I tried to get an early start riding out of Matsuyama in search of the blue line that marks the route around Shikoku but traffic was still heavy. I only saw the blue line once and then never again. No matter. It’s pretty hard to get lost following a coastline.
One thing I noticed in Matsuyama, it seems, more than anywhere else I’d been, was the proliferation of sculptured trees in residential yards. I was mistakenly referring to it as “bonsai”, but that’s for the miniature versions. These were trees and larger shrubs sculpted into exquisite shapes, known as “niwaki” and of course, you see them all over Japan, but Matsuyama seemed extraordinary for their abundance.
After a rather tiring hill climb, I headed to a smaller road along the coast and in fact was able to ride along a sea wall for quite awhile.
It was my plan to do the route in two days, again, I must have read the map distance wrong, but after a couple of hours riding it seemed possible I could get to Imabari in one day, even with a prolonged stop for lunch. Since it was close to Halloween, all the staff were dressed up. The hamburger was delicious.
After that indulgence, and the fact the road was getting a little busy I decided to take a smaller road that cut over the hills to Imabari. Good way to work off the hamburger. There were so many hills on this route I lost count; up and down, up and down. The last hill nearly killed me and I had to stop several times before getting to the top. I was so tired I couldn’t even muster up the energy to ask some farmers harvesting kiwi fruit if they wouldn’t mind giving me some.
Ahh, back in quiet Imabari, with its empty streets and little corner bars where locals were singing mournful ballads. All the hostels were full and I had booked for the next day because I thought I would be arriving then. The owner said I could stay at her place and leave my bike at the hostel so that seemed the best option.
The owner and her helper were a frantic pair, rushing around, getting this and that. We were communicating via our devices and I ended up getting a ride to her house from her helper. Little did I know it was way off in the sprawling suburbs! Too late now to do anything about it. The owner’s husband showed me a somewhat dreary room upstairs and that was it. I had paid for the room but was beginning to wonder if this was a big mistake; and their bathroom was filthy! Reminded me of home, not in a good way. Oh well, at least I had a place to sleep but I felt uncomfortable being away from my bike and being independently mobile. Maybe I just should have spent the night at the corner bar.
Kindness of strangers
Not trusting is the default
Where did we learn that?
