Kayaking on an island with one inhabitant

 

 

looks like a whale about to pounce.. cool

Random Observation/Comment #74: How would you feel if you were the only one who lived on an island?  Sure, you would get guests who come and visit, and daily supplies of food, but what would you do all day?  Spirited survivors stranded on an island at least need to come up with ways to escape the island, plan for food sources in the upcoming days, or occupy their social lives with imaginary friends painted on a volleyball ball (that looks weird, but I think it’s right), but what would someone without these worries do?  I guess they could do anything.  Knowing me, exploration would take up 80% of my time.  I would also probably need a few terabytes of hard drive space for the pictures.

 

From Ojika, half of the group followed Yuka to the island 15 minutes away by ferry.  Only a small section of the island has been paved for hiking because of wildlife preservation (and human preservation).  I only saw a few wild deer walking around the area, but the circle of life guarantees predators not too far away (oh wait, that’s us).  We wouldn’t want over population, would we?

The first activity on the island was sea kayaking.  Like in white water rafting, we were taught the basic safety instructions for about twenty minutes to make sure we know what to do in case we’re drowning (besides the normal panicking and taking big gulps of water).  There really weren’t any rapids to drown from or even reasons to fall off the kayak, but these five-minute safety things won’t sound so stupid when you’re actually caught in one these unfortunate situations. 

I wore rental sandals and hopped on board the kayak with Yuka.  I took the rear seat and did more of the heavy work.  Having done it many times, she was already quite experienced.  The paddle force was not very heavy, and she had a very steady and consistent stroke.  The key is synchronization, which requires good teamwork (oh, don’t be so immature – I’m not speaking in metaphors). 

Kayaking isn’t as fun as it looks.  It takes a lot of skill to go in a straight line, and after a while it’s just tiring.  One of the more fun activities is swimming in the clear water of the small beach surrounded by mountains.  The waves here were a little bit better than those in Zushi, but still very disappointing.  In the Ojika beach, I just enjoyed the feeling of warm sand between my toes and fingers.  The view was phenomenal and there was no place I’d rather be.  I smiled as I floated in that water and looked into the horizon, only to see some light clouds and another island in the distance.  Instead of the Titanic 360 view, I pictured myself slowly zooming out from a Google Map.  It wasn’t mysterious like in Bourne Identity where every zoom in motion is highly segmented and usually accompanied by a very lively orchestra.  There are also those funny top secret typing sounds as the text appears revealing the location.  I think all spies have accompanying theme songs – it’s one of the company perks.

I looked around the island to find a particular landmark that I seemed to have found everywhere civilization had left its mark in Japan.  My expectations of finding this iconic symbol of evolution were quite high.  However, wherever I looked – in the small resort, near the beaches, or by the harbors – this sign was nowhere to be found.  This is when I knew that this was a place pure at heart – not a typical tourist attraction that itches to weasel money.  I was a little taken back because I had seen it in so many places and so often.  Even on top of the highest mountains and on the ferries, there it would always stand to provide substance.  Now that I think about it, I really wish it played a larger part in America.  I really missed those vending machines.

~See Lemons Kayak

 

beautiful beach

Bike riding in Ojika

 

 

the long and winding road..

Random Observation/Comment #73: Most people need a destination – a goal to motivate and make their efforts and rewards balance.  These people wind up trying so hard walking that they forget to stop and look around.  Our path was beautiful to begin with, but we each search for different beauties.  I went bicycle-riding in Ojika to enjoy the journey, not the destination.

 

The day was hot and humid.  I was schmoiling and exhausted from carrying around my large suitcase of clothes from the two months before the tour began.  Gross.  My chest is always the first to sweat.  This leads to a large puddle in the middle of my t-shirt as if the sun had marked me as a target.  As you can imagine, it’s extremely attractive (sarcasm).

After a two-hour ferry ride from Nagasaki, we arrived in Ojika.  This town looked like it missed the past century of evolution.  Cars were few to come by, and buildings were either wooden or colored that tan-ish generic complexion.  The locals would collect cheap goods from the market vendors daily.  Market owners and sellers looked like celebrities being flooded by reporters trying to get their attention for a controversial policy.  It was a hectic battlefield used day after day for the same routine.

Ojika is a small island West of Nagasaki that receives very few tourists because of its remote location and tendency to attract typhoons.  Intrepid trips to this paradise had been canceled multiple times in the past, making this even Yuka’s (our tour guide) first time visiting.  Our hotel looked to be the only hotel in the area.  Running at 3 stories high, the hotel was probably one of the tallest buildings in the village.  Other houses further into the center of the more populated areas looked like they came straight from Memoirs of a Geisha.  The narrow, cobble-stone roads and small paths between residential houses made me feel as if I had traveled back in time.  There was even that generic Japanese guy sitting on a low stool wearing a v-neck white t-shirt and shower slippers.

With an afternoon to spare, everyone rented bicycles and explored the natural miracles.  The bike ride was relaxing.  I wasn’t trying to go anywhere and it was no race to get there.  We pedaled in the general direction of a few temples and landmarks on the island, but it was just so “suzushi” with the wind evaporating the heat.  Once we rode into the thick of the paths, closer to the edges of the mountain, I began stopping every few minutes to take pictures of my surroundings.  I’m used to seeing the wheat and corn fields in Pennsylvania, but most of these open spaces were covered with rice patties.  I saw a few old ladies working the field with those typical straw cone-shaped hats, tending the fields and waving as we rode by.  Their smiles were not the prettiest, but they were quite sincere.

One of our first stops was this rocky sea shore that looked like slices of black rock and smelled of sulfur.  This would be a very dangerous beach, but a perfect place to unroll a picnic blanket and watch the sunrise.  I didn’t have the privilege of watching the sunrise or sunset here because of our tight schedule, but I imagine it would be unforgettable.  There was a rock that erodes about 5 cm each year and forms what looks like a dragon’s eye.

The uphill pedaling left me exhausted and sweaty, while the downhill joyride was always interrupted by some dragonfly hitting my face.  I wouldn’t exactly pay for this rollercoaster, but the surroundings were distracting enough to make up for it.  Be sure to stop on the bridge and look at the cows grazing in the distance.  They’re so tiny – I could hold them in my hand and put them in my pocket.  The atmosphere there was perfect and I will never forget it.  Even as I write this, I can close my eyes and recreate the loud insect shrills accompanying the consistent complaints from RJ.  C’mon, man.  Benkyo! Benkyo! Benkyo (Golden Boy reference – look it up, dummy (Sea World 2021 reference)).  I will miss this place.

~See Lemons Cycle

 

beautiful view from the island