日本夏2026年

June 22, 2026

Day 24 Amakusa to Kumamoto - 99Km

Start 6:47

Finish 2:45

Total Duration 7:58

Moving Time 5:25

Stopped Time 2:33

Ascent 641m

Descent 619m

Tour Total 2551Km

Details at: https://ridewithgps.com/trips/392287592

I slept well beside the seawall at Hondo Beach, just outside of Amakusa. I’ve lost count of how many seawalls I’ve wild camped along in Japan. I woke early with the light. The tent was already warm, and I could hear people passing by. Everything—tent, sleeping bag, air mattress—was damp with condensation, and the seawall itself teemed with creepy, slithering bugs moving in every direction.

I rode into town for a café latte at 7-Eleven. The sky was gray, heavy with low clouds, and rain was forecast for later in the day.

While I stood outside the store, I watched children cycling to school. I noticed what seemed to be another traffic rule—at crosswalks, cyclists are expected to dismount and walk their bikes across. The children moved in quiet uniformity: identical outfits, matching helmets, the same rigid school bags strapped to their bikes.

From there, I followed Route 324 along the north shore of Amakusa Kamishima. It was a narrow two-lane road with steady traffic. As I curved around the island’s belly, a strong wind picked up, though thankfully the traffic thinned. At one point I veered inland, where towering bluffs rose behind vivid green rice paddies—a brief, calm contrast to the coastal road.

On the far side of the island, blue chevron bike markers guided me away from the coast toward the orange Matsushima Bridge to Maejima—my first of the Amakusa Five Bridges. The next crossings were progressively worse. The bridge to Ikeshima had a narrow sidewalk with a two-foot drop to the roadway—terrifying. The following span to Nagaura rattled under loose concrete tiles. Then came the long yellow Oyano Bridge, with an even narrower, more degraded path. Fast-moving traffic, including trucks, roared beside me. Riding the roadway felt unsafe, but the sidewalk was just as dangerous. One miscalculation and I’d drop off the edge, damage my wheels, and tumble into traffic. Walking would have taken forever.

Past the bridges, I began to see crab shacks and fisheries, their paddlewheel aerators churning in the water. I stopped at a takoyaki stand for a well-earned snack. Not long after, I came across a large bronze statue of Amakusa Shirō. Born Masuda Shirō Tokisada, he was a young Christian leader of the Shimabara Rebellion during the Edo period. Legend holds that he spoke Latin, performed miracles, and was executed at just seventeen.

The final crossing—the long Tenmon Bridge—carried me back to the Kyushu mainland. This one had bike markings, and I rode in the roadway. From there I picked up Route 57 toward Kumamoto and the Specialized shop.

Riding along the Ariake Sea, I could still see Mount Unzen across the water—the same island where I had ridden the day before. My saddle sores had become severe, and I stopped at another 7-Eleven to apply chamois cream.

A few blocks from the bike shop, I passed Kitaoka Shrine, where two massive camphor trees—“husband and wife”—stood fused together by a thick braided shimenawa rope. There were instructions for how to walk around them to pray for good relationships and fortune, and I followed them.

At the Specialized store, I learned it would take four days to get a replacement Brooks B69 saddle. Instead, I bought a Specialized saddle and had the mechanic fix an issue with my front chainring shifting. I also showed him the worn jockey wheel on my rear derailleur—another reminder that the bike would need a full overhaul once I returned to New York. We talked about my route, and I showed him a map of my circuit through Kyushu’s western islands. He asked for a photo, and we took one together.

I booked a room at Hotel TAU in Kumamoto—partly for the name, a nod to the Tony Smith sculpture I teach. Check-in wasn’t until 3 p.m., so I rode around town, trying to retrace where I’d gone two years earlier with Makiko. The new saddle was stiff and unfamiliar; it would take time to adjust.

Unfortunately, the room only had a shower—no bath. My undersides were in rough shape. I lay in bed watching the drizzle gather outside, writing this and mapping out routes for the tour's final three days.