The rain forecast arrived properly overnight and it continued to tip down as we took our time to get organised and pack everything back on the bikes. Despite the smoke and mustiness, the rider house was good for meeting a few other bike tourers – a Japanese father and young son, two Israeli friends; there were quite a few bikes jammed in the gaps between buildings.

Down to the port and we had our first, of what would be many, Japanese ferry rides. Tickets bought, we tried to line up out of the rain – but not easy. The fare for a bike seemed high, the same for a motorcycle – but it did mean bikes were well looked after and securely lashed to the side of the vehicle deck.

Not a lot to see in the cloud (there’s a mountain in there somewhere, we found later that bridge is part of a bike trail), but the rain eased through the afternoon.

Ferry was not packed.

Onto a new island, we had a damp twenty kilometre ride to Rishiri town to find a campground. Mostly cycle trail, the weather wasn’t too unpleasant and the route was interesting. With only a few thousand people living in small towns around the coast, we enjoyed the quietness. Plenty of the signs were amusing too.

Is it more joyful with the liquor?

Still, no mountain.

Fortunately for her, she wasn’t standing any closer.

That’s a well-fed bird, seems to prey on children.

Magpies and cyclist conflict seems to be universal.

Tried not to take this personally.

Occasionally we got close to some really nice forest, but the trail stayed out.

We rode a little past town, and then, mistakenly past, the turn-off to a campground in the woods. Having climbed a little way up to it, we found it unstaffed, unused, very damp and not suitable – so returned, through town and out onto an exposed headland. This campground was at least in use, and had a little shelter with space to cook in and even some washing machines. Very windy, when the rain finally eased I had a bit of a struggle learning how best to pitch my tent in a gale.

Waiting for the rain to go while inside the shelter.

Having arrive mid-afternoon we had a little time before dark to potter around town, finding a cafe a priority. We found one delightfully stuck a few decades back.

The lanterns helped to brighten what had been a fairly bleak, but eventually brightening, day.

The mountain still capped, various views of the lighthouse would have to do as dusk approached.

Forecast rain never arrived, so we ventured out for a tiki-tour. Back over to the west coast to start a loop that would take us past Cape Noshappu.

Managed to avoid such a fate by taking things easy, and being able to ride a bike.

Reused-buoy art.

Fish drying racks, we think.

Big listening station just behind the cape, and its fishing harbour.

The ferry returning from Rishiri – we’d be on that tomorrow.

Returning to Wakkanai, a steep climb took us up to this observation tower and the museum at its base.

An English audio guide online helped somewhat with understanding some of it, but internet coverage in the bottom of a big concrete building – not so much. Main point that stuck was the proximity of Sakhalin island (forty kilometres to the north) – that at times has been controlled, completely or in part, by either China, Russia or Japan. Japan’s control being during its expansionist early twentieth century, Russia reclaiming it at the end of the Second World War.

Monument to nine young telephone operators that stayed on to keep communication lines open as Russia retook Sakhalin, staying to the last before taking suicide pills.

Few more days before we’d be back to ride along that coast to the northern most point of Hokkaido.

Wakkanai and another wind farm.

More perfect fruit, some a hundred New Zealand dollars each!

Local seafood market for lunch.

First example I saw of bowsers from the roof; saw them occasionally after that.

Searching for an outdoor shop, we found it in this otherwise closed up shopping precinct. Very helpful staff and a great store – we got what we needed.

Also found a bike mechanic to try and get rid of the annoying click from my bottom bracket – interesting little workshop.

Popping down to the ferry terminal to investigate what we had to get on the ferry to Rishiri the following day, we noticed our first elaborate coloured cover. We had been spotting a few different manhole cover designs in different places, but they’d all been cast iron. Eventually realising that every town has their own, spotting and photographing them became a small obsession for the next three months.

A little planning for the next few days also possible.

Just as well I’m not fond of whisky… Supermarkets would be even more perilous.

Back to the local onsen to hangount, cabinet food tonight, with a little live music.

Slightly cooler night, may have managed some sleep – but still didn’t need to get my sleeping bag out for the first time in Japan.

Bit of company packing up.

An easy, flat day of coastal riding to the northern most city, Wakkanai, awaited us. A lot of dairy farms, but very few cows seen. Animals inside most of the year, grass taken to them from the fields – mostly seemed to be hay. We got quite excited if we spied any cows outside.

Open fields, no muck or fences.

Cows in there somewhere.

Easy smooth riding very much assisted by a tailwind.

Occasionally we stopped at quiet fishing harbours for a bit of shade and a drink machine, interesting to see various items laid out readying for the next catch.

Pictorial signs continue to amuse, if not entirely inform us.

Even more coastal protection being made and set. In places it seemed a lot of concrete being used to protect open fields.

One of the bigger wind farms we saw; a bit like the solar farms, wind turbines were generally in small groups and spread around northern Hokkaido.

Had to stop for a photo as we crossed the 45th parallel.

Quite the change from the coastal landscape that requires long tunnels.

Always more snacks to try – these were good, but I wasn’t sure how well they’d survive in the heat; well, that was my excuse for eating them quickly.

Largest hill all day, all of fifty metres to get over to Wakkanai on the other coast (as Hokkaido narrows in the north). Different style of wind turbine.

We found our first rider house (basic accommodation for motor cyclists and bicyclists). It was an experience, run by a chain-smoking eighty-odd year old woman, the fug of cigarette smoke pervaded. Our windowless bunk room was overwhelmingly damp and musty. But there was an onsen next door, with a bar and kitchen – a much nicer place to hang out, with some live music too. Enough daylight left for a bit of wandering; on the northern extent of the island and no doubt exposed to a lot of weather the town had a harder edge to it than others we’d seen.

The deer didn’t seem to mind though.

Typical community police station.

A third language on the street signs here – Sakhalin Island (Russia) being so close, there’s been some cross-settlement over the years.

Cute mini-trucks make for even cuter mini-campers.

Rest day tomorrow as a lot of rain forecast. After a week of little sleep in the heat, I was looking forward to it. I certainly didn’t have the energy or patience for enforced-fun in a foreign language at the stale rider house – I skipped the late “compulsory” round table of introductions and singing some song about Hokkaido and went to bed.