We awoke in Kameyama ready for a vigorous hill climb, up about 300 meters.  We climbed the hill in about an hour and a half and reached a massive tunnel at the top.  Then we began a 60km slow descent to Kyoto.  The kilometers flew by as we passed wonderful features of the industrial, natural, and social landscape. Here’s another vacant pachinko and entertainment center. Some rural houses…   Cement factories… Interestingly named businesses… And finally we entered greater Kyoto.

Then, as I was wheeling ahead, Callum lost a spoke in his back tire.  I sipped a machiato at Starbucks next to Kyoto station and waited for him to arrive by Taxi while iPhone Google helped locate bicycle repair shops.  We had planned to reach Osaka, but this would mean I would have to Cycle late into the evening while callum caught a train and repaired the bike in the morning in Osaka.  So we decided to repair the cycle in Kyoto and spend a night there.  I called numerous Ryokan, including a wonderful one I had stayed at over a year ago.  

 They were all booked.  In fact, because of a festival in Kyoto the next day, everyone was completely booked.  We finally found a vacant room next to the Shinkansen station called “El Inn Kyoto” which lacked a southwestern/Mexican feel despite the name.  Callum fixed his bike and tied it up next to mine in the back parking lot.  As it grew dark, we sought a meal.  Up until now, we had eaten Don Katsu in Tokyo, Miso-Katsu in Nagoya, and now Kyoto was known to specialize in Kim-Katsu, which was thinly sliced pork, fried with different flavors at the center.  

The restaurant recommended to us, was also known to be “especially popular with young ladies”, which confused and intrigued us.  As we waited for a table outside, we saw no less than ten school girls with stylish backpacks and nike shoes exit the establishment.  Welcome to Kyoto I guess, home of hip katsu loving school girls?

 We sat down and ordered a variety.  Cheese, Garlic, and something with green vegetables in the middle. 

 It also came with unlimited cabbage, which you should know by now is my weakness.

Here you can see the layers of the Katsu.

 Callum’s proud the bill hadn’t reached last nights unexpected levels.

And then there was none… We walked around Kyoto for a bit and popped into the Sent James Club for some single malt. I watched the bartender expertly mix frozen drinks while Callum chatted outside on the phone. From there, we bounced around a bit and found ourselves in a tiny basement bar with Alien Vs. Predator playing  on a gigantic projector.  The barkeep was dressed with hip flair and a trucker hat, and gave off marvelous vibes.  Kyoto is a surprisingly great place on a Tuesday night. We had been searching all night for a famous but secluded bar called “Hachimonjia,” a name with no immediate meaning owned by a local photographer who had been living and shooting photos in Kyoto for decades.  We asked everyone we saw but no one knew it.  After writing the name in different combinations of Kanji and Hiragana, we located it on google maps and made our way up the stairs.  The bar smelled foul and looked like it hadn’t been cleaned.  Ever.  It was empty except for the owner and a young fellow wearing a green hat with yellow lettering explaining a leftist Japanese political movement.  This fellow had purchased a gigantic bottle of Sake and was pouring the clear liquid in his class over gigantic rock-like pieces of ice.  The center of the room held a table which was stacked high with tons of black and white photography books by the owner.  His most famous series is the following:

 We didn’t feel comfortable shooting photos in the bar, so Callum snapped one in the bathroom.  Rank and excellent.

So Callum and I sat down, sipped ale, and flipped through the mans amazing books picturing Kyoto city life and the women that walk them.  The owner, Kai, shared stories of each photo and his loving and open aura spilled onto us.  Kai drank sake as if it were water, toasting with us often.  Callum bought a book, and I think the title is “Kyoto Without a Map.”  After laughing with Kai and his patron for a while, we headed home and practiced some break dancing in the Hotel Hallway.

 Sometimes I think what I perceive as natural and important to be exceedingly strange to normal people. 

Morning in Kyoto began with a meal and multiple cups of coffee at a restaurant attached to the hotel.  We packed our bags, checked out of El Inn, and mounted on our cycles to find the route to Osaka.  It was a mere 40km away, so we figured we’d be there in about two hours maximum.  Callum and I collectively decided that since the road rash on my thigh was only getting irritated under my biking shorts, that I should roll them up and ride to air it out.  Stopping at a convenience store for provisions in water, my attire was met by many stares from the Japanese.  A sweet elderly couple commented in their native tongue that my wound was a shame, but it was OK because I was young.  I felt warm and thankful that they were indeed right.  We began a long and tiresome ride to Osaka, across industrial sprawl. It began to rain, at first softly, and then with vigor.  The stretch of road between Kyoto and Osaka was the first part of Japan that reminded me of China.  In fact, it was the first part of Japan that has reminded me of India, specifically the road from Agra to Delhi through Uttar Pradesh.  As my mind raced along with my cycle, I defended my spirits and electronics from the rain.  We stopped in a convenience store for hot coffee and chocolate.  The attendant was thoughtfully inclined to wrap the luggage on the back of my bicycle with a large plastic back while I was in the bathroom.  Amazing foresight and kindness, the man had. We wheeled for a total of five hours that day, through the outskirts of Osaka, through the city of Osaka, through Osaka Korea town, and finally found a hotel in the happening nightlife district.  The hotel had gigantic pillars with faces in the exterior, which we took as a clear message to stay.

Callum and I both napped hard for a few hours, exhausted from the five hour ride over a mere 40km.  Osaka was a hard city, and difficult to navigate in the rain with a tired head.   We discussed the fact that the rain would continue for three more days in the stretch between Osaka and Fukuoka.  This meant we would have to ride in poor weather, at low speeds, for long hours, with reduced scenery.  We both knew that this night in Osaka would be our last on the trip, and that a Shinkansen the next day would be our return journey.  With no remorse, we ventured out into the night. And ate a ton of Sushi. Then we took photos of strange things.

 Apparently this chap is famous:

 After a good night’s rest, we found a bicycle shop that sold bags so that I could pack my cycle into the Shinkansen.  We rode across a large highway and bridge, which delivered us directly to the station.

 Then, we packed up our bikes.

 And sat down in the back row next to our bikes for nearly three hours of watching our 540km rewind at high speeds.

And just like that, we were back in Tokyo.

One day soon, we will return to the south of Japan and complete our route.  Maybe we’ll start in Fukuoka and head north.  But regardless of heading and direction, we will wheel the distance between Fukuoka and Tokyo. 

You know its time to get out of lompoc when you see a guy with “LOMPOC” tatooed in gigantic letters on his back. However, signs like the one below make you want to stay a little longer and listen to stories of the elderly.

So after a deluxe contenental breakfast buffet, I hit highway 1 again and climbed for 13.5 miles to a small summit right before descending onto highway 101, which took me to the Hollister exit at Goleta.

James’ parents pried him away from Santa Barbara for the weekend at the last minute, so my dreams of having a beer with him were shattered. All just aids reminding me that the journey is the reward. From the Hollister exit, I made my way to Del Playa and crossed the finish line at the beach.

Then I hopped in the car with my Dad and we drove to an old Danish settled village of Solvang, which was incredbly strange. All the architecture is danish, but of course, all the labor is Mexican. It made of the kind of wonderful socio-economic non-sequitor that I’m here to study and we had bratwurst at a Danish/German restaurant.

I’m currently on the road, heading back to the Bay Area. I feel great and my wheeling muscles are at the next level.

Here’s today’s map, about 48 miles:

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The map of the full trip lies below. If you want a closer look, here is the Google Earth file you can download to see the entire route. I reduced the resoltuion of the gpx files to 100 to decrease the file size, so some detail is lost, but you can still open it up and see the entirety of my journey. If you want a higher res version because you’re actually planning to do the trip, send me an email or comment on this post.
The whole trip (~367 Miles):

View Larger Map

Ok, now back to this blog being a reblog for my browsing as I eat cereal and worry about Chinese class in providence, RI.

Today was the longest day of the trip, and the most wheeling I have ever done in one day: about 90 miles. The terrain started as farmland in Cambria and then became beach in Cayucos and Morro Bay. I moved inland from there to San Louis Obisbo, a strange place, mixing rural and suburban. From San Louis Obisbo, I headed to Pismo Beach.

“Well here we are, pismo beach, and all the clams we can eat”

Then central coast wine region to Guadalupe, a city in the middle of nowhere.

Guadalupe: In the middle of nowhere

I was hoping that Guadalupe would be Virgin Mary themed and I could do a little photo essay about having visions but they just had old advertisements and farm equiptment. Its cool to think about how time and trade has changed these places. One day LA will be only last century’s city.

“Why Not Now?”

From Guadalupe, I headed through more ranch and farmland, inland from the coast, which is occupied by Vandenberg airforce base. Above horses, peacocks, and cattle, shrill jet engine noises raged in the sky. I wish I had a shot of the vapor trails, but I’ve just got these horses to show you.

Climbed 950 feet before entering lompoc. Rough on the way up, but during the descent I clocked about 50mph.

These two pictures below were taken at the crest of the hill before entering the town.

What did I eat?
Breakfast: Two slices of french toast with apricot jam and cream chese in between them, two slices of rye bread with boisenberry jam, and a cup of coffee.
Lunch: Grilled chicken sandwhich with gorgonzola cheese and peach preserves, and a salad.
Dinner: Chicken Fajitas in Corn and Flour tortillas at Don Pipo’s Mexican Restaurant. And a salad.
Music: Listen to ZWEIHUNDERT TECHNO-RADIO PODCAST #54

Staying at the Quality Inn in Lompoc, already exited for their “Deluxe continental breakfast” Hopefully deluxe continental includes eastern europe. Sorry that joke was so shameless it had to be removed by your correspondent’s editors.

Today’s Map (Total of ~90 Miles):

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Tomorrow is the final stretch into Isla Vista. Plan to have a big breakfast here and get there by 2. Woooooo!

From Lucia, the the coastal road highway one drops to sea level, and then ascends 1000 feet, dropping again, and then returning to 1000 feet before a long descent to sea level. After that, it becomes rolling farmland again. The contrast is unreal and the wheeling I’ve partaken in today is some of the best I’ve ever had.

Breakfast in Big Sur was a potato fritada with Coffee and a protein bar. Lunch in Raggad Point: milk shake and french fries. That powered me until dinner of barbecued oysters, salad, atlantic salmon, mashed potatos, and creme brule.

It’s also starting to look less like northern california. I saw my first “W’04″ sticker since providence meaning that figuratively, “We’re not in Kansas anymore” or literally, “We are in Kansas.” Yuppies with USC license plate frames and surfers begin to saturate the coast at these warm latitudes.

Coming over a bridge in the morning.

More beautiful sea coves.

To give you an idea of the biking terrain.

More terrain.

A great ascent.

Elephant seals chilling.

Evolution.

Today’s Map (Total of ~53 Miles):

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Tomorrow is hopefully Cambria to Lompoc, which is 87 miles. If not, then to Guadalupe which is about 20 less. The road is much flatter now so I think it’s feasible. Then the final stretch to Isla Vista.

Today’s ride was Monterey to Big Sur, and then Big Sur to Lucia. This has been the most visually stunning day yet, as cliffs climb and fall along the crashing shore. On the main stretch, biking is constant ascent and descent in perfect proportion. Big Sur holds giant redwoods and gorgeous views. Lucia is a tiny town with nothing but a name and an inn.

Breakfast at the Wild Plum Bakery in Monterey was Oatmeal, Strawberries, a chocolate muffin, and coffee. Lunch in Big Sur was half a turkey sandwich, and a piece of chocolate cake. Dinner was eggplant parmesan on pasta. Of course, energy bars along the way. (Odwalla Superprotein at Point Lobos and trail mix in Lucia) Now for some pictures…

This was my day…all coast like this.

Thats what I call wheelin’ country.

More gorgeous bluffs.

“I feel like Sancho Panza” -Dad

“I feel like Don Quixote” -Scott

Today’s Map (Total of ~63 Miles):

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Tomorrow is Lucia to San Simeon, near Hearst Castle. Also tomorrow, somewhere along Hwy 1, is the half way point.

Day two of the velotour was stupendous. Today I biked from Santa Cruz to Monterey. It was a light day with just under 50 miles of wheeling. I had breakfast in Cafe Brasil thanks to the tip of a friend. Egg scramble with Açai Smoothie. Biking so much gives you the rare dual pleasure of eating a lot of food often and having it taste delicious.

Today’s ride led through beachside capitola, under redwood trees of aptos, and through coastal sun-drenched artichoke fields of Castroville. A bicycle path paralleling hwy 1 carried me on the last leg of the trip to Monterey.

Ridiculous wheeling tan. Like a farmers tan, but you get it from wheeling, not farming.

Getting started.

Yes, it’s beautiful here. These are my Dad’s shots and he didn’t take the scenic route.

Sea otters cavorting. All they do is cavort.

Rendezvous with Dad and T-Bone plus a little McSnackerstine. Twin smokestacks at Moss Landing power generation plant.

Throwing up duces leaving Moss Landing.

Drinking in Monterey. Risky bizniz.

Monterey Pier.

Dinner was a plate of chicken fajitas from a taqueria on canary row in Monterey. Dessert was two Safeway cookies. Whenever I buy food, I get the urge to say “I just biked here from Santa Cruz and I’m gonna ravage whatever you give me.” Now I’m blogging from a corporate hotel named “La Quinta,” which is Spanish for “Next to Dennys.”

Now for the map (will post full map and KML files on final day):

View Larger Map

What am I listening to now? Minimal techno.

Tomorrow is going to be treacherous along sheer cliffs with no bike lane leading up to Big Sur. If I don’t post by tomorrow night, call my family and console them. Actually don’t because access to wifi and gsm/edge is limited in big sur, so I may be just composing and not posting.