cycle to sounkyo

I’m taking the bus!

I’ve eaten my noodles, my ipod is loaded, i’ve packed my onigiri and I’m out of the door! I may not be back for some time…

off to the conbini to buy some onigiri for the trek, and then to bed for a good night’s kip. Grandmotherly? Moi? That’ll be the Miss Marple goal taking effect. Discussed underwear with D last week for some reason; he said that in Japan they call briefs (I wear classy briefs might I add, in shocking pink with orange trim, or peach and lacy with bows) “grandmother pants”. I asked him if that included even my delicious ones, and he said yes! Well, I imagine I’ll be grateful for my grandma pants tomorrow on the cycle path. Imagine cycling 84k wearing a g-string. You’d be red raw.

Night all!

I add this so that, when my alarm goes off tomorrow morning at 3am, and I remember some half-hearted resolution to cycle 42 kilometres (yes dandv, kilometres) to sounkyo before taking the ropeway two thirds of the way up the mountain, hiking the remaining hour or so, marching about on the top going “ooh” and “ahh” and being blown about by the wind, before descending the mountain, cycling up to the gorge to the see the waterfalls there (hell, if they made it onto the Japan’s top 100 waterfalls hit parade, then they’re good enough for me – ginga and ryuusei falls for anyone checking out the link), cycling and/or crawling back into sounkyo, resting my broken body in an onsen and then cycling the mere 42k back home again, I shall be forced to accept that going back to sleep means both public humiliation, missing out on a (hopefully) brilliant, if potentially fatal, day, and not being able to click on everyone’s favourite mustard coloured “I’ve done this” box.

Did I mention that of the 42k, approximately 30 of them, approaching the mountain, are solidly uphill? GULP. But hey, downhill all the way home!

Wish me luck!