I didn't plan to do this ride, but was hoping that
something like this would pop up on the Tokyo Cycle forum. It was about 140km (plus 30km riding to the start), and most of the route was following the Arakawa River, and then onto the climb that broke me, over that and onto another longer, but less steep climb. Similar in concept to the Honeysuckle and Corin Dam climbs on Fitz's, just longer, and a bit steeper...
Darragh had shared a quicker route to follow from home to the Arakawa, and from there I followed the river to a designated Family Mart convenience store. I was first to arrive, so popped in a brought a canned coffee and a couple of rice balls. It was only 6:45am, but I wasn't willing to risk not eating enough again. Shortly after I had scoffed my food, a woman pulled up on a lime green Cannondale. There were a few other cyclists around, but she was the only one in full kit. It was already 7am, scheduled meeting time, and I was a bit worried I'd come to the wrong place. I asked her if she was riding with TCC in my best Japanese. Yes she was, she replied in impeccable English. Ok, in the right place. Maybe only two of us riding? Soon a guy on a black Cannondale turned up (sensing a theme here?). This was Peter, the ride organiser. From their conversation, I gathered the woman was a new-ish rider, and hadn't ridden with Peter before. This distance, with a lot of climbing seemed ambitious for a new rider, I thought. That turned out to be a needless worry. I introduced myself to Peter, a quietly-spoken American. He admired my titanium bike. We talked briefly about Merlin, and American-produced titanium frames, as we pulled out of the parking lot. We headed back up the Arakawa River, to pick up the others.
The "Spaceship" is some sort of flood mitigation building with big water gates built into the levees. I'm sure someone will set me straight on the proper name. The rest of the group was waiting there. From memory another four English riders, and another Japanese one, making 8 of us all up. Pretty much the perfect bunch size, I thought. We continued on up the Arakawa River.
Nothing beats riding with locals, and it was a stress free ride not having to navigate, and then a far superior detour towards Shiraishi Pass than my previous one. There was very light traffic, and our bunch maintained a reasonable 32kph towards the hills. Again, someone pointed to the south and said, "usually you can see Fuji from here". Ah huh.
We stopped at the drink machines at the base of the climb. Without wanting to risk anything, I filled both bidons. One with water, the other with the famous, sickly-sweet isotonic drink, curiously called Pocari Sweat. As we started up the hill, someone said from behind me, "Come on you skinny Aussie, show us what you can do." And being totally goaded into doing what I swore I wouldn't do, I started enthusiasticly up the early bit of the climb, which is also the steepest. Stupid. I rode away from the others, but soon someone was on my wheel. It was Leicaman, otherwise known as Marc. He rode a Canyon, just like my (other) bike; and was resplendent in a pink-striped Rapha Jersey, bibs, and was wearing those Giro shoes with the laces. He had changed them that morning to pink, to match his jersey. Of course, my heart rate was soon at 95%, and I started to slow down. "What's happening?", asked Marc, "I thought you were going to lead me out!", he chided, smirking. He'd pulled up beside me at this time, and I pretended I wasn't trying to suck more air into my lungs than could possibly fit. "You're fading a bit", he said, but it was a gentle ribbing. "Save some for the last two kilometres, that's where you will gain some time." He headed up the hill, and as if to make a point, did it while singing to himself, as he disappeared around the corner. Two kilometres in, and my legs were asking impolitely to stop. Of course, in trying to keep up the illusion I was actually macho, I kept going.
On the bright side, I didn't feel like I was going to bonk. But on the other hand, I found I had only a very hazy memory of the climb, which reinforced how out of it I was on my first attempt. Coming around another corner I saw Marc up ahead, he had his camera out and was lining up a shot. This was remarkably like riding with Philip! I wasn't in any mood to try and pull out my phone, so had to be content with Marc using me as his model. He rode on ahead again after grabbing his share of megapixels. At about 5km in or so another rider out of our group passed me. So this is what they were saying about saving some for the end. It was true of course, the grade eased off a bit, and if you hadn't wasted your legs in the fist four kilometres, then you could power up the last two. I reached the top feeling like I had been left behind. I hadn't, of course. Sweat pooled out of my skin as soon as I stopped. It was still humid, but not extraordinarily hot. Happily, the drinks van that was missing on my first attempt was waiting at the top. The place swarmed with cyclists, at least 20 or so. I didn't really need to take on more drinks, but it felt wrong not to buy one. I enjoyed it while the others came up the hill. I did feel like I hadn't climbed very well. In retrospect, and after much Strava filtering, I felt I did well in my second attempt. See Shiraishi Pass? I told you I'd be back.
The main climb of Shiraishi Pass is an average of 8% for 6.5km, according to Strava. By comparison, Strava says the main climb of Honeysuckle Creek (on Fitz's), is 7km at an average of 6%. Totally different conditions, I'll admit, but I did Shiraishi a good 10 minutes faster than my Honeysuckle PR. Must have been the Pocari Sweat.
While we were waiting for the others to come up the pass I observed a cyclist get to the top, recover, and then light a cigarette. So I wasn't hallucinating the last time. People really do that. Still! Smoking in Japan has been cut down drastically over recent years, with street smoking banned In many areas (allowed only in shielded corrals). My fellow cyclists also reacted with surprise. The smoker wasn't with us, of course, but there was a lot of murmured derision around us. Quite a cultural shift.
Just after we had regrouped and were about to leave, one of the guys discovered his rear derailleur spring had snapped (cross-chained uphill?). While being at the top of the climb is better than being at the bottom, the ride was over for him. But because he is a maniac, it didn't stop him from coasting down the descent at a fair clip, shooting video as he went. I make an appearance at about 6:30, braking hard as someone ahead suddenly lurched backwards. No problems on the way down, though, and it was a beautiful run, except for some strange speed bumps on the way down.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AymQ4QLldzI
The town at the bottom had plenty of restaurants and drink vending machines. We didn't stop there, and instead ventured on about another 10km to a pretty well-stocked convenience store. This one had cycle racks outside, another sure sign we were at a popular stop. We ate a quick lunch, refilled ourselves with all sorts of exotic drinks, and got going again. The sky had clouded over, showing the first signs of an incoming typhoon, which was due to start dumping rain the next day (and it did!).
The second climb was longer — nine kilometres — but only an average of 6%. I have no idea what the name of it was, but it was through a thoroughly pleasant forest. The road embankments were covered in hair moss, and there was the sweet smell of wood or something foresty, and the occasional buzzing bug. Marc and I chatted up the climb, mostly about climbing, until the road kicked up, and I fell silent with effort. Marc occupied himself by whistling. Bloody freak.
The climb seemed to be endless, but the road turned and ramped up multiple times. Tall rainforest trees lined the roads, and it was quite dark in amongst it all. The road was totally abandoned, apart from us cyclists. When we reached the top of the climb, the lead guys regrouped, they had decided they were going to go another way. I was unsure of the places they were talking about, and exactly where they were thinking of going, so I decided to wait for the others. Standing in a forest, alone, waiting for the others. Of course, in the silence, you begin to hear all the other things that go on in the forest. There was a lot of rustling as something large moved through the canopy, and then the low growth. I could only assume it was a monkey, but didn't see anything to confirm it.
I thought we had reached the top, but when the rest of the group arrived, I realised it wasn't. About another 300m ascent or so to go. We stuck together on the next part and wound our way up to the top. As we came to the top of the mountain, we had a great view through the trees towards (I think) the south. I took a photo but it didn't really do it justice. The rider that turned up just after me at the start looked like she had been run through the mill by this last climb, but her face lit up with the view. "Well, that was worth it", she said. The road wound on and we had a view to the north, Pete pointed out the intersection of three prefectures, and pointed approximately at our destination.
"It's all downhill from here."
And downhill it was. Unfortunately the road Pete liked was closed. It had a few car-swallowing holes in it. Nothing like seismic activity to liven things up a bit. We descended down an alternate route. There was a lot of water on the road, and some interesting rubber divider things, which I presume were for snow. Everyone else descended like demons. I was a bit more cautious. It was, like the other descents, quiet, smooth, and if you chose, fast. The drop down opened up to a few river crossings.
Nice old red bridges (well, I'm sure they weren't that old). The trees in this area were starting to turn. It felt, for the first time that visit, Autumnal. I wished that we had more time to watch the seasonal change.
We were going to do one more climb, but the consensus seemed to be to stay on the flat. Pete worked out a new route and we all followed him. He sat on the front and pulled the group along for many kilometres. I felt a bit bad for sitting in, but had absolutely no idea where we were going. Eventually, when he seemed to be fading, I offered to help him out. He said he appreciated the offer, but agreed that I had absolutely no idea where I was, and stayed on the front, anyway, he'd got his second wind, and felt fine. When we got to the train station, I realised he was gunning to meet a train timetable. We missed the train, but only had about 20 minutes to the next one. We packed our bikes into their bags. I chose a can of English Milk Tea to finish. 165km done for me. Lovely.
We piled into the back carriage of the train. There were already two bikes in train from further up the line. Adding ours made it look a bit like a bike shop. The train was reasonably empty when we got on, so it was easy to get seats, but over the next few stops, quickly filled up. After about 30mins, Chikako, one of the Japanese riders, pointed out that someone was sitting on my bike. Low and behold, a slightly drunk man in a suit was perched on the handlebars. Bear in mind that the front wheel had been removed, forks on the ground, and his whole weight was being taken by the handlebars and forks. I watched as the train bumped and jostled, the bike was leaning over onto one fork blade. His unmentionables were probably resting on my Garmin!
Chikako sprang up, and very politely explained he was sitting on a fragile object (whether or not it really is fragile, an outraged Pete murmured to me, he had never seen this before). Chikako implored the bloke to take her seat, which he refused. Of course, it was my problem, so wasn't going to let her give up a seat. I jumped up and offered him mine, he didn't seem to mind that proposition, and happily took my seat. At least he was off my bike. The rest of the trip was uneventful, and we ended up in central Tokyo area, specifically at Ueno, at night.
I thanked Pete. It was nice to ride in such a welcoming group. If you ever make it to Tokyo with a bike, do a TCC ride. It is well worth it. I'm only sorry I couldn't do more.
I pondered this in Ueno, thinking that the holiday was coming to an end. The impending typhoon was going to wipe out a few days of riding, the opportunities to get out were reducing greatly.
I considered riding back home, but took the soft option, got on a the train, and looked forward to a beer.
(If you are interesting in videos of TCC rides, see this
YouTube channel for videos by Tobias Olofsson)