namhlanje

pack sort move drive load drive unload drive park eat chat chat chat drive cops lose cops white cat AAAHHH!!! (like a lady) BRAKES drive petrol japanese jabber to petrol pump drive see you later mate drive home blog

namhlaje = today in Xhosa

there's something about joe & manami

They're probably two of the loveliest people I have met here, always receiving me with open arms and effortlessly making me feel totally at home. I feel hopeful and recharged whenever I meet them.

This is thanks and love to Joe and Manami.

making friends with the white line

I recently received delivery of my newest companion for my Ride for Africa Japan project, my trailer. During the same week word on the ether was that Sarah and Garry were planning a trip to Koyasan, so I jumped at the opportunity to see them and to make a ride of it. An equipment test of sorts, and a way of clocking some mileage with a thing I have never ridden with. It was a rough week, and my eagerness to get out work one day superseded my concentration when reading Sarah’s email. And that’s how I began my trip down to Totsukawa to the BBQ in paradise at the secret waterfall, along what I learnt was a 200km route, partly because I had mistaken Sunday for Saturday.
Friday night, I can’t seem to get hold of Sarah. Perhaps they’re busy. I can’t seem to get a hold of Erin and Steve. Perhaps Steve’s not back from Guam. Perhaps Erin’s busy. Still can’t hold of Sarah. Maybe the plan has changed. Hey Jack! Totsukawa? Umm…not sure mate, I’m supposed to be meeting Sarah and Garry at Koyasan, but I’m not sure about the plan. Lots of ‘not sure’ but I may just make a trip out to Totsukawa from there! Still no word, still no realisation that I’d read the email wrong.
So at sparrow fart on Saturday I woke a man on a mission. Stuffed down some breakfast and loaded my trailer. Don’t think I’ll need me tent I thought to myself. And off I went, heading in the general direction of Koyasan and Totsukawa. I thought I would play it by ear and make the decision of where to go while on the road. It proved to be a good plan, seeing how the road splits in Gojo and good enough riding time for everyone to be up and for calls to be made. Noon. Gojo. Still no word. Just a little on the hot side of the thermometer as the mercury crept up to 30 Celsius.
I made a lunch stop at a combini (Japanese for convenience store), and ran into a bloke who had come from Osaka on a bit of a loop ride. No massive mountains for him, thanks. Soon enough we were chewing the fat in the parking lot comparing routes and uniting our interests when another bloke appeared. This time in a car. Needless to say, on ride that day there had been all sorts of expressions in response to my trailer…everything from “WOW!!!” to “What the f@#$ is that?” My rider friend was more about the trailer, and my car chum was more about the where are you from, where are you going, gees that’s far, lot’s of mountains, I’m heading the same direction but not as far crowd. Nice enough fellow though. We chilled for a bit and discussed routes. We all knew that this was an exercise in futility, seeing that the only way around the mountains was over the mountains! I recalled what my car felt like when I made the trip there last year with Elaine, Steve and Erin. My turn.
Bikerman headed down the road for some flat action, Motorman headed up the hill with a flat foot and Bikerboy left in plumes of tyre smoke mounted his steed in preparation for what the board said was another 90km. Sweet. It could very well have been vertical, the climb. Flicking through gears and smoothing out the pedal strokes so the trailer wouldn’t buck. On more lesson learned. People in cars rolling down the hill would gawk at me, and the see the extra bit of wheels and stuff off the back of the bike, gawk at it, gawk at me all in a few milliseconds as they passed. I pulled off the road at a rest stop and took a 10 minute nap. Seemed like the sensible thing to do. My salt encrusted shirt crackling as lengthened myself on a bench. I stirred with a roar approaching in the distance. Two, three, four…I counted. Just as soon as I was going to fall back into bliss, it entered the parking area, ten times as loud preceding the Harleys it emerged from. Guys a fourth the size of their hogs climbed off and whipped out their cigarettes like samurai in tobacco wars. By now I was off my bench and ogling the coke in the vending machine. Hmmm…one of those please, the Harley glistening in the sun behind me. Ok well, time to say hello before I push off. Naturally the same conversation as earlier ensued. A quick inspection of the equipment left me with questions of where I was from, where I had come from, and where I was going to. Aren’t those supposed to be life changing questions? I have enough time to ponder. Diamonds, Africa, gold, money entered the conversation. The road hogs thought I was crazy, because even they weren’t going that far. Too tired they said. I huffed up the hill as they puffed away. A few minutes later they cruised on past me with big waves and spectacular roars. Nice one:)

By the top of the 13km ascent, I reached 1500 metres of climbing for the day.

DOWNHILL!!!

The road then levelled out somewhat and hugged the sides of the mountains, winding and passing through countless tunnels. Spectacular green mounds rose from the dam. The smell of hot asphalt comforted my nose, and the white line I had followed all this way was now my friend. It was kind enough to let me ride on it where the road was rough; kind enough to show me the way and assure me that there was more of it to follow after the next bend. We had something in common: we were both going a long way.
The downhills meant uphill’s for my return journey and every kilometre closer to Shingu on the coast was a kilometre further away from home. By now the relenting sun and the cool of the tunnels was inviting. I passed some of the most intense and insane construction I have ever seen in my life. It looked like a super speedway being built in the air along the endless valley of trees and forests, speckled with hamlets. Cranes assaulting the sky from the valley floor to help sprout mountains of concrete on which a ribbon of tarmac would be laid. Unbelievable. Well, keep riding mate, because you’re not fast enough for that.
The last 15km of my ride and I ran out of fluid, food and change. Tough. Pain was imminent, but I snapped out of it when loud cheers from a car passing me flooded the air. We pulled off the road like a team of gardeners out to water and food parched ground. I gobbled down two bananas and chocolate, filled my reservoir and chatted with my mates gathering around. What a support team! Here’s to a lovely crowd: Jarrett, Kim san, Jack, Myra, Arthur, Olivier and Tenielle. The water was like putting petrol in. Bananas and chocolate was like putting rocket fuel in. Your company was like befriending the white line. I guess I missed the BBQ in paradise at the secret waterfall, but I made it to see you, and revisit a special place that I will probably not see for a while to come.

dinner and games at minami's

Dinner at the Minami's in Soni tonight was a long awaited one. Despite the rain and the initial lack of vegetables for the curry, we somehow rounded them up, cooked them, spiced them and devoured them being as hungry as we were; and despite the complaints by the little one that it was taking too long and later that it was to spicy to eat. Blah! haha!
The Minami's run a petrol station at the intersection where the road splits for Soni and Mitsue. A lifesaver for when you're running on fumes and heading out of town for whatever reason. It seems to be the case whenever Rob's riding with me. They've got three boys, two at high school, Yuki and Shoki, and one in primary...yes, the one complaining about the lack of food and the spiciness. He's gaming champ, pulling long hours on weekends perfecting the moves on all the games they have on their Nintendo Wii. The name's Tatsuki. Gaming champ. Legend has it that on any given Saturday, he'd wake at 10h00 to hit the living room armchair and make his way through different levels on the different games he has. Pulls an eight hour day he does. Madness if you ask me, but then, who's going to be sitting in the saddle for 5 to 6 hours a day pedalling through Japan? I must be the crazy one.
Dinner was pleasant, and the mood was lively. Tired faces around the table said it was still a week day. As the five boys retired to the living room to teach me the ways of the Wii, the parents cleared up and began their own retirement, knackered from yet another day of managing the pumps in a village somewhere in Japan.
It was a good time. They loved the food, the new smells, the lentils they had never seen, the chai they had never had made at home, and the company I guess. It was lovely hearing Shoki's ambitions and be reminded that you can never be too young or too old to dream and be excited about something. He's a bright one, very much into the computer programming and new technology. Hmm...should I get a Wii? Probably not. It could mean the end to most of my social life. Although...no.
For now it's time to roll up in bed. Good times.

from the mountains

Here it finally is. Something I have wanted to begin for a long time. But now, so close to the end of my stay here in the mountains, there's probably no better time than the present to remember what I have seen and experienced. So, through this blog, and my pictures, I hope that I can relate the beginning of my adventures I've dreamed of so long.
The title picture is one of many views overlooking hundreds of kilometers of mountains in Japan. This particular picture I took from Soni Kougen, in eastern Nara Prefecture.
When you're amongst them they seem pretty ordinary, or is that just because I've become accustomed to seeing them. It's when you climb to the top, to get that fresh breeze and clear your mind, that you see them for what they are. Majestic. Alone, but together.
Footprints? Well, I was talking to my friends Steve and Erin the other day about how I was standing at the classroom window watching the field below littered with footprints. I could see mine from far away. "The field has memory", I murmured. Despite the thaw everyday they remained there as everyone logged their arrival to and departure from school, squeezing the icy water from the soggy ground.
The prints filling with water during the day, like when you dig a hole in the sand at the beach. Transformed into a glassy spectacle overnight, cracking and crunching under my weight. I wonder what it looks like on weekends.
Footprints never disappear. It's as if every step you take on the ground travels deep into the Earth and becomes a memory.
I leave my footprints wherever I go.