Tres Hombres?
No, these are not three extras from "The
Wild One". This is Big Ben, The Stinger,
and our bad bikin' brother Tengu-sama, from
Wakkanai, Hokkaido.
We would like take this opportunity to attempt
to express to all those bikers out there
why Hokkaido, beyond rider houses, scenery,
and onsens, is still such a biker's paradise.
It's about, for lack of a better term, the
"biker experience". Hokkaido, simply
put, is Japan's last frontier. More so than
any other land we've ridden, it takes you
away to another world where there is no concern
over schedules, what time you wake up, where
you have to go, when you have to be there,
how your equities investments are performing.
When you arrive on the island, you can point
your handlebars in any direction and you're
sure to have a great day of riding. You stop
somewhere to enjoy the view, and maybe you
run into some other riders there who tell
you about a great riderhouse and onsen close
by, so you decide not go any further but
call it a day and take in the onsen and stay
at the riderhouse, and you have a great conversation
with the other riders there, maybe even becoming
lifelong friends. And you can do this because
you have the time and the peace of mind that
come from hours of uninterrupted riding and
taking in the natural beauty, and everyone
you meet has just had the same experience.
You are your own boss and timekeeper. You
ride until you feel like stopping, eat where
you like, sleep where you like, soothe those
muscles in any one of the omnipresent onsens,
and always you still have the road lying
ahead to lead you to your next adventure.
In Hokkaido, you can literally travel for
hours on end without seeing any other vehicles
or signs of civilization, much less any other
bikers. So when you do pass by another biker,
99% of the time they will offer you a friendly
gesture: a peace sign, a salute, or just
a wave, and you wave back. If you're stopped,
other bikers will stop too to make sure you're
alright. And you end up doing the same for
other bikers. And again you do this because
Hokkaido grants you the mental reserve to
be able to do so, the surplus of time to
think, "Gee I wonder if that guy is
alright. Maybe I'd better stop and check."
Hokkaido, being such a vast and unpopulated
land, is dotted with farms and farming families,
and other people living simple, quiet lives
on wide open land. To these people the "economy"
has never been particularly bad or good,
it's just "been". They may not
have made a million bucks before they were
30, they may not drive around in a Ferrari,
they may not sport designer suits and handbags,
but take a good look at them, take the time
to interact with them and you will see that
they smile, and laugh. What they may lack
materially, they are ultra-rich in spiritually.
Traveling to Hokkaido, you also have the
chance to experience a part of Ainu culture.
Ainu culture, like American Indian culture,
tends to stress spirituality over material
needs. They too live simple lives and are
grateful for what nature has provided for
them.
As a biker meeting and mingling with the
people of Hokkaido, people so far removed
from the furious economic engine of Japan
that is Tokyo, you gradually feel relieved
of all the stress of everyday life, and those
worries that were so significant back in
the city come to seem petty
now as a great burden that was upon your
shoulders slowly melts away, and your mind
freely drifts back to the source. What your
boss thought of that report you turned in
before you left for Hokkaido, whether your
girlfriend is cheating on you back in the
city, whether you have enough money saved
away for whatever it is you're saving it
for become miniscule matters as you are reminded
of what being alive is really all about.
Rolling down the road feeling the wind on
your cheeks and hearing it whistle in your
ears, smelling the pines and grass and wildflowers,
seeing a fox scurry across the road clasping
a freshly caught fish in its jaws, looking
out over the ocean and smelling the salt
surf, watching the farmer till his fields,
horses run freely and the eagle soar overhead,
feeling the warmth of the sun on your face,
smelling the smoke from an open campfire
and something good cooking, greeting an old
friend with a firm hug as you see him for
the first time in a year, soaking in a natural
onsen bath, cracking open a Hokkaido limited
edition beer and tasting the first swig at
a campground by a clear lake, lying in the
middle of the road at midnight staring up
at the countless stars, waving as you pass
another biker you've never met before, both
of you showing more warmth and enthusiasm
than would be expected anywhere else, laughing
and trading stories with the gang you met
that night but who already seem like old
friends, tucking in for the night in a large
wooden house, waking to the smell of fresh
brewed coffee on a wood burning stove, watching
a traditional dance of the indigenous natives,
hearing the call of an owl through your tent
at night--this is what life is all about.
And few things make you feel more alive than
the biker experience of Hokkaido.
