I get excited when a typhoon is on the way.
The atmosphere fills with raw power, the world descends into chaos, and school gets cancelled. Beyond the thrill of a "Typhoon Club" sort of excitement, if you can read the weather as skillfully as some expert surfers do, you can witness special sights and have extraordinary experiences.
No, I shouldn't be saying things so reckless. This was to be the fourth attempt at hosting "Yamamichi-sai" (the Mountain and Road Festival) by Yamatomichi, after having to cancel three times in the past. Once again, we found ourselves in a situation where we had to decide whether to hold the event as a typhoon approached.
People were saying all sorts of things—that it was cursed, or that we hadn't received permission from the gods of Mt. Ishizuchi—but ultimately, this year's Yamamichi-sai, which did go ahead, turned into the perfect festival under skies that were cleared, quite literally, "thanks to the typhoon."
BIKE to Yamamichi-sai
Once again, I consulted with Mita-san (@mtmsak), editor-in-chief of the Yamatomichi Journal, about accessing the event by bicycle. We both started from Tokushima heading toward the venue; although we weren't able to link up along the way, we were able to discuss at the festival how interesting it is to access places by bike—how hiking gives you depth in understanding a landscape, while biking gives you breadth, and both have their own merits.
I want to trace the "Shikoku Saburo" back to its source
Bando Taro, Chikushi Jiro, Shikoku Saburo. These are the nicknames of Japan's three "wildest" rivers: the Tone, the Chikugo, and the Yoshino, respectively.
When I heard that Yamamichi-sai would be held at Mt. Ishizuchi and started looking for a riding route, I turned, as usual, to the table of contents for Ryotaro Shiba’s "Going Along the Road" series to check the relevant region.
I had read about the Yusuhara Kaido before, so I decided to read Volume 32, "Awa Journey," and it turned out to be fascinating. It’s a travelogue where the usual pair of Ryotaro Shiba and Kokusai Suda cross over from Awaji Island to Shikoku, travel from Tokushima up the Yoshino River, and head into the Iya Valley; it’s also a work of history that traces past events through the things they encounter along the way.
From the grand scope of history—such as the indigo industry that was a major pillar of Tokushima's economy, the temperament of the Tokushima people nurtured by that industrial structure, the history of the Awa Odori dance born from it, the power of the Kanrei Hosokawa clan during the Muromachi period and the Miyoshi clan that replaced them, or the Hachisuka family who were enfeoffed in Tokushima after Hideyoshi’s conquest of Shikoku—to tales of local luminaries unearthed from local records, the vast knowledge possessed by Shiba, who was said to be a speed-reader, and his reflections as a novelist reconstructing the scene are truly engaging. I highly recommend reading it before riding through a region, as it completely changes the scenery that unfolds before your eyes.
Also, when looking upstream from the middle reaches of the Tokushima Plain near Mima, the overlapping of the Sanuki Mountains on the right and the Shikoku Mountains on the left (especially in the evening) is truly beautiful; the mystical scenery of the valley that slices vertically through Shikoku after bending at a right angle near Ikeda is a river I have been deeply impressed by several times while driving. With its source in the southern face of the Mt. Ishizuchi range—our destination—my desire to trace the Yoshino River up to Mt. Ishizuchi in time for Yamamichi-sai only grew stronger. And after four years, that dream was finally realized.
I stayed at an inexpensive inn around Oboke and dried my wet clothes and gear, but the next morning brought a torrential downpour. I set off, watching the news of flood damage in various regions with sleepy eyes. Passing through the "Sugi" (Cedar) area, home to Japan's largest cedar trees, and the Sameura Dam, I aimed for the Kamegamori Forest Road (UFO Line), where the source of the river lies.
Saijo and Ishizuchi Faith
While worrying about my brake pads in the pouring rain, I descended from Kamegamori toward the Seto Inland Sea, arriving in Saijo City, the center of Ishizuchi worship. It is a city of famous water, where you can find "Uchinuki" water—the subterranean water of Mt. Ishizuchi—no matter where you dig, and a city where you can see Mt. Ishizuchi from anywhere.
Mt. Ishizuchi, said to have been opened by En no Gyoja as a training ground for Shugendo, is the highest peak in western Japan. The mountain itself is an object of worship, and pilgrims ascend in order: the Kuchinomiya Main Shrine at the foot, the Chugu Jojusha shrine at the midway point, and the Okumiya Chojosha shrine at the summit. By the time I climbed back up to the Yamamichi-sai venue, the typhoon had passed and the skies were clear.
A little off the road to the Ishizuchi Ropeway, I found a deserted hamlet at what must have once been the entrance to an old mountain trail. Thinking of the days when religious mountain climbing was more popular, I pondered the fate of the small hamlets in the mountains that will likely become increasingly deserted in the future.
Finally Arrived: Yamamichi-sai
Yamamichi-sai began, as always, with Yamatomichi representative Natsume-san calling out to hikers from different regions: "Any hikers here from Okinawa or Kyushu?" Hikers from each region responded to the call. People had gathered from all corners of the country, including from overseas.
A festival is something built on the solidarity of the locals living in an area, but in our highly networked age, there are also cultural festivals for those who are not tied to a location but share the same interests.
While commercial events like concerts or races are a type of cultural local festival, it is very interesting that a local festival for the UL hiking discipline is held up on a mountain like this. Yamatomichi, which continues to cultivate this culture nationwide as a hike-life community, is a brand I find more compelling than just the quality of their products.
Hikers gather at the meeting point on the mountain by all sorts of routes and methods. It reminds me of the mountain bike gatherings at mountain passes that people used to hold back in the day, and it's so interesting that I wonder if it could be done with bicycles, too.
As magic hour arrived and the full moon began to rise, the local collaborators for the long-awaited Yamamichi-sai took to the tower (well, the stage) to shout their love for the area. It wasn't the slickest microphone performance, but that made it feel all the more real and sincere, which was wonderful. That’s right—this is why I love going to see festivals in different regions.
Yamamichi-sai has both cultural locals and geographical locals. It was so much fun to have such a great time again. Thank you all.
Strolling through Saijo, lingering in the festival's afterglow
I had also come as far as Mt. Ishizuchi when it was cancelled previously, but at that time I just went straight through the Shimanami Kaido to get to Honshu. I hadn't thought much about the return route this time, but I learned there was an overnight ferry from Saijo to Osaka, so I decided to book it for that night. Until then, I spent time exploring the Saijo area by bicycle.
The Orange Ferry connecting Toyo and Osaka South Port overnight
It might be a standard choice for those who ride the Shimanami Kaido, but I was surprised to find this Orange Ferry was even better than expected. It costs about 9,000 yen to get to Osaka, it saves on accommodation costs since it's overnight, it's all private rooms so there was almost no noise or rocking, I slept soundly, the bath and shower facilities were excellent, the dining room was impressive, and you can stay on the boat before and after departure.
It's a bit of a distance to Imabari, where the Shimanami Kaido starts, but it’s closer than trying to head over to Matsuyama, and it also seems like a great option for traveling around Shikoku without doing the Shimanami. I’d like to plan another trip to ride this again.
Yamamichi-sai had been put on hold for four years. The "festival people" who support local festivals across Japan that were cancelled must have felt, just as I did, that people's hearts drift apart a little when they can't be held. But who could have imagined that such a wonderful experience was waiting for us? Still lingering in the afterglow, I couldn't help but conclude that festivals are truly the best, and absolutely essential.
Notes on Equipment
Because of the long distance, I chose a road bike. I packed my gear for a 4-day, 3-night tent trip into a Yamatomichi MINI and carried it while riding. Carrying a base weight of 4–5kg certainly puts a heavy burden on the body, and I really learned that a frame bag affects the ride much less. Anticipating heavy rain, I brought only Bedrock Sandals as footwear. I switched to touring pedals, but it wasn't a good idea to use a new combination for the first time on such a trip. The pedal surface was slippery, which made standing to pedal difficult, and it was quite tough on the sections with continuous climbs.
For apparel, I brought wool T-shirts and two sets of Yamatomichi 5-Pocket shorts. The expected minimum temperature at the venue was 6°C. I didn't bring a sleeping bag, but I did bring a lightweight down jacket. For rain gear, I used a Yamatomichi UL All-weather Hoody and Mont-bell cycle rain pants. Still, after being active in the rain all day, the water eventually soaked through.
I packed everything inside staff packs and Ziploc bags before putting them in my bags to ensure they stayed dry. On the bike, I had only a Porcelain Rocket waterproof handlebar bag. Cameras and batteries were stored in here.