoken to. The response “Hai” – contrary to popular belief – does not mean “Yes”, but more like “I’ve heard that you said something”. But once the ice is broken, you’ll find better hospitality than anywhere else.

As we didn't have a GPS, we often need to ask for directions. More than a few times we were assisted with phone-calls, or being led to a destination by a car or even by a pedestrian. In one case we were even served a delicious seasonal dish of Samma Sashimi garnished with intense garlic. Eventually shaking off our rather inebriated hosts was not that easy, especially since they insisted in leading us by car to the hotel they had reserved for us. We did not think of that as such a great idea.

At a small gas station in the south-western corner of Hokkaido near Ogiishi, Minshuku Hakutu was recommended to us. In a fishing village by the sea. The gas station attendant scrutinized our ability to speak, eat and sleep Japanese and then drove ahead for 3 km. He took us to this tiny Minshuku where we were not only the only guests that evening, but the first foreigners – ever! Kasaya San, the Inn-owner, cooked dinner at our table, and oversaw our eating of Cuttle-fish Shabu-Shabu, Hirame-no-Enkawa (fillet of Flunder), Tara cooked in salt, Hoke in Miso-sauce, Tako in herb-butter, and fresh, redish mussels. Meanwhile, his wife kept us – and Kasaya San – amply supplied with beer from the vending machine in their living room. All for less than Yen 15,000 for both of us, including food and accommodation.

On the flip-side of the coin: there are cameras everywhere, unmarked police cars, public loudspeaker systems, vigilant civilian guards, and other failures. But no place is perfect.

We enjoyed the best motorcycling and the best food ever. We didn’t find the Japan you’d imagine, but the one you’d hope to discover, with great hospitality from Wakkanai to Kagoshima.