Cyclist journeys to colourful Akita in autumn to explore the remote part of Japan and a region that’s opening up to cycling tourism.
Words and photography: Damian Breach
Two of my favourite things are autumn and Japan and getting to combine the two on a recent trip to Akita Prefecture meant a little slice of my heaven.
I have been to Japan many times (this is my sixth trip) and have grown very fond of the culture, food, people and lifestyle. However, my visits have predominantly been to the big cities, like Tokyo and Osaka. I hadn’t explored the more rural and remote areas to see what life is like away from the manic, sensory-intensive worlds of those big cities.
What I found after a few days cycling in Akita was a different Japan from what I had previously experienced: an amazingly stunning and even more beautiful Japan, a remote and quiet Japan, a slower Japan, a hard working/blue collar agricultural Japan. And, more importantly, a different Japan – a Japan that really can only be appreciated from the saddle of a bike.
Rural Akita
Akita Prefecture is on the north-west of the main Japan Island of Honshu. The region is a mix of stunning mountain ranges (the Ōu Mountains border the east and the Dewa Mountains run parallel through the centre) and flat rural/agriculture/farming filling the valleys (which in Akita are famous for rice and sake production) in between.
I would learn later that boosting tourism in the region (including cycling) is part of a bigger-picture plan to help the local economies. This more remote and rural region is slowing down economically as the younger generations leave their farming communities for greater opportunities in the bigger cities – a story that’s echoed across thousands of similar communities across the globe. I’d also learn that the region has a rich and proud history (with strong connections to ancient Samurai) that the locals continue to honour and respect. While the big cities adapt and change, and at times the cultures dilute, Akita has remained rich, and dare I say it, a little less changed.
I had found a Japan that really can only be appreciated from the saddle of a bike.
I was invited to Akita to get a taste of what the region had to offer a cyclist. Cycling tourism is new to the area and I was set for an early preview into the region as they continue to plan and establish all the elements needed. A raw adventure of sorts, and a chance to take small samples of what’s on offer.
But first I had to get there – and in Japan, that’s one the best experiences you’ll ever have.
They’re evil looking – scary even – and they roar across all of Japan. It’s the Shinkansen, the fastest, smoothest, most efficient high-speed trains anywhere in the world, and probably the funniest part of the journey from Australia to Kakunodate Station, Akita. However, jumping on the Tōhoku (Northern) Shinkansen with a bike (in this case, four bikes, as by now I’ve met up with my other riding buddies from Australia) isn’t the easiest, but a skilful game of Tetris and some valuable interpretation from our hosts saved the day.
You see, “officially” you’re only supposed to bring smaller or folding bicycles onto to the Shinkansen and the combination of four large bike bags with little to no room to store them made life a little more interesting. Travelling alone would be easier and our hosts have already planned for a more official form of transport (via car/van) for your loving steed.
But alas, all that is forgotten when you’re travelling up to 320km/h.
All the colours (and the mud)
“The colours are burning my eyes,” is a thought flashing through my mind as we climb up a wet dirt road towards the distant lake found on Google Maps. The intensity of the autumn foliage in the mountains is too much for me to take in and something I’ve never experienced anywhere in the world.
My fellow Aussie explorers and I had arrived at our hotel in the town of Kakunodate a little early, and with some time to kill before check-in we decide to hit the road and explore. It’s going to be a quick ride to get some blood into our legs after the long journey without guides, without our local hosts, and without any real sense of direction.
Tiffany Cromwell, of Canyon/Sram, proves her map reading and “not-afraid-to-get-off-the-beaten-path” credentials as she leads us into the mountains. After a couple of wrong turns and dead ends, we stumble upon Dakigaeri Gorge. It’s a popular destination for the local tourists and designated as a “National Place of Scenic Beauty”.
I gingerly ride across the wet and slippery wooden pedestrian suspension bridge named “Kami no Iwahashi”, which spans an almost fake coloured blue rushing river underneath. The colours of Akita, in the weeks before snow starts falling, are one of the key regional attractions.
Tiffany buries her head into her phone again and finds a blue dot, a small lake in the mountains that’s not too far away. The best part of exploring the unknown is just that: the unknown. We head off into that unknown towards that little blue dot.
Soon, however, the road turns to dirt, then mud, then water and mud. I’m surrounded in an absolute sea of colour, literally in the middle of nowhere, and I couldn’t be happier. As a photographer, it’s scenes like this that we dream of. I have to balance my FOMAP (Fear of Missing a Photo) and stopping every five seconds to grab a photo with the ever-encroaching day’s end and bad weather rolling in.
Some 40-50km later we arrive back at our hotel – dirty, muddy, wet and ready to warm up. That’s where the Onsen comes into play.
After a couple of wrong turns and dead ends, we stumble upon Dakigaeri Gorge. It’s a popular destination for the local tourists and designated as a “National Place of Scenic Beauty”.
A spin around the Deepest lake In Japan
The next day it’s time to meet the rest of our group from Taiwan and begin exploring the region in more depth with our official hosts and guides from Northtime Bikeway (northtime-bikeway.com). The weather isn’t being the kindest, but that’s to be expected as the cold and wet is what makes the natural wonders in the region so – well, wonderful. As we mount our bikes to ride around Lake Tazawa I look over at Matt de Neff, from CyclingTips and theclimbingcyclist.com, shivering with anticipation. Or perhaps the cold. I’m not sure.
At 425 metres, Lake Tazawa is the deepest lake in Japan, and indeed ranks 17th in the world. Tazawa has an amazingly stunning and smooth road that circumnavigates its borders for approximately 20km. I catch myself being lost in the views more than concentrating on the ride and with our guides setting a pretty healthy pace I struggle to get ahead enough to capture the scene, the riding, and the lake all in one photo.
We make a brief stop at the Ukiki Shrine with its stunning views of the lake and surrounding mountains, and I can now take the time to experience and capture it all. I see snow falling on the high mountains in the distance. Knowing we still have mountains still to climb, I’m feeling excited. I love the snow, and the cold.
Off again, we leave the lake and begin the journey back to our hotel. Our guides are quick on the pace and as we descend away from the lake towards the flat rice and farming fields, I realise descending may not be their strongest point. I relax a little, sit off the pack, and absorb it all as I pinch myself. Riding bikes, on safe roads, with safe drivers, in such a beautiful place really is the stuff of a cyclist’s dreams.
Now on the flat and safe from any rider-inferred safety issues I take the lead and deviate the course slightly to show my fellow Aussies a different side of Japan: the convenience store. If you’re ever ‘hangry’, thirsty, buckled, spent or food bonking, you’re never too far away from the thousands and thousands of convenience stores that can supply you with some of the best mix of Japanese and Western foods you’ll ever find. My recommendations are the soft creamy egg sandwiches, and the Onigiri – Japanese rice balls (although they’re generally triangle in shape in the convenience stores).
I catch myself being lost in the views more than concentrating on the ride and with our guides setting a pretty healthy pace I struggle to get ahead enough to capture the scene, the riding, and the lake all in one photo.
That evening I get to experience a proper meal (and sake) of a less-than-convenience variety. Sitting in front of me is an amazing set dinner. Traditionally, the Japanese believe food should be prepared and presented to arouse all the five senses, using different flavours, different preparations, and different colours. Served with a little local sake, it’s a combination that continues the sensory experience of being on the road and exploring the fields and surrounding hills.
Towards the snow
The next morning, it’s starting to snow in the hills that surround us. As I begin the final day on the bike, I’m excitedly anticipating hitting some snow. Today it was Ryan Miu’s (bgradecyclist.com) turn to feel the cold and watching him shivering even keeps me warm. Wet roads, about zero degrees, and nothing but a climb ahead.
The colours of Akita obviously mean two things – it’s autumn, and winter isn’t far away. Winter in Akita is a very white one, and as I look up to Onamedake Peak I can see the white fluffy stuff falling from the sky. It’s only a few more weeks until the mountaintops and valley floors are all white. However, for the time being, the white caps contrasting with the colourful foreground continue the visual experience.
Once again, our guide is on it. Before I have a chance to warm up, I’m breathing hard and my legs are burning. Matt, Tiffany, Ryan and I all take a little time to warm before picking up our pace, but our guide ahead keeps pushing hard and we start to spread apart. We regather halfway up the climb. Our host must have sensed something, as he starts to take it a little easier on us.
The next morning, it’s starting to snow in the hills that surround us. As I begin the final day on the bike, I’m excitedly anticipating hitting some snow.
Alas, some 10km into the climb (but not at the top) we stop, as our hosts have other places they want us to sample and a keeping a tight schedule is what the Japanese are famous for. I feel a little cheated as I want to reach the falling snow, which seems only a few hundred meters away in elevation, but what comes up must come down and we bomb down the hill, wet cold roads and all.
About half-way down, as I attempt to cross onto the wrong side of the road for a quick photo, I lose control and come millimetres away from testing the side curtain airbags of a small Japanese car. I decide to take it a little easier for the rest of the descent. With another 90km or so ahead for the day, I need to preserve myself.
The climbing continues. After a long spell zigzagging through the square matrix of roads among the flat fields filled with rice crops, it’s time to go up again.
I like climbing. I haven’t always. In fact, I used to hate it. But later in life I realised that if I told myself the pain was enjoyable and kept repeating that in my head as I set five-metre goals, I could start to enjoy it.
It’s this repetition and stream of positive thoughts that keeps me going as we climb to the top of Ohdai Ski Resort. Japan has over 500 ski resorts and is famous for its snow and skiing with some of the best and most famous places to hit the white stuff. Ohdai, however, is a small ‘local’ resort, but doesn’t hold back on quick elevation. Gaining around 240 metres of vertical in just 1.6km means it’s ridiculously steep and being on the bike for a few hours already, with hunger pangs kicking in (I skipped the convenience store stops to keep on our schedule), I know I’m going to hurt and need those little internal “conversations” to keep me going.
I like climbing. I haven’t always. In fact, I used to hate it. But later in life I realised that if I told myself the pain was enjoyable and kept repeating that in my head as I set five-metre goals, I could start to enjoy it.
I keep talking to myself, encouraging myself, as we all spread thin pretty quickly. Each pinch gets steeper and as soon I think it’s relatively levelling out, it gets steeper again. My legs are burning bad and sweat is pouring from my head. My lower back is also killing me as I’m keeping my silly game of “big-dogging” it up every climb in my life. Alas, at times I cheat a little by crossing from one side of the road to another to try and level out the gradient and get micro-rests.
As I get to the top, I see our host has arranged for a local coffee shop, Café Lope (which we visit later in the day), waiting for us with some coffee, tea, and chocolate banana cake. It’s like they read my stomach, and as I inhale my sixth piece, I start to enjoy the amazing views. Way in the distance are big mountains covered in dark, gloomy snow clouds, and the valley floors below are a flat-bed of agriculture. Only 20 per cent of Japan’s mountainous land mass is suitable for cultivation, and Akita Prefecture would account for a large percentage of this. From this perspective, the goals of introducing cycling tourism to the region are more evident. It’s a mix of something for everyone – big hills and long flats.
‘Let’s go straight down the grassy ski slope,’ I joke. My semi-joke turns into reality as Tiffany bombs straight down the extremely steep ski slopes ahead of me. Poor Matt and Ryan are without disc brakes and take the ‘safer’ route down the road. As I get to the bottom and step off my bike, I can feel the heat from my brake rotors. If I want some Shimano branding to adorn my legs for a lifetime, now would be the time to press my calf against the rotor.
The pace quickens again as we head back into the flat fields, and through the numerous small villages that spot the valleys. We stop for more amazing food for a late lunch, and then head back towards the hotel, with a pit stop past a huge Keirin gambling house and a coffee stop at Café Loco. I feel a sense of sadness as I pull into the quiet and historic streets of Kakunodate for the last time. Soon I would be in the big crazy cities again, where you cannot see the amazing autumn colours en masse or smell the clean cool air.
But before we all go our separate ways, we have a last dinner and drinks at a local Izakaya (Japanese bar) to celebrate both the end of our journey and the beginnings of a new journey in cycling tourism for the region. Great food, beer, sake and a few cocktails are thrown around as we laugh our way into the evening.
From this perspective, the goals of introducing cycling tourism to the region are more evident. It’s a mix of something for everyone – big hills and long flats.
The other great part of visiting Japan is the people, and this evening they exude gentle kindness and warmth.
I was invited to Akita to test out the region and quickly sample what was on offer for cycling tourists. In only two-and-a-half days I got that brief sample, and also go to experience a different side of Japan that’s ripe for adventure. It whets the appetite for more. With countless hills and valleys to explore, this quiet and cultural pocket of Japan is a must-visit for anyone – whether on a bicycle or otherwise. When can I go back?
Rider’s Ride
Trek Checkpoint SL6, $4,699, trekbikes.com/au
This was the perfect bike for touring Akita. It was absolutely flawless powering across the rice fields, climbing the super steep hills of a ski resort or getting muddy on the rain-soaked fire trials. When visiting remote, rural areas you don’t want your bike to stop you exploring every path – you want it to be able to take a relative beating, be reliable, but still perform when you want to put the power down and swap turns for a couple of hours.
I found the Checkpoint very comfortable to ride on all surfaces and it was nice to have some confidence with all-terrain traction and stopping with the combination of Schwalbe 35c G-One tyres and the Shimano Ultegra disc brakes. On the first day, the bike got covered in mud and with little cleaning and no chain lube it kept kicking on perfectly for another two days of exploring. I prefer to spend all my time and energy exploring and not worrying about the duco or fixing delicate parts and the Checkpoint was on point for that – 100% focused on exploring.
How We Did It
Travel
ANA Airlines operates daily direct flights from Sydney to Japan (Haneda) with direct flights from Perth scheduled to begin early this year. The flight is a red-eye that leaves Sydney around 10pm and arrives in Japan some eight hours later early in the morning the following day. (A quick side note: the leg room in economy on ANA is huge and a nice surprise.)
There are several transport options to get from from Haneda to Tokyo Station where we got the Tōhoku (Northern) Shinkansen to Kakunodate Station, Akita. The Shinkansen is very frequent in all directions and all destinations so you can simply book a ticket as you arrive and never have to wait too long. You are also permitted to take your own food on the Shinkansen (the only trains where you will see people eating) and all stations have plenty of great food options to stock up for the three-hour journey up north.
Extras
If you do take your bike on the Shinkansen, remember it has to be in bike bag and respect the instructions of the staff to ensure you’re doing it the right way. The smaller the bag, the better.
You can’t have a cycling holiday without sharing your adventures on the WWW and it’s more common to travel with a pocket Wi-Fi in Japan than use a local sim card. Book one online prior to your arrival and pick it up and drop it off at the airport. Some will also deliver it straight to your hotel/accommodation so check around.
You’ll need your passport for several things, like getting your pocket Wi-Fi, and checking into hotels, so keep it close and handy when travelling.
Japanese people don’t talk on their phones or eat in public (apart from the Shinkansen) so don’t be that loud slob standing out as a tourist.
