By Henna Palosaari
Guest Contributor
@hennapalosaari
“The Japan Journal” is a new video from Henna Palosaari that traces her 460-kilometer solo ride across the breathtaking Japanese Alps. She climbs misty mountains, soaks in hot springs, and grows a deep appreciation for the many unique cultural aspects that make Japan an ideal bikepacking destination. Find her video, photos, and story here…
As dusk settled, I stopped at the 7-Eleven to stock up on yogurt, bananas, nuts, rice balls, iced coffee, and chocolate bars—everything I needed to get me through the early morning, with some backup snacks to survive until the next stop. It was the end of my first day of bikepacking in the Japanese Alps. I started in Minakami, crossed multiple mountains (both big and small), saw Japanese snow monkeys, and ended in Kusatsu, which I learned is one of the best onsen towns in Japan, a fact I discovered during my dinner at a small restaurant. I was already speechless.
Three days before the start of my bikepacking trip, I arrived at Tokyo Narita Airport. I left my bike bag at the ABC baggage storage, packed my bike into a rinko bag, and jumped on the train to Tokyo, then another train to Minakami. Jet-lagged, I reached my final stop and hopped off to realise that buses weren’t running anymore, it was pitch black, and I still had 15 kilometres to my Airbnb. As the rain started to fall, I decided to wait for a taxi. Twenty minutes later, there was still nothing happening in the empty parking lot.
“Whatever, I’ll get changed and just ride there,” I thought. As I was getting ready to leave, a car pulled up, and I decided to ask the driver if he knew how I could get a taxi. He said he was just picking up his friends and didn’t know, but then he started asking where I was from and where I was going. Before I even realised it, we’d loaded my bike into his van. He went to get his friends, and soon, we were driving to my Airbnb. When I got out, I offered to pay him, but he said, “No, no, have a great trip in Japan!” I wondered how I could have anything else with such nice people. I thanked him for being so kind, almost in tears from exhaustion.
The next morning, I woke up to see mighty mountains covered with dense forests of beech, cedar, and pine in every direction. “Wow, this is going to be an amazing day,” I thought as I stopped to get my morning coffee from Lawson (a 24-hour convenience store), meet up with my friend, and head toward the start of the Grinduro event. Local gravel riders from the area and Tokyo are already chatting, getting their bikes and themselves ready for a fun day of riding. I felt a bit confused by the quick transition from airport to gravel event, but the relaxed and friendly vibe of the participants and event organisers soon made me feel settled.
We set off to do 80 kilometres of riding—50 in the morning and 30 in the afternoon. The pace was relaxed, and people chatted happily as we started our first climb of the day. At the feed zone, most people besides me stopped to enjoy a cold drink as a reward for finishing the first climb before heading over to the first timed segment. We reached the start line for the first time segment, where they sent people off one by one for the four-kilometre climb up a steep gravel trail. I looked at my watch to see that I was only halfway up the climb, and my legs were burning as the trail kept winding up steep and steady.
Exhausted but exhilarated, I reached the finish line and waited for my fellow riders. “So hard, but at the same time so fun when you just race against yourself,” we all gasped, red and sweaty. I had never joined a Grinduro event before, and this concept of timed segments, people gathering before and after them, relaxed-paced transitions, stopping and chatting at feed zones, and simply having fun feels exactly like what gravel riding is about: sharing the joy of riding bikes.
During the Grinduro ride, I also met Rob, who runs a company called Bike Tour Japan. I told him about my plan to bikepack from Minakami, where the event was held, back to Tokyo. The next day, I shared my route with him, and soon, he replied, “That’s okay, but you’re missing one of the best gravel roads in the area. If I were you, I’d swap it, because in five days, you can see some amazing stuff in the mountains and hit some real good gravel.” I was in.
As I was gently massaging my shoulders in my hotel’s onsen in Kusatsu, I felt grateful for Rob sharing his route recommendation for the area. The first day had been tough, with 2,700 metres of climbing, but it was absolutely stunning. I had experienced remote mountain villages (that still had the iconic vending machines on the streets), lush forests, snow monkeys, and a beautiful gravel climb with nobody else out there. Ending the day with an onsen, a traditional Japanese hot spring bath, was something I had never considered combining with a bikepacking trip. But now, as I felt my muscles soften and relax, it seemed like the most obvious thing to do after a long day on the saddle. “This is how bikepacking should always be done,” I thought.
I got up at sunrise and washed down my yogurt, banana, and nut combo with an iced coffee before heading out for another long day—119 kilometres and 2,200 metres of climbing. The sunset is around 5 p.m. in October, so early mornings are the only way to do long days without feeling rushed, with time to stop and wonder about the places and things along the way. Today, one of those things was Mount Kusatsu-Shirane (草津白根山), a 2,165-metre active stratovolcano. As I climbed, I couldn’t help but stop to admire the blue mountain peaks coloring the horizon and the steam rising from the ground, a sign that magma lurks beneath the surface. As I slowly made my way towards the top, a car stopped in front of me, and a woman ran to me with a bottle in her hand. “Japanese tea!” she said with a big encouraging smile. “Arigato gozaimasu,” I managed to say, as she quickly ran back to the car. People are just so kind in Japan.
Feeling the climb in my legs took me back to my conversation with some local men at a restaurant the night before. The woman from Tokyo who helped translate their questions said they were curious to hear how I ended up there. When I told them I was moving around by bike and would be biking to Hakuba the next day, their faces lit up in awe: “Hakuba!!!” followed by astonished expressions, their body language suggesting they were thinking of long distances and a lot of mountains. They were right; there are indeed many mountains in this area, which is no surprise since it’s part of the Japanese Alps.
I was welcomed to Hakuba by a breathtaking view of jagged mountains, high enough to have their peaks free of trees. I couldn’t help but let my mind wander and dream of riding down these beautifully shaped peaks with my snowboard when they’re covered in feather-light powder snow. Japan may be more famous for its amazing snowboarding, but based on my first impressions, it’s just as incredible for bikepacking. Descending the last climb in the light of my headlamp, I checked into my Airbnb, unloaded my bike, and then biked straight to the closest onsen—a top tip for managing long climbs in the Japanese Alps.
The next day, dark and threatening clouds rolled in from the mountains as I reached my hotel by early afternoon. A few moments later, the sky split open. I was glad I had kept the day short and easy, as I knew bad weather was rolling in. After climbing through the mist for a few hours the next morning, I finally started seeing rays of sunlight shining through the fog. Before I knew it, I saw the same jagged peaks as the day before, now standing tall above a sea of clouds. I was elated that I’d waited a day before climbing up to the next big mountain pass to Utsukushigahara and the famous Venus Line, which gets its name from the goddess-like appearance of Mt. Tateshina that can be seen from the route. The sunshine, the endless mountain vistas (featuring views of the famous Mt. Fuji), and the local apple ice cream ensured that this day was just as memorable as the ones before.
The next morning, I unlocked a new level of bikepacking, starting the day with a morning onsen before beginning a cold descent through the mist. It was my last day of riding before I would take a train back to Tokyo and explore the city for two days. I wondered if there was still something that could offer me new “wow” moments after everything I’d experienced in the past few days. As I was about to bike into another remote mountain valley, I stopped to stock up again at 7-Eleven. 7-Eleven, along with its sisters Lawson and FamilyMart, are every bikepacker’s best friends in Japan—they’re open 24/7 and offer everything you could ever dream of: endless unidentified sweet and savory snacks, noodles (around 30 different types), coffee machines, and, of course, my favorite, rice balls. And there’s always a microwave and kettle. The dream!
I drifted into my thoughts as I headed up the last climb, which had a more mellow gradient than some of the climbs from previous days. I reached the top, put on my jacket, and started descending towards Annaka. At first, I rode along winding roads, but soon, I was on endless switchbacks snaking through dense forest. I had to stop and take a moment to admire the beautiful trees that stand tall and proud, wrapping their magic safely under their leaves.
I have a feeling Japan is like a treasure chest. Every time you visit, whether it’s summer or winter, you discover places, people, culture, and food that leave you in awe. It’s my second time in Japan, and the first time during the summer months, but definitely not the last. Arigato gozaimasu!
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