Wet misty morning to decamp in. There sure were a lot of moths around through the night.

Some stuck around.

And some were brighter than others.

Caught up with our mates from the previous night, breakfast under their shelter. Turns out all the seats in their kei car fold flat to create a sleeping platform – not nearly as cramped as I imagined.

The photo from fifty years ago at this very beach that the guys were revisiting.

I was surprised when they pulled out what Mum would call a jaffle iron, of which one is a larger part of my childhood memories than it probably should be. Haven’t seen them used for grilling cheese on a single slice of bread.

Time for goodbyes.

The road leaving the coast due to the terrain, it was no surprise that we had a decent climb straightaway. Ten kilometres in the hills, the vegetation was dense and damp; still not cold though.

Dropping to a coastal town, we took a steep detour to some short walks high above the sea – good cliffs and a lighthouse for Orlaith, although she was back in NZ by now.

Back down to town.

A little walk away from the crowds, got some good views but didn’t have enough time to finish it.

Spotted this barge travelling around the coast; little did we know we’d shadow each other around the coast intermittently for the rest of our time on Hokkaido.

Through a teeny-tiny tunnel to the most popular viewing area. We started to see some of the famed Shakotan Blue – the crystal clear waters around the peninsula.

Back to sea urchins; dramatic cliffs seem to be the other symbol of this township.

Back at the carpark, this just seems how some dogs travel in Japan.

Not too early for an ice cream from the small store.

Can’t take the quieter, older route out of town this time.

Up to the big parking lot at Shakotan Peninsula, good time for lunch while our tents dried in the sun. Unfortunately the walks were closed around the peninsula end to the lighthouse as a bear had been spotted a couple of days beforehand.

Back to pretty flat riding along the spectacularly rugged coast. Although we probably only saw half of the coast up close, as after a particularly destructive typhoon some twenty years earlier a lot of the highway was routed through the hills in long tunnels.

Between two tunnels, we happened upon two men – one a kayaking fisherman who’d forgotten his fishing rod, and the other a cycle tourist trying to fix a punctured tube. Eventually we worked out that they were father and son. After giving the son a patch for his tube, off we went starting to look for any store we might buy things for dinner – there weren’t many along here.

In this town we found a small store and got some basics, as well as cold drinks. A cute dragon began to appear on the lamp posts.

More old road that we couldn’t take.

To make up for it, the causeway was spectacular.

Found the dragon again – the local mascot, as the indigenous Ainu people recognised the area for its ruggedness and danger.

We found more local produce in the market at the information centre, as well as bumping into father and son again – this time finding that mother was driving a support vehicle.

A shorter day of riding coming to a close as there was a popular spot for camping right there, and no better options further on. Can’t say I’ve camped on sea defences before, but plenty of people were car-camping so it must have been ok.

It had a sweet island to walk to, with its own enclosed saltwater pool.

The family from earlier turned up! The son stayed the night, the parents later driving home.

No country for pegs. But our tents stayed up ok.

Finally father, and son, got out for a fish.

We enjoyed a swim in the little pool.

Suddenly Rachel was going out to sea!

Slightly different campsite to normal.

Before long, it was my turn to sit on top of the kayak and go out for a look. Around the rocks for a bit, the water wonderfully clear and warm there was plenty to see in the slight swell.

Another excellent day drawing to a close, still very hot.

Amusingly I seemed to have got one of my worst photos to help remember the best camp meal of our four months touring. With tofu (who knew?!), mappu sauce and fresh local cherry tomatoes and soba noodles. Yum! We never quite reached this inadvertently obtained standard again, alas.

 

Left our new and excellent hostel heading for the Shakotan Peninsula. But first a twenty kilometre ride out of the city in the morning rush (which wasn’t particularly manic) before hitting the coast – where the highway stayed busy and built-up for some time.

Hostel.

Friday morning in the suburbs sandwiched between the central city and mountains west of Sapporo.

Our obsession with documenting every different manhole cover we found seems to have taken hold – unfortunate it didn’t start four weeks earlier, we missed many.

Waiting waiting for another to trundle past.

Aww.

Bit of fun in a large supermarket trying to find a magnesium supplement – thought it might help both my muscles and sleep – before reaching the touristy centre of Otaru. A large canal was used  for loading barges in the wayback. Many of the warehouses were built of stone, unusually, and have survived. The first warehouse we came to now specialises in music boxes. Never seen so many in my life. Very popular place to visit and with thousands of boxes playing scores of different tunes all out of time – quite an assault on the senses, but not unpleasant!

Steam driven chime clock out front to keep with the theme of mechanisms.

Ornate ones.

Fun ones.

A lot of fun ones.

Old ones.

Half of the ground floor; you can see the stairs from the mezzanine to the third level in the attic.

Back outside to the relative quiet of tourists everywhere.

Back on the bikes to have a look at the canals and some of the other older buildings.

Not as old, but far more derelict.

Lunch eaten outside the, unfortunately, closed Otaru museum we then took a steep exit from the city through narrow streets and lanes – almost deserted though, so that was nice.

Stone store houses continue.

Seeking quieter roads, and being alongside the coast, we found ourselves at a quiet harbour as the cloudy day turned to drizzle.

Leaving the pleasant harbour the road soon turned to steep rough double track – quite a surprise in Japan. We had a work party as an audience, so extra effort made to pedal the whole way up. The back side was even steeper down, but rideable.

Through Yoichi, we struck by this wood clad storehouse (we’d see many of these from Honshu south, but hadn’t seen many so far).  It was part of a museum housed in old buildings, and somehow we got a guided tour.

The thick walls and sloped shutters a recurring feature.

Most of the museum dedicated to what was now becoming a familiar history of the extensive herring fishing industry – where the fish was dried and sent south for fertiliser.

Drying racks.

Onward to find somewhere to camp the night as the drizzle continued. Plenty of tunnels as the hills came down to the coast.

A good sign.

Shakotan Peninsula – always difficult to work out what we might actually see from such maps.

In a rest area at the one of the tunnel portals, there was an explanation of how the many emergency call points we’d seen over the previous month worked. Despite not being able to understand most of it, it was interactive enough (there were flashing lights and so on) to be of some interest!

Over a hill and through some long coastal tunnels we called it a day at Shakotan town as there was a nice seaside area for camping. Having scoped it out, off we went to an izakaya for both dinner and to escape the rain. Returning to make camp, the rain had mostly stopped and we had an entertaining rest of the evening under the shelter two men had set up for cooking and eating.

These guys were old university mates and were repeating a camping trip they’d taken with a group of friends fifty years ago, very cool. They had enough English that we could share stories; much fun, although I couldn’t work out how they were going to get any sleep both squashed into a kei car.

Rachel’s photo.

Chocks away and we were off to rapidly lose 800 metres of altitude to the valley floor – all to the soundtrack of self-defence artillery practice booming alarmingly close by.

Another post-apocalyptic mower.

Fifteen kilometres along the flats to the ski town of Furano. Unfortunately too late in the season for the famed fields of flowers, but golden rice plants and many, many more onions enough to keep us interested.

Would be fun to return in the winter to all the ski runs we’ve seen covered in grass…

Up a steep hill to the ski area base station – as there was a big bike store, still couldn’t find a replacement chain for Rachel. Back down again for early lunch as no services on the afternoon’s planned route.

Out of town, we turned onto a minor road to take a direct, hilly option – only to discover it was a complete rat-run with many trucks and no shoulder or sidewalk. A heavy shower promptly soaked us and sent us back down to the major valley floor route – which was far quieter and had a big path.

Into Ashibetsu, under the watchful eyes of a former-recreation area, now privately owned, statue and pagoda. Lingered around a large visitor centre as more heavy showers came and went.

Leaving the valley we’d been riding down for forty kilometres, we popped over a small hill to Utashinai. Formerly a booming coal town of almost fifty thousand people, now there is no mining and only a couple of thousand people. Curiously, there was a distinct Tyrol feel to the place, in a Japanese way of course – an attempt to diversify and attract visitors. Was quite nice, but couldn’t see that it was really working.

Still a bit damp, the local museum seemed a good option. It didn’t look that big but inside it was extensive – partly due to the large basement devoted to mining equipment. We were charmed by the Japanese staff who helpfully guided us around with a modicum of English – but amused as he kept slipping into Portuguese! It was unfortunate that Ian was no longer with us to appreciate and explain the mining gear.

There was also a large room packed with all sorts of domestic items from the last century. Seems I’ve reached an age that things I remember using in childhood are museum worthy (none pictured below, if anyone is wondering).

Subaru’s first mass-produced car.

Pleasant rail trail took us eight kilometres down this valley, past plenty of abandoned buildings before we popped over once again to the next valley.

Kamisunagawa was even more down on its heels. Not much open, we rode through town heading for a campground.

Old mining shaft repurposed as a micro-gravity test facility.

The campground was apparently closed due to no electricity for the floodlights (suits me), so we enquired up the road at the large hotel. Campground definitely closed and somehow the hotel was full (seemed unlikely judging by the parking lot and general vibe). But it was raining again so we got a good ticket-machine dinner and made use of the onsen.

We loitered a fair bit after bathing, waiting for the rain to stop. Just as we were about to venture out into the dark, a staff member found us and said we could camp in the garage as it was so wet (was wet) and cold (was not cold). For some reason I was imagining a large underground garage – but bivvying in one of those prefab steel single garages suited me just fine.

This could have easily been in the museum we visited.