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JAPANTOURINGIarrived to motorcycle Japan with a notion that its societywas pretty uptight. To my delight, everyone wasso jokey and smiley. The moment I went to the john, Iunderstood why. Sensing my approach, the toilet coverautomatically lifted and jets sprayed a mist of electrolysedwater (to ensure that “dirt” wouldn’t stick).The über high-tech contraption was so intimidating Iforgot why I’d sat down in the first place. The arm rest andwall-panel controls had more gizmos than a TV remote: aheat control for the seat; music options; a built-in massager“to help defecation”; a bum gun for cleaning the privates,including a “turbo wash” option; a button for “front washing”and another for “rear washing”. Plus a heated blow-dryer.The Japanese had turned the act of poop and pee intoa hands-free, technologically enhanced pleasure ritual. Nowonder the women were so giggly.I’d signed up for a Secrets of Japan tour with EdelweissBike Travel which, appropriately, described the 16-day circumnavigation of Honshu — the main island — as“a mix of ancient traditions with modern technology, fantasyand creativity”. Our group of 15 riders (plus eight pillions)spanned the antipodes: three Canadians, three yanks, threeAussies, a Greek couple, a BelgianGerman-South Africanhybrid, and a sprinkling of Germans and Swiss. Tokyo’sRental 819 supplied the bikes — mostly BMW 1200GSs, witha pair of Ducati Multistradas and Honda Africa Twins, plus aSuzuki V-Strom and Harley-Davidson Ultra in the mix.We hightailed it out of the frenzied metropolis onthe Yokohama Expressway and two hours later hit the coastat Kamakura. The palm-lined coast highway to Enoshimacaused a “am I in Sausalito?” double-take. To my right, stylishhomes and cafes with names like Pacific Drive-In andAloha Beach Cafe. To my left, surfers rode the waves off acrème brûlée beach. This being Sunday, Tokyo’s friendly motorcyclefanatics were out in force. Packs of Harleys, Sportstourers galore. And bōsōzoku — a uniquely Japanese youthsub-culture on a miscellany of ridiculously modified bikes.Our lead guide, 50-year-old Angela de Haan, had firstscouted this trip for Edelweiss two years before. This washer baby. She’d stitched together a superb route combiningexpressways, two-lane toll roads, and convoluted onelanemountain roads called tōge that we devoured at highspeed, as befitted the nimble GSs. The fun began on theracetrack-smooth Mazda Turnpike — the go-to road (dubbed“Japan’s Nurburgring”) for automotive press trials — as wespiralled up eight miles of sweeping curves and tight coils tothe Daikanzan Sky Lounge for lunch and a grandstand viewof snow-capped Mt. Fuji. It was a great warm-up for morechallenging, adrenalin-charged riding which, during thenext two weeks, delivered us into Japan’s tooi inaka (deepcountry). Honshu measures 800 miles north to south, withastonishing diversity, from its rugged Mendocino-like coastlineto the snowy, soul-soaring heights of the Japanese Alps.“The Japanese for whom ‘skinship’promotes social bonding— have no inhibitions aboutbeing nude. Not even Speedosare permitted in onsen”Our man Christopher P Baker getting right into the local swingof things, wearing the traditional yokata. Vermilion torii gates atFushimi-Inari temple, Kyoto. mountain roads called tōge thatwe devoured at high speed, as befitted the nimble GSs. The funbegan on the racetrack-smooth Mazda Turnpike — the go-toroad (dubbed “Japan’s Nurburgring”) for automotive press trials— as we spiralled up eight miles of sweeping curves andtight coils to the Daikanzan Sky Lounge for lunch and a grandstandview of snow-capped Mt. Fuji. It was a great warm-upfor more challenging, adrenalin-charged riding which, duringthe “You’re free to ride off on your own,” Angela had informedus. But most road signs (and even gas station instructions) arewritten in Japanese script. And in the boondocks few localsspeak English. Attempting to follow our designated route, evenwith the 1:200,000 map that Edelweiss supplied, would havebeen like trying to negotiate the Minotaur’s Maze. Except for twoGerman couples who’d brought GPS and by the second weekmade solo forays, we rode as two groups (the second led byDutch Special Forces veteran Ted Goslinga) that departed eachday about 15 minutes apart.12 CLUTCH December 2020
We rode as two groups (the second led byDutch Special Forces veteran Ted Goslinga)that departed each day about 15 minutesapart. The rules were simple: No overtaking.No racing. No bottle and throttle untileach day’s riding was over. “Irasshaimase!Irasshaimase!” The female staff weredressed in yukatas (lightweight kimonos) and they giggled as theybowed repetitively like bobblehead dolls. “Welcome! Welcome!” theyintoned as we pulled up to the beachfront Hotel Imaiso Kawazu. Itwas the same at every hotel, which varied nightly between western-styleand traditional Japanese lodging. Despite its modern exterior,the Imaiso operated as a ryokan, with shoji-screened rooms.We were issued yukatas (blue and white for the guys;gals each got a different floral pattern … the younger the person,the brighter the colour). And slippers. I loved “going native”;why, I wondered, did most tour members resist? But there wererules. No shoes on straw-mat tatami floors. No house slippersoutside the hotel. No toilet slippers — yes, toilet slippers! —outside your john. Which reminds me… why don’tthe Japanese use left- and right-foot slippers?And different sizes? The uni-foot slipperswere three sizes too small. I felt like I’dhad my feet bound as I tottered downto the onsen, the hotel’s soothinghot spring baths. Nothing was asrelaxing and rejuvenating after aday’s hard riding than a soak ina communal onsen. All our hotelsoutside Tokyo had these intimate,often sophisticated bathcomplexes, divided by sex. TheJapanese — for whom “skinship”promotes social bonding— have no inhibitions about beingnude. Not even Speedos arepermitted in onsen. Nor tattoos.And Japanese patrons watch “gaijin”(foreigners) closely to ensure that beforeentering the water they sit on stools atmirrored public showers and soap every nookand cranny as if this was their wedding night. Mostnights we feasted on a traditional Japanese banquet. A taste forraw squiggly things was required. Every item came in its ownceramic platter, scalloped dish, or lotus-shaped bowl. Congaeel, clams, sashimi, miso soup, a salad of seaweed and octopus,a bubbling broth with mushrooms and vegetables, steamingrice with bamboo and radish, red bean-paste jelly dessert.And everything prepared with the fastidious care of a Japaneseminiaturist. I slept contentedly on a futon and rice-filled pillowspread out on a tatami floor. On day two we ascended MountFuji. A superb sunny day of almost endless twisties and hairpinsthat transcended Fuji’s barren treeline and began with asensational highlight: The Kawazu-Nanadura loop bridge, aunique double spiral coiling into the mountains of the Izu peninsulalike a DNA helix. Day three the kaleidoscope turned as weblazed and dipped and twined along forested mountain roads— tendril thin and hella fun — clinging to themountainous contoursof Shizuoka. Tea country, with steep hills and vales patternedin rows of dark-green corduroy. In a country of 127 million,you can’t escape cities. We cascaded out of the mountainsand crawled through a coastal conurbation to arrive at Hotel IragoView, superbly situated atop Cape Irago with dramatic sunsetocean vistas. Our early-morning ferry across Ise Bay roiled beneathbruised, brooding clouds. Rain began falling as we werehauled off the ship. It didn’t let up. That’s life. We arrived at Nachikatsuuramid-afternoon sodden, the day’s memories a grayblur. But memories of the Hotel Urashima Nagisa’s six Zen-likeonsen — two inside caves — will endure. Speaking of Zen … onday five we followed the Shingu River valley (shades of California’sRussian River) to arrive in Hongū. The start point of the Kumano-kodopilgrimage route, it also boasts Japan’s largest torii— iconic shrine gates — soaring nearly 40m over rice paddies.The BMWs fairly sang with delight as we then climbedcurlicue into the mountainous, pineclad Kii Peninsula, passingone Shintō shrine after another to arrive at Kōya-san, withits scores of Buddhist temples and pagodas andair thick with incense. Finally, the spaghettiexpressways of Kyoto, and a full rest dayto explore Japan’s former imperial andcultural capital at will: Fushimi Inarishrine’s endless arcades of vermiliontorii, girls in kimonos likea flurry of cherry blossoms inspring, geishas scurrying to secretliaisons in the narrow backstreets of Gion. For all its modernity,Kyoto immersed me inindelibly quintessential Japan.This was late May. We’d missedthe sakura — Japan’s briefcherry blossom season — by amonth. But day seven’s sweepingdownhill to Himeji Castle deliveredclassic Japanese scenery of limegreenbamboo and plumpurple mapleand, in the valley bottoms, chartreuse ricepaddies studded by quaint wooden machiyahouses with elaborate gray tile roofs adorned withfish-like creatures to protect against fire. We finally spilled outof the mountains next day to hit the Mendocino-like shores ofthe Sea of Japan after an exhilarating morning thrashing whiplash-sharpcoils on pinched, gravel-strewn mountain roads. “Ishould have rented a GS,” moaned Greg from Perth, Australia,at dinner. “The Ultra isn’t a bike for these kinds of roads. Anyoneless experienced than me would have problems.” How true! I’dridden behind him for a while and was impressed at how he’dnegotiated the writhing hairpins without spilling. Understandably,Greg opted out of next day’s highlight: A beach ride alongthe solid-packed sands of Chirihama Nagisa Driveway. I wasexcited to be heading, now, for the Japanese Alps via Gokayama, ahamlet of centuries-old steep-roofed thatched farmhouses. By day12 we were closing in on it. Gentle, contemplative running aboard abig bike. Nice. Women in yokatas posing for selfies.December 2020 CLUTCH 13
Page 6 and 7: CLUTCHIn This Issue10Secrets of Jap
Page 8: Danger ZoneRiding through a minefie
Page 11: SECRETSofJAPAN
Page 15: December 2020 CLUTCH 15
Page 18 and 19: An off-road journeyThis is a disast
Page 21 and 22: My tent also comeswith stakes andth
Page 24 and 25: Baja by Bike:Jamie Elvidge
Page 26 and 27: Since there is so little ediblefoli
Page 28 and 29: We here werelike merelyall professi
Page 30: “A motorcycletour through Bajais
Page 34 and 35: MOTO WONDERWOMANFor many, motorcycl

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