My other bike

Before I got back into motorcycling, I was already enamoured of the 2-wheel way of going about things. This was with the mountain bike method and the machine you see below has been in my possession for about thirteen years now.


She was on sale at the local bicycle emporium at a hefty discount because something had fallen on her during the Great Hanshin Earthquake (January 17 1995) causing a minor blemish somewhere to her paintwork. I had eyes only for her suspension fork and aluminium alloy handlebar and gladly ponied up the necesssary yen.

The picture was taken yesterday in the forecourt of Koumei-ji, one of the many Buddhist temples to be found in the town of Akashi, due south of us, near the end of a 50-km ride I sometimes do for health and spiritual enhancement. Koumei-ji sustained a severe clattering in said seismic event but I am pleased to note that it has finally been fully restored.

My destination though, was a much older temple, called Suma-dera, said to have been established in 886 by the saint Monkyo, which is the headquarters of the Sumadera School of the Shingon sect of Buddhism. It is almost exactly 25 km from our front door, which makes for a satisfying pedal-powered outing.

To get there I first head south, towards the Akashi Straits and one of the first things I encounter is a long downhill stretch where I can free-wheel for about half a kilometer. When I used to have one fitted, the speedometer once registered 34 mph towards the bottom of this section of the route.

Henry Charles Beeching knew all about it:

WITH lifted feet, hands still,
I am poised, and down the hill
Dart, with heedful mind;
The air goes by in a wind.

Swifter and yet more swift,
Till the heart with a mighty lift
Makes the lungs laugh, the throat cry:--
'O bird, see; see, bird, I fly.

'Is this, is this your joy?
O bird, then I, though a boy
For a golden moment share
Your feathery life in air!'

Say, heart, is there aught like this
In a world that is full of bliss? '
Tis more than skating, bound
Steel-shod to the level ground.

Speed slackens now, I float
Awhile in my airy boat;
Till, when the wheels scarce crawl,
My feet to the treadles fall.

Alas, that the longest hill
Must end in a vale; but still,
Who climbs with toil, wheresoe'er,
Shall find wings waiting there.

‘Going down Hill on a Bicycle, a Boy’s Song’ was written in joy to celebrate one of life’s simple pleasures. As long as I can appreciate things like that, I feel I will never grow old.

At the end of the incline there is a fairly sharp right-hander and I am pleased that I adjusted the front brake cable prior to departure. The ears ‘pop’ as I enter the Ikawa valley, I am now almost at sea-level having just descended over 200 metres in less than half a minute. From here the track follows the course of the Ikawa river until its confluence with the Akashi river and then into the somewhat scruffy township of Tamatsu. This place used to be a colony of eta or burakumin – the former untouchables of pre-modern Japanese society, who specialised in butchery of cattle and horses and also leather-tanning. As the Buddha forbade the killing of living things, these poor unfortunates were placed at the very lowest rank on the totem-pole and were obliged to make their dwelling places in the least desirable areas.

We are soon pedalling through the leafy entrance to Akashi Park in the lee of the castle wall and I hear the ‘clack’ of shogi pieces where the old men vie with each other to win at Japanese chess. As today, April 29th—Showa Day-- is the official start of Golden Week and is a fine spring day, the park has plenty of visitors, so progress is somewhat slower.

I am soon through the town and on to the sea front, with the heady tang of salt air and the magnificent sight of the Akashi Straits Bridge.


Cycling is more pleasurable now, away from busy roads and I am soon wafting past the artificial beaches of Okura Kaigan and Maiko Azur to the fishing port of Tarumi, where we spent the first five years of our life in Kobe.

Before very much longer I reach Shioya, where Somerset Maugham once lived as a noted foreign celebrity and guest of the Japanese Empire, in the heady days (for some) of the nineteen-thirties. Now I am back beside the coastal highway which is thick with traffic and I try to breathe in as little as possible.

Before the final uphill approach to Suma-Dera I pause for a swig from the water-bottle which is refreshing. Almost all the houses are new-looking, as this place resembled post-war Dresden after the 1995 disaster. I park the bicycle and lock it up, then enter the temple grounds.

There is a lot to see here, but one of my favourite places is the garden with its statues of the samurai horsemen, Taira no Atsumori and Naozane Kumagai at the battle of Ichi-no-Tani.


I also like the two-level pagoda with the five wise monkeys at its base.


During the course of my visit I get through about ¥125 in votive offerings and purchases of candles and incense sticks, set to burn in special places in hope of good favour from Siddartha Gotama, who in the fullness of time became the Buddha.
My final stop before departure is before the statue of the Thousand-armed Kannon, or Guan Yin--the Goddess of Mercy.


“One Buddhist legend presents Guan Yin as vowing to never rest until she had freed all sentient beings from samsara, reincarnation. Despite strenuous effort, she realized that still many unhappy beings were yet to be saved. After struggling to comprehend the needs of so many, her head split into eleven pieces. Amitabha Buddha, seeing her plight, gave her eleven heads with which to hear the cries of the suffering. Upon hearing these cries and comprehending them, Avalokitesvara attempted to reach out to all those who needed aid, but found that her two arms shattered into pieces. Once more, Amitabha came to her aid and appointed her a thousand arms with which to aid the many. Many Himalayan versions of the tale include eight arms with which Avalokitesvara skillfully upholds the Dharma, each possessing its own particular implement, while more Chinese-specific versions give varying accounts of this number. In China, it is said that fishermen used to pray to her to ensure safe voyages. The titles Guan Yin of the Southern Ocean and 'Guan Yin (of/on) the Island' stem from this tradition”

Quotation from Wikipedia.

It is now 15:40 and time to roll. As I reach Tarumi again I begin to feel somewhat fatigued and realise that it has been a long time since brunch. I notice a road sign indicating respite is at hand, only two kilometres ahead, and at the outskirts of Akashi pull into the human gasoline stand.


A Big Mac has never tasted better – good calorific value at ¥290 a time.

I take a slightly different route through Akashi, to avoid pedalling up the incline which gave such pleasure earlier in the day. In days gone by this slope was the final challenge, but at 53 years of age, you know, sometimes discretion is the better part of valour.

A final snap of some automotive eye-candy....


One of these days, if I can align a certain set of six numbers, an Alfa-Romeo Spider 2.2 will definitely be on the wish-list. Gorgeous bit of Italian kit.

I arrive home, exhausted, to find the house deserted. I make a welcome cup of tea—the staff of life. As I thankfully swill the last tangy remnants, the telephone rings. It is shewhomustbeobeyed aka spousal unit and daughter who want picking up from the station, now, at once, don’t spare the horses.

So I fire up the Toyota without further ado and do my duty, sweat drying on me, which invokes flaring nostrils and comments as the womenfolk get in the car. Well, they did say NOW...

I enjoyed this little jaunt so much I have resolved to try and do it at least once a month from now on. Can’t do me any harm...