日本夏2026年 - Day 7 Kihoku to Hongucho Hongu
I forgot to bring my earplugs into the tent, and the crows made sure I didn’t sleep in.
It was raining when I woke up. I lingered while packing, hoping it might let up, but eventually I had to accept the conditions and suit up—rain pants, waterproof socks, cycling jacket, poncho. I rolled out through the old fishing village of Nagashima, quiet and atmospheric in the drizzle, before rejoining the highway. A quick stop at FamilyMart for coffee helped get things moving.
The road hugged the coast, rising and falling over a series of hills. I overheated on the climbs and chilled on the descents, eventually shedding layers as I went. At a couple of tunnels, there were separate pedestrian and cycling passages—likely old rail tunnels—which made for a welcome break from traffic.
I climbed over the Kumano Kodo Iseji Magose-toge Pass and descended into Owase—where I had originally planned to end the previous day. With a major climb ahead, I needed food, but nothing was open. Just as I was starting to worry, I found a small ramen stand at the edge of town. Perfect timing.
The next climb began immediately. Warning signs in kanji I couldn’t read lined the road, along with what looked like a snow gate—serious infrastructure that hinted at harsh conditions in winter. My elevation profile confirmed it: this was going to be a big one. A roaring stream ran alongside the road, with waterfalls spilling down the mountainside.
As I climbed, I stripped off layers—rain pants, waterproof socks, poncho—once the effort warmed me up.
Then came the Yanako Tunnel: 2 kilometers long with no shoulder or sidewalk. On the far side, the climb continued. A few more tunnels followed, then a descent into a small village—only to be met with another major climb.
At some point I missed a turn and ended up descending the highway into Kumano. Back on the Pacific coast, I found myself among traffic, businesses, and noise. I was hungry again but couldn’t find anything appealing, so I picked up a tray of sashimi and a Sapporo from a grocery store and ate lunch in a park.
Route 42 along the coast was busy. The sun broke through the clouds, and I pulled on my arm sleeves.
By the time I reached the outskirts of Shingu—my original destination—it was only 2 p.m. Feeling good, I decided to push on into the next section: the mountains, where I planned to visit shrines and onsens.
I followed the Kumano River inland, choosing a quieter route with minimal traffic. The scenery was incredible—waterfalls everywhere. Hisetsuno Falls stood out in particular.
At one point, a barrier blocked the narrow road I was following. I debated turning back—it would have meant a 15-kilometer detour—but decided to go around it. It was a gamble. If the road ahead was impassable, I’d lose a lot of time.
Instead, it turned into one of the best stretches of the day. The road was rough—strewn with rocks, branches, even small streams crossing it—but completely empty. No cars, just me and the river valley. Eventually, I reached a bridge that brought me across. The risk paid off.
From there, I rode along the highway on the west side of the river until it split, taking the left fork through two long tunnels.
I arrived at Kumano Hongu Taisha at 5 p.m., just as it was closing. A sign at the gate confirmed it, but I climbed the long stone staircase anyway. Hundreds of white banners lined the path, their black kanji fluttering slightly in the breeze. At the top, a staff member allowed me to enter. The shrine was breathtaking—simple, restrained, and deeply powerful.
Earlier, I had passed the enormous torii gate at Oyunohara, which I visited afterward. The scale is hard to grasp: 33.9 meters tall, 42 meters wide, weighing 172 tons.
To end the day, I rode to Watarase Onsen, where I soaked in a large open-air bath, cleaned up, charged my devices, and had a fantastic meal—udon and thick slices of beef over rice.
Afterward, I returned to Oyunohara to camp near the massive torii gate.
Not a bad place to spend the night.
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