An event seven years in the making! The bikes were ready! The paperwork was in order! The riders were … the riders were present!

I’d first ridden the Tour de Tohoku in 2018, after several years of Nana’s prompting. In 2019, I rode with a friend after José failed to register. The tour was cancelled for at least two years from 2020 onwards. I registered again in 2024, but José once again failed to register. This year was the first year everything came together for a father-son start.

Journey to Minami Sanriku

José had dropped his bike at our flat on Thursday, allowing me to get in a bit of long-overdue maintenance. We set out at 8 a.m. Saturday with José noting that his rear tire was flat (after I’d pumped it up to 100psi during Thursday’s maintenance). We decided to deal with it during the ride prep in Ishinomaki.

I’d lucked upon the ideal rental car: just large enough to fit both bikes (with double rows of back seats folded) without having to remove their wheels, yet still small enough to drive like a car and not be a challenge in narrow streets. The traffic was not an issue — a pleasant surprise on a three-day weekend — and we played cat-and-mouse with the rain all day.

When we arrived at the hotel, the rain was just spattering, and the clearing skies provided us gorgeous views of Shizugawa Bay. The outdoor bath was the perfect temperature, with a generous view of the bay, and the dinner was satisfying (if a few notches short of outstanding).

Morning roll-out

On the day of the event, we awoke early and dressed in our riding clothes. We left the hotel just after our planned departure of 5:30 and were soon hurtling towards Ishinomaki. We made better time than expected, but spent 10 minutes upon arrival going in circles to find the parking lot.

And once we found it, it was a morass of mud. It had rained overnight and into the morning, stopping not long before our arrival. After parking and removing our bikes from the car and checking that we were ready to go, we tip-toed through the mud and puddles, carrying our bikes as much as pushing them, until we got to pavement.

During out tip-toe through the puddles, I’d glanced at José’s footwear. “New shoes?” “No, same as always.” It wasn’t until were lining up for the start that he realized with some shock he’d brought his weightlifting shoes, and not his cycling cleats. Fortunately, he has hybrid pedals, with one side meant for riding without clipless cycling shoes.

José’s tire was still flat at this point, so we continued pushing the bikes to the check-in. As soon as we’d checked in, we took advantage of an available track pump and had the tire back up to 100psi in jig time.

The wait

I hurried José on to the starting line, to the point we arrived at the inspection point before he’d donned his gloves or buckled his helmet. Both were pointed out and duly attended to. Those quibbles behind us, we joined the line to the start. And we waited.

And waited.

While the PA blared with inane chatter, we slowly advanced every couple of minutes, shuffling forward when the group moved. We joined the line about 7:20, and it was a few minutes after 8 when we finally had our chance. Ten … nine … eight … and so on until we were on our way. It was a minute or two for all the riders in our group to clip in, find the right gear, turn on their GPS units and get underway.

At some point during the wait to the starting line I realized I’d left my phone in the car. I asked José to regularly update Nana on our position and status, and he cheerfully did so throughout the ride.

Only mechanical of the ride

With Kuroko’s front brake yet to be sorted out, I’d brought Hornsby for this ride. And Hornsby’s shifting was really dialed in, a pleasure to experience. Except on the most recent ride, she’d jumped out of gear a couple of times when on the largest (lowest) cog in a climb. I knew I had more than a little bit of climbing ahead of me and wanted to be sure of the derailleur staying on the lowest gear, so I dialed in (what I thought was) just a bit of extra tension while we were prepping the bikes, still parked in the muddy morass.

As soon as we began riding I found the upshifts to be sluggish, requiring an extra turn of the crank or occasionally an extra shift. OK, I’ve dialed in too much tension. As soon as we came to a stop light I dismounted and backed off the extra tension.

Or had I? As we mounted up and started on our way again I knew I’d turned in the wrong direction — the bike just wouldn’t stay in gear. At the next opportunity I signaled to José and we rode up onto the sidewalk. I took a moment to make sure I was turning in the right direction, and then we lined up to wait for our turn at the light. When we set out again, I was mollified if not fully satisfied. The bike was staying in gear, and it was shifting up with a bit of sluggishness — less than previously, but it was shifting up. As for the bottom gear, the proof would be in the pudding.

Well, if it isn’t the consequences of my own inaction

The first climb of the ride comes about 9km into the course, a hump of 66m in just under 1km, with a maximum gradient of 11.5%. I moved very rapidly down into the lowest (largest, again) cog, and the bike just stayed there. So I was pleased with that. I made it up over the first lump of the climb, and then soldiered my way up the second bump, praying for the top.

… only to discover the third lump / bump. I dismounted and waited to catch my breath before continuing upwards. And up, and up, and … then there was a fourth lump. At this point I dismounted and pushed, slowly, trying to catch my breath as I continued to walk uphill with the bicycle. I only remounted when the road flattened out within a few meters of the top, where I found José patiently waiting.

This was just the first climb of many. While one of the steeper climbs of the ride, I’ve topped it without stopping on two previous occasions. Might it have something to do with having been 10% lighter (and six-seven years younger)?

Nah!

We swept downhill at speed through the switchbacks and then it was undulating hills leading us into Onagawa, where we stopped at the first aid station of the day for water and chicken meatballs in broth.

Onwards to the decision point

What followed was a lot of up-and-down undulations through the mountainous terrain, through which I was doing OK. The largest cog was getting a real workout. But José was patiently following me up each climb, then staying with me through the subsequent descent. A lot of riders passed us on the climbs, most of them letting us know they were passing — some of these we’d catch up with on subsequent descents. There was only one brief switchback of perhaps 13% or more where I pushed a few meters, and then another longer, milder drag where I stopped for a breather. Doing OK overall, but this was territory I’d covered with my friend in 2019 without stopping.

The next aid station hove into view quite a bit later than I’d expected (although in absolute terms it wasn’t much different from my previous ride), and I sat down in the shade to get some calories in. José took my photo at this point and shared it with Nana (I’ll spare you), and she immediately responded, “Is Guy Jean OK?”

I knew there was a long but gradual climb that followed into an equally long tunnel. I told José he could go ahead and we’d have a break just before the tunnel. But I wasn’t prepared for how challenging this climb would be. It was as if I’d never ridden a bike before. I’d certainly left my legs at home. I took a break at least once, perhaps twice on the way up, and then finally forced my way up to the mouth of the tunnel, where we had another break.

The tunnel itself was no problem, despite gradually rising. In 2019 I’d ridden with 48mm slick tires, and they’d hunted over the longitudinal grooves in the pavement. This year with 42mm tires and a moderate tread, there was no hunting. José, with his 23mm slicks, also had no problem.

Emerging from the tunnel we had a rapid, swooping descent with glimpses of a blue bay on the right before coming to the decision point.

Decision point and a bit

Right at the bottom of the descent is the bridge over Kitakami River. Those on the 65km course turn left here towards home, while those on the 100km course continue across the bridge and then downstream to Oppa Bay. I’d already made my decision during the descent — the climbs that lay between us and the lunch stop were not long but they were brutal — but continued across the bridge and towards the bay. I figured we’d reach the bay on flat terrain, enjoy the view, and turn around.

I’d intended to travel a few kilometers farther to the proper bay, but my hands and neck were killing me. We stopped near a café where there was ample space to pull our bikes off the rode while José took photos. One of the tour photographers was there as well, and encouraged us to keep on as he took our photo together.

Into the wind

I marked our turning point at 48.5km from the start. I wasn’t precisely sure of the amount we’d cut short by turning around here, but I was figuring an overall ride distance in the 70-75km range. The good news is the return would be all flat. The bad news: we were riding directly into the wind. And a shy wind it was not. I don’t know the measured wind speed at the time, but I know that we were making barely over 10km/h for long stretches. A number of riders overtook us and shouted encouragement, but we also overtook a few riders who had got off their bikes and were sitting in the gravel and dust alongside the road.

As much as I was fighting the wind — and José was being a saint, following along and singing encouragement without once complaining — I was struggling with numbness in my fingers and palms. Hornsby is set up for commuting, and we’d long since passed the comfort zone for long rides. With luck I’d get in 5km before having to stop and dismount, have a rest and let feeling creep back into my hands before mounting up again. In between were painful kilometers where I’d shake my hands or clench and flex them behind my back to make the blood flow again.

Final stretch

At last we turned off the road paralleling the river, and out of the wind. All the supporters were shouting at us, “You’re nearly there!” I saw a convenience store and signaled for a stop. I asked José the remaining distance: within “nearly there” is a big difference between 2km and 10km. He said it was 6km and some change, so I decided to have a bite to eat from the convenience store before continuing. And it was a very welcome bite! We’d missed the lunch station by turning back when we did, and there had been nothing in the long run into the wind along the Kitakami river.

One might think the remaining 6km-plus flew by, but for me they were a drag. My hands were just sending too much pain up the central nervous system. I did everything I could along the way to relieve the pressure: sitting up straighter, wiggling my fingers, removing my hands from the bars periodically and flexing them. We covered the remaining distance without stopping again.

We’d made our rather shortened course in not bad time, arriving at 2:22 p.m. José was also in some discomfort, having suffered back pain and thigh cramps in the latter half of the ride. He said he’d have been able to complete the whole thing if I’d been up for it, and I believe that’s true.

After waiting patiently for our finishers’ photo, we collected our goodie bags and headed back for the car. We were pleased to find the parking area largely dried by the hot sun in the interim. On the way back to the hotel we loaded up on beer and snacks at a convenience store to tide us over until dinner.

Aftermath

On a moving time of 3:59:00 we averaged 18.6km/h. I’m frankly stunned, considering the amount of climbing involved and the ride homewards into the wind: over one 5km stretch, I averaged only 10.9km/h.

José immediately began talking about next year’s ride, much to my delight. Following every previous group ride, he’s immediately said, “Well, we’re not doing that again.” I thought that the motivation might come from having not completed this route, but he said the hotel was a large factor. Not the dinners, which were good but not inspiring, but the baths and the views.

I said I’ll do my best to lose some weight in preparation for next year.

Meanwhile, José’s rear tire held up fine for the entire ride. It’s entirely possible I didn’t properly close the valve after inflating it on Thursday. Or perhaps otter shenanigans. I’m going with otter shenanigans.