We wearily hauled ourselves out of bed as the alarm on my wrist hissed 3:00am. We’d managed to get to bed only two hours earlier. Last minutes nick nack items were stuffed into our shiny new 'Sea liner' bags and Velcro and zippers done up tight. It still hadn’t sunk in that this was real we were off to Japan.

What with the jet lag and time difference two tired brit’s were wide awake at 3:30 this morning and wondering what the day had in store for them. By 6:00 we’d rolled up the futon on the floor of our matchbox sized room, uploaded the video from yesterdays travels and managed to squeeze ourselves (one at a time) into the teeniest shower cubicle either of us has ever seen, not for the claustrophobic.

Back at the Andon, we soaked for 20 minutes in the bubling hot waters of the hotels Jacuzzi before dressing for a night on the town. We’d emailed Rob, a friend we’d met in Xp-ha, Mexico (Issablees son) who’s been living in Japan for the last 17-years. The idea of meting up here was too good to pass up. We met Rob with hugs, at the hotel and quickly found ourselves strolling the back alleys of the Ueno area.

Following Rob’s lead we headed into one of his favourite’s eateries a Japanese-Korean resteraunt serving pork. Inside boustrous servers yelled orders to the kitchen as they cut, diced and cooked the food in fron of dinners, the small metal plates sizzling as expectant guest look on. The smell was fantastic.

An hour later and we’d eaten our fill of pork and garnish’s wrapped into Japanese cambagge. By the evening end we’d visited a few bars, and chatted endlessly. The highlight of the evening for me was sitting amongst a dozen or so Japanese, as we crammed ourselves into the tiniest Reggae bar in the world as we sippedon something that smelled like sake. With Bob Marley wayling in the background to a chilled out reggae groove. Too surreal, but that is what I think Japan is, and we love it.

A stroll around the Ueno park at night with a alcoholic Japanese soda in hand was the perfect way to end this day. It was great to see Rob again, especially here in his adopted home town. We were going to get a move on if we were going to catch the last train back, the metro stops at midnight.

We’d been faxed a ‘cheat-sheet’ of the cutoms and shipping procedure for thse whishing to clear without a Japanese agant. It was already proving invaluable as we’d followed the map straight to the dull grey customs building and then taken a left down towards ‘cargo 4’ where we’d find the ANA offices. At the security gate we filled in the nessercary paperwork and were issued and plastic visitors pass and a white clearance sheet, which we’d hand back on departure.

On the 3rd floor and inside the ANA offices we used every word of our new found Japanes to acquire the originals of the airway bill and shipping docs. We’d need these to give to customs 6 blocks back down the road. At customs on the second floor we shook ourselves dry, of course it has started to rain, heavily.

One of the female customs officers had already seated us and had practilly yelled with excitement when she’d realized we had Carnet’s for the bikes and that they’d been pre-approved by JAF. The speed and curtousy with which we were dealt was breathtaking. No abuse of officla power, no attitude, like we’d come to expect from the USA immigration. When documents needed to be photocopied they were picked up by the customs officers and before being removed from the table, we were asked our permission to copy. This was first.

With customs sorted we headed back to ANA, handed over all the paperwork we could find and 5 minutes later two large crated box’s were being lowered from the fork lift. Time to uncrate.

Uncrateing had taken us longer than we’d thought and by the time we’d lifted handle bars, re-assembed cock-pits and fairing and tightened down the front wheels it was dark ans still raining. At last we were ready to go. Filling up at a gas station around the corner cost us 5,500 Yen and before we knew it were blatting down the on ramp that would lead us to the express way. We’d planned on avoiding the notoriously expensive expressway, but it was dark, wet and we were tired. At the first toll-booth we realized we needed to re-think. We’d just ridden 8km (5-miles and it had cost us $20.00. Off the expressway and we’d taken a wrong turn ans so parked up in a empty roadside car park we were simply getting our bearings, when a small red car drove up to us, the driver waiving a familiar greeting.

Guy dela Rupelle was already out of the car. You must be Simon & Lisa he exclaimed, taking us both by surprise. Talk about a small world. Lisa had been reading a book only this morning called ‘Motorcycling Vagabonding in Japan’, which had been a recommended read by Dan and Judy Kennedy from White Horse Press. Guy was the author. He’d simply been passing at the exact moment we’d pulled up, seen the bikes and the Touratech panners and came to say hi. We were in disbelief. C’mon what are the chances? After ten minutes of chatting we made our apologies for having to leave but we were both wiped out and the rain was getting harder. We’ll meet up wth Guy in the next few weeks.

With the help of the new GPS we made it back to the Andon easily – the back streets really remind us of riding though London – perhaps its because we are also riding on the left-hand side. We were parking the bikes just before 09:30pm. What a day, but it feels great to have the bikes back with us.

Headed back to the ‘Woodmans Village’ to stay the night. A cluster of beautiful log cabins. Spent the night just chatting.

At the ticket office we parted with 1,300Yen each, our tickets were passed to us with a bowed head, the ticket held and passed intwo hand as though they too were sacred and perhaps they were.

Within minutes we are inside the hallowed walls of one of Japans most revered shrines, the Rinno-ji temple, dappled in gold and brown light. Each of it’s many doors elegantly covered in intricately woven drapes. Towring high above and to our right three vast golden Buddha’s loom, the Amida Buddha Senju, Kannon and Bato Buddha’s each one a different diety of mercy. Back in the daylight the arched roof’s of the temples strike a stunning silhouttte against the diffused white light of the day.

Even amongst the throng of school kids and other Japanese tourist we don’t feel the crush. Only an air of reverence and order. Tall straight green conifers block the daylight as we try to photograph the temples and shrines. Whites, green’s, gold’s and reds make up our day as we snap away trying o capture the plethora of red tongued demons protecting the gates of the more sacred shrines.

Avenues of mottled light and moss covered ancient walls lead us form one temple to the next. The mizzy rain has been falling all day and by 5:00pm we are borth feeling a little weary as we stand mesmerized by the sacred bridge, a light mist riseing from the tumbling waters of the river it spans.

Back at our camp sleep comes easily as we pull our Mountain Hardware bags around us, and if that sounded like a ‘plug’ it was meant to be…! These bags a friggin goergous. Talk about luxurious. Tomorrow I’l make an effort tand find out which bags they are. I’m in love!

What an amazing day and Emiko isn’t charging us to stay here, the kindness is humbling.

She answered the door with red eyes and as we expressed our thanks for her hospitality and our sorrow for her loss. “Do want to see her” Emiko ask gently? I think we were both a little surprised by this question, as both Lisa and I fubbled for a “yes of course…thankyou”?????

Iit was kind of her and even gracious to let us share in her personal grief, but the scenario was a little odd? By our standards anyway, as we chatted, sat on the sofa’s, discussing our trip with her dead dog’s body just feet from us all.

We’ve spent the day diving into lush green vally’s as impossibly steep forested mountainsides appear around every sweeping bend. Japan is insanely beautiful, in an overwhelming way that makes you grin inside your helmet. We passed small rice growing farming communities and skimmed the rims of a number of picture perfect lakes.

Right now I’m typing into the laptop as I get slowly drunk on sips from a two litre bottle of coke that we mixed with the quarter of a bottle of Vodka that Jim and Trish had left yesterday. We are sat in our brilliant ‘Kermit chairs’, and yes they are absolutely brilliant by the edge of ‘Lake Inawashiro’, a vast lake outside of the major town of ‘Aizuwakamatsu”, try saying that when your drunk! To my right the Sun is quickly sinking and the light clouds are all kissed with tangerine light. Around us we can hear the song of the evening birds and the occasional splash of fish jumping in the lake. Does it get any better?

One at a time we lifted the chain across the track and ducked underneath, easing our heavy bikes forward and into the road. We’ve learnt quickly that 7-11’s are the king of the corner store here in Japan, there’s thousands of the things and they’re never more than a few miles from oneanother. The one right opposite the lake was going to be our breakfast pitstop. We’re fast learners. You can buy literally dozens of varieties of hot and cold coffee, that all get presented in thick aliminium cans and cost you $1. A moist rice cake, with a seaweed jacket and roe filling…another buck. I keep thinking of my dad (Keith) he’d be in his element, he’s always wanted to come to Japan, and I know he’ll be surprised I even remered that little fact.

Love the labelling, look close!

Everything here is so insanely neat, every shelf in every store laid out with pain staking precision. That said there’s so also so much contrast and oddity too. Hard core Japanese porn papers, cozy up alongside the kids comics in the magazine section, all at waist height, none of this ‘top-shelf’ stuff. For a nation seemingly so focused on ‘correctness’ it’s just one fo those things that surprised me, and wow, there is a ton of porn. I know I shouldn’t but, I can’t help but get amused when I see 4-5 guys lining up all casually flicking through the porn mag’s checking ot the images of girls in the most impressive of positions, as though their flicking through the Sunday times or one of the supermarket trash mags. Intently diciding on the quality of the article or girl in question. It’s just a bit weird, but funny as hell to see.

Now Japan as I’ve mentioned is stunning but getting around is turning out to be a bloody night mare. The sheer weight of law abiding traffic that rigidly stick to the national speed limit of 30 mph, yep, you read that right 30mph. It’s insane! C’mon most people reverse in a parking space faster than that. Traffic lights seemingly bread over night here, There on ever corner and around every bend. Our average speed today was 23mph…Aaaarrrggghhhhh!

By late afternoon we’d only mamaged to get as far as Sendai, a meesly 88-mile. Constatn rainy downpours have also kept the humidity at around 90% and our slow speed has meant we’ve baked, just sitting ontop of our hot engines. Our riding suits like mini mobile saunas, we’re slowly beging to stew and the smell is…unpleasant. Yeah, this feels like our lives again!

Lush green foliage, canopy the twisty narrow roads that we barrel down as afternoon becomes evening on the Oshika Penisula. A narrow strip of land that justs out into the Pacific Ocean. Small fishing viallges, unchanged for centuries dot the rugged coast line. Hundreds of salt encrusted fishing nets are stretched out across along the side fo the road for storage or repair. At the southern most tip of this jutting land, the evening mist rolls in and we’ve still not found a place to camp.

The long day was taking it’s toll and the tightly twisting and turning road was taking all our concentration. The ‘Blue Ridge Parkway’ has nothing on this.

As dusk set in we’ve pulled down off the road into a shollow piece of grassy verge. The blue smoky mountain view staright from a movie scene. Down below the cloud base, small lights sparkle in the cluster of fishing villages that nestle into the shore . In the distance a fog horn blairs a bassy warning to the incoming vessels.

Sitting around our small camp fire Lisa warms up the noodle soup we’d picked up North of Sendai. The day’s been long but the eveing been perfect if not a little surreal. Serentiy never looked so good.