Road-biking in Okinawa

Loren's been trying to get me into cycling for years.  He's patiently (and sometimes not-so-patiently) encouraged/nagged me to ride.

Loren, of course, is an absolute natural on the bike.  When he rides, the bicycle almost seems like an extension of his body.  His long, sinewy legs pump effortlessly as he deftly maneuvers through traffic.  He keeps perfectly in cadence, even as he's climbing massive hills.  He bikes as easily as he runs.  (Which, if you've ever met my husband, is saying a lot.)  Loren loves bicycles more than he loves the dog and me.

I know that sounds drastic, but it's true. Even
our living room is dedicated to bikes.

I, on the other hand, look like a wobbly sack of potatoes slumped over a metal frame whenever I ride my ridiculously expensive bike.  I don't know what it is, but I've never been very good at riding.  For the longest time, whenever I would start to gain speed when going downhill, I would brake frantically and start to feel my life flash before my eyes.   I also tend to turn into a nasty, expletive-spewing beast while peddling uphill.  Despite all of this, Loren has retained the slightest hope that I'll someday turn into a cycling superstar like him.


Thanks to a broken toe, my running has been curtailed lately, and I've been seeking alternate means of exercise.  I've been riding around the base a lot lately, and I've been feeling pretty satisfied with myself.  Still, when Loren suggested a 27-mile trip from Okuma to Cape Hedo, I was a little apprehensive.

The bikes, loaded up and ready to go.

We spent the previous night at Okuma Recreational Facility, hanging out on the beach and cooking brats around the campfire.  In the morning, we ate a lukewarm $10 breakfast buffet (gotta love Air Force dining options) and hopped on our bikes.

Vroom

Usually, Okinawan traffic terrifies me.  However, there weren't too many cars on the road today.  Most of them were rental cars carrying tourists from mainland Japan, so they weren't driving very fast anyway.  (Sidenote: You can tell if a Japanese car is a rental because it'll have the "wa" hirigana symbol on its license plate.)  The weather today was absolutely gorgeous, and the trip was mostly flat.  We stopped several times along the way so I could take photos.

Riding up to Cape Hedo on Highway 58

You can't see it in the photo, but there was a massive
clump of stinging nettle at the base
of this rock.  Climbing back down was fun. :-)

The road winds along the coast up to the northernmost
part of the island.

Loren, asking if I was done taking photos already, damnit.

The road up to Cape Hedo led through several long tunnels.  Bicycling through a tunnel is a little eerie. All of the sounds are amplified, so you can't tell if a car is 5 or 500 meters behind you.  The fourth and final tunnel was the worst.  It's a lot older, and it's less well-lit.  I peddled like a madwoman to get through it.

After the last tunnel, the road went downhill for a nice stretch.  (I probably didn't enjoy the downhill as much as I should have -- I kept thinking about having to peddle back uphill on our return trip.)  We finally arrived at Cape Hedo about an hour and 10 minutes after we left Okuma.

Midway point!

Cape Hedo is the northernmost part of Okinawa.  These craggy cliffs provide a gorgeous vantage point, especially during a clear day.  It's a huge tourist spot, and you're guaranteed to run into at least one tour bus while you're visiting.

I asked Loren to stay while I took a photo of him, and he
got stuck while a bus-load of geriatric tourists shuffled by him.
He grew impatient, so he carried his bike out onto the rocks
and past them.  Needless to say, I found the whole thing
pretty entertaining.  Loren did not.

Mount Hedo (and the aforementioned tour bus in the foreground)

On our way back, Loren and I stopped to explore some of the little villages alongside the road.  I love traditional-style Okinawan houses.  They're usually one-story, with terra-cotta roofs and neatly manicured lawns surrounded by stone fences.  They almost always have clay shisa dogs guarding their entrances.

Shi-sa dog!

Loren taking pictures of me taking pictures.

When we arrived back at Okuma, I realized that I had actually enjoyed the entire 2.5 hour bike ride.  I hadn't felt angry and resentful when I hit long uphill stretches.  My quads didn't ache, and my lungs didn't burn like they had on previous rides.  While I'm still far from reaching Loren-like levels of expertise on the bike, I'm starting to get a little better and I'm certainly appreciating the sport more.  Who knows, maybe someday I'll whizz past him on my bike -- a flash of carbon fiber and muscled calves.

Watch out, Loren -- I'm coming for ya.