Day 48: Every which way but dry
It is 11pm and it is the first time I have been dry in 12 hours. Today was one heck of a day, so let's start at the beginning.
Yesterday I checked on to a hotel south of Nagoya in Anjo. It was the first day since leaving my new friend Mandy's place, and the cold I fought for my entire stay with her wasn't entirely gone.
I was careful to confirm the checkout time for the morning. The clerk slowly thought about the right words in English and kindly informed me that checkout was at 10am.
Making my way to my room I found myself in a smoking room, so it didn't smell great, and the mattress was mostly springs and not really padded. But I was too tired to care. I read the information on the table and confirmed the 10am checkout time.
A few few hours later I would tuck in for the night. I paused for a moment, considering when I wanted to get going the next morning and set my alarm for... 10 fucking am.
I slept marginally above poorly, and woke up with my alarm. "ahhhh, 10 am" I thought. "Guess I should start to..." The previous night flashed through my mind: 10am check out. "...FUCK!" I exclaimed and lept out of bed to frantically repack my pack.
In less than 10 minutes I was up and out of my room; dressed, packed, and deeply frustrated with myself. The last revenge of a dieing cold.
Upon leaving the hotel minutes later I looked up to find that the sky was brooding. I had expected scattered showers later in the day, so this wasn't surprising. I headed down the road a few kilometres and stopped in at a 7-11 to get some food and review the days route.
It was while I sat and ate that the sky began it's work. A trickle at first, then a steady downpour would soon follow.
I was happy to be inside at that moment, able to calmly transform my pack and clothing to a state ready to handle the rain. Today was the first day of my trip I was walking in steady rain, but I was prepared.
After my food was finished and the rain gear was adorned, I headed out into the inclement day with high spirits. I wasn't worried about the rain. It was only forecast to last an hour or two tops. This would be a refreshing morning walk on the rain.
Two hours later I was at my first 10km rest point taking a snack break at another 7-11, and letting my feet dry out for a while. The weather wasn't letting up as the forecast had promised.
Of all my preparation, and all my gear purchased, my shoes are both my best discovery, as they have enabled me to cover serious distance in comfort, but they are also my biggest weakness as they are not waterproof and take ages to dry once soaked.
Before I left for Japan I was caught in a flash storm while walking in Calgary and was absolutely drenched. It wasn't pleasant, but I learned that my shoes take two full days to dry out. That is a liability I can hardly afford on the road in Japan.
My backup plan for this was to switch out my trail runners for my crocs in case of bad weather. With my hiking socks I can cover long distances in these less than ideal hiking shoes without irritation. So I felt confident than an hour or two in the rain would be fine.
As I sat looking out at the road from the seating area of the 7-11, already two hours of walking in the rain behind me, with my feet and socks slowly drying, I eyed the sky and knew it wasn't going to stop raining. This was going to be a long, wet slog.
I packed back up, donned my damp and sorry socks once more, slipped into my crocs, and headed back into the rain.
My rain gear was performing admirably. My bright red rain shell for my pack kept my things dry, and helped me stand out on the side of the road on a dreary day. My coat and pants kept the unceasing rain off my skin and my body comfortably warm as the winds increased with each kilometre I closed towards the Pacific.
However it was at about the 15km mark that I realized two things simultaneously;
My route for today was about 27km, and I was smack in the middle of it at the most remote point. There was no transit options around as I was well between towns. With no choices I continued forward to my planned 20km rest point.
The wind and rain continued to pelt me, slowing my pace, as did the worsening state of my foot. By the time I reached my 20km mark and took refuge in another 7-11 (they are a godsend), my right foot was ringing the alarm bell and the sun and set.
My legs still felt surprisingly spry despite having already covered my previous max distance with my full heavy pack. They felt like they definitely had the last 7 or 8km left in them.
However I knew it would be folly to push on, both in terms of damaging my foot as well as walking around at night in black rain gear. So I enacted plan B and headed over to the nearby train station to cover the bulk of the remaining distance without further aggravating my already soggy and painful feet.
I arrived at Gamagori station a short time later and set about the next task: find the random Airbnb house I was booked into about 1.5km away, in the dark and stormy night.
Wandering towards the shore , weaving through tight residential streets, I blindly followed my GPS, hoping it was steering me true. My host had sent me photos of the house I was looking for, but at night everything was different. When I arrived at my destination I found myself standing in front of a massive and darkened house with no signs of life.
I walked up to the door and knocked, but no one stirred. No lights came on to greet me. Was I at the wrong house? Was I in the wrong part of town?
Grabbing my phone I quickly messaged my host to let him know I was there. His response, in japanese of course, translated to "please find your room on the back of the second floor. I am out at the moment and will be home in 30 minutes."
Confused, I looked for stairs outside. But none existed. Eager to be out of the worsening storm I returned to the front door to find it unlocked. I slid the doors open and cautiously entered the dark foyer. Unable to find a light switch I used the flashlight on my phone to guide me.
Soaking wet, I slipped out of my crocs and into a pair of slippers by the front door and began cautiously walking through the dark and empty house. The layout completely foreign, with tatami rooms and rice paper walls on all sides, I eventually found the stairs and my room beyond. But again, no light switches.
I set my things down and found a small lamp that I plugged in for light. I sat in the small glow of the lamp and listened to the storm while I stretched my legs for the night, content to wait for my host to return, hoping I was not in the wrong house altogether.
Almost exactly 30 minutes later a vehicle was heard pulling up, and my host entered the house shortly after. He came to my room to great me and give me a tour of the house, including where all the light switches were!
After showing me around, I quickly made my way down to the shower area to exchange my current gross wetness for a more pleasant one.
Upon entering the shower area I made a wonderful discovery, it was not infact showers, but a Sento (public hot baths) style bathing area built into the home, complete with a massive soaking tub.
I quickly began running the taps to fill the tub and then sat down at one of the shower stations to get clean while I waited.
Minutes later I found myself soaking in 45 degree Celsius / 113 degree Fahrenheit water, steam rising up all around me as I listening to the storm winds howling just outside the large bay windows.
Within the course of 30 minutes I went from soaking wet and miserable to soaking wet and at the height of relaxation. I couldn't help but marvel at my luck to have found this place, and it to be so well equipped. The house could easily accommodate 30 guests in it's various rooms, but on this rainy night I was it's sole visitor.
Now, I am warm, dry and entirely relaxed. My feet damaged and sore, but thankfully not beyond the repair of a day or two off of them. I am booked at another place tomorrow, and it is scheduled to rain all day, so I will likely take the train there to spare my feet after their soggy adventures today.
For now, it's time to slide shut my paper door and crawl into bed for the night.
Yesterday I checked on to a hotel south of Nagoya in Anjo. It was the first day since leaving my new friend Mandy's place, and the cold I fought for my entire stay with her wasn't entirely gone.
I was careful to confirm the checkout time for the morning. The clerk slowly thought about the right words in English and kindly informed me that checkout was at 10am.
Making my way to my room I found myself in a smoking room, so it didn't smell great, and the mattress was mostly springs and not really padded. But I was too tired to care. I read the information on the table and confirmed the 10am checkout time.
A few few hours later I would tuck in for the night. I paused for a moment, considering when I wanted to get going the next morning and set my alarm for... 10 fucking am.
I slept marginally above poorly, and woke up with my alarm. "ahhhh, 10 am" I thought. "Guess I should start to..." The previous night flashed through my mind: 10am check out. "...FUCK!" I exclaimed and lept out of bed to frantically repack my pack.
In less than 10 minutes I was up and out of my room; dressed, packed, and deeply frustrated with myself. The last revenge of a dieing cold.
Upon leaving the hotel minutes later I looked up to find that the sky was brooding. I had expected scattered showers later in the day, so this wasn't surprising. I headed down the road a few kilometres and stopped in at a 7-11 to get some food and review the days route.
It was while I sat and ate that the sky began it's work. A trickle at first, then a steady downpour would soon follow.
I was happy to be inside at that moment, able to calmly transform my pack and clothing to a state ready to handle the rain. Today was the first day of my trip I was walking in steady rain, but I was prepared.
After my food was finished and the rain gear was adorned, I headed out into the inclement day with high spirits. I wasn't worried about the rain. It was only forecast to last an hour or two tops. This would be a refreshing morning walk on the rain.
I would spend much of my time between farm fields and in rural stretches, navigating less than ideal surfaces.
Two hours later I was at my first 10km rest point taking a snack break at another 7-11, and letting my feet dry out for a while. The weather wasn't letting up as the forecast had promised.
Of all my preparation, and all my gear purchased, my shoes are both my best discovery, as they have enabled me to cover serious distance in comfort, but they are also my biggest weakness as they are not waterproof and take ages to dry once soaked.
Before I left for Japan I was caught in a flash storm while walking in Calgary and was absolutely drenched. It wasn't pleasant, but I learned that my shoes take two full days to dry out. That is a liability I can hardly afford on the road in Japan.
My backup plan for this was to switch out my trail runners for my crocs in case of bad weather. With my hiking socks I can cover long distances in these less than ideal hiking shoes without irritation. So I felt confident than an hour or two in the rain would be fine.
As I sat looking out at the road from the seating area of the 7-11, already two hours of walking in the rain behind me, with my feet and socks slowly drying, I eyed the sky and knew it wasn't going to stop raining. This was going to be a long, wet slog.
I packed back up, donned my damp and sorry socks once more, slipped into my crocs, and headed back into the rain.
My rain gear was performing admirably. My bright red rain shell for my pack kept my things dry, and helped me stand out on the side of the road on a dreary day. My coat and pants kept the unceasing rain off my skin and my body comfortably warm as the winds increased with each kilometre I closed towards the Pacific.
However it was at about the 15km mark that I realized two things simultaneously;
- My rain gear's primary function was no longer to keep my dry, but rather to keep the layer of sweat soaking my entire body warm.
- The skin on the ball of my right foot was beginning to separate and pull away. Constant wetness was taking its toll on my dominant foot.
My route for today was about 27km, and I was smack in the middle of it at the most remote point. There was no transit options around as I was well between towns. With no choices I continued forward to my planned 20km rest point.
The wind and rain continued to pelt me, slowing my pace, as did the worsening state of my foot. By the time I reached my 20km mark and took refuge in another 7-11 (they are a godsend), my right foot was ringing the alarm bell and the sun and set.
My legs still felt surprisingly spry despite having already covered my previous max distance with my full heavy pack. They felt like they definitely had the last 7 or 8km left in them.
However I knew it would be folly to push on, both in terms of damaging my foot as well as walking around at night in black rain gear. So I enacted plan B and headed over to the nearby train station to cover the bulk of the remaining distance without further aggravating my already soggy and painful feet.
I arrived at Gamagori station a short time later and set about the next task: find the random Airbnb house I was booked into about 1.5km away, in the dark and stormy night.
Wandering towards the shore , weaving through tight residential streets, I blindly followed my GPS, hoping it was steering me true. My host had sent me photos of the house I was looking for, but at night everything was different. When I arrived at my destination I found myself standing in front of a massive and darkened house with no signs of life.
I walked up to the door and knocked, but no one stirred. No lights came on to greet me. Was I at the wrong house? Was I in the wrong part of town?
Grabbing my phone I quickly messaged my host to let him know I was there. His response, in japanese of course, translated to "please find your room on the back of the second floor. I am out at the moment and will be home in 30 minutes."
Confused, I looked for stairs outside. But none existed. Eager to be out of the worsening storm I returned to the front door to find it unlocked. I slid the doors open and cautiously entered the dark foyer. Unable to find a light switch I used the flashlight on my phone to guide me.
Soaking wet, I slipped out of my crocs and into a pair of slippers by the front door and began cautiously walking through the dark and empty house. The layout completely foreign, with tatami rooms and rice paper walls on all sides, I eventually found the stairs and my room beyond. But again, no light switches.
I set my things down and found a small lamp that I plugged in for light. I sat in the small glow of the lamp and listened to the storm while I stretched my legs for the night, content to wait for my host to return, hoping I was not in the wrong house altogether.
Almost exactly 30 minutes later a vehicle was heard pulling up, and my host entered the house shortly after. He came to my room to great me and give me a tour of the house, including where all the light switches were!
After showing me around, I quickly made my way down to the shower area to exchange my current gross wetness for a more pleasant one.
Upon entering the shower area I made a wonderful discovery, it was not infact showers, but a Sento (public hot baths) style bathing area built into the home, complete with a massive soaking tub.
This tub is 6 feet by 4 feet, and 3 feet deep!
I quickly began running the taps to fill the tub and then sat down at one of the shower stations to get clean while I waited.
Minutes later I found myself soaking in 45 degree Celsius / 113 degree Fahrenheit water, steam rising up all around me as I listening to the storm winds howling just outside the large bay windows.
Within the course of 30 minutes I went from soaking wet and miserable to soaking wet and at the height of relaxation. I couldn't help but marvel at my luck to have found this place, and it to be so well equipped. The house could easily accommodate 30 guests in it's various rooms, but on this rainy night I was it's sole visitor.
Now, I am warm, dry and entirely relaxed. My feet damaged and sore, but thankfully not beyond the repair of a day or two off of them. I am booked at another place tomorrow, and it is scheduled to rain all day, so I will likely take the train there to spare my feet after their soggy adventures today.
For now, it's time to slide shut my paper door and crawl into bed for the night.
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