I made a weekend trip to Tokyo to visit two old friends also visiting Tokyo, brothers Ram and Krish Kulkarni. (“Ram”, short for “Ramchandera”, rhymes with “prom”)

Ram has been my best friend for 30 years, since grad school at the University of New Hampshire. When I then moved to Japan, his twin brother Krish, who was at the time a graduate student at the University of Tokyo, picked me up at the airport.

When I got married almost 20 years ago, Ram was living near Mt. Fuji and came down to Kyoto to be my best man. Fumie and I were at his wedding in Ahmedabad, India, the previous year.

I hadn't seen Ram since a visit to his house three years ago. I hadn't seen Krish since a visit at Kyoto Station as he was passing through the year prior to that.

I never tire of looking out the window of a bullet train to watch the countryside pass at 300kph (185mph). I thought I'd done various “out the window of a bullet train” posts in the past, but at the moment the only ones I can find are this and this.

These kind of scenes catch my eye as I think of the lovely road that must lead up to it. In the case of this temple, it turns out that there are three routes up, including this Strava segment. The location is a ways beyond where the cycling races were held the other day... I should be able to get there in about two hours. (It had taken the train 12 minutes.)

I didn't do much in Tokyo except hang out with Ram, Krish, and Akemi, Krish's friend of 30 years who kindly let us crash at her place for the duration. But we did go out for a walk one day.

Ram got along famously with the waiter, or so it seemed from their happy animated banter in Hindi. Thankfully for me, the waiter also spoke Japanese and English.

I know little about Indian food, so I was happy to let Ram and Krish order, and was not disappointed. We all agreed that it was very, very good.

Krish currently lives in India, while Ram is currently on long-term assignment in Europe, so we never know when we'll be able to meet, but with both of them, the years melt away when we get together, so whenever it is, this meeting will feel like yesterday.

On Wednesday I did what must have been the roughest ride of my short cycling life, a ride that left me absolutely exhausted to the bone before I was even a third done with it. In the end I rode the entire big loop I'd planned, 175km (110mi) to Kobe City's Mt. Rokko and back, but it took 12 hours and a lot more willpower than I thought I had.

It was almost a spur of the moment, and I didn't think it'd be all that difficult for me, and I left the house in good spirits.

The first climb of the day is the nasty Osaka East segment mentioned in my blog post about better Strava segments. Overall it's only 8% for 4km, but it has some very steep sections.

It's always beautiful.

I wasn't particularly trying, but it turns out that on a 23-minute effort I missed my PR by 15 seconds. Had I known I was so close I might have tried, but at the same time, I knew I had a long day, so I was trying to be efficient more than fast.

It was a bit chilly (5℃), made worse by the strong headwind that appears once I got over the pass. I was glad that light spring/fall gloves aside, I was still in full winter kit.

Not long after this gate begins a long, lovely descent that I'd never taken (though I'd climbed it the other direction twice before, including this ride). It was long and sweeping and fast, so I would have loved to have fun with it, but with the wind I felt like I was trying to swim upstream, so I just let gravity do its thing and hoped it was enough to overcome the wind.

By this time I was just following the route on my Garmin cycling computer, so I had little idea where I actually was, but for the most part it was deserted mountain roads...

I ended up chatting with the guy seen in walking in the background. He excitedly told me that more and more cyclists were coming by this area, in groups. He seemed to like the idea, and was amazed by it (as the road is quite steep).

Most of the route was new roads for me, so other than what was around Kyoto, and the main destination of the climb (Mt. Rokko), I didn't have any sense for what awaited me, so I never knew what was around the next curve. In this case, it was a steep descent, which is always nice.

Taking the new road, I was rewarded with a long 12% climb that was most brutal in its layout: it was long and mostly straight, so you could see the long rising road waiting for you. For me, this is much more difficult than the same climb on a twisty road, since I can't see (and be daunted) by what lies ahead.

In the end, though, I got a nice (but still super hazy) view.

Again, I didn't know this road so didn't know what might be coming next, but I assumed there would be some sort of descent eventually, and I was not disappointed. The descent from turned out to be a lovely 6km at 6%. And again, I tickled myself by just taking it easy yet still registering a top-10 time (in this case out of 446 people who have done it a combined 1,400 times).

And that's where, a third of the way into the trip, the day effectively ended for me.

That long lovely descent ended in a big city, near the Osaka Itami Airport, and the moment I got into city traffic, a profound weariness hit me like the most crushing of post-Thanksgiving-dinner food comas. It was amazing in its abruptness, as if a switch had been turned off. At first I thought it might have been because I used so much energy concentrating during the descent, but even after resting for 10 minutes and eating again, I didn't feel any better.

I didn't think it was the dreaded bonk (cycling version of “hitting the wall”) because I had eaten before leaving, and on a regular schedule along the way. I didn't know what it was, but hoped I could shake it off during the 10km of city riding I had to get through to reach the start of the main climb of the day, Rokko East, whose 880m (2,888') of vertical gain averages out at 8% over its 11.6km (7.2mi).

I had hoped that the easy city riding would let me shake off the deep fatigue I felt, but it didn't. I was so tired, that closing my eyes for a second brought the most wonderful feeling of complete comfort, to be followed at the end of the second by the dread of not being able to keep them closed.

A minute or so in, I gave in and stopped, parked the bike, lay down, and closed my eyes for 45 minutes.

It felt wonderful to lie down, close my eyes, and just quietly listen to the passing sounds, but in the end it didn't do anything to help, so after 45 minutes I collected myself and trudged upward on the unrelenting climb.

When thinking of the big climb up Mt. Rokko, I'd had in mind how easy it was the only other time I'd done it, but it had dawned on me during the 10km across the city that my previous climb was over a 25km route, and that this time I'd be doing the same elevation over less than half the distance (and thus the slope was twice as steep). Ugh, what a stupid mental mistake. But anyway, I was here now and I just had to get through it.

The only other people I saw going up, besides the occasional car, was one hiker and some kids (junior high or high school) on heavy mamachari city bikes. Well, they weren't “on” them, since they were pushing slowly uphill. I let them know how much farther it was (4.2km), which shocked them, but they kept on.

There are absolutely no services of any kind during this long climb, except at the main road's pass there's a restaurant and some vending machines, but you're not quite at the top yet, because from there there's a short intense climb (300m @ 15%) to the top...

I guess a lot of cyclists don't know about the last little bit to the top, or choose not to take it. It's really daunting if you're not used to steep stuff, especially after having killed yourself for an hour to get here. I'd been wanting to make a Kyoto-Rokko round trip for a long time, and was inspired to actually do it now by an acquaintance's ride a few days prior. He's much stronger than me (his time up to the restaurant was an hour faster than mine), but for whatever reason he didn't make the final push to the top.

In fact, of all the friends and acquaintances I follow on Strava, only one has ever made the full eastern climb I was doing, and even then, the two other folks he was riding with opted to skip that last steep climb.

I didn't skip it, and was surprised that my two-minute effort was only 12 seconds slower than my PR.

The mask, by the way, is to warm the air as I breath. My tonsils are apparently very “sensitive” to cold, and even a short spell of exertion without the mask would give me flu symptoms for the next couple of days. A combination of some allergy medicine and this cheap ($7) mask makes it possible for me to cycle in the winter.

I didn't stick around. Being inactive at the top meant that I was starting to get chilly, and knew I'd freeze on the long descent so for the first time in months I put on a windbreaker as an extra layer. The long descent should have been thrilling, but I just plodded along.

The second half, the gorgeous Ura Rokko descent, should have been the highlight of my day, but my fingers were so cold I could barely feel the brake levers, which is not any more conducive to a safe descent than my fatigue.

I wasn't hungry, but thought that a real meal might help. Unfortunately, I didn't come across a restaurant in a timely fashion, so I made do with a convenience store and had a cup of coffee, some bread, and a natto rice wrap.

This was followed by some more steep climbs, but nothing as long as Mt. Rokko.

At the top of one climb I came across this forlorn sight. “Wanda” is verbal play meaning more or less “the woof”, so it seems it was some kind of doggie amusement park. Indeed, I found this urban-explorer report on the place.

Eventually came the next big descent, which turned out to be one of my favorites, the Arima Highway (5km @ -6%). It was long and mostly straight, which means one can really get up a head of steam. I spent most of the time stuck behind a truck spewing dark blue fumes, and then when he kindly let me by I quickly got blocked by an elderly driver in a tiny tin box, but it's just as well. The light meal at the convenience store had perked me up much more than any of the other food I'd been eating, but I still wasn't fit for a mentally-challenging descent.

I had to make my way through some urban areas for a while...

After a long while of climbing and descending, I started to feel lethargic again, which told me that it was indeed the light meal at the convenience store that had perked me up. I have no idea why the yokan and calorie cookies I normally use weren't doing it for me this time, but I finally decided to find a real restaurant. I came across towns and villages, but it took a while to find an appropriate restaurant where I could park the bike safely, but at the 120km (75mi) point in the ride, I did, and I ate.

More ups and downs ensued; I eventually started to feel much better.

The wind, which had been brutal in the morning but then had subsided for me on the other side of Mt. Rokko, had picked up again for hours around the restaurant stop, but mercifully turned into a lovely tailwind toward the end of the ride in Kameoka. That, combined with the energy from the meal, and I was felt good for the first time since the first climb.

I actually didn't feel so bad by the time I got home; I just wish I could have said the same for the bulk of the ride. The ride savaged me, and I'm still not sure why. I want to do it again, but with energy next time, so I'll bring a bike lock so I can stop more easily to eat.

Overall at 176km (109mi) it was my 8th-longest ride ever, and with 3,491m (11,453') of vertical climb it ranked fourth toughest of my rides so far. But on the “painful grind” scale, I think it ranks #1.

Here's the Relive.cc video of the ride.

I joined a big group ride for the first time in a long while last week, Andy's “LSD” (long slow distance) ride. I was happy to finally meet Kevin from Kobe and Geoffrey from Otsu, whom I'd conversed with online but had never met in person.

For me the ride (view at Strava) was 116km (72mi) at mostly an easy pace, though the times I tried to keep up with the others quickly took their toll on me. I've been doing long rides lately, but not much fast and not much climbing, so I'm out of shape.

As much riding as I do in these parts, it's rare for me to happen across another rider that I know, but I did just that early in the ride when Hotta-san and I crossed paths. I've ridden on a few rides with him in the past, and most recently he was the cycling adviser for a cycling-related movie in which I appeared as an extra.

As I mentioned in yesterday's post, drafting as seen in the photo above is a great way for a pair or group to work together to go overall faster than they could individually, but the act of taking the photo caused me to slow down just enough that I lost the benefit, and they quickly pulled away, leaving me to (slowly) fend for myself.

At the races this weekend I noticed several riders wearing the exact same team jersey as Geoffrey, such as this guy:

I've never seen a pro cyclist in person, so I can only imagine what their form looks like in real life, but that mental image became incarnate during this ride when watching Geoffrey descend. His form was like art... I've no other way to explain it. I'd never seen anything like it. It was truly beautiful and mesmerizing.

I doubt it comes through very well in video, but here's a video of a descent we did toward the end of the ride, taken with my Cycliq Fly12 front camera:

Anyway, we stopped for a break at Hiyoshi Dam...

Ionut took advantage of the “足湯” (ashiyu) hot foot bath, which is apparently fed by a hot spring. It seems to be available 24/7. I've used it before... it's nice, but one needs to remember to bring a small towel.

This is a lovely road that I've featured on my blog before, here, here, and here. I tried to keep up with the fast folks, and did so for the first half or so, but my legs just gave out. I finished two minutes behind (15 min vs. 13 min).

I saw my first cycling road race yesterday, a small local affair. Road racing is quite a bit different than the only other kind of bicycle racing I've seen, cyclocross, so it was a great experience.

The races yesterday were 「第5回守山野洲川クリテリウム」, the fifth Moriyama City Yasugawa River Criterium, with short races all day over a loop on closed-off public roads.

It was a 32km (20mi) ride to get there, so I left with some friends from Kyoto early, to arrive in time to watch some other friends race.

I brought my Nikon D4 and big Nikkor 70-200/2.8, schlepped in a backpack, so I don't have shots of the uneventful-anyway ride there.

I had researched the event the previous day, and taking into account the course, what roads would be closed, good vantage for photography, etc. I picked a spot that gave me easy access to riders at two opposite sides of the loop.

We arrived while the first race was going on, and so I used the opportunity to practice with the camera...

This particular race was 12 laps around the 2.2km (1.4mi) loop, so I had plenty of opportunity to try different approaches.

I think this guy went on to win by a 20-second margin.

The second race of the day was the one I came to watch, a pairs time trial where teams of two riders start at 15-second intervals, racing against the clock for three laps (taking about 11~12 minutes).

We've seen both Ionut (pronounce yo-notes) and Stephanie on my blog in the past, Stephanie here, here, and here, and Ionut here and here.

They were to be the second team to start, so I was down at my spot waiting with the camera.

I also knew that Higuchi-san (the lady in the shot above) would be riding this race. Manseki and I did a ride with her last year, and I often stop by a cafe where she works on the way home from a ride.

Higuchi-san had mentioned that the sixth team was strong, so I watched out for them as well...

It's much easier to ride directly in the slipstream behind someone, rather than being forced to push through the air all by yourself. When both riders in the team are of comparable strength, they'll take turns at the front, but in these male/female pairs, generally the man rides in front the whole time, allowing the woman to go much faster than she would on her own, thereby allowing the team as whole to finish more quickly.

The difference in posture among the three pairs is striking, with the final pair in a much more aero posture. They clearly had experience doing this.

Not only is the individual position of each rider on the bike important, but even more-so how closely tucked in the second rider is to the first, to take maximum advantage of the draft. In my limited experience, it's difficult to stay tucked in closely, especially on a course like this where the road rises and falls and turns. If the front rider is too strong out of a turn or up an incline, the second rider is dropped and draft is destroyed. If the first rider is not strong enough, the whole team goes slower than they need to. I suppose they need a lot of communication and experience to stay tightly in sync.

One more comparison of the three teams I was watching:

She's so far back in that last photo that she's not getting any benefit from the draft.

It seems clear who's in their first race and who seems to have a lot of experience. I shudder to think what I'd look like. Maybe next year I'll enter and we'll find out.

Stephanie and Ionut got third place, which is pretty darn good for their first race. (Stephanie has a long history of solo triathlons, but I think this was her first pair time trial.) Their prize was a dozen eggs each.

The pair whose form I liked came in second place and won gyoza. Amazingly, for all their better form, their time was only two seconds faster per lap (6 seconds overall) than Ionut and Stephanie, which just goes to show how strong Ionut and Stephanie are to begin with.

I never saw the team that won, probably because they started in a slot that put them opposite the teams I was watching. They won by a 35-second margin.

While milling around after the race, I noticed (and immediately respected) this guy:

There were still races all day, but I'd seen what I came for, so I headed off to explore some nearby mountains, but I'll leave that for another post.

Continued here...

As I posted the other day, I made a visit to Suntory's Whisky Distillery in the Yamazaki area just south of Kyoto. Eric and I arrived early for the tour, so we wandered a bit.

A public road bisects the distillery campus, and while the road then turns 90° to wrap up behind and beyond the campus, the logical straight-ahead continuation brings you to Shiio Shrine, apparently on Suntory property.

The public road heads off to the right, pitching up sharply (~15% grade). It looked inviting to cycle, so I came back later by bicycle to poke around. I also made a Strava segment for this road, starting with the slow climb from the distillery entrance until this turn, continuing then with the steep climb after the turn.

But for today's visit, Eric and I were on foot, so we wandered into the shrine. The entrance path has two stone gates.

Just to the left of the steps in front of the gate in the photo above is a light pole, on which there's an old (and to me, odd) forest-fire warning sign...

As best I can tell, the character in the sign is a chameleon smoking a cigarette. Lovely

Not far away is a little alcove with a water-fountain feature. It seems like it should be photogenic, but I wasn't feeling it....

The small temple building itself is apparently so un-notable that I didn't even taking a picture as I moved to the mountain trails that start behind it.

It's a pleasant place to wander around a bit, so if you visit the distillery for a tour, some time before or after for the bamboo will be rewarding.