Onomichi
Day 5
From Hiroshima to Onomichi...
What: cycling the Shimanami Kaido way
Where: Onomichi
No. of Nights: 2 (Days 5 & 6 of a larger trip)
Today I am travelling to Onomichi. I am in no rush, as it is not a very long journey. I take trains from Hiroshima to Fukuyama, then Fukuyama to Onomichi, which takes around two hours in total. You can read about my trip to Hiroshima here.
But buying this particular train ticket turns into an unexpected adventure. One man I ask, already at the ticket machine, speaks almost no English. Out of sheer kindness he insists on helping me, but he does not really understand where I want to go, and I begin to suspect that the ticket he is about to buy with my ICOCA card could be completely wrong. To make matters worse, he is using the machine in Japanese, so I cannot be certain of anything. I start to worry I might end up with a ticket to Tokyo instead of Onomichi, so I need to politely stop the process and explain that I will go to the information centre.
This proves far more difficult than expected. He continues pressing buttons for me, and eventually I have to press the red cancel button myself while signalling that I must leave, and then actually walk away. He seems to think he should follow me, so I have to delicately shake him off, which is about as tricky as trying to peel a piece of sticky plastic off your fingers after static electricity. I feel awful because he is only trying to be helpful.
Finally I reach the ticket centre, and the sticky tension is gone. But seeing the enormous queue, I return to the machines for one last attempt. This time I ask a ticket officer to guide me, and although his English is limited and he misunderstands me at first, we eventually succeed. The people here are incredibly friendly and genuinely helpful.
Ahh on the train at last! I sit back and relax. This is now the second leg of my trip, early days but exciting to be on the go!
Once I arrive I’m told I need to get a certain bus, so I jump on this local bus and the bus driver kindly tells me when to hop off! Now I’m in Onomichi! It seems dead!!?
In search of my hotel...
I wander through narrow streets, lined with dilapidated houses, shops with rusty shutters down or cracked plastic shutters dangling, and restaurants that are closed and dark inside. The streets feel almost deserted, as if the town is holding its breath. I do spot a few people and try
asking them where SIMA is, but they look puzzled. They smile politely and shrug their shoulders, and I say “arigato.” Wanting to be helpful, I add “it’s okay, thank you,” and they reply with a cheerful “ok bye bye,” walking off with a smile.
I spot an old woman walking towards me, and although it seems incredibly unlikely, I stop her out of sheer desperation—not really expecting much. To my amazement, she knows exactly what I am looking for. She patiently explains several times, and then, unbelievably, walks me halfway there herself! Once we arrive, I glance at the instructions again. They tell me to collect the keys from one of two restaurants just around the corner. Which one depends on the day—typically Japanese, typically elaborate and delightfully cryptic!
I had hoped this would be simple, but it ends up taking another twenty minutes of wandering through this strange maze of streets, as I get lost once more among the criss-crossing alleys and empty lanes. At one point, I half expect a zombie to leap out and bite my arm off. Thankfully that does not happen, and a kindly old man eventually points me in the right direction. Even so, I am loving every minute of it.
I step inside and the owner of SIMA greets me warmly. I pay him in cash, he gives me the codes, and I manage to walk back to the hotel without getting lost. By now I expect very little, because surrounding my hotel is a long-forgotten building project: a
residential property pieced together from timber, some of it rotting, concrete, plastic, and other structures whose walls look as if they were made from plasterboard.and it could collapse with the flick of a finger!
Anyway, when I step inside, it is wonderful! A little oasis of calm and zen tucked into this decrepit, slightly eerie village. I take my shoes off as the notice instructs and slip on the ones provided. I climb the stairs and make my way to my room. It seems I have the place to myself. It is sweltering inside! The floors groan as if they are nothing more than a thin layer of chipboard, and the walls are as flimsy as sheets of paper stretched between floor and ceiling. At any moment, it feels as though I could simply fall straight through the floor. There is almost no sound-proofing, and I must share a toilet, though I do have my own bathroom, which is a bonus. My bedroom, the middle of three rooms, has no natural light, yet I am strangely content, embracing the quirky charm of it all.
Oasis of tranquility...
It is an unusual set-up, no doubt about that, but somehow it grows on me surprisingly quickly. Hidden away as it is, it feels like a little oasis amid the generally run-down, almost forgotten surroundings. From certain angles it even looks quite neat, and I love the simple, understated style. The flaws are obvious, of course, but they only make the place feel more unique, giving it a character and charm that is really quite delightful.
Ropewayto Mt. Senkoji
I drop my bags off and just manage to catch the last ropeway up to Senkoji Temple. At only about 165 metres, it is more of a hill than a mountain, but the observation platform rewards the climb with truly spectacular views. Across Onomichi, the town stretches out in neat clusters, while in the other direction, the outlying islands float on the Seto Inland Sea. Behind it all, the mountains fall away towards the horizon in layers upon layers, each one a slightly different hue of green and blue, fading gradually into the distance. I sit there for half an hour, captivated, sketching quietly as the colours shift with the fading light.
As I stroll down the path (easily walkable if you have the time) I come across what at first seems like a film set. The lights, the activity, the purposeful movement. But then I realise it is not a set at all; it is a genuine rescue mission, unfolding right before my eyes. And just like that, reality beats fiction.
This is followed by charming little shops, cosy cafes, shrines and plenty of dozy, completely relaxed cats lounging in the fading light.
Back at the hotel, I meet two girls from Tokyo. They are super friendly, though speak only a little English, which is still far more than my Japanese. My vocabulary has now dwindled to a grand total of five words. I keep thinking the same thing: the Japanese I meet speak little English, as expected, but their English is far better than my Japanese, which was also expected!
Evening out in Onomichi...
Tonight I venture out into the darkening streets in search of dinner. To my surprise, the town has a wonderfully warm and inviting feel. More people are about now: lively school children zipping past on their bikes, friendly elderly locals returning from the market with groceries, and the occasional tourist wandering about, few and far between, which is just how I like it.
It is dusk, that magical time of day I adore, especially on a spring evening. The town radiates a charm that is hard to put into words, yet undeniable, and I feel completely in tune with it. By a stroke of luck, I stumble across the bike shop where I am to pick up my bike tomorrow. Perfect! I now know exactly where to go, stress free. The girl at the shop is incredibly helpful. She shows me the bike I will be using and walks me through the Shimanami Kaido route from start to finish. With her guidance, I decide to cycle roughly half the route, then take the forty-five minute ferry back to Onomichi with my bike, ensuring I can return it before seven in the evening without a worry. She even gives me a clear map, and I am positively buzzing with excitement. Whooohooo!
After forty-five minutes of wandering, checking out at least half a dozen restaurants, I finally come across a nice-looking place that is almost full and has a lively atmosphere. This is a very good sign, especially here in Onomichi, where so far many places have looked worn-down, closed, grim, or nearly empty. The waiter is extremely welcoming and asks me to wait.
until the next available seat, which happens to be ready just as he is speaking! He helps me with the menu, and I settle down to enjoy a good, hearty meal.
I then head back to the hotel to get ready for tomorrow’s biking before winding down for the night.
Now, about the fan in my room! I literally have no idea how to make it work—it is all in Japanese, the room is sweltering, and these rooms do not have phones to call reception. Actually, there is no reception! The Japanese girls who might have helped are probably asleep or out. So, I give up, get ready for bed, and collapse onto the futon—which, naturally, is on the floor, as futons are meant to be. Despite the mystery fan, the heat, and the general chaos, my room is surprisingly cosy. I lie there, daydreaming about the day’s adventures, and eventually drift off to a very satisfying sleep.
Day 6
Cycling the Shimanami Kaido Way
I wake up buzzing with excitement to get going. The fellow guests next door are already up and about, and by the time I leave, they have vanished! I eat my bread, sip my Starbucks coffee, and feel ready for adventure.
I head to pick up my bike from ‘Better Bicycles’. The shopkeeper is wonderfully friendly, and the music blaring from the speakers instantly transports me back to my youth—Nirvana, Smashing Pumpkins, and the Cure! Already, I feel lighter, more energised. He reassures me that my bag is fine, although I suspect he does not quite follow my worries. Really, it is just the thrill and uncertainty of the adventure ahead.
I grab the gorgeous road bike, light as a feather, with three internal gears, and make my way to Onomichi port. The ferry to Mukaishima Island awaits, the weather perfect, sky clear and sun warm. I strike up a conversation with a South American guy who has been living here for the past eight weeks for a research project. His love for this place is infectious, and by the time we reach the other side, I am brimming with carefree, light-hearted optimism. We exchange cheerful adioses as the ferry docks, and I am off, ready to embrace the Shimanami Kaido.
As soon as I hit the road, I feel it, I feel incredibly good. The bike is remarkably smooth, and well, the roads are perfectly smooth too! My thought pattern gets transformed into this smooth tranquility
too... From the smooth feel of the road beneath my tyres, tyres to rim, rim to spokes, spokes to fork, fork to bike frame, bike frame to me… everything clicks. The route is delightfully simple, just a painted blue line guiding the way and no cars in sight.
Before I really set off, I glide through a small village that somehow feels more refined than much of Onomichi. To my astonishment, I stumble across a reasonably large supermarket. I stop to grab some provisions, including a few tempting oranges. Back on the road, I feel unstoppable. Leaving the village behind, the world seems quiet and calm. Off in the distance, the first bridge rises majestically, its scale breathtaking. The sun is warm, the sky clear—perfect cycling weather.
Before tackling the first climb, I pause at a viewing point. I snack on an orange and chat with some locals doing the same, soaking up the tranquillity and feeling utterly ready for the adventure ahead.
The first climb is exhilarating, taking me up about fifty metres to cross the Innoshima Bridge. I pedal smoothly and quickly, almost effortlessly, overtaking several other cyclists along the way. The bridge itself is magnificent, and I follow the lower path beneath the main road for cars, feeling the wind, the hum of the tyres on the smooth surface, and the vast expanse of sea all around me.
Within ten minutes, I am on Innoshima Island! Almost everyone I pass nods or smiles a cheerful hello, and I stop to chat with a few along the way. At one point, I pause for the loo and notice a fresh produce shop nearby. The sales girl is
adorable—she giggles and blushes when I ask whether the fruit has much sugar content. It turns out it does, but I buy one anyway; it looks delicious and will give me some much-needed energy. She has big brown eyes and a lovely smile. Feeling recharged, I move on and soon stop for a fantastic coffee. Behind the counter, the girl seems genuinely entertained by me, as she and her co-worker keep smiling, giggling, and sneaking glances my way. Perhaps I have a particularly funny look today!
The plan is to catch the ferry back from Setoda, but first I might push on a little further and then do a U-turn, depending on how much time I have and how I am feeling. First, though, comes the next climb to reach the Ikuchi Bridge. It is only about a forty-metre ascent this time, but in the heat and with the steep gradient, it feels more tiring than the last one.
Kousanji Temple
Now some 6km in (on Ukuchijima island now), I pass an amazing looking temple and decide to stop by. I pay the entrance fee and walk around Kousanji Temple for the following hour! It is really very beautiful. This belongs to the Honganji sect of the Jodo Shinshu School of Pure Land Buddhism. More info about the temple and on getting here can be found at this website.
During this time, I realise how drained I am, the sun and exercise has taken its toll! And there’s no way I can continue riding any further. In fact, I’m starting to want nothing more than to get back and lay down as soon as possible! I find the ferry terminal and hang around for the next 30mins, feeling rather fatigued and weak!!
Waiting for ferry back to Onomichi...
As I sit in the waiting hall, I notice two girls walking nearby. At first glance, one looks like she might be a Korean or Taiwanese tourist—who knows—but I am far too exhausted to be thinking about girls right now! I board the boat and sit down immediately. It is hot on board, and I am starting to feel unwell. Perhaps I am dehydrated; my heart rate is above 100, which worries me slightly.
Then I see the two girls approaching the ferry. As I glance at them, one looks over, waves, and smiles and I suddenly realise they are the girls from the hotel! What a coincidence. The other girl catches my eye too and gives a big smile. I am in no mood to talk, though, and as they pass, they
offer huge smiles before heading to sit further forward. On the ferry, I feel weak and nauseous, my heartbeat stubbornly high, leaving me a little anxious as the ferry moves across the water.
Forty five minutes later we arrive, and by now my heart is back to normal and I am feeling good again. Once I am off the ferry, I stand there with my bike and the girls and we approach each other. Feeling cooler now and relieved we have arrived, I am pretty smiley and chilled. Although I had thought they were not fussed about speaking to me on board, they are now very chatty and quite giggly. We chat a little and I tell them about my cycling. After saying our goodbyes, I drop off the bike and feel really good. It has been a truly wicked day.
I head out in search of some food, hoping to dine fairly quickly as I am rather hungry. I come across a ramen place. It is basic inside, small and slightly worn, but there are two locals eating, so why not. The smell of the broth hits me the moment I step in, rich and warming, and the steam curls lazily from each bowl. I take a seat and watch the noodles being pulled and cooked with swift, confident movements. The warmth of the shop is a relief, and the chatter of the two locals adds a quiet, friendly buzz. I order my ramen and soon a steaming bowl arrives, fragrant and inviting. The broth is hearty, the noodles perfectly springy, and each mouthful is comforting and satisfying. I sit back for a moment, enjoying the simple pleasure of a hot meal after such a long and thrilling day.
Still a bit hungry, I wander into a livelier eatery where the girl behind the counter is really friendly. I order chicken, chilli pepper, mushroom and onion skewers, and a ginger beer. Everything is delicious.
Feeling content, I head back, read a little, and then drift off to sleep. Ahhhh, what a brilliant day it has been. I feel really good.
Overall impressions of wonderful Onomichi:
The village of Onomichi definitely has immense charm. The people are very hospitable, though it is indeed a rather odd place. It has a thing about cats – many restaurants and shops include ‘cat’ in their name or signage, feature pictures of cats, or even have cats lounging inside or nearby. Some of them are very cute!
Unsurprisingly, very few restaurants offer an English menu – not that they should, but it can make finding somewhere to eat a little tricky unless you are happy to accept whatever is given. Even where there is an English menu, the dish names do not always tell you exactly what is inside. A dish called ‘beef stew’ could just as easily turn out to be ‘beef-tongue stew’ or something else entirely. This is quite typical of Japan in general, as I discuss more in my Osaka piece.
Onomichi is enchantingly odd. At times, it can even feel somewhat creepy – and I do not mean this offensively. It would be a perfect setting for a scene from The Walking Dead. The central area, where I am staying, is a little maze of pedestrianised streets lined with houses, bars, shops, and restaurants. I italicise ‘bars’ and ‘shops’ because most shops are boarded up or have their shutters fully down even during the daytime. The fronts of the bars often consist of little more than a single door resembling a house entrance, sometimes with a random sticker or rusty sign displaying a name, and inevitably a notice saying ‘open’ or ‘welcome’.
Intrigued beyond belief, I peer carefully into several of these places. They are just as creepy looking as the streets they adorn. Stranger still, no one seems to be inside these dimly lit drinking-holes, though occasionally an owner, barmaid, or lone customer may be present. They do have a bar lined with alcohol – sake, whisky, and so on – and the walls are clad with old smoke-stained patterned wallpaper that envelops dated décor and odd bits of furniture, reminiscent of the living room of an elderly French couple in rural France (#scarredforlife!). Quite creepy.
But I must reiterate, the people here are very friendly, warm, and welcoming – the least bit French you can imagine, not that I have anything against the French. I really see Onomichi’s charms and appreciate its laid-back way of life. In reality, there is nothing to be creeped out about. The people here are sincere and as good as anyone you could hope to meet anywhere in the world. This place will always hold a special place in my heart.
