Free Camping
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| This is the last-known-photoiest photo of anyone ever. |
Now, since we travel with our tent and three-season sleeping bags, you'd think it would be a cinch to just set up anywhere relatively flat and catch a good few hours of Zs. And you would be right in that assumption.
While biking across Missouri and California, we spent a few dozen nights on the road. Of those nights, we free camped exactly once. It was pitch-black, with pea-soup fog, no shoulder on the highway, no streetlights, and eight miles to the next town. We happened upon a small, bizarre abandoned park on the side of the road (pictured above) that looked like some holdover from the 60s (or perhaps Narnia). A godsend, truly, though the absence of water and presence of human feces wrapped in a magazine brought down our Yelp rating of this park a skosh. Also we were pretty sure we'd be murdered violently in the night, and that would unfortunately invalidate our plane tickets.
This is just one of the many, many reasons to choose Japan for your bike tour destination. The U.S., for all its charms, also has four squintillion guns, all of which are owned by crazy people who patrol campsites looking for naive bike tourists to slay and turn into creepy furniture (it should be noted that some of these Americans are unable to fire their guns due to their scary hook hands). Japan, on the other hand, has some pretty damn reasonable gun laws, not to mention the average Japanese person would as soon deep fry a stick of butter as they would approach a gaijin and confront them about anything ever.
That's not to say that there are no rules for free camping. Indeed, there are several simple guidelines for free camping in Japan that I'll attempt to wrangle into an easy-to-remember acronym, NOOPS:
- Not private property: set up on public property. Say, a park, an abandoned campsite, or a haunted amusement park.
- Only after dark: don't set up your tent until the sun goes down.
- Out of sight: don't set up anywhere you can be seen easily from a road or sidewalk.
- Pack up early: get everything on your bike before anyone might conceivably use the park.
- Seriously, clean up after yourself: don't leave trash everywhere, you animal. C'mon already.
In general, every little town has a public park somewhere, and the smaller the town, the less crowded the park will be. We never once had anyone bother us while camping in Japan. The few times someone did wander by while we were set up, they made some incredulous conversation, then promptly moved on. As long as you stay out of people's hair and try to be as unobtrusive as possible, you shouldn't have any problems free camping anywhere in Japan.
One thing to consider on the road if you have some way of accessing the Internet (more on this later?) is to check Google Maps for kouen (公園) in the area you plan on stopping. Of course, not every park works for free camping, but it's a good place to start looking.
One thing to consider on the road if you have some way of accessing the Internet (more on this later?) is to check Google Maps for kouen (公園) in the area you plan on stopping. Of course, not every park works for free camping, but it's a good place to start looking.
Hotels and Ryokans
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| Your broken home-away-from-home! |
Of course, sometimes you don't feel up to camping. Maybe it's raining, maybe you're exhausted, maybe the bike grime has so accumulated on your body that you can no longer move your arms (quitter). Maybe there just aren't any places you can free camp. Fortunately, Japan has a buttload of hotels...
...And unfortunately, all of them are too expensive. The absolute rock-bottom cheapest hotel room we ever found for two people in Japan was about ¥5500, an astounding price that was never repeated except in our wildest mountain-climbing-fueled delusions.
Typically, for two people, no matter how urban or rural your location, you can count on spending anywhere from ¥7000 to ¥12000, easy. Now, most of these hotels will be quite comfortable by Western standards...or at the very least, most of them have more amenities than furtively camping in a public park. Frequently, they will offer breakfast, which in our experience is fair-to-meh in quality. However, if the breakfast is buffet-style, the often high price of the meal can be offset by walking away with several pieces of bread, hard-boiled eggs, teabags, and sausages stuffed in the wily bike tourist's pockets.
Now, there are such things as "Love Hotels," of course. Many travel guides recommend using them as a cheap source of lodging, no hanky-panky required. However, it's rather difficult to find them unless you're looking right at them (in which case you can't miss them, as they're usually huge, garish, and have "hotel" written on them in English); they don't tend to have much of a web presence, at least not in English. This problem is compounded when you enter the love hotel, as all of their information about rates is in Japanese, and is frequently automated. You'll see love hotels advertising rates as low as ¥3500 for a "stay" (the cheaper price displayed is for a "rest," an hourly-or-so rate), but this is usually only at certain non-peak times, and even then only with a member's card or somesuch. A typical night at a love hotel would be around ¥6000, barely cheaper than a cheap hotel. Plus, considering love hotels aren't really meant for bike tourists, often don't let you leave the room before checkout, and don't really have any bike parking, I think you're better off camping in the rain or springing for a real hotel room if you really must.
The other option for lodging is a ryokan (旅館), a traditional-style Japanese inn. These places give you all the benefits and drawbacks in one go: comfortable traditional Japanese tatami rooms, but traditional Japanese insane prices; access to spectacular (if grimy) hot baths, but lack of access to the Internet. In tourist towns, ryokan are thicker on the ground than hotels, but they also tend to be super expensive, charging ¥20000 or more for two people for a night's stay. Sometimes this fee includes meals, which can be a pretty great experience, but considering that much coin would buy ten breakfasts at a conbini (or two snacks, if you snack like we do), we gave these places a pass.
If you do stay at a ryokan, be aware that the owners will almost definitely speak no English, may turn you away even if you speak Japanese, and may be old, senile, and/or crazy. Be clear on the price before you unpack your stuff. Be thee warned.
Google results for ホテル or "hotel."
...And unfortunately, all of them are too expensive. The absolute rock-bottom cheapest hotel room we ever found for two people in Japan was about ¥5500, an astounding price that was never repeated except in our wildest mountain-climbing-fueled delusions.
Typically, for two people, no matter how urban or rural your location, you can count on spending anywhere from ¥7000 to ¥12000, easy. Now, most of these hotels will be quite comfortable by Western standards...or at the very least, most of them have more amenities than furtively camping in a public park. Frequently, they will offer breakfast, which in our experience is fair-to-meh in quality. However, if the breakfast is buffet-style, the often high price of the meal can be offset by walking away with several pieces of bread, hard-boiled eggs, teabags, and sausages stuffed in the wily bike tourist's pockets.
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| Near our old place in Osaka, the holy grail of Japanese weirdness: panty vending machines! |
The other option for lodging is a ryokan (旅館), a traditional-style Japanese inn. These places give you all the benefits and drawbacks in one go: comfortable traditional Japanese tatami rooms, but traditional Japanese insane prices; access to spectacular (if grimy) hot baths, but lack of access to the Internet. In tourist towns, ryokan are thicker on the ground than hotels, but they also tend to be super expensive, charging ¥20000 or more for two people for a night's stay. Sometimes this fee includes meals, which can be a pretty great experience, but considering that much coin would buy ten breakfasts at a conbini (or two snacks, if you snack like we do), we gave these places a pass.
If you do stay at a ryokan, be aware that the owners will almost definitely speak no English, may turn you away even if you speak Japanese, and may be old, senile, and/or crazy. Be clear on the price before you unpack your stuff. Be thee warned.
Restaurants
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| Sushi and tempura for two: ¥2500. Tea: ¥0. Taking a well needed-rest: priceless. Jenn's expression: pricelesser. |
Yes, as any decent guidebook will tell you, Japan has more Michelin stars than any other country except Shambala. Truly, an epicurean delight. More importantly for bike travelers, however, there is also an abundance of good cheap restaurants. Sure, there are the big chains, Yoshinoya, Matsuya, Coco Curry House and all those other repositories of ¥300 Bowls of Something Brown, but it's not terribly difficult to find a slightly more expensive local equivalent of much better quality.
Especially if you're biking along a highway (which is pretty much going to happen), there's a lot of food meant for truckers. Unlike in America, however, where we fuel our truckers with chicken fried steak, chicken fried fries, and chicken fried coffee, Japanese truckers tend to eat a little better. There are a ton of restaurants marked "self" (セルフ), which are cafeteria-style restaurants where it's possible to get a giant bowl of udon, a sushi roll, and tempura for under ¥700. Most other little cafes have a "service lunch" (サービスランチ), a large portion of whatever the specialty is, for ¥1000 or under. Do watch out for places that are marketed more as coffee shops (喫茶店), though, as they tend to have mediocre coffee and no food except for overpriced crust-cut-off sandwiches. And for a ready-made meal for a budget, the selection at many Japanese supermarkets is pretty amazing; you can eat a solid meal on a park bench for about ¥500.
Especially if you're biking along a highway (which is pretty much going to happen), there's a lot of food meant for truckers. Unlike in America, however, where we fuel our truckers with chicken fried steak, chicken fried fries, and chicken fried coffee, Japanese truckers tend to eat a little better. There are a ton of restaurants marked "self" (セルフ), which are cafeteria-style restaurants where it's possible to get a giant bowl of udon, a sushi roll, and tempura for under ¥700. Most other little cafes have a "service lunch" (サービスランチ), a large portion of whatever the specialty is, for ¥1000 or under. Do watch out for places that are marketed more as coffee shops (喫茶店), though, as they tend to have mediocre coffee and no food except for overpriced crust-cut-off sandwiches. And for a ready-made meal for a budget, the selection at many Japanese supermarkets is pretty amazing; you can eat a solid meal on a park bench for about ¥500.
The only real point to keep in mind when dining in Japanese restaurants on the road is that drinking is, without a doubt, the easiest way to go over budget. It's pretty rare to find a beer for under ¥500 at any restaurant. Do the responsible thing: take advantage of Japan's ancient culture and lack of open container laws and drink in front of the conbini (or in the park, or on the street, or on the train).
Cooking on the Road
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| Look to your left. Then look to your right. In fifteen minutes, one of these sandwiches will be devoured by crows. |
While biking in Japan, I feel that I really didn't fully appreciate how amazing Japanese supermarkets can be. In California, our food options were frequently either $15 burritos at a tourist trap or nothing at all. In Korea, the very few general stores we passed sold nothing but crackers, canned tuna, soju, and canned silkworm larvae (just in case you craved those so bad, you couldn't wait until fresh ones were available).
By contrast, Japan is a culinary wonderland. Sure, it may be a bit difficult to find non-white bread or fresh salsa, but heck, it's also a bit difficult to find a good lean unicorn steak. In central and Western Honshu, at least, you can find a pretty decent supermarket at least every 50 km, and they're usually not too distant from the main road. When you're in the remotest parts of rural Japan, you may run across one of the Supermarkets That Time Forgot; at a shop on the Shimanami Kaido, I excitedly picked up several cans of seasonal beers that I'd never seen before, only to discover that they had expired in 2004.
Naturally, you'll be wanting to buy some fresh food for that day as well as nonperishables for later. I imagine this isn't really news to any bike tourists out there, but some things keep really well while bouncing around in a pannier all day, other things not so much. Fish would keep for an afternoon, but not more than three or four hours. Same for any kind of fresh meat. Nonperishables are pretty easy to find, from dry pasta to canned tomatoes and fresh vegetables. Some things such as canned beans or our specialty, couscous (seriously, it requires little water, little fuel, and not much time to cook), we had to find in a specialty store in a big city.
EDIT: Oh man, one more big, big point I forgot! We traveled with a camp stove, the MSR Whisperlite, which runs on every kind of fuel except perhaps Unobtanium. In Japan, we managed to find fuel specifically for camp stoves (white gas, referred to as ガス on the big, squarish cans), but it was a little hard to dig up; the rooster-sigil コメリ home goods stores that dot Honshu and Shikoku never, ever had it, but the much less-common Daiki (ダイキ) was a good source. We never ended up actually running out of fuel, though we did come closer to it than we'd like, so much so that we've got a pretty big stockpile of fuel taking up room in our closet to this day.
By contrast, Japan is a culinary wonderland. Sure, it may be a bit difficult to find non-white bread or fresh salsa, but heck, it's also a bit difficult to find a good lean unicorn steak. In central and Western Honshu, at least, you can find a pretty decent supermarket at least every 50 km, and they're usually not too distant from the main road. When you're in the remotest parts of rural Japan, you may run across one of the Supermarkets That Time Forgot; at a shop on the Shimanami Kaido, I excitedly picked up several cans of seasonal beers that I'd never seen before, only to discover that they had expired in 2004.
Naturally, you'll be wanting to buy some fresh food for that day as well as nonperishables for later. I imagine this isn't really news to any bike tourists out there, but some things keep really well while bouncing around in a pannier all day, other things not so much. Fish would keep for an afternoon, but not more than three or four hours. Same for any kind of fresh meat. Nonperishables are pretty easy to find, from dry pasta to canned tomatoes and fresh vegetables. Some things such as canned beans or our specialty, couscous (seriously, it requires little water, little fuel, and not much time to cook), we had to find in a specialty store in a big city.
EDIT: Oh man, one more big, big point I forgot! We traveled with a camp stove, the MSR Whisperlite, which runs on every kind of fuel except perhaps Unobtanium. In Japan, we managed to find fuel specifically for camp stoves (white gas, referred to as ガス on the big, squarish cans), but it was a little hard to dig up; the rooster-sigil コメリ home goods stores that dot Honshu and Shikoku never, ever had it, but the much less-common Daiki (ダイキ) was a good source. We never ended up actually running out of fuel, though we did come closer to it than we'd like, so much so that we've got a pretty big stockpile of fuel taking up room in our closet to this day.
Conbinis
Conbinis, as we've already discussed, are an invaluable resource: a place to refill water bottles from the tap (yes, it's potable, despite the looks or outright warnings you may get from employees), to check your e-mail, to sit and drink a beer or a coffee or another beer. But believe it or not, they actually sell food at these places, too.
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| Sort of. |
The two main problems with eating at conbinis are the cost and the super-processed nature of most of the food. Sure, a meat bun, some chicken nuggets, and a plate of spaghetti with meat sauce may sound like exactly what you want when you've been biking for six hours, and it'll fill you up, but it'll give you a stomachache and take ¥1500 out of your wallet. Two conbini stops in a day, and there goes a whole day's budget.
Whenever possible, we'd get our breakfast at conbinis. The most nutritious, real-foodiest breakfast we could find was a large cup of plain yogurt, a couple bananas, a bag of mixed nuts, two hard-boiled eggs, and a couple of fresh-brewed coffees (a new item that seemed to be slowly working its way around the Lawsons and 7-11s around the country) would come to a little over ¥1000 and would give us the nutrients and energy we needed to go for the whole morning. Or at least until snack time, half an hour later.
So yeah, in short: Japan offers a million conveniences for the cycle tourists, most of which you must avoid like the plague if you don't want to blow through your savings in a week. If you can resist spending a fortune on junk food and hotel rooms when you're exhausted and starving, then you've got what it takes to bike to kingdom come. And if you can't, well...they're always looking for teachers in Korea.
