The Beginning of an Adventure

4:15 AM. My phone alarm goes off by my pillow, and I bolt upright. Outside, it's still dim. I feel relieved that I managed to wake up, but I also feel nervous and unsettled. For my very first ride event, RIDEALIVE, I think I felt just as much tension and anxiety as I did excitement on the morning of the event.
　
RAL began two years ago as a Circles ride event, rooted in the simple concept of what one might call "Circles staff summer vacation." RIDEALIVE was born from the straightforward, simple quest to explore the fun that Circles loves most: bicycles. (Refer to Ikeyama-san’s blog)
We load our bikes with camping gear and take our preferred routes to reach the final destination. For this Hamamatsu edition, three routes were devised by three people: our ambassador and Circles staff member Kamo-chan, Greencog, a bike shop owner in Hamamatsu, and Happy-san from HAPPY SLAPPY, a bike shop that just opened in Hamamatsu this April.
The routes consisted of Kamo-chan’s "Summer Challenge!!" route, Greencog’s "Lake Hamana Loop" route, and Happy-san’s "Enjoying Water Activities" route, with the final destination being "Talikana," a newly opened campground along the shore of Lake Hamana in Murakushi-cho, Hamamatsu.

I chose to ride Kamo-chan’s Summer Challenge route, which felt appropriate for my first RIDEALIVE. As the name suggests, I decided to "challenge" myself.
The plan was to meet at Shinshiro Station, cross a mountain pass called Mt. Horai, and head for Hamamatsu—the toughest route among the three. What kind of ride would it be? What kind of scenery would I see? Would I be able to finish it? As I let these thoughts wander, my summer challenge began.
　
　

Rinko (Bicycle Transport)

I headed to Shinshiro Station on the first train from my local station.
If I were just riding my bike, it would take about five minutes to get to the station from home, but since I had to transport my bike by train (rinko) that day, I left 30 minutes earlier than usual.

Rinko is the act of transporting a bicycle by public transport, starting with trains. To do this, you need to partially disassemble your bike to make it compact and place it in a specialized bag called a "rinko bag." It sounds very difficult, but it's not; once you practice two or three times, even if it takes a while, you'll be able to do it alone, and it's a very convenient skill to have.
I used this method when I went to Kyoto and Mie on a single-speed bike I was borrowing. After the staff at Circles taught me and I practiced packing my bike a few times, I was able to successfully transport it on my own on the day of the event.
However, this was my first time transporting my own ALL-CITY Space Horse. The handlebars have been changed to drop bars, and since I’ve attached side carriers to the front wheel—the part that gets disassembled—for my camping gear, the disassembly process was a bit more involved. Of course, I practiced at Circles several times, but since this was my first time doing it with my new bike loaded with gear, I arrived at the station with plenty of time to spare.
　

　
　
I leaned the bike against a wall where it wouldn't bother passersby and began the disassembly. I removed the front wheel, strapped it to the frame, and packed the bike into the bag, starting from the rear wheel. Since I was able to pack it with the carriers attached just as I had practiced, I felt relieved that I could get it on the train. I carried the bike with one arm and two pannier bags in the other as I headed to the ticket gate. It was heavy and tough, but knowing that I would be able to ride my bike in a place I wouldn't usually be able to reach by bike gave me the strength to push through.
Since bicycles take up space in the train car, it’s best to use the front or back carriage, so I always wait at the very front or back of the platform.
　
　

　　
I boarded the train with my bike and met up with Nishipan, a fellow Earlybirds staff member, and Nanako, a girl who was also participating in her first ride event, on the way to Shinshiro Station.
When I arrived at Shinshiro Station around 8:20 AM, most of the Kamo-chan route group had already gathered. There were no set rules on how to get there; besides those like us who used the rinko method, there were people who had arrived in Shinshiro the day before to camp, people who had ridden all the way from Aichi, and even someone who had come straight from a night shift without any sleep. Each of our own RIDEALIVEs had already begun the day before.
The first thing I had to do after arriving at the meeting spot was reassemble my bike. I had to put the front wheel back on and get ready to ride. I adjusted the screws and levers so that the tire would be centered in the wheel for safety, and spun the wheel to make sure there weren't any strange noises. Kamo-chan gave it a final check, and once I got the thumbs up, I attached my panniers and camping gear to the carriers, and I was ready to go.
　

Summer Challenge!!

　
It was 9:00 AM, the meeting time. The sky was clear, and according to the forecast, it was going to be a mid-summer day with temperatures rising to about 34 degrees Celsius.
Once we were ready, the Shinshiro team introduced ourselves, and we listened to the route explanation and the day's schedule. As planned, we would climb Mt. Horai and head down to Hamamatsu—it sounded simple, but it was a route with significant elevation changes.
Since it was a group ride, we all shared simple hand signals for things like "stopping," "avoiding," or "turning right." While I tightened my resolve, the feeling of safety that came with riding in a group boosted my morale. On this Shinshiro pass route, the only women among the participants were myself, Nishipan, and Nanako. We rode in a single file, and the men made space for us to join them. I took the first pedal stroke toward Hamamatsu, marking the start of my challenge.
　　
　

　
　
In Shinshiro, the mountains are close. If you look up, there are rows of deep green mountains, and if you look down, vibrant, light-green rice fields stretch out. Since it was a clear day, the contrast between the green mountains and the blue sky was beautiful. Of course, because I encountered such scenery the moment I started riding, I was immediately enthralled by the ride. Along the road, there were large, slightly old-fashioned wooden houses standing one by one, with lots of laundry—children's school uniforms and character towels—hung out to dry in the gardens. I personally like this scenery, which I rarely see in Nagoya, and I felt warmed by imagining the slow passage of time and the lives of the people who live there.
When we left the flat roads and started entering the mountains, I began to smell the fresh, grassy scent of greenery. That smell reminded me of when I used to go play in the mountains with my grandparents every Obon holiday as a child, and I felt touched—strangely, I almost cried from the nostalgia. It was a moment when I realized that even if childhood memories are faint, your body remembers them.
　
　

　
Then, the slopes gradually became steeper, and I could see that a full-scale uphill climb was coming. I shifted my gears both front and back into the lightest setting, repositioned my hands on the grips, and pushed the pedals. To my surprise, the pedals spun much more easily than I expected because of the shift. I was impressed by how light it felt on such a slope, but it was so light that it was hard to balance, and the handlebars wobbled. I tried shifting to a slightly heavier gear to see if it would be more stable, but I realized it took a lot of physical strength to complete one rotation, so I shifted back.
　　
When climbing such steep hills, everyone has their own preferred gear and way of using their body; for some, lighter pedals are easier, while for others, using heavier gears to reduce the number of rotations works better. Since I had to figure out where my own "sweet spot" was, the fact that I had to use my brain as well as my body made the steep climb unexpectedly more difficult. Still, I kept pedaling without putting my feet on the ground. I pushed the bike forward with all my might, but even after turning a corner, the slope continued, and when I saw that the second curve led to an even longer uphill climb than the first, I nearly lost hope.
"It's not going to be that easy, is it?" I told myself, and kept pedaling mindlessly. I tasted blood in my throat for the first time in a while, which reminded me of my basketball-crazed days, but at times like that, calling out things like, "Wow, this is tough!" and "Let's do this!" with the members climbing with me was encouraging and helped me reset my mindset, for which I was very grateful.
　
　

　
The slope, which I had worried would continue forever, leveled off, and we took a break at a square with a parking space to rehydrate.
I was impressed that even though we stopped for only a short time, everyone made sure to replenish not just fluids, but also sugar. It really is important to take both frequently.
I followed suit and ate the PFM baked goods I had brought as energy snacks. I brought "Honey Bars" packed with honey for quick energy and nuts and dried fruits to help with muscle fatigue, as well as "P&R Tarts" to get a solid amount of calories. Being able to enjoy some delicious sugar even when things were tough made the PFM snacks a big help on this RIDEALIVE.
　
　

　
　
From here, we were told there was another mountain pass to cross before reaching our destination, the Mt. Horaiji Parkway. And apparently, it was steeper and longer than the mountain road we had just climbed. I didn't want to believe it, but having come this far, there was no choice but to climb it. "It'll be fine with everyone here," I whispered to myself, hopped on my bike, and started pedaling firmly.
Perhaps because my body had gotten used to the first climb, I felt more comfortable with the gears and balance, and the pedals felt surprisingly light. Even though it was in the mountains, the scorching sun was intense, and battling the heat was no small feat, but I had made up my mind that I would definitely make it to the top, so I just kept pedaling. Occasionally, the view of the valley that came into sight from where the trees cleared was beautiful, and it gave me motivation by letting me realize that I was climbing higher and higher.
I saw the sign for the Mt. Horaiji Parkway. Just a little more, just a little more... It was painful, but I kept my eyes forward, pedaling as if I were riding toward the blue sky spreading out before me. I saw it! My mouth curled into a smile at the entrance to the parkway, our goal. It’s strange how my body felt lighter at moments like this. I pushed forward, finally topping the climb with the town, now looking small at the foot of the mountain, behind me. I parked my bike in the shade and took off my helmet—I was surprised to find my straps soaked in sweat, showing just how much physical exertion my body had undergone, more than I had realized. The other members arrived one after another, and we had all reached the top. That made me happier than anything, and there was something moving about all of us laughing together. The green mountains and the sky, shining white from the clear weather, made the feeling of having conquered the climb sink in, and I was filled with a sense of accomplishment and refreshment.
　
　

　
"Let’s take a break," we said, and ducked into a small shop with a shaved ice flag. I intended to cool down my overheated body with shaved ice, but seeing my favorite Gohei-mochi on the menu, I couldn't help but order it. It felt like it tasted three times better than usual after working so hard. I also learned here that the characters for "心太" are read as "tokoroten," so I felt a little smarter.
　
　

　
After resting for about 20 minutes and taking a commemorative photo, we checked the upcoming route. That's right, this "Summer Challenge" wasn't over yet. Once the climb is over, the next challenge is the "descent." I was happy to hear it was a descent, but as soon as we started, I realized it wasn't easy enough to let my guard down for even a second—but it was also a playtime, like riding an attraction.
　
I started descending the steep road we had just climbed, pulling the brakes, but I picked up way more speed than I had imagined. The sensation of being sucked into the green tunnel covered by trees was very interesting, and my excitement outweighed my fear. As my speed increased, I could hear the sound of the T-shirt I was wearing flapping in the wind getting louder in my ears, and my spirits kept rising. I handled the many curves by balancing carefully to avoid crashing, but also tried not to slow down too much. The exhilaration of rushing through the mountains with my whole body felt amazing—I suppose this is the reward you can only taste after climbing that mountain road.
As I was enjoying the mountain descent like this, I heard a "scritch" sound coming from the front tire. It seemed like the bottom of the pannier bag attached to the front carrier hit the road when I tilted the bike into a turn. I borrowed these panniers from Circles staffer Jas, and my immediate reaction was, "Oh no!" This bad premonition would later prove correct.
　
　

　
　
Before I knew it, we had finished the fun descent and reached the town. It was still a peaceful area with fields and rice paddies, but I suddenly felt a stifling, unpleasant heat, and sweat began to pour out. It really made me realize the power of nature, as the air in the mountains was clean and refreshing, making the journey feel invigorating even if the path was tough.
　
After that, we headed to the roadside station for lunch and finally managed to get something to eat. We enjoyed some buckwheat noodles, a local specialty, and since we were running behind schedule for the final destination, Talikana, we left the station quickly, suppressing the urge to lounge around on the tatami mats. The rest was just a matter of pedaling hard toward Hamamatsu. I was definitely feeling the fatigue after crossing the mountain pass, but after going through a tunnel midway, my heart soared when I saw a sign for "Hamamatsu." The rice paddies and fields on either side slowly thinned out, and once we got into the city, we stopped by a public bathhouse to wash off the sweat of an unknown number of liters. We couldn't stay long there either, but a bath after such hard work was incredibly pleasant, refreshing my mind and body so I could head to Talikana in the best possible state.
The bathhouse and Talikana were about 8 kilometers apart, and the route there ran along Lake Hamana; this path was personally my favorite. The surface of the water, sparkling and softly reflecting the sunset, and the twilight sky, a mix of gold and indigo, were so beautiful that I couldn't take my eyes off them. It was the perfect ending.
　
　

　
As we left the lakeside, we could see colorful tents scattered along the shore. That was our final destination, Talikana. And we all arrived safely with smiles on our faces.
The members of the other groups had already arrived, and they welcomed us, who had crossed a mountain to reach Hamamatsu, with shouts of "Great job!!" Looking at the lake with the sun setting, I felt a sense of accomplishment I couldn't quite put into words.
　
　

　
　
　

A Place and Meal Full of Heart

　　
Talikana is a hideaway-like campground quietly nestled along the lakeside. It’s amazing to think that the owner, Shin-san, developed this land by himself, bringing in electricity and water.
Shin-san is a gentle person with an endless smile, and that gentle atmosphere flows through Talikana, reflecting his personality. He had even made a diving board into Lake Hamana for this day, and as soon as everyone arrived, they jumped in one after another. This playfulness of Shin-san’s added one more happy memory for all of us.
　
　

　
And there was one more thing waiting at the campground: a dinner prepared by Keita Ohira, the owner of EARLYBIRDS. Dishes of beautifully arranged food were lined up one after another on a long table lit by candles.
The dinner was buffet-style. As it turned from twilight to night, the banquet space became fantastic and romantic.
　
　

　
With drinks in hand raised to the sky, we all shouted, "Cheers!" and the long-awaited banquet began. There were about 10 types of dishes in total, and in addition to the variety, the arrangement and color of all the food were so beautiful that I was moved by the fact that I could enjoy them with my eyes before even tasting them. Of course, it goes without saying that the flavors were delicious enough to make my nose flare with delight.
The "deliciousness" seeped into my exhausted body, and smiles overflowed, sparking conversation with the person next to me. Food really is amazing—that was the moment I realized it all over again.
　
　

　
Since we had been in separate groups during the day's ride, this night was the first time all the participants of this RIDEALIVE were gathered together.
Over the delicious meal, the conversation with the Hamamatsu participants flowed freely. How was today's ride? What connections led you to participate in RAL? What kind of bike are you riding? Where are you planning to ride tomorrow? ...In this way, new encounters are made and connections are built across prefectures. That makes me happy, and it's simply fun.
Some people sat around a bonfire by the water and set off fireworks, others jumped off the diving board again (I did my first night-time jump into Lake Hamana here), and some enjoyed talking while holding a drink... Everyone spent the summer night by the water in their own way.
　
　

　
Such a wonderful night passes in a flash, and before I knew it, the date was about to change. When I crawled into my tent to sleep, my day—a true challenge for me—was coming to an end, and without even having time to savor the afterglow, I fell into a deep sleep.
　
To be continued
　
　　

RIDEALIVE 2017 Report by Keita
http://ral.life/ride/ridealive-2017-vol-2-shizuoka
　
RIDEALIVE 2017 Report by Happy
http://ral.life/ride/ridealive-2017-vol-2-shizuoka-2

RIDEALIVE 2017 Report by Kamo
http://ral.life/ride/ridealive-2017-vol-2-shizuoka-3

RIDEALIVE 2017 Report by Mossan
http://ral.life/ride/ridealive-2017-vol-2-shizuoka-4
　
RIDEALIVE 2017
http://ral.life/ridealive2017

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