Rainy Day Cyclist, 36

It is an article of faith in Japan that there are four seasons in Japan. It is even a common misconception that Japan is unique in the world in this regard. If you ask a Japanese student to write an English composition on the climate or weather in Japan, I guarantee that some statement about four seasons will occur. And yet this commonplace assertion is, in fact, wrong. There are FIVE seasons in Japan: summer, fall, winter, spring and a month-long rainy season, or tsuyu. Once you point this out to your Japanese friends, they will probably agree with you, which makes you wonder how the misconception survives so vigorously.

I mention this only because the rainy season is here in full force. I have spent two full days cycling south from my temporary home in Fukushima prefecture (the place under the centre ring in the following map: http://map.yahoo.co.jp/pl?nl=37.34.54.595&el=140.26.04.106&la=1&fi=1&sc=10, (the town of Nihonmatsu), towards Narita airport (under the crosshairs of http://map.yahoo.co.jp/pl?nl=35.46.24.848&el=140.19.20.291&la=1&fi=1&sc=10, through almost non-stop rain. It has not been fun in any way. I have been cold, wet and stiff for 2 days, but nothing that another few days in the saddle won't cure. The rain has been amazingly constant; I feel like the Rain God in the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, becoming a conoisseur of the dozens of different types of liquid precipitation. I hope the monsoon rains in India don't spill over the Himalayas to drench us every day in Ladakh!

I've ridden through a series of forgettable little towns, with names that translate prosaically to things like Two Pines (Nihonmatsu), White River (Shirakawa), Horse Head (Bato), Little River (Ogawa) and now Little Mountain (Oyama). I'm still essentially an illiterate in Japanese, except for the few hundred simple and common everyday words used in place names and people's last names, driven into my head by constant repetition while driving or cycling. I still haven't sat down to memorize the two thousand others that I would need to be functionally literate, and perhaps this indicates a serious lack of commitment to Japan and its culture. Maybe it's just as well that I only spend short bursts of time here.

To avoid spending all my time cycling damply along, I've lingered under convenience store awnings, consulting maps and reading Bruce Chatwin's superlative travel book The Songlines. It's dangerous literature, as it's an enquiry into the roots of myth, spirituality, religion and human culture, arguing that it all derives from migration and travel on foot. I certainly feel spiritually refreshed and culturally awakened by being back on the road, even if it's been a series of rather unscenic Japanese highways seen through a perpetual downpour. The tiredness and listlessness of the past 3 months have dropped away and I feel fully alive again. Maybe I need to spend even more time connecting to my nomadic roots

Anyway, the first 200 kilometres of the warm-up ride are going fine, my Achilles tendons (always my weak spot at the start of a trip) aren't too painful, and I'm looking forward to sleeping indoors tonight at my friend Nick's dry, warm house. At least it's been useful for making sure my body and bicycle and equipment are in shape for bigger challenges to come. Every time I start a new bike trip, it takes a couple of days to get used to handling such a heavy, awkward beast. It's rather like pedalling a fully-loaded shopping cart.

Until next time, I remain

The Soggy Nomad