It was my last day of cycling. I was just a day’s ride from my final destination in the Mekong River Valley, Phnom Penh, the capitol of Cambodia.

I ate my croco-sant and 2 of my mystery fruit for breakfast. (Check out the video to learn more about croco-sant and mystery fruit. No spoilers here.) I planned to exchange some more dong for riel at the front desk when I checked out. Unfortunately, the man at the front desk was not the same as the young fellow from the previous afternoon. He didn’t seem to understand English but he was able to say enough that I understood that he would not change any money. So once again I was pedaling through a foreign country with almost no useable cash in my pocket. On the bright side I still had two mystery fruit and a lot of water. I filled up every bottle I could find with filtered water. Altogether I think I was carrying about 5 or 6 liters of water. The bottles were piled up on my rack and tied down with bungee chords. There were so many in my precarious pile that occasionally one would fall off when I hit a bump. I am pretty sure that at least one bottle went missing in action during the morning. 

My route took me back over the big yellow bridge again. Fresh from a good nights sleep it was a lot easier climb than the night before. On the other side I pointed my handle bars to the north. This section of the road was equivalent to the day I spent riding on National Highway 91 except now I was on the famous Asian Highway 1 That connects Thailand, Cambodia and Vietnam. I noticed fewer bicycles, more cars, ambulances, motorcycles pulling big trailers loaded with good and materials and lots of tuk tuks.

Tuk Tuks
Tuk tuks are cute little 3 person, 3 wheeled vehicles that are used as taxis and are ubiquitous in Phnom Penh and the surrounding towns. Even the name is fun to say. Try it! Tuk tuk. Tuk tuk. See what I mean the most fun you can have with your lips by yourself. When I first considered traveling to Cambodia I saw pictures of tuk tuks and fell in love with them instantly. I was wondering if I would get a chance to ride in one. It didn’t seem likely as I brought my own transportation with me. As the morning wore on I lightened my load by wetting my whistle from my stock of water.

I’m going to say it straight out. The most interesting thing I saw on the road that day was not tuk tuks. It was two pigs and some cattle. In Cambodia a common way to haul goods is on a flatbed trailer pulled by a small motorcycle (maybe only about 100cc or 150cc). The trailers are 3 or 4 times longer than the motorcycle in some cases. I passed by a motorcycle with an unexpected cargo. (By this time I don’t know why any kind of vehicle with a load would surprise me but this one did.) I passed a motorcycle and trailer parked alongside the road. The motorcycle was pulling a trailer with a big cage on the trailer. As I passed by I looked down and saw two enormous hogs in the trailer. They were laying down with barely enough room to standup. At first I thought the hogs were dead but when I doubled back to get a better look I could see that they were awake. I don’t know if they were drugged or sleepy or just a very placid pigs. I think they probably weren’t drugged because the hogs were way too big to get in the cage if they weren’t alert enough to walk into the cage under their own power. The unexpected doesn’t end there. As I looked up I saw a woman and a little girl trying to lead two cows and a calf across the busy road. Now Cambodian cows are not old Macdonald’s rotund, sloe-eyed gentle dairy cows. Cambodian cows are tall, slender legged, you could even say svelte, humpbacked behemoths. The woman held rope halters for all three beasts and directed them with her voice and a judicious tugs on the rope while the little girl walked along side with a thin stick. I don’t know if she used the stick to motivate the cows or if she had just picked it up for fun as children around the world will do. It is a universal law that if a child sees a stick on the ground they will pick it up and swing it around when their parents are not looking. (How do I, as an adult know this, you ask? Because of the other universal law that says all parents have eyes in back of their head until their children are old enough to move out of the house.) The calf was taller than the girl and the two full-grown cows were taller than her mother but somehow the woman got herd and offspring across the road safely.

By the time 11 am rolled around I felt like I was making good enough progress to take my lunch break. I learned the day before that Buddhist temples are a good place to take a break. They are generally quiet places. That is not to say they are somber places. Buddhism in Cambodia looks very different from Buddhism in Japan. Besides the obvious differences in architecture and the use of color (Cambodian temples are very colorful. Some might even call them gaudy.) To my mostly uninformed mind Buddhism in Cambodia seems more like a living religion where in Japan Buddhism is respected for its historical and cultural value but it is not a thing Japanese people believe in. I think some of the differences are sectarian. I am sure the general precepts are the same but the feel is different.

In any case, I found a quiet bench where I could eat my mystery fruit and swig H2O and watch strays dogs fighting over some unknown canine grudge. Later, one of combatants limped over to share my patch of shade. While it didn’t cozy up to me neither did it show any fear of me. Mostly it just displayed indifference. If I had tried to pet him he most likely would have displayed his teeth. We left each other alone and neither of us was the worse for the experience.

Phnom Penh
I still had enough water left and I felt that Phnom Penh was just around each corner and just over the horizon. It wasn’t but I got there in good time. I was happy when I saw the sign saying welcome to Phnom Penh. Phnom Penh is a big city. (Though, not so big as Tokyo me thinks.) Just because you have entered the city does not mean you have arrived.

The traffic in Phnom Penh was the heaviest that I experience during my whole trip. More cars, trucks, and tuk tuks than Saigon. (Actually there aren’t any tuk tuks in Saigon.) At a bridge leading into the center of the city I got embroiled in a traffic jam because of road construction on the other side. I think this bridge would have been a bottleneck anyway. I found myself wheel to wheel with tuk tuks and motorcycles. Traffic jams are not particularly dangerous for bicycles in the sense that it is moving really slowly. I was caught in it just long enough to get over the bridge. Once on the other side I dropped out and cut north following my route.

As I got near my hotel I realized that I had a problem. I hadn’t mapped the route all the way to my hotel. This is because I wasn’t exactly sure where I would be staying in Phnom Penh until about a week before leaving. I was trying to arrange another Warmshowers host but all of my attempts fell through. Not only did I not have any local currency I did not have any kind of cell receptions in Cambodia because the SIM card that I bought at the Ho Chi Minh City airport stopped working at the Cambodian border. I knew the general area where my hotel was located but I hadn’t mapped it out on my offline maps. Without cell reception I couldn’t just look it up on Google Maps and follow the directions. Finally, when I thought that I was close I approached a foreign couple I spotted on the sidewalk and asked them if they could look it up for me. I took a snapshot of the route displayed on the man’s phone. Somehow, I was able to reach my destination.

#10 Lakeside Hotel
The #10 Lakeside Hotel has been a misnomer for the past decade. It used to be on a lake until the Cambodian government leased the land to a developer who filled in the lake and built condominiums on top of it. I lies tucked in a back alley off of the busy Monivong Boulevard next to other backpacker hotels. The first floor is a semi-open-air restaurant and lounge. It has an air of neglected Franco-Indochine decadence in a very small place. The cost for one night was about $5. It was here that I realized that Phnom Penh wants dollars. All the prices were listed in dollars. Of course, I had neither dollars or riel. The front desk allowed me to pay in dong and exchanged enough for me to get dinner which was about 15 dollars. They changed an exorbitant exchange rate. I figured I lost ten dollars of valley because of their liberal policy of rounding calculations in their favor. I found that a lot of rounding goes on in Cambodia. If I were changing a lot of money a 10 dollar surcharge would not have been such a big deal but I was on a shoestring budget and 10 dollars was the difference between eating breakfast the next day or not. The whole experience soured my feeling about #10 Lakeside Hotel and gave it an overall impression of seediness.

Lessons Learned
1. Map out your entire ride, including your alternative routes and download to your phone when you have connectivity.
2. Check the exchange rates before exchanging money.

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Border Crossings
In the morning my new friend, David, led me out of Tan Châu on his motorcycle. He set a quick pace but I was able to follow him to the ferry terminal and out of the city. On the other side of the river we parted company in front of the school where he teaches. I wish I had had time to visit his school too. 

I really enjoy taking the ferries. They aren’t monstrous affairs like the Staten Island ferries or the Oshima Island Passenger Ferry. They are basically small platforms with a motor and a wheel house. I hope that in Vietnam’s drive to modernize they don’t replace them with bridges.

The ride from the ferry terminal followed the course of the main branch of the Mekong River to the border. As I road along I wondered what kind of people lived so close to the border and if they were all that different from those who lived farther away. 

David described the border crossing to me. But despite his description and reading about other travelers’ experience I still wasn’t prepared. The only other land border I had ever crossed before was between the U.S. and Canada and that only just barely counts as crossing into a foreign country. 

I found the Vietnam border station at Vĩnh Xương just as David described. The border station is a building built about 20 meters from the banks of the river and connected to the shore by a short footbridge. This location allows those crossing by boat as well as those crossing by land to be processed. I parked Mini-V on top of the river bank and walked down to the border station. If the river side is the front then I entered through the backdoor. On the bridge leading up to the door there were four very official military types sitting in front of the door and drinking coffee. They had all the appearance of government employees on their break. I walked past them assuming there would somebody on duty inside. When I got inside there was no sign of a border official. There were a dozen or so foreign tourist lounging around in a waiting room with a very nice view of the river and a tour boat docked to the river side of the border station. In the waiting area there was a glass case with snacks for sale and a woman willing to sell you Oreo cookies and chips. Nearby was a table where a young woman would exchange Vietnamese dong for Cambodian riel. But no border officials on duty. 

For some reason I was under the mistaken belief that I had to take a boat to cross the river and the border. I asked a young Australian sounding couple, or maybe they were Kiwis, who can tell the difference?) where to catch a ferry across the river. They asked me in turn if I was with a tour and said the boat docked to border station pier was their tour boat. Nobody knew anything. 

Not knowing what to do I went back out the way I came in, past the lounging border guards. They seemed completely unconcerned about my coming and going. I walked back up the bank to my bike and pedaled back up the road I came because, as David had explained, the real land crossing was on side road a couple of hundred meters before the border station. I went through the first gate, more like a rail crossing guard than a gate, to a building. There a Vietnamese guard indicated that I should follow him. I pushed my bike behind him as he led me back to the border station. The guard spoke not a word of English so I was still in the dark about what was going on. 

Back at the bank above the border station I met two Indonesian men who had just pedaled across from the Cambodian side. I spoke with them briefly. They told me I needed to get a stamp at the border station. When I asked them about their trip they told me that they had ridden from Indonesia through Thailand and Cambodia. I asked them how the roads were in Cambodia. The warned me that they were good but dusty. Our brief conversation was interrupted by the guard waving me down to the border station. 

I went down and the man took my passport. I thought, “Now I am finally getting somewhere.” Inside the office which I was not allowed to enter I could see that they had pulled up my picture on a computer screen. I supposed they had scanned my passport or I was already in the system from when the visa was issued by the Vietnamese Embassy in Tokyo. After a few minutes they gave me back my passport and once again I followed the guard. I notice there was no one in the waiting room and no one manning, or should I say womanning, the exchange table or snack stand. No Oreos or riel for me. 

This time the guard led me back to the gate on a motorcycle. We went through the gate into the no-man’s land that I believe exists between all countries. At the railway crossing gate on the Cambodian side of no-man’s land he passed me off to a Cambodian policeman who was also on a motorcycle. This man told me in English to follow him and follow him I did to another gate and another side street where he handed me off to another policeman who took me to the Cambodian border station. Like on the Vietnamese side, the Cambodian border station was on the river though set back from the waterline a bit. The Cambodian border station was like a walled garden or park. Quite pleasant. The police on the Cambodian side all spoke English to some degree. I was processed with a boat load of tourists who had approached from the river side. The tour guide helped me out a little bit when the policemen’s instructions were lacking in clarity. They took my picture and my fingerprints, stamped my passport and I was done. 

All of this took no more than an hour. It was probably closer to half an hour. I was really worried about entering Cambodia because the night before I noticed that my Cambodian visa was dated for the day after I was planning to enter Cambodia. I don’t know if this was a mistake on my part or the Cambodian Embassy’s part. Regardless, the date was wrong. If the border guard was a stickler for rules and details the mistake would be grounds enough to deny me entrance. There were three possible outcomes. 1) I would be denied entrance until the next day. In that case I would have to ride back across the border to Tan Châu and find a hotel. 2) I would be forced to pay for another visa with the correct date which would be problematic because I didn’t have any money that I could use.  3) The policeman didn’t notice the later date or didn’t care that I was trying to enter the country one day early. 

I suppose there was a fourth possible outcome. The guard noticed the date was for the next day, decided I was just too suspicious and introduced me to the hospitality of a Cambodian jail cell thus extending my vacation. Fortunately, fate favored the third outcome. Like the Mekong River, humans and fate choose the path of least resistance.

After getting my passport stamped I was standing on the road outside the entrance of the border compound taking a few pictures and video of the communist party banner fluttering in the wind when a different guard approached me. While inspecting my passport he asked, “Where are you going? I know you are going to Cambodia, but where are you going?” I answered, “Phnom Penh.” This seemed to satisfy him. I think he just wanted to talk to the idiot foreigner riding a mini-velo through his country or perhaps he decided that a tourist taking pictures in front of the border station was suspicious. I asked him to take a picture of me and Mini-V and then a selfie of the two of us. Weird but cool at the same time.

On the Cambodian Side
Safely through the border crossing I continued on my journey up the Mekong River. I immediately noticed a difference between Vietnam and Cambodia. While many things are very similar some are different. For one, there were fewer chickens and more households had two or three head of cattle. Another difference was that people seemed very interested in greeting me. Every couple of hundred meters someone was waving to me or saying hello. This was fun at first but as the morning wore on and I got hotter and more tired, constantly greeting people became exhausting and a nuisance.

As I rode along I was reminded of the Indonesian bicycle tourists’ warning about dusty roads. Within a few kilometers of crossing the border the soil seemed to become sandy. Also, there were stretches of unpaved road that showed evidence of road construction. Even though it was a weekday I didn’t see any workmen. Maybe it was a holiday. 

For an hour or two I road through a semi rural area parallel to the Mekong River though it was mostly just out of sight. I got the feeling that all the houses and businesses were lined up along the road and if I detoured onto a side street I would quickly find myself all alone in the countryside. 

After a while the rural road fed into a highway. This is the famous Asian Highway 1. Like Vietnam, there seemed to be no restrictions on what kind of vehicles (or livestock) could use the highway. One significant difference was that I saw fewer motorcycles being used for transportation (still many used for hauling cargo) and more Japanese and American cars. 

The Kindness Of A Stranger
I was making reasonable progress towards Neak Loeung, the first town I would stop at in Cambodia. The heat was really wearing me down and I was running low on water. All along the road from the border crossing I saw large signs advertising Ganzberg Beer. The thought of a cold beer was tempting. Unfortunately, I had no currency that I could use to buy beer or anything at all. When I was about 10 km from my destination I really needed to take a rest break. In Tokyo there are lots of little municipal parks and if you are in the countryside you can just pull over to the side of the road and sit in the shade but I couldn’t find a quiet place away from the road to take a break that wasn’t someone’s home or business. 

Finally, I pulled into a beautiful Buddhist temple to get out of the sun and rest in the shade away from the dust and noise of the highway. I found a pavilion with a table and benches. There was a monk napping on the bench by the table. I took a seat on a bench in the shade a few meters away not wanting to disturb his nap. I took my shoes off and ate some trail mix I carry for emergencies and drank my water. I was probably experiencing borderline heat exhaustion.

Eventually, the monk roused himself. He must have thought I looked bad because he pulled out of his bag a can of soy milk and gave it to me. I accepted gratefully. It was the best soy milk I have ever had. I didn’t know if his religion would allow him to eat it but I offered him some of my trail mix in exchange. He turned it down. I don’t blame him. It had been reheated in the sun several times by now and I noticed that tiny ants had gotten into when I was in Long Xuyên. The monk went an extra 2nd mile. He offered me a bottle of water and an energy drink. Apparently, Buddhist monks can and do drink energy drinks. I am sure he wasn’t carrying it around just in case he found an exhausted Westerner intruding on his nap. We didn’t share a common language or culture but he shared with me kindness that crosses borders, culture, and politics. In a world that is becoming more polarized and divided we need to reach across all of our borders. Ideological, economic, ethnic and social.

Enough pontificating. Thanks to the monk I was revived enough to continue my journey. Looking at the map it was clear that I would have to cross the river because Neak Loeung and my hotel were on the other side. 

It turns out the bridge crossing the Mekong River has two names. The obvious name is taken from the nearby town, Neak Loeung. The less obvious name is Tsubasa Bridge. There are some of you gentle readers who might be thinking that tsubasa sounds distinctly Japanese and you would be right. Tsubasa means wing in Japanese. The bridge was donated to the Cambodian government by the Japanese government as part of a larger project to improve Asian Highway 1 from Thailand to Vietnam. During my travels in Cambodia I crossed two other such bridges. I’m glad I had a chance to cross it as my tax yen helped pay for it.

There are three outstanding features of this bridge. First, the bridge is the longest bridge crossing the Mekong River at 2.2 km long. Second, going over the bridge represented the steepest climb of my entire trip through the Mekong River Delta at around a 4.5% grade. The third and most outstanding feature is that the suspension cables are bright yellow. 

Now, I have to admit my faithful, little Mini-V is a wonderful bike on the flats but she has a hard time going up hills with her little 20 inch wheels and lack of granny gears. But her and I did our best and managed to get the top. Partway Mini-V insisted that we stop to take a picture and some videos. I happily obliged her whim without remarking that she might be too tired after riding 50 km in the hot, Cambodian sun. One does not want to get on the wrong side of one’s bicycle.

After crossing the bridge, cursing out the inconsiderately placed rumble strips on the downhill side that I thought were going to taco my front wheel when i hit them at speed, it was a short ride into the town. Fortunately, my hotel was on the near edge of town. 

At the hotel I was able to exchange enough dong for riel to get dinner at a nearby cafe, a beer at the tavern across the street and some mystery fruit. (Watch the video to learn more about the mystery fruit.) I should have exchanged more but I thought I would be able to in the morning. 

Money Makes the Wheels Go Round
The challenge of traveling in a foreign country for the first time is that you never know how much money you are going to need. Ideally, you want to exchange just enough so that you have very little left when you leave the country. All during my stay in Cambodia I miscalculated how much money I would need. I kept getting Cambodian currency and Vietnamese currency mixed up in my head and my wallet. I think I even accidentally payed for something with a 10,000 yen bill instead of 10,000 in riel or dong. 10,000 yen in Cambodia and Vietnam is a princely sum.

Neak Loeung
My hotel in Neak Loeung was at the edge of town overlooking a swampy area. The hotel staff led me to my room on the second floor. The room was clean and brightly appointed. When the woman closed the curtains I didn’t think much of it at the time. I later opened the curtains so I could get a look out of the window and never closed them again because the only thing outside my window was open space. The room came complete with a television. I turned it on and started surfing the Cambodian air waves. The reception wasn’t very good. First, I found a sports channel with English sportscasting of a sailboat regatta. Boring. Then I found what appeared to be cock fighting. The screen was so staticky it was really hard to see what was going on. I finally gave up and went to the next channel. Click. A Cambodian soap opera. I don’t want to watch soap operas in any language. Click. Now we are talking. Crystal clear reception in English! Oh wait, it is the RT News Channel. The Russian Times News Channel. Why does the only channel that gets good reception in Neak Loeung have to be the Russian propaganda channel. I watched it for a while because it is always good to know what your adversaries are saying. It was just as bad as watching Fox News (only better produced) and I turned it off after 15 minutes.

Enough television. I took a shower then went next door to a restaurant for dinner called the Rio Cafe. The restaurant looked like it could have been plucked out of New York, Tokyo or London. At the same time, very comforting and very uninteresting. The menu was in English and the prices were in dollars. I felt like the prices were on the high side. My meal cost a whole 2 dollars. After dinner, I risked life and limb to cross the street to an open-air tavern where I got a beer so patriotic it was named in a burst of inspiration Cambodia Beer. The beer was outrageously priced at a dollar fifty. I pet the tavern cat and drank my cold Cambodia. After imbibing I strolled next door for mystery fruit and a crocodile shaped pastry. (To see the croco-pastry and the mystery fruit check out the video on the wayfarer.bike YouTube channel.) The pastry and fruit were for breakfast.

Too Many Bugs For One Gecko
I got back to my room well after dark. I turned on all of the lights in the room as one does. I didn’t pay any heed to the open curtains. I settled down to write a few words and delete a few pictures. Before I knew it there were little flies swarming all around. Fortunately, they weren’t the biting kind. They were just the annoying kind. They weren’t doing so well. The bed sheets and floor were peppered with dead flies. Earlier in the evening I noticed a gecko hiding in the curtains and periodically making forays along the walls. A little known fact about geckos. They make chirping sounds like song birds. Actually, more like newly hatched birds that can’t carry a tune yet. Mr. Gecko was in good company because I can’t carry a tune either. I spotted another one clinging to the outside of the window. I’m glad I was able to provide them with the equivalent of a smorgasbord. I wished they had brought all their friends and relations too. Finally, I made the connection between the open curtains and the room lights. I closed the curtains and turned off all the room lights except one on the far side of the room. I worked this strategy out with Lt. Gecko. Closing the curtains would keep more flies from getting in and the light would lure them away from the bed where Mr. Gecko would ambush them. It seemed to work. In the morning there was no evidence of living bugs. The floor and the overhead light were littered with the carcasses of fly soldiers that didn’t survive the night. I don’t know if my compatriot, Capt. Gecko (He surely deserves a promotion after his heroic efforts during the battle of the bugs) survived. There was no sign of him in the morning.

Lesson Learned:
1. In Cambodia, Buddhist temples make great resting places.
2. Kindness is colorblind and tone deaf. It knows no boundaries or obstacles.
3. If hotel staff close the curtains it is a good idea to leave them closed.
4. The sound of geckos in the night is comforting but don’t ask them to sing campfire songs. They just can’t do it.

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Day 3
My trip from Long Xuyên was a very interesting one. While the distance wasn’t the longest the miles were the most varied.

The adventure started before I even left town. The plan was that I was to cross the river at least three times during the day. Not all of those crossings were strictly necessary. I just thought, when I was mapping out the route from the comfort of my computer in Kodaira, Japan, that it would be more interesting. What I didn’t know then was how interesting those crossings would be or that they weren’t bridge crossings. 

Getting Taken For A Ride
The first crossing was near my hotel in Long Xuyên. The ferry dock, which I had found the previous night while looking for my hotel, was located in a busy market. When I got there at around 8 a.m. business was already booming. While I was still scoping things out a man approached me with a business card. He was trying to sell me something. I had no idea what he was saying and I didn’t take a very close look at the card before turning him down but I did notice the word Dien. The local name for the branch of the Mekong that flows past Long Xuyên. 

I rolled my loaded bike to the ferry dock where the man and two others approached me again. This time I thought, okay maybe this guy is trying to tell me about the ferry or maybe a water taxi. So, through the power of Google Translate, I asked him how much and whether I pay before or after. I understood him to say 15. Based on my limited experience in Vietnam that usually mean 15,000 dong. I thought that was a bit high for a ferry as I only paid 2,000 the day before. But what do I know? I am far from being an expert on the Vietnamese ferry system. 

I agreed to the deal. I rolled up to the dock and watched as a ferry came in. I watched motorcycles, bicycles, pedestrians and even a car disembark. Just as I was about board the man came alongside in a wooden sampan (I’m not sure that his the proper word for it. Normally, this landlubber would call it a skiff.)

My next thought was, “Okay. That’s not a ferry. Did I just contract for a private water taxi?” There was a good reason for why I thought this. Just moments before a similar boat had docked in front of me with a small boy and a woman with a load of fruit.

The boatman loaded my bike onto his boat then I boarded. Across from the ferry dock and the market was an island which, according to the map the ferry would go around on the downstream side to another larger island on the other side. My boat captain headed downstream and appeared to be following the ferry route. So far, so good. But that was all just coincidence. The sampan continued downstream past all the working boats on the river. I realized I was being taken for a ride. 

There are many boats of varying sizes and types on the river. You might even say the river is crowded with them. They mostly hug the shoreline which in this part of the river is choked with water plants. (Watch the video from this part of the trip to get the larger story of this part of my tour.)

At one point the boatman shut down the motor to clear the rotor of water vines that had tangled around it. The other astonishing incident was when he idled the motor and walked to the back of the boat where I was sitting. He opened a hold behind me and pulled out a dead duck. Mumbling he threw it down on the floor in front of me with a very annoyed look on his face. I don’t know if he was annoyed because he was trying to keep it alive or because the bird somehow interfered with his boat and died or some other reason.

The final surprise came when we returned to the ferry dock about a half hour or so after we left. The boatman and one of his compatriots on shore lifted my fully loaded bike out of the boat. I pulled 15,000 dong out to pay the man. Through gestures and pointing at the money in my wallet he made it clear that price was not 15,000 dong. The price was 150,000 dong. Wow! I got taken for a ride in more ways than one. When you say the price in dong it seems high but when you do the conversion is comes to about 750 yen or 7 dollars and 50 cents. Not much but when you consider that ferry I was planning to take would have cost about 15 cents I can’t help feeling that I got scammed. However, looking back I feel like it was money well spent. It gave me a rare view into the lives of the people who live and work on the Mekong River.

After my river excursion I decided I had spent enough time on boats and the cool morning hours were burning up in the sun. I made the decision to cut out the first two ferry rides that would have just brought me back to the same side of the river. The route change would shorten my day by only two or three kilometers but boarding ferries would take considerably more time than just a 3 km detour represents. It turns out that there were still 2 more ferries ahead of me that I couldn’t avoid so easily. 

After finally leaving Long Xuyên I followed Highway 91 for awhile. Just when I thought it would be highway riding all the way I came to another ferry crossing. This one I managed to take without unsolicited river tours or exorbitant fees. The road on the other side of the river took me through a village that seems to be 5 km long and a 50 meter wide stretch on the east side of the river. This area has a booming incense cottage industry. The street was lined with shops drying sticks of incense in the sun. I also passed a few places drying cattle dung in the sun. And in case you are wondering, no, it didn’t stink. Around 11:00 it was starting to warm up and I began looking for a cafe where I could take a break and get a cold drink. I came upon the only grocery store I found during my entire trip. I really like grocery shopping so this was as good a place as any to take a break. I bought a 2 liter bottle of water, a Coke, and an orange.

Since I had just had a snack and I thought that I would continue riding through an area where I could easily find a restaurant or street food I decided to take a lunch break around 1:00. Little did I know that the environment would change drastically in just a few short minutes. 

Lunch On The Hoof
Only a few meters from the grocery store was the second and last ferry for the day. Within 10 minutes of crossing the river I found myself peddling along a dirt track parallel to a small branch of the larger river amongst rice fields. The land became sparsely populated with little farmsteads. I passed rice fields, duck farms, and what I think was a fresh water shellfish farm but not a single cafe or street vendor. 

At first I wasn’t worried because I knew I was going to a large town and I assumed I would see more businesses sooner or later. It turned out to be later. 1:30 rolled around and there still wasn’t anything like food anywhere in sight. Cafe or no, I was hot, hungry and thirsty. I had to take a break. I noticed from time to time there were water cooler jugs placed alongside the road. When I found one of the jugs and a rotten, makeshift bench being guarded by two placid looking head of cattle I decided to stop for a break. Check out the video to see how all of this goes down.

Warmshowers Homestay
I stayed the night in Tan Châu with David, a warmshower’s host. He and his extended family were very kind and gracious hosts. It was my first time using warmshowers.org. Warmshowers.org is a web site where people who are willing to host bicycle tourists for a night or two can register. The response from most of the would-be hosts was very poor except for David, who responded quickly to all of my messages. I feel very lucky to have been able to stay with him. It gave me an opportunity to see past the front door of all the houses I passed on my bike. I was welcomed into the home and the private life of my host for a brief space of time.

David asked me to visit his English classes. I was glad to make a guest appearance. It was a small price to pay for hosting me. And if my appearances helped enhanced his reputation as a cool teacher that can bring interesting foreigners to the class then I am glad to have helped. 

I don’t want to talk too much about my experience with David because I fear it would be revealing too much of his private life. I do want to say that he fed me dinner and breakfast, provided me with a shower, a bed to sleep on, and I was able to wash my clothes which was a big help. 

I realize that I didn’t take many photos or videos of his home and in retrospect I glad I didn’t for reasons of respecting his privacy.  I will describe his front room as this is visible from the street and if you happened to pass by you could see what I am about to describe. 

The front room is a large multipurpose room which is completely open to the street during the day and can be closed off by a metal shutter at night. The family uses it as a dining room, a living room where the family can relax, a place to entertain guests, and David uses it as a classroom for his private English classes. Because one wall is completely open to the street it is bright and airy. And because it is open the geckos are free to come and go as they please. During dinner I counted 9 geckos clinging to the wall facing me. I think the army of geckos are to thank for the lack of bugs in the house.

Lessons Learned:
Pack a little extra food in case you find yourself far from any restaurant or store at lunchtime.
Map out grocery stores and restaurants in advance.

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Day 2
I was really reluctant to leave Nguyen Shack near Cần Thơ. I had such a good stay there that I wanted to stay longer. But, alas, I had a schedule to keep and the hostel was full the next night. I had no choice but to move on. I bid farewell to the hostel’s cat and puppies and set off for Long Xuyên and promptly took a wrong turn. The riding was so pleasant I neglected to check the map. I went a considerable distance out of my way before I realized my mistake. If I had properly mapped out this segment of my tour I could have cut out 10 or more kilometers. Ah well, these things happen.

Since I had come somewhat away from the main branch of the river (Sông Hậu River, a branch of the Mekong River) I worked my way back towards National Highway 91. In Vietnam the National Highways are accessible to all manner of vehicles, including those being pulled by animals. For cars, buses and trucks there is a toll in some places but bicycles and motorcycles can use them for free. In fact, at the toll booth there is a special lane next to the shoulder where two wheeled vehicles can get through without paying the toll.

Almost the entire day was spent on Highway 91. When I say highway you may be picturing a four lane divided highway with exit and entrance ramps and trucks and automobiles whizzing by at 75 miles an hour. It is nothing like that. You would be closer to the real deal if you pictured a county highway going through the outskirts of a small town. But even that image misses the mark. All along the road there are cafes and restaurants, street vendors and even clothing sellers. There aren’t many side roads between the towns so it feels like all the life of the country exists within a few dozen meters of the highway or in the cities and towns. I know this isn’t true but that’s the way it feels when you spend all day on the road and can’t see much beyond the buildings that line it. Perhaps I should have taken more detours off the highway. Maybe next time. 

I don’t know what the speed limit on the National Highway system in Vietnam is as I never saw any speed limit signs the entire time I was in Vietnam but it seems like traffic was going no faster than 50 or 60 kph. At no point did I ever feel like I was in any danger. There are so many motorcycles, bicycles, and carts being pulled or pushed by people that I think drivers are used to slow moving vehicles. Something that is noticeable right from the start is that Vietnamese streets are noisy from all of the horn honking. There are many different tones and rhythms to the honking. Trucks, cars and motorcycles all have their own sound and there is a lot of variation among types. If this were in North America or Japan you would assume that the drivers are always impatient and irritated. But that is not the case. Honking the horn is just a way for faster moving road users to say to slower road users, “I am coming up behind you and I am going to pass you so stay where you are. Don’t meander.” I sometimes wished I too had a klaxon when I passed slower moving cyclists and pedestrians. Unfortunately, on the busy streets it is impossible to tell who is beeping at who.

For people who come from orderly, rule based countries Vietnamese streets may seem, at first glance, like chaotic places where there are no rules. I saw very few traffic lights during the hours I spent on National Highway 91 and the city streets of Can Thơ and Long Xuyên. Intersections seem chaotic but they are a lot easier to navigate than you would expect. The key to getting across the street is move slowly, steadily and in a predictable manner. This is true for pedestrians, bicycles and even motorcycles and 4 wheeled vehicles. If others can predict where you are going they will adjust their path to flow around you just as you are adjusting your path to avoid them. It just works. Just like Adam Smith’s invisible had.

You would be tempted to think that there were frequent accidents with serious injuries. During my time in Vietnam I didn’t see any accidents. I did see a woman have a little incident with her scooter in Long Xuyên. I heard a crashing noises. When I turned to look, I saw a woman picking her scooter up off the ground. I don’t know what caused her to dump her ride but she didn’t appear to be hurt and I didn’t see anyone else involved. I think one factor that might prevent a lot of serious injuries is the slower speed which traffic moves at. The axiom that speed kills is very true.

Another thing I noticed is the ubiquitousness of free Wi-Fi. Putting the dangers of free Wi-Fi aside, it was easier to get a Wi-Fi connection in Vietnam than it is in Tokyo. I stopped for lunch at a roadside eating place that advertised free Wi-Fi. (Calling it a restaurant would give you the wrong impression.) I asked the lady running the place for the password because I didn’t see it posted anywhere. She took my phone and entered the password herself. That was an interesting meal. I didn’t really have any idea what the place offered. Through the power of Google Translate I said something like “I would like something to eat. What do you have?” The woman said something I didn’t understand and I said “Okay”. I had no idea what I was going to get. It turned out to be a plate of rice with some barbecue meat (my guess is pork) and a little bowl of soup. It was delicious. While I was sitting at a low table eating my lunch, the woman’s little boy, no more than 18 months I would guess.) was toddling around the place. He was clearly curious about me but was a little shy. I smiled at him and made funny faces at him and soon he ventured to my table. As I said, the table was low and the boy could easily see me across the table. Without understanding each other we spent a few pleasant minutes playing.

A very common establishment along National Highway 91 are cafes. I saw many signs that said “Cafe Võng”. I saw so many of them I thought it must be a chain store. I found out later that it is not a chain store. It is just a type of cafe. The outstanding characteristic of Cafe Võng is that they usually have hammocks for the guests. You can get a cold drink and rest for awhile in a hammock. These are popular along the National Highway because it is tiring work riding a motorcycle along the highway. Riders like to pull off for a while and take a rest before continuing on with their business.

Thanks to my wrong turns and detours in the morning I road 80 plus kilometers. I arrived in Long Xuyên in late afternoon. Fortunately, I was able to find my hotel without too much trouble. I stayed at a place called Amidi Cafe and Homestay. The name is a bit misleading. It’s true, there was a cafe on the street level but it wasn’t a home stay. It is a good thing that I wasn’t expecting one. The girl working the front desk led me to my room on the second floor and gave me a card and a key. The card was for turning on the electricity in the room. The key was for the padlock on the door. That’s right. A padlock. The room didn’t have a proper doorknob with a keyhole. It had a handle and on both sides of the door there was a place to pass the padlock through to secure it to the door jamb.

I laid down on the cool floor for an hour and inspected the inside of my eyelids for light leaks. For about an hour I found no evidence damage. As the sun went down I heard noise like a big party coming from across the street. When I looked out the door I discovered that I was across the street from 2 large open-air restaurants that were doing brisk business. I went down to the front desk to ask the girl which restaurant was better. With broken English she told me that they were the same and that there was another restaurant around the corner that was better. Taking the word of the local I went around the corner and found a very large, somewhat opulently decorated restaurant that was empty. I thought maybe they weren’t open yet but the waiter welcomed me in. That’s where it got difficult. Problem one: the menu was written all in Vietnamese. Problem two: there were almost no pictures. Like you see in many restaurants the main menu was a nicely bound book of several pages. Inserted into the menu book was one page of specials with pictures. This was kind of fancy restaurant so the prices, I feel, were a bit higher but I thought they were acceptable. I ordered the cheapest thing from the specials menu because the food in the picture looked like some kind of stir fry and I ordered a beer. It is good that I ordered a beer because the dish I ordered was a bit too spicy for me. I did my best to eat as much of it as I could but I had to order another beer to put the fire in my mouth out. I also spent about 20 minutes looking up words on the main menu with Google Translate until I found a dish I could understand. Spinach! I ordered the spinach dish as well. I was expecting a small to mediumish dish of boiled spinach. What I got was a large, heaping plate of spinach. It was good but far too much for me to eat. When I asked for the bill the waiter asked me if I wanted to take it with me. I considered only for the briefest of moments but I rejected the idea because I had no way to carry it.

Lessons Learned
1. Properly map out any side excursions and the route to and from your hotel in advance.

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2019/03/21 – 2019/03/24

This was my second trip to Oshima Island so I knew what to expect. Or, at least, I thought I knew what to expect. This was the first time for my 19 year old daughter, Pearl, and her first bicycle tour and first camp out. We were celebrating her completion of all her university exams. We didn’t have all of the results back yet but I was confident that she passed and would be excepted into the college of her choice. I was right. But that’s a story for another time.

I was really looking forward to this trip. My daughter is a real character and fun  to be with. I bought an extra set of panniers and put a rack on her Giant Escape. A Giant Escape is not really a touring bike but I figured for a relatively light weight trip like Oshima Island that it would be okay. I was right again. She has been using this bike for several years to commute from home to her high school in Kunitachi and then later to her juku in Tachikawa. The distance is not more than 10 km one way. It is exactly on par with the amount of distance one puts in on a tour but my daughter is young and years of playing soccer made her fit so I was fairly certain she would be okay. Nonetheless, we took her bike on a shakedown ride to the Blue Lug Bicycle Shop in Yoyogi for a minor tune-up. A little over 20 km one way with some little hills near Yoyogi. She handled it like a champ. While we waited for the shop to finish working on her bike we killed some time at a place around the corner that allows customers to play with meerkats and river otters. They are just adorable. You can check out the video on the wayfarer.bike video channel.

With our confidence high the day for our departure came. Since the ferry to Oshima Island does not leave Takeshiba Ferry Terminal until 10 pm, we had lots of time to kill before our departure. Pearl decided that she would meet her friends in the afternoon for a little futsal. She paid the price for that later in sore and tired muscles. According to her, she was the only girl playing. One thing we had wanted to do but never got around to was for Pearl to do some riding near home fully loaded. So when she swung her leg over the panniers on day one it was her first time experiencing riding under a full load. Not ideal. Fortunately, she adjusted quickly.

The Weather
During the whole trip the weather was a major factor. I had been watching weather on Oshima for the week prior to departure. For the week leading up to the trip the forecast was all over the place. Sometimes predicting rain sometimes no rain. I was relieved when on the day before the trip forecast for Oshima Island was for no rain. What I didn’t consider was the wind. The day of departure was very windy. Fortunately, on the first day it was a tail wind and didn’t really impact the riding.

Day 1
When we finally pulled out of our driveway our spirits were high and we were ready for adventure. As we rode along Tamagawa Josui with sun setting behind us a gibbous, full moon rising directly in front of us. I was hoping to leave earlier but Pearl didn’t pull herself out of the futsal games early as we previously discussed. As it was, we had just enough time to eat a quick bowl of gyudon in Hamamatsucho, make a quick stop at Family Mart to pick up some food for breakfast the following day, and check in at the ferry terminal. We weren’t rushed but we didn’t have any time to spare either.

There are two ways to take your bike on the ferry. The first, and most common way in Japan, is to put your bike in a rinko bukuro. This is just a big nylon bag with a shoulder strap. As there is almost no public transportation that has roll-on service or racks for bikes most of the time, if allowed, you are required to bag your bike. In Japan, there is a special carrying case or bag for everything from baseball bats to soccer balls. The rinko bukuro is the favorite of the Ricky Racer spandex set. They hop a train with their ultra-light carbon bicycles and go to some far off rural station to ride. The downside of the rinko bukuro is that you usually have to partially dismantle your bicycle. This isn’t practical when you have racks and water bottle cages and other touring accessories attached to your bike. Fortunately, the Oshima ferry offers a second option. If you take the slower and larger passenger ferry you can check your bicycle in as cargo for 1,500 yen one way. This is easier than dismantling your bicycle for bagging. That is just what Pearl and I did. We took off our panniers rolled the bicycles up to the cargo check-in counter, paid our money and waiting for boarding. The downside of cargo check-in is that you have to find a way to carry all the bags that you had so efficiently attached to your bicycle frame. In my opinion, this is the lesser of two evils.

Day 2
We pulled into Okada Harbor very early in the morning. We were loaded up and pedaling up the steep road leading out of the harbor by 6:15. The weather was started out sunny but a little chilly but by the time we got to the top of the first real climb we were warm enough to take off our jackets. The road to our first stopping place, the Oshima Zoo, was the first time Pearl ever tackled a really really step and long climb. She was dismayed when I told her that after the zoo there was another 4 km of climbing with 300 meters give or take of elevation change. Thanks to years of soccer she was in good fitness but after a year off to study maybe she lost of little bit of her conditioning. Or maybe, the muscle strain of constantly pedaling is a different kind of muscle strain from an hour long soccer match. All in all, I have to say she did okay on the climbs. She climbed faster than her old da did but wanted to rest more often. Young people these days, they don’t know how to pace themselves! (said in my get-off-my-grass cranky old man voice :~)

We rolled into the zoo at about 7:30 in the morning, give or take. Since the zoo didn’t open until 9 we made ourselves some eggs for breakfast. The rest of the eggs I boiled so they would keep until the next day. After lollygagging at the zoo for a couple of hours we at ramen in at the little baiten in the park that surrounds the zoo. Fueled up with ramen we started up the long climb over the cliffs on the eastern shore of the island. The weather was warming up and the riding was pleasant. I really enjoy this part of the ride. I must admit I was having a bit of problem climbing because of mechanical issues. More about this later. Let’s just say for now that the problems were of my own making and could have been avoided. Anyway, we made it to the top after 4 km of “gradual” climbing. About a 6 or 7% grade. From there it was a fast cruise down to little town of Habu. Habu has one of the few traffic lights on Oshima and I am not really sure why. There were certainly not enough cars to justify one. Just before we got into Habu we pulled off at the vantage point for Fudeshima. Fudeshima is a long spikey rock poking out of the ocean in the middle of a little cover surrounded by very steep cliffs that we had just ridden over. It is called Fudeshima because it looks like tip of a traditional Japanese calligraphy brush. What it is, is the remains of an ancient volcano. All that is left of it is the core where there lava erupted from. Time has warn away the rest of the mountain while the center of the volcano moved west and north where it became Mt. Mihara, the volcano at the center of Oshima Island. We stopped at the overpriced mom and pop grocery shop to pick up some more food for our next two meals, dinner and breakfast the following day. Apparently, the locals usually do their grocery shopping at the big grocery store in Motomachi on the north (and opposite) end of the island about 15 km away.

A funny thing happened just before we got to Habu. I wanted ask a local for directions to the nearest grocery store. I saw ahead of us an old guy riding really slowly on an electric assist bicycle. We gradually caught up to him. When I was even with him I spoke to him. When he heard my voice he was so startled I thought he was going to fall off his bike. Now I know bicycles are quiet but I wasn’t trying to sneak up on him. I did wait until I was even with him before speaking thinking that he would be aware that I was there. Apparently, he was completely list in thought or maybe it was taking all his concentration to keep pedaling. I don’t know. After he regained his balance and his heart restarted he answered my question. He basically confirmed what I already knew. The only place to get groceries is the little shop that we went to.

We got to Toshiki Campground, the same no-frills, campground that I stayed at on my trip last year at around 4 pm. Plenty of daylight to set up camp and cook dinner. I helped Pearl set up her tent, the one person green, nylon tent I usually use. Another first for her. While I was setting up my tent she abandoned me to walk along the cliff at the edge of the campground. We cooked up some pasta and had spaghetti for dinner. Up until then the weather had been really nice but after dinner the wind had really begun to kick up and the temperature dropped. We watched a video on my iPad mini in my tent for a while then we decided to turn in for the night when we realized that the wind had pulled up some of the ropes on her tent. It wasn’t in any danger of blowing away because of the heavy packs she put inside but it was really flapping and snapping in the wind. So was my tent for that matter.

This is a good point to talk about my tent. My tent is ancient. I found an orange, canvas two-person tent in my neighbors garbage a year ago. I already had a tent but I thought it might come in handy someday. Being canvas it is heavier than a more modern nylon tent. As I said, it is old. I don’t really know how old. Unlike a more modern tent where the walls, doors and floor are stitched together like one piece of fabric, the floor of my tent was a separate piece from the walls and door. Normally, you stake down the floor then erect the tent above the floor and tie off the corners and center to grommets on the floor. The tent flap for the entrance didn’t have a zipper to close it. It used strings to since the door closed.

I had set up this tent before and didn’t detach the floor which made it easier to set up. I had only set up this tent twice before. Once, last summer, to see if it worked and once again on a day trip to the Tama River. This is the first time to use it camping. Let’s just say that the zipperless design meant that there many cracks and gaps for the cold wind to blow in. 

I always pack a mylar emergency blanket just in case but never user it before. This seemed like a good time to try it out. Pearl and I each had one. I realized, too late, that I had forgotten to pack gloves. It was in my mind to bring a pair but in my excitement I forgot to pack them. I didn’t bring a warm coat either. I only had my high vis yellow cycling jacket. Clearly no match for the icy wind. I took it off long enough to put on a long sleeved shirt on under the jacket and jeans over my sweat pants. Three layers of shirts and a sleeping bag and a shiny mylar blanket were not enough. We were in for a wickedly cold night. It was was hard to sleep shivering in the tent with the wind howling all around. I worried about Pearl in the tent just a few meters from me but I comforted myself that she had the better tent without all the gaps for the wind. I also reminded myself that the half dozen or so other campers were in the same chilly circumstances as we were. Misery truly does love company. Somehow, we got through the night but dawn didn’t bring a cessation of the wind.

Day 3
The winds were gusting at about 30 kph during the night and had only dropped down to about 20 or 25 during the day. It was too windy outside to light the stove. Given how cold it was during the night there was no need to refrigerate the milk we bought the previous day in Habu. We had a cold breakfast of granola and milk and a hard-boiled egg each. We noticed that the people who had set up their tents in the prime spot under the trees had packed up and left. We moved our tents to under the trees. It was a little less windy in the shelter of the scrubby pines.

The plan was to ride to Motomachi on the opposite end of the island and catch a bus up to the start of the Mt. Mihara hiking trail. Neither of us felt like battling the wind. We scrapped that idea and decided to catch the bus to Motomachi. We had a tortilla sandwich at the ferry terminal and watched the waves. We spend a couple hours warming up at an onsen (hot spring) and took a much needed nap. Before catching the bus back to Toshiki campground we did some grocery shopping at the “big” grocery store in Motomachi. It was big enough for our purposes and cheaper that the cubby hole of a shop in Habu.

As the sun dropped below the horizon so did the wind speed. The was cold but only a little drafty. Thus ended the third day of our trip and the second day on Oshima Island.

Day 4
Though we spent another night shivering inside our sleeping bags and wrapped in our crinkly, shiny emergency space blankets. From about midnight on the wind was calm and quiet and I managed to get some sleep. Around about 5:30 in the morning the tent snapped abruptly and the wind was back but it was sunny and not gray, overcast of the day before. It was too windy to keep the camp stove lit so we did what was not recommended. We lit it up in my tent. As drafty my tent is, it is big enough for two people to sit cross-legged in the middle…just big enough. We two people, the door flap cinched tight and hot chocolate cooking on the stove the tent warmed up nicely. It was a shame that we had to open the door to do the dishes and pack up.

This was our last day on the island and wind or not we had to ride about 8 or 9 km up the western shoreline of the island to at least as far as Motomachi. There is some scenery along the way that I was looking forward to seeing from the saddle. About halfway to Motomachi there is a place where the mountain was cut away to make room for the road. You can see the layers of rock left by multiple volcanic eruptions and erosion over the millenia. 

Disaster!
So we packed up our gear and loaded it back on our bikes and we saying goodbye to Toshiki Campground. That’s when disaster struck. I am being very dramatic aren’t I? I didn’t even make one revolution with my pedals when my crank broke. It snapped in two. It was totally unexpected and totally my own fault. The cause goes back a couple of months before the trip. I noticed back in December or January that there was an uncomfortable amount of play in my cranks. I was planning to get my bike overhauled so I moved up my plans and went to my favorite bike shop, Blue Lug. When I asked them about getting an overhaul and showed them my bike. They said that an overhaul would take about a month even with a reservation. Well, that was no good. I was going to need my bike in March. They expressed concern about my bottom bracket and suggested that my ball bearings were worn. I should replace the bottom bracket as soon as possible. Or if I did it when I got an overhaul the labor cost of replacing the bottom bracket would be included in the overhaul fee. That sounded good to me so I made a reservation to get the overhaul in April after I came back from Oshima with Pearl and Sagamiko with Andy (more about this trip in another post) and crossed my fingers hoping my bottom bracket would last until then so I could save a few thousand yen.

My cranks got wobblier and wobblier to point where if I wasn’t in the write gear putting pressure on the pedals would throw off the alignment and the chain would jump off the chain ring. This is no good for hill climbing but I persisted. It only had to last another 2 weeks. And it got progressively worst on day 2 of the trip. Day 4 was the last day of the trip. I just had to get it to the ferry terminal. When it broke it was in a totally unexpected way. I thought the cranks might seize up on the BB and that would make it impossible to pedal. That didn’t happen. What happened is the stress caused to the cranks each time the chain slipped off the chain rings in the back and resettle back on the ring would cause the cranks to stop abruptly momentarily. It seems this repeated action weakened the metal. 

Bad timing for a mechanical that is impossible to fix on the road. All was not lost. I still had one pedal I could use! If I could just figure out how to ride a bike with just one leg. Pushing down on the pedal is no problem but without a pedal on the other side to press down own it was impossible to brink the pedal on the unbroken crank back up to the top. I thought, well it is still early. If worse comes to worst I will push it all the way to the ferry terminal and I don’t have to pedal on the downhill side I can still ride it sometimes and ride it quite fast in places so it might not take as long to cover the distance as it normally would just pushing the bike. I thought ruefully, for the first time in my life if only I had toe clips or SPD pedals that fixed your shoe to the pedal you could use your leg to get some more power on the upstroke. I got thinking about the Paraolympics and how there are one legged cyclists. I decided to not give up so easy. I rummaged in my bags and found a short bungee chord. I lashed my foot to the good pedal as best I could and we were off again. This world reasonable well for flats and slight inclines but I still had to push it up the steeper climbs. All things considered we made better time than one would expect.

It should be noted that Oshima Island has two ferry terminals. Departures and arrivals are determined by the weather so you never know until that day which ferry terminal you can leave from. They make the decision at 7 am. Motomachi is the closest terminal to Toshiki Campground. Given my handicap I was hoping the ferry would be leaving from Motomachi. We covered the 8 or so K to harbor but when we got there we learned that the ferry would be leaving from Okada Harbor, the same terminal we arrived at. When I toured Oshima last year my ferry left from Motomachi so I never got to ride the 7 km between the two ferry terminals. I was aware of the possibility that ferry might leave from Okada but since you have go through Motomachi on the west shore to get to Okada checking Motomachi first didn’t waste our time. It was just disappointing that I would have to ride another 7 km with a broken crank. But there was nothing for it. I just had suck it up and go the extra distance. We made it to Okada by noon. We had plenty of time to kill before the ferry was scheduled to leave. The wind turned out not be an issue after all and the warmed up nicely. We cooked up the last of pasta and ate lunch in the shadow of the new ferry terminal building. Which I had never been in before. 

The first leg of our journey home was over. We checked in our bike as cargo and boarded the ferry when it was time. The passenger seats on the ferry are wide and comfortable. More like business class on a airplane and less like economy. I was able nap for a couple hours before we arrived that evening back at Takeshiba Ferry Terminal in Tokyo. We retrieved our bikes from cargo. Now the final challenge was left. It is about 35 km from Takeshiba to Home. How was I go the distance with only one pedal? Fortunately, the route home went right past my office. Pearl and I came up with a plan. We would ride together to Aoyama where I would park the broken down Blue Beast behind my office where I normally would during the week. There was an added benefit that the Blue Lug bike shop wasn’t far from office. Pearl took the train back from Shibuya station, while meanwhile I would ride Pearl’s bike because she was a little tired. Thus, we finished our tour separately not together.

Lesson Learned
1. Don’t put off doing necessary repairs and maintenance.
2. Don’t forget gloves. It gets cold at night.

I am glad Pearl was with me. She took it all in stride and didn’t worry. She really was a good riding partner through all of the Type II fun. And maybe the best part was she said she wanted to challenge Oshima Island again someday.

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Oshima Again
My squirrelly girlie and I will take advantage of a national holiday to make a 4 day weekend of it. We will leave on a Thursday to ride from our home to the Takeshiba Ferry Terminal on the Tokyo waterfront. Since the ferry doesn’t leave until 10 pm there is no hurry to get there. We only need to be their about a half hour before departure to beat the cut off for loading our bikes onto the ferry. I plan to check in about an hour in advance just to be on the safe side. We will lounge about on the ferry all night and arrive at Oshima earrrrrly in the morning. I reserved second class tickets. There are two types, the first is for a 10 person cabin style ticket which means just a big carpeted room. The other kind is reclining seats. I went for the seats. There is probably less cameraderie in the seats but I have to say that they are much more like flying business class on an airplane than economy class even though they are the cheap seats.

There are two campgrounds on the island, a free campground on the southern tip and a paid, luxury campground on the west coast. I tried to get a reservation at the nice campground but It was already booked full up. So it is the free place for us. Since we don’t need reservations for Toshiki campground. If we were so inspired I think we could find many places to stealth camp as well. The available activities on Oshima are limited. We plan to visit the zoo and climb Mt. Mihara to visit the volcano crater. Gojinka Onsen is definitely on the itinerary. I think I will bring a mini kite too.

Sagamiko or Bust
The second trip will be the last week in March. When I came back from my trip to Motosuko last October I promised I would take him fishing in the spring. As time went by, I convinced him to make it a biking and fishing trip. Lake Sagamiko is only about 2 hours, give or take, from home and since fishing is the main purpose of the trip and not biking Lake Sagamiko seemed like the perfect destination. It is only about 35 km from the house. A little more than my usual morning commute. I noted there was a campground right on the southeastern tip of the lake. Mino-Ishidake Campground is unique in that it is only accessible by boat from Sagamiko Park on the opposite side of the Lake. We will take off on a Friday. Settle can settle in and do a little fishing before night fall. There are rental boats so I think that on the next day we will rent a boat and do some deep water fishing. There will probably be time for some fishing on Sunday before we return home. There is no place to buy food near the campground so we will have to stock up before we get on the boat. My boy thinks we are going to catch enough fish eat and maybe we will but just to be on the safe side I think I will pack some instant meals to be on the safe side.

Our Gear
Besides having a common theme of needing a boat to get to our final destination (which, was not intentional, really) we will be traveling with two tents. My kids will use the lightweight one-person tent that I usually travel with. I will carry a bulky, old canvas Boy Scout tent that I scavenged from the gomi about a year ago. This will be the first trip that I take with it. I will check it out and try to weatherproof it a bit before we leave. It is bulky, heavy and difficult to set up. I have put it up in my back yard and I took it on a day trip to Tama River once but I have never spent the night in it. It will be a new experience for me. It’s all part of the adventure. I bought a couple of those emergency space blankets just in case.

I plan to do cooking on both trips. My cooking gear is sufficient for one person. I bought an additional camping cook set for 800 yen at a local second hand shop a few months ago. When I say it is used I mean barely used. It was still in its original box and I didn’t see any signs that the pan and been put over a flame. The kit even came with tin plates and cups which I will probably leave at home. It will be the first time I take the used gear out on a trip. I only have one small stove so we will have to take turns cooking our meals, whatever they may be.

Since the goal of the second trip is to go fishing we will be carrying fishing gear. I am leaving this entirely up to my son. From time to time he takes trips with his friends to the Tama River by bike so I am assuming he knows how to lash his fishing poles to his frame. I have some velcro straps that will suit the purpose. I am also leaving the provisioning of bait up to him as well.

I have an extra rack from a retired mama-chari to put on my daughter’s bike and my son’s bike already has a rack on it. I purchased a set of rear panniers from Amazon for this trip. To be honest, I just wanted new panniers. The Konnig panniers that I bought over a year ago are wearing a bit thin on the bottom. Mind you, it’s nothing a bit of canvas or vinyl and some heavy duty thread can’t patch up. They aren’t very waterproof and they tend rub against my wheel or spokes when they are empty. They are dingy gray panniers that are in all of my videos up to now. This time I tried to do a little more research before I purchased. I bought a set of Pellor panniers that will hold up to 70 liters. It is a three piece set. Two side bags and a top bag that can double as a backpack. I got the blue ones to match my bike. I am contemplating returning them as I noticed that the stitching coming out near the zipper on both side bags. If I file a claim now I may not  get replacement before the start of the first trip. I could fix it with some thread and needlework of my own but why should I. The bags will last through two short trips so maybe I will hold off until April before complaining.

First Timers
This is the first time for both of my kids to go on an extended bike trip. Both kids ride their bikes every day during their daily commutes to soccer practice or their studies. I feel very confident that both of them can handle the distance over flat ground. My daughter, Pearl, just turned 19, rides a Giant hybrid commuter with skinny tires. Not ideal for touring but we aren’t going thousands of kilometers. We will probably won’t even cover 150 km on this trip. There are a few steep (around 8-9%) but relatively short climbs lasting no more than a couple of kilometer. As I recall there is about a 1000 meters of elevation change all together. It all depends on how many times we go around. Though her bike isn’t exactly geared for climbs and she isn’t used to riding with a full load I think she will be okay. She is strong and generally fit though perhaps a bit out of shape from the past year of concentrating on studying. Her tires are of the skinny, Ricky Racer, type. I am a little worried about how her bike will handle the load. She gets flats a fairly regular basis during her plus/minus 8 km commute to her studies. I will stock up on spare tubes for her bike. Fortunately, the roads on Oshima are in top condition.

My son, Andy, is 14 soon to be 15. I know he can do the distance because when he was only 7 or 8 we went on a 40 km, unloaded bike ride around Lake Tamako when he was still riding  a cheap, too heavy kids mountain bike with only 6 gears. He did it just fine with lots of breaks for candy and snacks. He now has an off-brand 12-speed commuter hybrid. No granny gear on it but his tires have some width to them so I don’t have any worries about his bike handling the load. He is a big boy now and shouldn’t need as many snack breaks to keep him turning the cranks. There is much less climbing on the route to and from the Lake. There is one big climb of about 8% grade and 350 meters of elevation change.

I am really looking forward to these two tripsNeither kid has a granny gear so I am keen to see if their youth and glowing health will offset their equipment shortcomings and inexperience. And how it will compare to this fat, over 50 but experienced dude on a touring bike with more appropriate gearing.. Hopefully, they won’t make their old Da look too bad.

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​This was a fun trip. While I didn’t do as much cycling I did see a lot of great sites including the cute little Lesser Panda pictured above. Combining cycling with a ferry was a unique experience. Oshima Island is a cycling paradise. I recommend it for anyone who wants a pleasant weekend cycling in a unique environment.

Day 1
The ferry to Oshima Island doesn’t leave Takeshiba Ferry Terminal until 10 pm so I did my usual commute to work in Omotesando. This time I made the journey fully loaded with all my gear. I had time to kill so I toodled around Tennouzu Isle before going to Hamamatsucho for some dinner. I still got to the ferry terminal with time to kill. The passenger ferry allows bicycles to be checked as cargo without put your bike in a rinko bukuro (bike bag). I costs 1500 yen but it is worth. Other, Ricky Racer types, bagged their bikes a brought them on the ferry as carry on luggage. I waited too long to make my reservation on the ferry so I was not able to get a seat or space in the tatami area. So I had to spend the trip on the deck. It was a bit chilly but the night view of the shoreline along Tokyo Bay is great. I got a seat at one of the few tables on the deck by sharing it with some Russians who were going further on to Nijima Island. We had an interesting conversation until they went below decks to their reserved seats.

The ferry was filled to capacity so I wasn’t the only person spending the night on the deck. There was plenty of space and many people rolled out their sleeping bags or pitched their tent. I didn’t want to hassle with the tent but I did unroll my sleeping bag and slept for a few hours until the ferry reached Oshima Island around 5 am.

Day 2
The ferry arrived at Okada Harbor. There are two ferry terminals on Oshima, one at Okada and one at Motomachi. The terminal used depends on the weather.

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