June 3, 2026
Day 5 Yaizu to Irago - 18Km
Start 9:20AM
Finish 10:58AM
Total Duration 1:38
Moving Time
Stopped Time
Ascent 174m
Descent 199m
Tour Total 593Km
Sometime in the middle of the night, I woke to the sound of wind violently shaking my tent. The gusts came in hard, snapping the fabric and flexing the poles. I lay there for a moment, wondering if the whole thing might rip apart. There was no waiting it out—I had to move.
The tent, fly, and groundsheet had turned into giant sails, as I tried to disassemble everything without breaking or losing anything. I was genuinely worried the wind might catch the sheets, tear them free, and send them tumbling into the sea.
In the rain and chaos, I broke everything down as methodically as I could, forcing wet fabric into my panniers while the wind fought me the whole way. By the time I finished, everything I owned was soaked.
I pushed through the howling wind and stinging rain toward the nearby michi-no-eki. Inside the large public restroom, I set my tent up again, just to get out of the elements. The lights were on a motion sensor—bright at first, then plunging into darkness once I stopped moving. It took a long time to fall back asleep. I was drenched, exhausted, and still rattled from the ordeal.
Around 8 a.m., I woke to the sound of men using the toilets—probably staff arriving for the day. The cleaning attendant needed access, so I packed up quickly, apologizing profusely as I cleared out.
Outside, the wind had eased. A light drizzle remained, but it felt manageable. I got back on the bike. The ferry was about an hour and a half away.
Along the way, I passed roadside stands selling melons and strawberries, bright spots against the gray morning. I stopped at a FamilyMart for a mocha latte and a chocolate brownie—simple comfort after a rough night.
I reached the ferry terminal at 11 a.m., only to be told that all sailings had been canceled for the day.
So I sat down at a table inside the terminal and began editing this entry. The small village around me has a few hotels and restaurants—options, at least. For now, I wait.
The weather began to improve. The wind still howled, but the rain let up, and I decided to take advantage of the break and go for a ride. The extra 25 kilometers wouldn’t count toward my route, but it felt good to move.
I started with a visit to the nearby lighthouse, then turned inland toward the gulf side, where most of the local businesses were clustered. The landscape shifted quickly—rows of corn and cabbage fields stretched alongside long lines of greenhouses. In every direction, wind turbines dotted the horizon, their blades turning steadily in the lingering gusts.
All along the Atsumi Peninsula, I’d been noticing roadside safety flags—bright markers similar to the ones I’d seen last summer in Hokkaido—fluttering at intersections and driveways.
For days, I’d passed billboards for Atsumi Brewery, so I made a point to stop. It didn’t disappoint. I ordered an Anau IPA and a bratwurst sandwich and took a seat at the bar. Next to me was an American from Texas, studying for his JLPT N2 exam. He mentioned that there was a hostel on-site, offering beds for ¥3000. I seriously considered it and even stepped outside to grab my passport to register.
But by then, the sun had come out. It didn’t make sense to stay 10 kilometers away from the ferry terminal with clear skies overhead.
Instead, I rode to a nearby FamilyMart to pick up some provisions, then returned to a small memorial I had passed earlier. There were large concrete benches—perfect for spreading everything out. I lubed my chain and laid out all my gear to dry in the sun, finally reclaiming some dryness after days of damp conditions.
I sat at a picnic table, enjoying a quiet afternoon snack, the wind still in the air but the storm now behind me.
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