The Guy Who Rode Around the World, Revisited

Text and Photos by Shigeru Yoshida

Contents

• Episode 1: The Unfinished Journey to the Soviet Union (Russia)
• Episode 2: A Reunion in the Far North After 34 Years
• Episode 3: A Tearful Reunion on the Isle of Man After 35 Years
• Episode 4: Touring Europe Through 200 Years of Two-Wheel History
• Final Episode: Crossing the Snowy Rockies to the Journey’s Finish

Series Part 1: The Unfinished Journey to the Soviet Union (Russia)

(Bessatsu Motorcyclist, January 2004 issue)

The team set out in July 1965 on a two-year, eight-month tour that traveled to 63 countries around the world, covering a total distance of 135,230km. The year Mr. Yoshida graduated from university, he embarked on a trip around the world on a Yamaha YDS-III, which was featured in the then published book “The Adventurer Who Ran Around the World” by Shosha, and received a great response. Thirty-seven years have passed since then, and in June 2002, when Mr. Yoshida reached retirement age, he set out to revisit the world.

Shigeru Yoshida Born in January 1942 in Tokyo, 61 years old.

Graduated from Musashi Institute of Technology in 1965 and departed for a trip around the world in July of the same year on the YDS-III. After returning to Japan, he joined Yamaha Motor and was involved in the development of the Toyota 7 and large motorcycles. After that, he worked at Yamaha Motor USA, where he served as the service information department manager and the first director of the Yamaha Communication Plaza. In 2002, upon his retirement at the age of 60, he completed what he had been unable to do 37 years earlier by crossing Russia via Siberia, a distance of 10,000 km, and then completed his second circumnavigation of the world by motorcycle, crossing Europe and North America. Currently residing in Kohitomi-cho, Hamamatsu City. My family consists of my wife and me. (Both my eldest son and second son have become members of society and are independent.) With the slogan “Motorcycles will save the earth,” he is working on his life’s work, Yoshida Motorcycle Research. “My first encounter with a motorcycle was 50 years ago, just after the war, when I was struggling to find food. I still clearly remember the moment when a cool motorcycle passed by in front of me. My first encounter with a motorcycle was when I made a promise to myself as a child that someday I would ride a motorcycle myself.”

Taking on the Challenge Again After 37 Years

　On June 19, 2002, I left my home on the shores of Lake Hamana in my favorite car, the Royal Star, with the aim of crossing Russia. Lake Hamana was blessed with clear skies in early summer, and the blue sky and fresh greenery on the lake’s surface were in perfect harmony. We bid farewell to this familiar scenery for a while. After crossing Russia, they plan to circumnavigate the world westward, visiting Europe and North America. In January of the same year, I retired from Yamaha Motor, where I had worked for 34 years, and this was my second trip around the world on a motorcycle, the first time in 37 years. I was excited to finally cross the Eurasian continent and cross Russia, but at the same time, I felt a little uneasy about whether I would be able to complete the trip safely at my age, but I was able to get behind the wheel of the Royal Star in a refreshing breeze.

　His first circumnavigation of the world was in July 1965. At the time, I was 23 years old, and I set out from Japan on a 250cc Yamaha YDS-III motorcycle, rode it through North America, Central and South America, and Europe, and on August 10, 1967, I headed for the border from Finland to the Soviet Union. Two years have already passed since I left Japan. The plan was to drive through the Soviet Union, the other major power in the Cold War between East and West, to Moscow, and then tour Poland and other communist countries in Eastern Europe.

　At the time, the United States and the Soviet Union maintained a dangerous balance, each possessing vast nuclear arsenals. The Soviet Union was surrounded by an iron curtain, making it difficult to get a glimpse of the lives of ordinary citizens. So I decided to enter the Soviet Union by motorbike to see for myself how ordinary citizens lived. However, the Soviet consulate in Helsinki unilaterally refused entry by motorbike without any explanation. When I reached the border between Finland and the Soviet Union, I burst into tears as I saw Soviet territory in sight. Fortunately, Poland and other communist countries at the time each issued transit visas that allowed him to stay for up to 72 hours, so he searched for a coal ship bound for Poland from Helsinki and boarded it with his motorbike.

　He landed in Gdansk, Poland, and began his journey through the communist world. It arrived in Istanbul, Turkey, from Poland through what was then East Germany, Czechoslovakia, Hungary, Romania, Bulgaria, and Yugoslavia. It then proceeded along the Mediterranean Sea to Algeciras, Spain, crossed the Strait of Gibraltar to Morocco, and ran through Africa, the Middle East, West Asia, Southeast Asia, and Australia, before returning to Japan in February 1968. The distance he rode the bike was approximately 136,000 km, which means he rode around the world three and a half times in two years and eight months. They visited 63 countries, but the Soviet Union was not among them. Not being able to enter the Soviet Union made me feel like I had left something important unfinished. There is no doubt that the day will come when I will be able to ride a motorcycle in the future. I don’t know when, but if I had the chance then, I would definitely like to cross the border between Finland and the Soviet Union.

The First Hurdle: A Russian Entry Visa

　When I reached retirement age, I immediately selected four agencies specializing in travel to Russia and visited them. All agencies say that in order to travel to Russia, you have to go on a tour, plan your itinerary, book flights, trains, and hotels, and buy vouchers before you can apply for a visa. Riding a motorcycle alone through Siberia was extremely dangerous and I was at a loss. If you still want to go, you’ll have to hire a Russian guide to lead you by car. I was told that I had to pay everything in advance, including the guide’s daily allowance, lodging, food, guide fee, car fee, and even the cost of returning the guide and car to the starting point. He didn’t know if he would be able to get a visa even if he went that far, but he said he would give it a try. I had no intention of going on a supervised trip that would cost a huge amount of money. When I went home and told my wife about the travel agency,
“Why don’t you go do some research on the Trans-Siberian Railway this year?”
　he says carefreely. It was clear that over time I would give up on going by bike.

　I spent the last five years of my employment at Yamaha Motor working on the establishment of Yamaha Communication Plaza and its operation after its opening. I was able to meet many people from Japan and abroad who visit the plaza. There were also several groups of motorbike tourists who had come all the way from overseas. It reminded me of Rob and Daphne, a Dutch couple in a sidecar who returned to Europe via Russia. I emailed them at their homes, who had already returned home, to ask them how they had obtained visas to enter Russia.

　I got a reply from them right away. They say they had an organization in Russia act as their guarantor, issue them an invitation letter, and obtain a visa based on that letter. He then told me the name of the Russian organization that had provided the guarantee. I immediately made an international call to the organization in Russia, and a person who appeared to be a Russian representative answered my questions in slightly accented English from across the ocean. In response to my desire to cross Russia on a motorcycle, he promptly sent me a fax with a list of the information I needed to write an invitation letter. I immediately faxed the necessary information back.

　About two weeks later, I received an invitation letter by fax. What’s more, the cost can be paid later. I was skeptical that I would actually be able to get a visa with this invitation letter, but I immediately went to the Russian consulate in Tokyo and submitted it as an attachment to my visa application.

　A week later, on April 10th, I lined up at the gate of the Russian Consulate 30 minutes before it opened, and as soon as it opened at 10am, I went to the counter at the top of the day and handed in my passport exchange slip. The Russian man in charge handed my passport back without a word. When I looked inside my passport, I saw that I had a three-month visa from June to September. Joy and relief rushed through my body all at once. He had passed the first barrier to entering Russia. I immediately wrote a thank-you note to the Dutch couple who gave me advice.

Boarding a Russian Ship at Fushiki Port

　On June 19th, they stopped by Yamaha Motor’s headquarters in Iwata, Communication Plaza, and were seen off by Chairman Hasegawa and many others before heading straight for Fushiki Port in Toyama. The weather was good, and we traveled about 400km smoothly, arriving at Fushiki Port at the base of the Noto Peninsula at 6 p.m.

　At 2:00 pm on June 21st, we boarded the Russian ship. I met my second son, Atsushi, who had come from Tokyo to see him off on behalf of his family, in front of Takaoka Station, and headed to Fushiki Port. A ship with a pure white hull, larger than I expected, docked at the port, and it was crowded with many Russians and used cars and motorcycles that were about to be transported to Russia.

　The Russian ship I’m on, the Lucy, is a 13,000-ton cargo-passenger ship that makes round trips between Japan and Russia, packed with used Japanese cars and motorcycles. A large hatch on the front left side of the ship opened, allowing cars and motorcycles to be driven from the quay and loaded directly into the hold. The hold was on the second floor, and they put the bike in an empty space between the cars. When the hold was full, a crane was used to hoist the cars, and used cars and motorcycles were loaded all over the deck.

　Aluminum ingots brought from Russia to Japan were piled up everywhere at Fushiki Port. As it turned out, these Russians were used car buyers and drivers. Approximately 180 people, the same number as cars, will board the ship. I was the only Japanese person on board, along with two British people who had come to support the World Cup and were returning to Europe, and three European motorbike tourists. Swiss couple Martin and Barbara both drove Honda Africa Twins, and German woman Angela drove a Honda Dominator. The three met in New Zealand and then traveled to Japan together for about three weeks to get here. All three were young men in their 30s and had been traveling by motorbike for more than two years since leaving the country. As they talked with sparkling eyes, I could see myself 37 years ago. The Lucy left the quay at the scheduled time of 6 p.m. After 36 hours, they can land in Russia by crossing the Sea of ​​Japan.

　There was a beautiful restaurant on the ship, and the meal was served one by one by a young waitress in a miniskirt, making it very comfortable. Meals were included in the boat fare (50,540 yen for both the bike and the bike), and since the boat trip in the Sea of ​​Japan was quite shaky, I didn’t have much of an appetite, so I had enough to eat only what I wanted to eat that fit my palate. The cabin was a private room with a toilet and shower, and the World Cup was being shown on TV in the entertainment room, and many Russians were engrossed in the game. As seen from the Lucy, the Sea of ​​Japan was overcast with clouds, and the wind was strong and windy.

Landing at Zarubino, a Port Near North Korea

　On June 23, the ship’s rolling had eased considerably compared with the night before. I got up at 7 a.m. and went up on deck. For the first time, I could see the far eastern edge of the Eurasian continent spread out before me. Even in summer, beneath the low gray clouds, the dark blue sea and deep green land felt cold and severe, hinting at the harsh winter to come. The temperature was a chilly 15 degrees Celsius or so. Because the immigration office in Vladivostok was closed for construction, all passengers were made to disembark at Zarubino, a bleak port about 250 km to the southwest near North Korea. Apart from a railway siding running to the quay, there was almost nothing there. After passing through immigration and customs, we found three old buses waiting and boarded immediately. The Royal Star was to remain on the ship and be carried on to Vladivostok for customs clearance.

　The bus was so full that some people sat in the passenger seats, and the person sitting next to me was a Russian living in Nakhodka who imports auto parts and tires from Japan and travels to Japan to buy them once every three months. He was very concerned about me riding my bike through Siberia to reach Europe, and on the five and a half hour bus ride to Vladivostok, he gave me advice on traveling in Russia. In Russia, unlike in Japan, you shouldn’t trust people easily, the police and the mafia interact, and when you buy gas at a gas station or pay at a hotel, cafe, etc., always write down the price on a piece of paper and confirm it, and he’s careful not to give out large bills. In the end, he put on a serious face and even started telling me not to ride a motorcycle through Siberia because it was very dangerous.

　About half of the 250km road to Vladivostok was unpaved, and the simple pavement on the paved road was beginning to peel off. Dust is already flying up and entering the audience through the cracks in the rickety windows. I was covered in dust and had a sore throat from the first day. On the way, we passed through several rural villages, and each time our Russian neighbors remarked condescendingly that the houses and agricultural equipment were all old and falling apart. It is true that rusty reddish agricultural equipment was left in the gardens of farmers everywhere, and no new equipment was seen to replace it. As a result of years of neglect in investing in production equipment, Russia is facing a major problem in which much of its production equipment has reached the end of its useful life and has become obsolete, significantly deteriorating production efficiency. How quickly this problem can be resolved has become such an important issue that it will determine the future development of the country.

Iron Tiger

　We arrived in Vladivostok at 5pm. The Lucy entered the port just as our bus arrived at the port. I think it would have been easier to just stay on board the Lucy, but Zarubino’s immigration office wouldn’t allow it. But the dusty five-and-a-half-hour bus trip was not a chore. In addition to receiving a lot of information from my Russian neighbors, I was able to see with my own eyes a part of the Russian Far East from Zarubino to Vladivostok. I found out that the bikes would not be taken off the ship that day, so I decided to head to the Hotel Renaissance, which I had booked from Japan for a one-night stay with breakfast included for $50.

　The hotel was located in a difficult-to-understand location, up a steep slope from the port and from the main road. The exterior of the three-story hotel was old, and a man with bad eyesight was staring at us at the entrance. I didn’t care and went inside to find a woman sitting at the reception desk, but she was silent and expressionless even though she noticed I had come in. When I handed him my reservation slip and told him that I had made a reservation for two nights, he looked at me suspiciously, looked over my documents for a while, and then asked me to submit my passport. Passports will be kept at the reception, as travelers must report their arrival to the police. I was very surprised by the unfriendly reception, but later on my trip I realized that this was the normal reception at hotels and shops in Russia. Foreign travelers are required to report to the police in any town or village they stay in, and it turns out that if they stay at a hotel, the hotel will file a report on their behalf. The interior of the hotel had been neatly renovated and didn’t match the exterior, and the man at the entrance was a security guard hired by the hotel.

　When I left the hotel the next morning, I walked through town and down the hill to the port. Vladivostok is located at 42 degrees north latitude, the same latitude as Sapporo, and is the southernmost large city in Russia. It’s a beautiful town with lots of greenery and many hills. More than 90% of the cars are Japanese, but the townscape, roads, and people are completely different from those in Japan, so at first it didn’t seem like the cars were Japanese.

　A large number of commuters got off the ferry. Everyone is busy walking. Morning commuting hours are the same in all countries. After passing the military port, we headed to where the Lucy was moored, met the three Europeans who had stayed on the ship, and went to the cargo opening in the hold where they unloaded their bikes. At 9:30 I took the bike off the ship and put it in a bonded warehouse. I thought they would let me out right away, but I ended up waiting at the ship’s agent’s office for three hours. The customs office is located in the town, and after going back and forth between the port and the customs office several times and waiting in both places for two days, I finally went to the bonded warehouse at 10:30 a.m. on June 26th, paid the 30 rubles (approximately 120 yen) fee, and completed the customs clearance, which had taken three days.

　There was a warehouse/office surrounded by a concrete wall on the outskirts of Vladivostok, about a 15-minute bike ride from the center of Vladivostok, and in one corner of it was the clubhouse for the Iron Tiger motorcycle club. A ferocious guard is watching the entrance. This club is a group that takes care of motorcyclists visiting Vladivostok and is well known among motorcyclists. Me and three other Europeans know this club and we spent two days there. There are about 20 members, and in addition to club activities, they also import used Japanese-made motorcycles, maintain them, and sell them all over Russia.

　The club’s president, Mika, is 40 years old and goes to Japan several times a year to buy used motorcycles. He said he had passed through Hamamatsu several times and welcomed me with a sense of familiarity. There was a workshop on the first floor, and 20 to 30 motorcycles under maintenance were neatly lined up. The second floor was the clubhouse, with a large table set up for meetings, and I decided to sleep in the empty space next to it. I slept in a sleeping bag for the first time in decades, but I didn’t sleep as well as I did when I was in my 20s. On my last motorcycle trip, I slept pretty well in my sleeping bag everywhere.

Setting Off Across Eurasia

　On June 27th, we received information about the road and motorcycle conditions in Russia from Chairman Mika, and took a commemorative photo with the main members of Iron Tiger. One of the members presented him with a belt worn by the Russian military more than 60 years ago, saying that he was the most suitable person to ride on the Royal Star. The Royal Star was the envy of the members who had seen many different bikes. As soon as he put on the belt he received, the members applauded. Afterwards, while traveling in Russia, no one knew the design of this belt buckle, and it became a valuable material that people accepted with a sense of familiarity.

　At 2:30 p.m., we finally set off on our journey across Eurasia. One of the members guided us until we reached the main road. There were many cars on the paved road with two lanes on each side, and it started running smoothly. The manhole cover was recessed by 10 cm from the road surface, and there were places where the pavement was peeling off and had holes, so I drove carefully. After driving about 100km, the road became a one-lane road in each direction, and the traffic became surprisingly light. After driving about 200km, we arrived at the small town of Ussk. We bought drinks and food at the kiosk and had a late lunch. There is always a kiosk in every small village or town, and food is plentiful. I bought a plastic bottle of mineral water so that I never run out of water. The sun is still high, but it’s already 6pm. There aren’t many motorcycles or bicycles, but Russian-made Ural sidecars can be seen from time to time. Farmers used them as legs and for transporting cargo. The Ural is equipped with a horizontally opposed engine, has been made without changing its design for many years, and continues to produce around 5,000 units a year, making it a seemingly classic bike. A bike called Niepple, which is slightly larger than the Ural, is also produced in small quantities.

　The weather was good for bikes, and all four bikes ran smoothly. On the first day, by around 9pm, we had covered 350km and entered the village of Kirovsky. I had heard from Mika that Kirobski means “clear stream” in Japanese. The stream that runs along the side of the road is certainly clear in places, but unfortunately there are many people who throw away garbage, and the stream becomes clogged with garbage, making it far from clear. It is unfortunate that even though the country is large and has a low population density, its towns and villages are polluted with garbage.

　After refilling my tank at a gas station, I asked a villager who had driven up in a Crown whether there was anywhere to stay, and he kindly led me to an inn. It stood about 200 meters off the main road and looked so much like an ordinary house that travelers would easily miss it. In Russian, an inn is called a “gostinitsa.” A small sign hung by the entrance if you looked closely. The rate was astonishingly cheap at 250 rubles, about 1,000 yen, for the night, but the corridor was dark and the door looked as if it might fall apart. The toilet had no seat, the shower fittings were rusted, and the whole place was plainly very old. The bed also looked unsteady, but thankfully the sheets and pillowcases were freshly washed.

　Since the inn didn’t have a garage, the innkeeper’s son found a nearby storage room with a large door and let me keep my bike there. In Russia, a parking lot is called a “stayanka,” and every large town has one. It is surrounded by barbed wire and has a guard’s hut, where the guard sleeps overnight. At night, they close the gate and let the fierce dogs inside. The average price for keeping it overnight was 30 rubles (approximately 120 yen) to 100 rubles (approximately 400 yen), and the same amount was charged for the motorcycle as for the four-wheeler. After that, in small towns and villages where there was no “stayanka,” I searched for a garage or warehouse with a lockable door like the one here.

　Today, June 28th, I plan to go to Khabarovsk. A Russian parts dealer who sat next to me on the bus from Zarubino to Vladivostok told me that there was a cemetery for Japanese people interned by Russia after World War II 70km before Khabarovsk, and he marked it on my map. I had it in mind that the landmark was on the left, about 1km ahead, after passing two railroad crossings. I noticed a monument erected about 10 meters from the main road. I signaled to the three people I was traveling with, and when I stopped my bike at the monument, it was unmistakable that it was a Japanese cemetery. Close to 100 stone pillars stood quietly in the taiga forest in the back. There were no other people around, and it was completely silent, giving me the strong feeling that I had finally entered the land of Siberia. I bowed my head deeply to the people who lost their lives in the bitterly cold winter with limited food and forced labor, and before I knew it, the road entered the town of Khabarovsk. Khabarovsk is a beautiful town located at 48 degrees north latitude (same latitude as the middle of Karaft) on the banks of the Amur River.

Lynx of Amur

　In Khabarovsk, I first visited the motorcycle club Links of Amur (Wildcats of the Amur River), and Vice President Slava came to pick me up in his car at Kamsamolyskaya Square in the center of town. When I followed him to a motorcycle club’s workshop, I found that they were also importing, refurbishing, and selling used Japanese-made motorcycles. They also make and sell modified Russian-made Ural choppers. The club members, all couples, were enjoying touring in perfect leather touring clothes. Even if we come from different countries, people who share the same love for motorcycles will naturally talk to each other.

　I had heard that there are a lot of mosquitoes in Siberia in the summer, but it was much better than I had heard. Khabarovsk is a particularly mosquito-ridden place, and even though I was wearing insect repellent, I was attacked by mosquitoes no matter where I was, whether it was in the city or in my workshop.

　The second night was a Sunday, so the club threw a big welcome party for us. In the evening, the men set up a place, build a fire, cook soup in a large pot, and go shopping for beer with empty plastic bottles. If you buy beer in bulk, you can buy it for less than half the price of canned beer. I also bought vodka. The women washed the dishes and set them on the table, cut the vegetables and prepared the salad, and everyone divided up and prepared the dishes. The Armenian soup, simmered for 2-3 hours, was delicious. There’s nothing wrong with picking vegetables when they’re ripe. Throughout the party, we kept the fire going and threw leaves into it to create smoke and drive away the mosquitoes. Both nights I slept in a sleeping bag with an air mattress spread out on the concrete in the clubhouse, but I was bitten by insects and couldn’t sleep well, so I started to feel sleep deprived.

Siberia: Taiga Forests, Wetlands, and Rough Roads

　On June 30th, he said goodbye to the members of Links of Amur and left Khabarovsk. After crossing the long bridge over the Amur River and driving along the road along Chinese territory, the closest place to Chinese territory was 23 km from the border. Since I had a late start that day, I drove about 200km and stayed the night in the town of Birobidzhan. There was a lot of thunder and rain at night, but it started to rain lightly at dawn and stopped by the time we set out, but during the day it was very humid and humid for the first time in a while, with the temperature rising to 35 degrees Celsius.

　On unpaved roads, it is difficult to control the 350kg body of my Royal Star. Particularly in places where the gravel is thick, the front and rear wheels get caught, making it impossible for the bike to go straight, and it ends up drifting sideways. I was very careful not to hit an oncoming car, but once I went off the road at a curve and fell over, breaking my fog light. Two Russians got out of a passing car, Martin, a Swiss man who had been running behind them, caught up to me and it took four people to push the bike back onto the road. My car suffered scratches on the windshield and tank, but there were no problems with the engine or body and I continued onward. The area is surrounded by endless taiga forests of white birch, Japanese pine, and black fir, with wetlands spreading out here and there. A variety of natural flowers were in full bloom, as if enjoying the short summer, and it soothed my soul.

　When you come to the Seremji River, a tributary of the Amur River, there is no bridge, and the river is about 100 meters wide. Fortunately, we found out that there is a small ferry that can accommodate about 10 trucks and cars. I waited for about 10 minutes and got on the ferry, and in about 5 minutes I was on the other side. After getting off the ferry and passing through a small town, the road continued to be rough, and as the sun set, the temperature suddenly dropped. No matter where I went, the taiga and wetlands continued, and I was hoping that I would be able to see the next village or town. We arrived in Bergorsk at 10pm. Today I covered 511km and about half of it was on bad roads.

Loading the Bike onto a Freight Train at Shimanovsk

　On July 2nd, I drove 213km to Shimanovsk. There are local roads beyond Shimanovsk, but there are no bridges over the river and no ferries. The 1,000km journey to Shilka requires the motorcycle to be loaded onto a freight car. As I learned from my research in Japan, this is the biggest difficulty. First, I have to find a freight car to put the bike on. When I asked the staff at the ticket office at the station, I was told that they do not carry out procedures for loading motorcycles onto freight cars. They found a building dedicated to freight cars about 100 meters away from the station and began negotiating with the staff there. It seems that they want you to wait until the person in charge comes without following the instructions. In the end, things didn’t go well that day, so I stayed at the Station Hotel inside the station. There was a Japanese convenience store at the station, and we bought food and drinks there for dinner. After securing a hotel room, I found a garage about 5 minutes away from the station, so I went to leave my bike there.

　I woke up at 7am the next morning and was about to have some tea when I suddenly received information that if I brought my bike by 8am, I would be able to ride on the freight car. I quickly packed my bags and took a taxi to get my bike. If I miss this opportunity, I won’t know when I’ll be able to ride a freight car again. I rode my bike back to the station, and after crossing several railroad tracks with the attendant who told me to follow the car, I arrived at a freight car that was supposed to carry my bike. I had been prepared for the information I received before leaving that it was a freight car without a roof, but it turned out to be a freight car with a roof.

　Inside the freight car, there were already six used cars from Japan loaded on top and bottom. He says he can put his bike in the empty space in the back. There was no platform and it was difficult to figure out how to load the bike onto the wagon, which was more than 1m high, but in the end, a total of eight people used a board as a slope to push the 350kg bike onto the wagon. The six people were Russian buyers who transported used cars from Japan and drove themselves to the interior of Siberia.

　I negotiated the price with the staff member who guided me to this location, and the fare came out to be 2,500 rubles (about 10,000 yen) for the bike and the person. However, it turned out that the freight train would not go to Shilka, which I had heard before leaving, but to Chernyeshevisk, about 200 km before Shilka. The cars on the same freight car were also getting off at Chernyeshebysk and continuing on from there, so I thought the bikes would be fine as well.

　The couple, Martin and Barbara, decided to part ways because they had to drive to a station 200km further away. From here on, there is no bridge over the river, so you have to cross the railway bridge on your bike. Angela, like me, decided that this was her limit, so she got on the same wagon. The distance from here to Chernyeschevisk is approximately 800 km, and it takes 24 hours by freight train. Freight trains do not have passenger cars, so food must be brought in. In the 30 minutes before departure, I hurried back to the station and stocked up on food and drinks for the next two days. The freight cars then moved around the campus several times and were incorporated into freight trains of about 50 cars. In the end, we finally left Shimanovsk around noon.

Series Part 2: A Reunion in the Far North After 34 Years

(Bessatsu Motorcyclist, February 2004 issue)

Sleeping in the Freight Car Felt Like Heaven

　Freight trains have one conductor’s cabin every few cars, and I was seated in the narrow conductor’s cabin and had my first meal of the day. Fortunately, there was a toilet next to the conductor’s room, but it was clean and I’d rather go to the nearby grass when the wagon stopped.

　The conductor here spoke a little English. He is 36 years old and has two children, a 12-year-old daughter and a 7-year-old son. He went to war in Afghanistan, was seriously injured by an explosive bullet, and returned to the country after three months. He boiled water on the electric stove for dinner and gave me tea. The meal consisted of smoked fish from Lake Baikal and bread, and he asked me to try one of the three fish. It had a strong salty taste, but it was the taste that Japanese people like. Instead, I split the ham and cheese I bought at the station. He owns three motorcycles and is a big fan of motorcycles, including a Russian-made Ural and a Niepple. The Russian-made ones often break down, so he pointed in the direction of my Royal Star on the wagon and said with a laugh that he wanted a Japanese-made one.

　Outside the window, the Siberian taiga forests and wetlands stretched on endlessly, and the white birch trunks stood out against the bright green, making it extremely beautiful.The sun set around 10 o’clock, and the western sky turned red.

　The conductor spoke to the driver of the used car, and I was asked to sleep in the passenger seat of the car. Fortunately, there was a bunk bed in the conductor’s room, and Angela was able to sleep on the bunk bed, which seemed like a relief at first. Using a flashlight, I laid my body down and crawled through the gap that I could barely fit through, and crawled into the passenger seat. I was prepared to sleep in a windswept flatbed wagon in a sleeping bag, so sleeping in the car was heaven. The driver of this car was fast asleep in the driver’s seat. There was only one small window at the front of the wagon, and it was pitch black inside. I was tired and fell into a deep sleep, thinking that if a fire broke out, I wouldn’t be able to escape because the passageway was so narrow.

　The next day, the weather was nice and I felt relaxed, so I sat on the floor with the door of the freight car open, looked at the scenery outside, and enjoyed the nature of Siberia. The freight train winds slowly through the rolling mountains of the Stanovoi Mountains. There are no tunnels in the way, and there are stations about every 100km, and although the trains stop each time, the stopping times vary, and there is no signal that the freight train will start running. All I could do was stretch on the platform or walk by the doorway to move my body.

　Farmhouses are scattered around the station, and the roads that connect stations and villages are divided when they reach a river because there are no bridges, and the only means of transportation is by train. The river freezes in winter, so two-wheeled off-road vehicles can pass through it. It seemed like a long time before I would be able to ride my bike here during the summer. If this section becomes passable, it will be much easier to travel through Siberia to Europe. On the other hand, if too many cars pass by, this vast natural area will be destroyed. We must consider the balance between environmental protection and convenience.

The Lake Where Genghis Khan Healed His Wounds

　Around 11 a.m., we arrived at the freight train’s terminal station, Chernyshebisk. One by one, the wagons of a long freight train pulled up to the platform and began unloading cars and cargo. Our wagon was finally unloaded after about two hours. Russian nationals who were also on the wagon helped to unload the 350kg Royal Star from the wagon. Before lowering the Royal Star, I picked up and cleaned up any nails, wire, or metal that might have fallen on the platform that could cause a puncture. Fortunately, I’ve come this far from Vladivostok without a flat tire. Repairing a puncture on a large motorcycle is difficult.

　At 3 o’clock, I got back on my motorbike and set off from the Chernyeshevisk station. After about 1 km, we came to the railroad crossing of the Trans-Siberian Railway that we had boarded. The locomotive had stopped just above the railroad crossing, and the railroad crossing was closed, but if you looked closely, you could see that the iron plate embedded in the road surface that had entered the railroad tracks was lifting toward the front. I waited because my car couldn’t enter the railroad crossing because the iron plate was blocking it. As the locomotive moves away from the crossing, the steel plate lowers to the same height as the road surface and raises the crossing. In Russia, there was always a level crossing hut and a level crossing guard, and these safety measures were taken.

　On July 4th, the rain began in the evening and continued to fall in the morning, and we set out in the rain, but when the rain stopped in the morning and the sun came out, it suddenly became hot and humid. As we continued our pleasant journey down the road to Ulan-Ude, we came across a campsite surrounded by a beautiful lake and forest, and Angela suggested we stay here for the night. I see Russians enjoying the short summer by swimming in the lake and camping with their families. It was only 3pm and I wanted to run for another couple of hours, but I was tired so I agreed.

　The tent I bought in Vladivostok was useful for the first time. I remembered that Mika from Iron Tiger had said that there was a beautiful lake near here where Genghis Khan’s army healed their wounds, so I asked Ian, the owner of the campground, and he told me that this was the lake. It is said that the lake water contains ingredients that are effective against wounds. The water was as clear as it was in the 13th century, when Genghis Khan lived.

　Ian made barbecued venison for dinner. First, start a fire with wood and boil the potatoes. Then, once the flames have died down and the charcoal has turned to charcoal, the venison is skewered and grilled. The smoke from the barbecue drove away the mosquitoes and horseflies. As he served me some smoked deer to accompany his beer, he told me that he hunts during the winter, makes smoked deer, and eats it all year round. It was close to raw meat and the salt was a bit strong, but it was very delicious.

　The next morning, in the cool, clear air, I washed my face with the cool, clean water of the lake. Ian prepared breakfast for me and proudly showed me his hunting photos while we ate breakfast. Elk, deer, and wild birds are all important food sources. He charged just 100 rubles (about 400 yen) for the camp, including meals. I left the campsite with the hope that these simple-minded people who continue to live a life of hunting in a remote part of Siberia will be able to enjoy the blessings of nature forever and live in peace.

Lake Baikal Shining in Cobalt Blue

　The Yablonoy Mountains are a mountain range that runs from east to west and must be crossed in order to pass from Chita to Lake Baikal. As I continued straight up a long uphill slope, the road began to curve. The lightly paved road runs at speeds of 90 to 100 km/h. I rode comfortably on the slope with the perfect curves for the Royal Star, leaning on the backrest. It was the right choice for this bike.

　We arrived at Ulan-Ude at 6pm and decided on a place to stay. Ulan-Ude is the capital of the Buryad Republic and there is a road from there to Ulaanbaatar, the capital of Mongolia. The Buriards are of Mongolian descent and look exactly like Japanese people. On that day, a celebration was being held to commemorate the 336th anniversary of the city’s incorporation, and the town’s central square was crowded with people. On stage, young people wearing ethnic costumes took turns performing ethnic dances. Cossacks, Mongols, White Russians, and other ethnic groups live together in harmony.

　Angela said she was going to Mongolia and we parted ways in this town. I think it’s dangerous for a woman to travel alone, but she is a manly man who has traveled to Africa alone. Afterwards, I was relieved to receive an e-mail message informing me that I had safely arrived at my hometown at the end of September.

　On July 8th, departed from Ulan-Ude for Irkutsk. Before I knew it, the road over the Yablonoi Mountains turned into gentle curves and slopes, and I often saw villagers selling blueberries in jars on the side of the road. There’s no signboard, and no one calls in. They just sit still or lie down in the grass. As we continued onward, we came across a stall selling smoked and raw fish. This was the same smoked fish I received from the conductor of a freight car on the Trans-Siberian Railway.

　As I passed the stall, I saw a blue lake on my right in the direction of travel. Lake Baikal. Even under a clear blue sky, it’s so big that you can’t see the opposite shore, almost like the ocean. The cobalt-colored Lake Baikal that stretches beyond the taiga forest was more beautiful than I expected, and I stopped my bike for a while to admire it. Lake Baikal is known as the deepest lake in the world, and its water flows into the Yenisei River and into the Arctic Ocean. I continued running while looking at Lake Baikal next to me. The area is surrounded by mountains, and the road and Trans-Siberian Railway run parallel to it. Considering that I have taken breaks several times where I could see the Trans-Siberian Railway and almost always encountered a train, it became clear that the Trans-Siberian Railway is in full operation and is an important means of transportation in Russia. In the village of Baikalsk, about 30 villagers were selling strawberries in buckets on the roadside, and people driving by bought them. The crops seem to be plentiful. As we approached Irkutsk, the roads became better and traffic increased.

　We met Mr. Shoshin, a Yamaha importer, at the entrance to the town, and spent two nights in Irkutsk getting some rest. It is about 70km from Irkutsk town to Lake Baikal, and the forests and villages along the way, as well as the restaurants that have been built there, were very beautiful. Surprisingly, people from Irkutsk were eating raw fish from Lake Baikal at the restaurant. It is sliced ​​just like sashimi, but eaten with salt and pepper. I tried it, but as a Japanese person, I wanted wasabi and soy sauce.

　On the second night, I was invited to a dinner party at the home of a friend of Shosin’s who runs an auto parts business. The house is a mansion in an upscale residential area of ​​Irkutsk, and inside the large gate surrounded by a high wall, there is also a house where the guard’s family lives, and there is a large vegetable garden alongside the flower beds. Most of the vegetables served for dinner came from his own garden. There was frozen fish in the dish. It seems that the owner of this house has frozen the fish he caught in Lake Baikal today, and rather than cutting it with a knife, he splits the frozen fish and eats it with salt and pepper. Local people say this is how they often eat. The chewy texture of the white fish, which was similar to a slightly thicker version of rockfish, was not very appetizing. This high-class residential area was experiencing a construction boom, and even in regional cities, the number of wealthy people was increasing.

Russians with a Taste for Jokes

　Departed from Irkutsk on July 10th. The fine road with two lanes on each side became one lane on each side after 30km, and then became a dirt road after about 50km. It started to rain and the potholed road became muddy. After passing through several such bad roads, I passed Tulun and Kansk, and then headed to Kemerova through Krasnoyarsk at 56 degrees north latitude. The road signs are only in Russian so you have to look carefully, but apparently I missed it. A Russian man who was passing by got out of his car, showed me the way, and offered me a hot cup of coffee, but I didn’t have time to enjoy it slowly because I was afraid of being bitten by a mosquito or a planthopper jumping into the coffee, so I hurriedly drank the coffee, thanked him, and moved on.

　There are several roads heading west from this area, so you must pay particular attention to the road signs. When I stopped at a railroad crossing, one of the railway workers spotted my Royal Star and ran straight at it from about 30 meters away. After taking a closer look at the bike, he exaggeratedly spread his arms out loud and pointed to a Russian-made Ural bike parked next to the railroad crossing, apparently asking for a replacement. When you see someone with a nice smile on their face, you can tell right away that they are joking. Russians are so friendly that they even joke with people they meet for the first time.

　We entered the town of Kemerova and looked for a hotel. If you park your bike in the middle of town, a large crowd of people will gather. He seemed curious and asked questions like “How many cylinders?” “How much horsepower?” “What’s the speed?” and “How much?”, wide-eyed and surprised at the V-type water-cooled 4-cylinder. There are many Mongolian-Russians in Russia, so they don’t think I’m a foreigner and ask me questions in Russian rapidly. When I spoke to him in Russian, which I had somehow learned to be a tourist from Japan, he slowly listened to me in Russian. Few people in general speak English. Young people and children everywhere are more friendly than older people, and they will talk to you in Russian and touch your bike’s handlebars and tank. I can clearly see the desire to have a bike like this.

　As a large number of people had gathered, a police car stopped for some reason. Fortunately, I asked the police officer if there was a hotel in this town, and he told me to follow him so he could show me around. I said goodbye to the people who had gathered and followed the police car, which led me to an old four-story building that I couldn’t tell from the outside that it was a hotel. The first floor was a store, and part of the second to fourth floors were a hotel. Surprisingly, part of the building was a police station, and I was able to leave my motorcycle there. There is no safer place than this.

Novosibirsk, Capital of the Grain Belt

　Departed Kemerova on July 15th. Smoke was coming out from the old factories and the whole town was covered in smog, reminding me of the industrial area of ​​Kawasaki in the 1950s. It’s cold this morning, and people walking down the street are wearing long coats. The temperature dropped to 10 degrees Celsius. I also prepared for the cold by wearing warm pants and adding a quilted lining to my jacket. After running 10km, the smog disappeared and the sun began to shine through the blue sky, but the temperature still didn’t rise, so I ran with my warm clothes on.

　This area is located at 55 degrees north latitude, the same latitude as the midpoint of the Kamchatka Peninsula, and is a rich grain producing region. The plains of Western Siberia have been cleared to create fields of wheat and pasture as far as the eye can see. Although they use large agricultural machinery, they were sometimes seen using the power of sidecars and horses to transport grass. They are busy harvesting wheat for food and pasture for livestock during the short summer.

　After driving about 300 km, we arrived in Novosibirsk early around 3 o’clock. The Ob River flows through the town, and large ships come and go. Large rivers flow through all of Russia’s major cities, and ships are an important means of cargo transportation. There was a 23-story Hotel Novosibirsk in front of the central railway station. It’s a typical Russian state-run hotel, with an impressive exterior, but a dimly lit interior with the usual bouncer sitting on a sofa in the lobby. The double price for accommodation is proudly displayed at the reception: 850 rubles (about 3,400 yen) for foreigners and 600 rubles (about 2,400 yen) for Russians. I left my luggage in my room and headed out into town to find a place with internet access.

　There are shops lined up in front of the station, bustling with people, and supplies such as food and miscellaneous goods are plentiful. There were many farmers, probably because it was the center of the grain producing area. There was a large bus stop, with a clear separation between the large city buses and the medium-sized buses going to the suburbs. All large buses and trolleybuses are rattling beyond their useful life. There are limits to what can be done while making repairs. I was worried that there would be problems with public transportation in the near future. I searched for an Internet cafe for about an hour, asking people, but couldn’t find it. It took me a lot of time to find a place today.

An Accidental Reunion After 34 Years

　We departed Novosibirsk on July 16th. As we left the town, there was a meadow that stretched as far as the eye could see, and as we went further, it became a wetland. There were about 20 motorcycles parked in a vacant lot on the right side of the road, and they were having lunch, so I slowed down and went over to them, only to find that they were a Japanese touring group. When I stopped my bike and said, “Hello!”, the reply came back, “Hello!”. I was surprised to meet so many Japanese people in Siberia, and as we exchanged greetings, a person wearing a red jacket with a tanned, clean-looking face called me by name and said, “You’re Mr. Yoshida.” When I looked closely, I realized that it was Takashi Kasori, whom I had met once 34 years ago.

　When I returned to Japan after my last trip around the world, he came to visit me and said he wanted to go to Africa on his motorcycle. We were deeply moved by this unexpected reunion in an unexpected place, the Siberian steppe, and shook hands firmly. Mr. Kasori completed a motorcycle trip to Africa. Since then, he has traveled extensively both domestically and internationally, and is now one of the world’s leading motorcycle tourists. What is admirable about him is that while he was traveling both domestically and internationally, he started a family and raised three children well.

　This group was part of a motorcycle tour from Vladivostok to the western tip of Portugal, recruited by a travel agency called Dosojin. Some of the members were very surprised that I was riding my bike across Russia alone. They seemed to think that it was still impossible to travel independently on a motorcycle like I did. After lunch, I was about to leave, but he treated me to cup noodles for lunch. I hadn’t brought any Japanese food with me, so it was the first soy sauce flavor I’d had in a month. Praying for each other’s safety, the group’s leader, Kasori-kun, headed out, followed by a van carrying the group’s Russian interpreter and the person in charge of Dosojin.

Crossing the Ural Mountains

　Exactly one month has passed since I left Hamamatsu on July 21st after visiting Gavagansk, Omsk, and Chelyabinsk. Farewell to vast Siberia. In any case, Siberia was vast. The distance has already exceeded 7,000km, and if you add the distance traveled by train, it will be 8,000km. I thought the roads were bad and the accommodation was dirty, but if you think about Japan in the 1950s, it’s nothing special. At that time, there was still an unpaved road on National Route 1 between Tokyo and Hamamatsu. When I traveled around Japan, 80% of Hokkaido, Kyushu, and Shikoku were unpaved roads, and the last time I traveled around the world, most of the steep mountain roads in Colombia were unpaved. The approximately 2,000 km from Brasilia to Belem, the mouth of the Amazon, is a completely unpaved road, and considering that I rode a 4,000 km round trip on a 250cc motorcycle 37 years ago, the rough roads of Siberia are nothing to complain about. When I got to this point, I calmed down and thought about it.

　The course runs through the Ural Mountains over many long, gentle up and down slopes. There were no steep mountains, and it felt like we were crossing a large hill, and after driving for a while, we entered the town of Ufa. There were many oil wells in the meadows. The Bashkirian Republic is rich in oil. Ufa is the capital of the Bashkirian Republic and is home to many Muslim Bashkirians, and the neighboring Republic of Tatarstan is also Muslim.

Series Part 3: A Tearful Reunion on the Isle of Man After 35 Years

(Bessatsu Motorcyclist, March 2004 issue)

The Russian Sauna, “Banya”

　On July 21st, I visited Ilias, who was introduced to me by Mika from the Links of Amur motorcycle club in Vladivostok. Like Mika, he also imports and sells used motorcycles from Japan, and has traveled to Japan several times to buy them, and he strongly encouraged me to stay at his home. His house is a 10-story apartment building in a suburban housing complex where average Russian workers live, and children run around energetically in the vacant lot. His wife and father welcomed me at home. When I went inside, I realized that it wasn’t spacious at all, and I was deeply grateful to him for letting me stay. After having a light dinner, we decided to take a banya (Russian sauna), so we drove to his friend’s house.

　The house along the Volga River has a large vegetable garden, where they grow staple foods such as potatoes, vegetables such as tomatoes, cabbage, and fruits such as blueberries, and even raise chickens. Since he has little cash income, he says he makes most of his own food. A large storage-like building in one corner of the garden was a banya. It’s like entering a sauna in Japan naked. When my body warms up, I lie down on a wooden stand and hit my body with a bundle of white birch branches.The smell of the leaves is indescribably pleasant. Tapping provides appropriate stimulation to the body and improves blood circulation. They take turns hitting each other, and when they get too hot, they go to the next room to cool down, which they do about four times, and then finish by washing their bodies.

　That day, I ran 550km from Chelyabinsk to Ufa, including over the Ural Mountains, so I was exhausted when I came out of the sauna, but my wife had prepared a meal for me, and I was treated to beer, borscht, bread, and some strong homemade beer. It was 2 a.m. when I returned to Ilias’ house and slept on the sofa in the living room.

　I wanted to visit an authentic banya at least once while I was in Russia, so I thanked Ilias from the bottom of my heart for giving me such a valuable experience.

　The next day, Ilias’ bike friends gathered together. They all have Japanese bikes, and when something happens, they call out to each other and gather together. About 20 people gathered because a TV and radio station were going to cover the story of Japanese people crossing Siberia on motorcycles. After being interviewed at a cafe bar, we filmed them all touring around town.

On to Moscow, the Capital of Russia

　As we approached Moscow, road signs began to be written in both Russian and English, roads became better, and traffic increased. That night, I stayed in Vladimir, a historic town located about 120 miles before Moscow that was the capital of the Vladimir-Suzdal principality in the 12th century. This town is completely different from the Russia I’ve been to so far, and I was surprised by the beautiful, well-kept historical architecture.

　The next day, July 28th, I headed to Moscow. While driving, I thought there was a deep fog, but there was a smell. It looks like smoke. After driving for a while, both sides of the road were on fire. This year, with little rain and high temperatures, the fires were burning all summer. In this area, the peat layer extends to the surface of the earth, so not only the trees in the forest burn, but the ground as well, making it difficult to extinguish the fire.

　More and more stalls were opened on the streets selling fruits such as watermelons and miscellaneous goods, and before we knew it, we were entering the city of Moscow, which has many buildings. Getting to the town center was relatively easy.

　It was around noon when we arrived at the Kremlin, the center of Moscow. Before I could even begin to feel relieved that I had made it all the way, a police officer approached me and said, “Document” as I stopped at a red light in front of the Bolshoi Theater. When I showed him my passport, he said “Documento” again, this time pointing at the bike. So I show him the motorcycle’s customs clearance document, but he says it’s still insufficient. I asked him in a strong tone what he was going to show me, and I took back my passport and customs clearance form from the police. The policeman then went back to directing traffic, but there are many checkpoints everywhere you go in Russia. On a typical day, I may be stopped by the police three to four times.

　I stopped my bike, took out my tripod, and took some time to take a commemorative photo of my arrival in Moscow with the Bolshoi Theater in the background. It was still early to check in at the hotel, so I went to Red Square and saw that it was the summer tourist season and many tourists from various countries had come. Across the road is the state-run Hotel Russia, where we will be staying tonight. With 21 floors and 5,500 guest rooms, it is the largest hotel in the world. There are four lobbies in the north, south, east, and west, so if you enter the wrong entrance, you’ll have a hard time getting to your room. At 1,600 rubles (approximately 6,400 yen) per night, it’s cheaper than Western-funded hotels in Moscow, but you have to be prepared for the service to be provided by the Russian state.

　In the evening, I was welcomed by the staff of Yamaha’s Market Development Division, and had my first Japanese meal since leaving Japan. I knew the people I worked with when I was on active duty, so I was able to really relax and my fatigue was washed away. Japanese food is booming in Moscow, and even Russian restaurants have sashimi and sushi on their appetizer menus.

The Moscow Metro

　The next day, I went to the Yamaha dealership in Moscow to say hello, asked them to take care of my bike, and decided to use public transportation for a while. A 10-trip subway ticket cost 40 rubles (160 yen). Once you pass through the ticket gate, no matter how far you go, once you pass through the ticket gate, it is still once. The ceilings and walls had different designs at each station, making it feel like I was in a museum, and I got off the subway at each station and enjoyed the designs on the walls and ceilings. The escalators are very long, and each escalator goes about 100 meters underground. There was always a surveillance box at the top of the underground escalator, and a woman wearing a uniform was sitting inside the box checking safety.

　As I was taking videos on the platform, I was warned by members of the public not to take photos. This is the first time I’ve been warned like this since I came to Russia. During the Soviet era, the subway was a military facility that served as an air raid shelter, so I wonder if photography was prohibited at that time.

　Moscow’s main roads are wide, ranging from 3 to 6 lanes. There were many luxury Western European cars such as Benz and BMW driving there. By this point, there are not many Japanese cars. During rush hour, this place gets congested with traffic. According to the editor-in-chief of a motorcycle magazine, there are 4 million cars in Moscow for a population of 9 million. The city of Moscow is a beautiful cityscape with historical buildings still intact, and the modern clothing of the people gave a sense of affluence in the overall lifestyle. I was interviewed by the editor-in-chief and invited to his home for the weekend. He lived in a mansion in the woods on the outskirts of Moscow, about 30 km away from the city center, and there were mansions like his own dotted around the forest, surrounded by groves of trees. There were many new houses under construction, and it seemed like there was a construction boom. In Russia, it is clear in every aspect that wealth is concentrated in Moscow, and there are large disparities with the regions. In his case, his parents are government officials and have lived in this area for a long time. There were wide grasslands and forests outside the houses, and many people were seen enjoying weekends on off-road bikes, enjoying a comfortable lifestyle. At the evening barbecue party, about 50 guests came in and out, and the editor-in-chief introduced me to them.

　Before arriving in Moscow, I had a preconception that Moscow was a dangerous city. The reason was that when Russia lost to Japan and failed to qualify for the World Cup, news spread in Japan that riots broke out in the city and Japanese tourists were attacked. Another reason was that the Swiss Martins, who had traveled with me for a while from Vladivostok, said they would not go to Moscow because it was dangerous. However, there was no sense of danger as long as ordinary citizens were living their normal lives.

From Russia to Finland

　Leaving Moscow on August 6, we passed through the historic towns of Novgorod and St. Petersburg. The border with Finland is 150 km away.

　I had heard from Russians that during the busy tourist season of July and August, you would have to wait about 6 hours to cross the border, so to avoid the busy daytime hours, I decided to stay at a hotel next to a gas station about 10km before the border. I remember when I tried to cross the border from Finland to Russia 35 years ago, there were almost no people crossing the border. Nowadays, large-scale immigration and customs facilities have been built, and there is no trace of the past.

　I woke up at 5am the next morning and left the hotel while it was still dark. As expected, there were only about 10 cars lined up at the border in the early morning. When leaving Russia, you are required to submit your passport and the customs clearance certificate for your motorcycle that you received when you entered the country. If you lose this customs clearance document, you will not be able to take the Royal Star out of Russia. That’s why he tried not to show it as much as possible during police checkpoints along the way. If I was picked up by an incomprehensible police officer, I might not be able to cross the border, which was one of the purposes of this trip. When I submitted my customs clearance form to a customs official at the border, he checked the vehicle’s chassis number and my departure from Russia was completed successfully. Then I entered Finland, which was easy. No visa is required and there is no bike check. I was worried that this would cause trouble when I left the country, so I asked how the bike would go through customs, and was told that if it was my own, I wouldn’t need to go through any formalities, which left me disappointed. It was August 10th, 48 days after landing from Vladivostok, and the distance had traveled over 10,000 km.

　I was overcome with emotion as I was reminded once again that on August 10th, 35 years ago, I was flatly refused entry to the former Soviet Union from Finland, where I had just arrived after running so hard. At that time, the only way for Japanese people to run across the continent was to take a boat to North America and start running, or take a boat to India and start running across Eurasia. At the time, it was just a dream to be able to cross the Sea of ​​Japan to Russia, travel across the Eurasian continent, and reach Europe like we did this time. I realized once again how long 35 years have been.

A Reunion After 35 Years

　It was the summer of ’01. Suddenly, I received a call from a German friend, Hermann Steiner, who wanted to hold a class reunion on the Isle of Man in England. I met Hermann in a village in southern Germany where I stayed from the winter to summer of 1967. At the time, I was staying in a small village of about 100 people and working as a woodcutter in the forest to supplement my travel funds.At that time, I heard that a Japanese man on a motorcycle was staying in the village, and it turned out that Hermann came to visit from a nearby village. There are no borders for bike lovers. After that, on weekends, his friends would join us and we would enjoy touring around the deep forest roads with their many curves, perfect for riding a bike. We enjoyed cutting through the wind and becoming one with nature through the forest where deer, rabbits, and squirrels live.

　In May, the idea of ​​going to the World Grand Prix to be held on the Isle of Man in England came up, so I left my village in Germany. They took a ferry across the Strait of Dover to Wales, where they were joined by Hermann’s friend Haydon and several other British nationals, and entered the Isle of Man via Liverpool. On the Isle of Man, we stayed at a campsite and visited various parts of the island while enjoying the World GP race.

　Since then, I have not seen them even once in the 30 years since then, only exchanging Christmas cards, but two of my former friends have already passed away. Hermann was worried that if they didn’t meet soon, he would miss out, so he suggested a class reunion.

　Around that time, I would reach my 60th birthday in January 2002, and it was time for me to retire. I had always wanted to use my 60th birthday as an opportunity to do something that I couldn’t do while working at a company, so this was a great opportunity. Without hesitation, I replied that I would definitely like to go. I thought that if I could go by motorcycle, I could go by motorcycle, and if I couldn’t go by motorcycle, I could go by the Trans-Siberian Railway or by plane.

　In the fall of 2001, I received a call from Hermann with a specific date and time. They wanted to hold a reunion between August 25th and August 31st, the last week of August when the Manx GP is held.

The Isle of Man

　The Isle of Man is an island located between England and Ireland, approximately 100km in circumference, and is known as a resort. The terrain is hilly, with the highest point reaching 620 meters, making it an excellent scenic spot, and half of the land is arable land. It has also been famous for bike racing for a long time.

　The island has its own parliament consisting of the House of Lords and the House of Commons, has its own legislation and laws, and issues its own currency, the pound pound, but please note that some places on mainland Britain do not accept it.

　Races on the Isle of Man are held on a course that is approximately 60km long and is closed to public roads. The course is very varied, running through residential areas, shopping streets, ranches, and even into the mountains. Even if the sun is shining in the plains, it can be foggy and rainy in the mountains, making the weather extremely harsh. Additionally, the sides of the course are narrow and extremely dangerous due to the many stone walls, and a fall could lead to a serious accident, so World GP races have been canceled since the mid-1970s. Currently, the TT race in June and the Manx GP in August are held every year, attracting many motorcycle fans.

　Well, I felt deeply satisfied after crossing Russia, but I felt tired for a while after arriving in Finland, perhaps because I had exhausted my physical strength as I am over 60 years old. We took two days off in Helsinki and one day off in Estonia, and then proceeded at a leisurely pace.

　The three Baltic countries of Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania are countries that feel more like Scandinavia than Russia, and billboards promoting EU membership were seen everywhere along the highways. Due to the leisurely progress, it became difficult to arrive at the Isle of Man on August 24th, and for the next four days he was forced to cover more than 500km every day.

　I entered Germany from Poland. This summer, heavy rains in eastern Germany caused rivers to overflow. The Autobahn was built on a high point, so there was no problem for the Royal Star to run, but Dresden was also in dire straits, as the Elbe River that runs through the town had overflowed and the whole town was flooded.

Landing at Last

　On August 24, the ship crossed the Strait of Dover by ferry from Calais, France, and arrived in Liverpool via London. The ferry from there to Douglas, Isle of Man, was scheduled to depart at 6pm, but due to delays, the ferry sailed past midnight. On the ship, I took a seat in the cabin to rest, and it was around 3 a.m. when I got off the ferry at the port in Douglas.

　The place where he promised to meet Hermann again was Glen Doe Farm campground in Hillberry, where he had stayed 35 years ago. He asked me to give him the flight number so he could pick me up at the airport, but I replied that I could find the campsite where I had stayed before and that I could get there on my own. He probably never expected me to ride a motorcycle through Russia. I remember his young, surprised face when I heard that he had come from Japan on a motorcycle 35 years ago, as I walked past the familiar coastal road of Douglas and up the hill to the town of Oncha.

　I searched based on my memory and maps from 35 years ago, but the number of villas had increased compared to before, and I had a hard time finding the sign. We managed to get into the campsite around 4am. There are many tents lined up and it is quiet. I shut off the engine of the Royal Star and looked around in the moonlight. To my surprise, the inside of the campground had not changed at all from 35 years ago. I quietly find an empty space, unload my belongings, pitch my tent, and crawl into my sleeping bag to stretch my arms and legs as much as I can. I thought there was no such thing as happiness.

　I fell asleep and woke up at 8am. When I woke up and looked around, I saw breakfast being prepared everywhere. A person who had set up a tent next to me called out to me and treated me to some hot tea. He said that yesterday the Germans were looking for a Japanese person, and that that Japanese person was definitely you. He told me that there was a parking lot in the middle of the campsite, and that the German was staying in one of the three tents on the other side of the parking lot. He also told me that if I called out loud, he would jump out. I wanted to do it right away, but that would mean waking up the others. I suppressed my excitement and decided to wait a little longer. I thanked them for the tea and started walking to see the whole campsite. Then, a person who looked like Hermann got up from one of the three tents. Due to a motorcycle accident when he was young, Hermann’s left and right legs were 3cm apart in length, which caused him to walk in a unique way. His hair had become much thinner, but he had a distinctive way of walking. He was truly Hermann.

“Hermann!” I called out in a loud voice.

“Shigeru!” he answered.

　They approach each other and shake hands firmly. For a while, neither of us could speak.

　When I told him that I had ridden my bike through Russia from Vladivostok and that I had arrived here early this morning after the ferry was delayed, he burst into tears of joy. Seeing their happy faces made me feel once again glad that I had come by bike.

　That evening, the two of them went to the port to pick up Haydon, an Englishman, who was arriving in Douglas one day late. It was the same flight as yesterday, but it also arrived two hours late at 10:30 p.m., and we met again at the port in the dark. Haydon’s hair is gray, similar to that of a skinhead, but his true face remains the same as before. I recognized him right away. Haydon used to drive a Norton, but this time he drove a BMW. On the other hand, Hermann used to ride a BMW, but now he rides a Yamaha TR1, and I heard that he owns three TR1s. That’s why I have so much trust in them. 35 years ago, every time I rode on the Autobahn, I would point at the 250cc YDS-III I was riding and criticize Japanese bikes, saying that a bike that couldn’t go 180km/h wasn’t really a bike, but things change. Nowadays, he is obsessed with Japanese cars.

Series Part 4: Touring Europe Through 200 Years of Two-Wheel History

(Bessatsu Motorcyclist, April 2004 issue)

A Trip Back in Time

　At the Isle of Man TT, you can run on the race course on days when there are no races, so the three of us ran around the island reminiscing about old memories. We climbed on top of the stone wall on the mountain course where we watched the World GP race, and ate at the Krekni Bar where we ate 35 years ago. On the coastal road along Douglas Bay, I saw classic bikes from all over Europe and listened to the proud stories of their owners.

　The owner of a surprisingly old motorcycle was also staying at the campsite where we stayed. Two cars, the Humber from 1914 (Taisho 3) and the Brough Superior from 1924 (Taisho 13), actually ran with their engines running. The entire Isle of Man is like a museum. Rail carriages still run along the coastline, just as they did 35 years ago.

　Although I lived in a tent and a sleeping bag at the campsite for a week, I was able to sleep surprisingly well, and the fatigue I had been carrying from Russia had completely disappeared.

　The ferry back from the Isle of Man was full, and I managed to get a reservation on a special flight for August 31st, departing at 4am.

　The rain that began on the 29th finally slowed down on the evening of the 30th. Since we weren’t sure how the weather would change after that, we decided it would be best to fold up our tents now, head to Douglas Harbor, and take a nap in the ferry departure lobby. The first four days were sunny and sunny, which is unusual for the Isle of Man, so we’ll probably have to put up with some rain for the last day or so.

　When I went to the ferry departure lobby at 7pm, there were already a lot of people waiting. I managed to find an empty seat and spent a sleepless night, but the 4am departure was delayed for another three hours, and the ferry actually left Douglas port at 7am, well into the night. Living in England requires a lot of patience.

　The week I spent on the Isle of Man was like traveling back in time and forgetting my current age and returning to 1967. Britain is a culture of stone, and it is also a culture that values ​​things. I was surprised to see that the campground was still the same as it was 35 years ago, but looking at the island as a whole, even though the number of houses has increased, the old houses are still being used with care, and the stone walls on both sides of the road have not changed at all.

　There, I reunited with my bike friends who I hadn’t seen for 35 years, and the week we spent together made me feel like I was 25 years old at the time. I didn’t know when I would see him again, but as long as he was healthy, I was sure to see him again, and I left the Isle of Man looking forward to that time.

The Eurotunnel

　On September 2nd, I crossed the Strait of Dover from England via Eurotunnel.

　It is not possible to drive cars or motorbikes through the Eurotunnel. Only trains move through the tunnel, and motorcycles and cars are loaded onto the wagons, and people also cross the strait along with them.

　I bought a ticket at the gate for 92.5 pounds (about 18,000 yen). I followed the traffic lights and when I came out onto the platform, I saw a tall silver freight car parked there.

　There is a large entrance on the side of the wagon, and when you drive the Royal Star through there, you will see that the partitions between each wagon are removed and open to the front, making the wagon itself look like a tunnel. Staff were stationed at major locations inside the wagon to give instructions, so cars and motorcycles could be packed to the front in an orderly manner.

　The wagons were empty, less than half full, but the open partitions between the wagons were closed and the train departed after a while. This train did not have a passenger cabin, so passengers were forced to spend the journey standing next to their motorbikes. There were four other tourists on motorcycles, and they were riding them or standing next to them. In the case of a car, you remain seated in your car seat.

　The train arrived at the platform in Calais, France in about 25 minutes. By the way, the ferry I took to go to the Isle of Man cost 124 euros 50 (about 14,000 yen), which was a little cheaper than the Eurotunnel.

　After crossing the Strait of Dover and entering France, we drove about 250km from Calais to Paris on the A26 highway. This was the first toll road I took when I entered Europe. The fare is 10 euros (approximately 1,200 yen) for 250km, which is about one-fourth the cost of the Tomei Expressway in Japan, which is very cheap. Still, Hermann, a German who is used to driving on the free Autobahn, said, “French highways are expensive,” so to avoid passing through France, he took a ferry from England directly to the Netherlands and returned to Germany.

　That day, I stayed at a hotel in a rest area on the highway. There are many hotels like this in Europe, so I don’t have to run around the city looking for a hotel, which is very helpful.

An Unexpectedly Warm Welcome

　On September 3rd, I met Morimoto, the Yamaha representative stationed in France, at the agreed meeting place, Charles de Gaulle Airport, and from there I followed his car to Yamaha France, about 30km away.

　When I parked my beloved Royal Star car at the front entrance and opened the door, I was greeted by Mr. Olivier, president of Yamaha France. All the employees stood behind him and welcomed him with a huge round of applause. I was surprised by the warm welcome.

　I have known Olivier for a long time since my last trip around the world.

　After Mr. Olivier introduced me to the employees, I marked the route on the map I had prepared and reported on my journey so far. As a souvenir, he put a wonderful plaque and a color copy of the cover of the old French motorcycle magazine MotoReview in a nice frame, and handed it to me in front of the employees. On the cover of the magazine, there was a picture of me and my motorcycle (YDS-III) when I stopped in Paris 35 years ago, and I was deeply grateful to Mr. Olivier for keeping the magazine with such care.

　Afterwards, all employees celebrated with a champagne toast. Mr. Olivier is a first-class rider who has participated in the Paris-Dakar Rally, which is known as a grueling rally, and has repeatedly placed in the top ranks, and has made a great contribution to the development of French motorsports. Furthermore, even now that he has become president, he still uses a motorcycle to commute to work, and when a new model comes out, he takes the lead and takes his employees out for test rides.He is a person who places the values ​​of riding a motorcycle as his top priority.

　After the welcome party, over lunch Olivier talked about his passion for motorcycles.

　He told me that if he wants all of his employees to keep working proactively, then as president he himself must always embody a spirit of challenge. That is why he commutes by motorcycle, and whenever a new model appears he takes employees out on test rides, both to motivate himself and to share that spirit with the staff. He added that the reason he gathered all the employees to welcome me when I arrived was that he wanted them to share that same sense of challenge.

　After that, I visited Yamaha’s overseas factories and overseas distributors in Saint-Quentin, France, and Amsterdam, the Netherlands, and received the same warm welcome I received at Yamaha France.

Visiting Museums of 200 Years of Two-Wheel History

　On September 11th, the ship drove from Zeeburg, Belgium to a shipping company to be loaded onto a ship that would take it to the east coast of the United States. The ship will set sail on September 14th, cross the Atlantic Ocean, and arrive at the Port of Newark in New Jersey 10 days later, on September 23rd. I decided to fly from Amsterdam to Newark on the 23rd.

　I had 11 days to spare before leaving Amsterdam, so I decided to visit as many museums in Germany as possible and collect information on the history of motorcycles. This was my plan even before I left Japan, as I wanted to gather as much information as possible in Europe, where motorcycles have a long history.

　I rented an FJR1300 from Yamaha Europe in Amsterdam, which can easily ride on the autobahn, and decided to ride it around the museum. The FJR1300’s riding position is a moderately forward-leaning one that won’t cause back pain on long distance rides even at my age, and combined with the windshield that can adjust the angle depending on the speed, I was able to ride stably at 150 to 200 km/h on the Autobahn and was very comfortable.

　In the case of a three-lane autobahn, the first lane for slow vehicles on the right is mainly used by large trucks at speeds of 100 to 110 km/h, the middle lane is over 130 km/h, and the overtaking lane on the far left is at an astonishing speed of over 180 km/h. In a Royal Star loaded with luggage, even if you tried to drive at 130-140 km/h in the middle lane, you would be running at a slow speed for that lane, and you would have to keep an eye on what was behind you.Compared to that, the FJR1300 was not as comfortable as it could be.

　First, I visited NSU’s Motorcycle Museum in Neckarsulm, a town at the confluence of the Neckar and Ulm rivers near Heidelberg. Admission fee is 4 euros (about 500 yen) for adults. The castle, which was built in the 14th century, is now being used as a museum, and this can be said to reflect the German spirit of valuing old things.

　Once inside, you will be greeted by a wealth of exhibits and materials, including 350 items related to the history of motorcycles around the world. The history of two-wheeled bicycles in Europe dates back to the invention of a bicycle without a lever (the handlebars cannot be turned) and without pedals (the bicycle is propelled by kicking the ground with the feet) in France in the early days of the Industrial Revolution in the late 18th century. The exhibits at the NSU Motorcycle Museum are modest, but there are simulators that you can not only see, but also touch and ride, so visitors will not get bored.

　The highlight is an 1870s bicycle with a 2m front wheel. You can straddle this and actually ride it. The NSU Motorcycle Museum is one of the best motorcycle museums in the world, with easy-to-understand exhibits from the early days of the idea of ​​motorcycles to the present.

The Mercedes-Benz and BMW Museums

　Stuttgart is about 100km south of Neckarsulm. There is the headquarters factory of Mercedes-Benz and its museum.

　Since it is not possible to get to the entrance of the museum by motorbike, we took the free shuttle bus exclusively for the museum from the bus stop outside the main factory grounds. I boarded a bus marked “Mercedes-Benz Museum,” passed through the factory gate, passed through the factory, and got off in front of the museum. The museum was located in the middle of the main factory grounds. Admission to the museum is free. The earphones that provide guidance are available in five languages, and Japanese guides can also be borrowed for free.

　The first thing you see when you enter is a two-wheeled vehicle with an engine mounted on a wooden body. In 1885, this two-wheel vehicle was invented before the four-wheel vehicle, and this is where the history of Benz began.

　The museum building is plain, but the exhibits are impressive. In addition to the main four-wheeled vehicles, aircraft engines and marine engines were also on display. Among the many exhibits, one that was particularly impressive was the 1935 maroon Mercedes-Benz 770 with the chrysanthemum emblem that was used by Emperor Showa.

　Munich, about 300km east of Stuttgart, is home to BMW’s headquarters factory and museum. The museum was a modern, bowl-shaped building adjacent to the company’s modern high-rise headquarters.

　I entered the entrance and looked for the reception desk, but there was no one there. I had no choice but to look at the shop for a while, but it seems that the same staff is in charge of the reception, shop, and snacks, and when it gets busy, they can’t handle the reception. Eventually, someone came to the reception desk to help me, but my first impression was that there was no one at the reception desk. It’s probably run with efficiency in mind, but I still don’t feel like it’s very good.

　The entrance fee is 3 euros (about 360 yen), and the locker deposit is 5 euros (about 600 yen). This will be returned when you return the locker key. BMW is the only German four-wheel manufacturer that continues to actively develop, manufacture, and sell two-wheel vehicles worldwide.

　As you walk up the spiral corridor and view the exhibits, you will find a theater at the top that can accommodate about 200 people. Once you’ve finished watching, you can take the long escalator from the top floor and come down to the first floor near the reception. The very modern exhibit, which matches the modern exterior of the BMW museum, has a large number of various simulators and is designed to keep visitors entertained, and the innovative project that took a great deal of money was eye-opening.

　As the timing was perfect, Intermoto, Germany’s largest motorcycle show, was being held in Munich. In an area that seemed larger than the Tokyo Motor Show held in Makuhari, there were exhibits of parts and accessories, mainly motorcycles, from all over the world. Once again, the local BMWs were very energetic and entertained visitors with a 15-minute show using their exhibition booth.

　For the past 40 years, the world’s two-wheeler industry has been dominated by four Japanese companies, but on this trip I felt strongly that the American and European companies are starting to regain their strength. The rise of Chinese and Korean motorcycle manufacturers is also remarkable. I thought that Japanese manufacturers should never give up their technological superiority. From a global perspective, the two-wheeled industry is thriving and still has room for development. As the demand for environmental protection increases, two-wheeled vehicles, which have the greatest strength of being lightweight, will play an important role.

Impressed by Volkswagen Customer Service

　On the Autobahn that connects Berlin and Hannover, the town of Wolfsburg is home to Volkswagen’s (VW) headquarters and Autostadt, a theme park larger than a museum.

　The story goes back and forth, but Wolfsburg and the aforementioned Neuss are places we stopped at on the Royal Star on our way to the Isle of Man in the previous issue.

　The Autostadt theme park has a museum, experience corner facilities where children and adults can play, and independent showrooms for all VW companies, including group company Audi, and employs 1,200 people.The main purpose of the park is to invite buyers of VW products and treat them like VIPs.

　When I parked the Royal Star in the parking lot, the first thing I saw were two tall buildings made entirely of glass. Among them are 800 new cars that customers have already purchased and are scheduled to receive. When I entered the front, I found the reception desk in the middle of a large lobby with a large spinning globe created by Ingo Günter. Currently, about 40 percent of all buyers come here to pick up their cars. This is because customers who come to VW headquarters to pick up their cars not only get a discount on the transportation costs from headquarters to dealerships, but also receive VIP treatment at the Autostadt theme park.

　Next to the two all-glass buildings is a beautiful three-story cylindrical building where cars are actually handed over to buyers. There is a restricted area near the center of the building where new cars are inspected for the final time, and new cars that have gone through a careful shipping inspection are handed over to users.

　When I visited, the names of potential users were posted on the electronic bulletin board, and I could see smiling users receiving explanations about the vehicles they had purchased from staff members.

　Looking at these well-equipped facilities and attitude, I got a strong sense of VW’s commitment to achieving the highest level of customer satisfaction through massive capital investment and a large number of employees. There is a luxury hotel, the Ritz-Carlton, next door, which also seems to be an attempt to improve VW’s image.

　A DKW two-wheeler was on display at the VW museum. DKW was the world’s largest motorcycle manufacturer in the 1920s. VW inherited two motorcycle manufacturers, DKW and NSU, which was the world’s number one in the 1950s, and just like BMW, VW also has the blood of the world’s number one two-wheeler running through its veins.

Series Finale: Crossing the Snowy Rockies to the Journey’s Finish

(Bessatsu Motorcyclist, May 2004 issue)

Landing on the U.S. East Coast

　On September 23rd, I took an early morning flight from Schiphol Airport in Amsterdam, Netherlands at 8:20am and left Europe.

　At 10:30 a.m., we arrived in New York, a town adjacent to Manhattan in New York on the east coast of the United States. This was actually a 7 hour flight time, minus the 5 hour time difference.

　It’s been a while since I’ve been to New York, so I wanted to arrive as soon as possible to decide on a hotel to stay at that day, and to check with the shipping company about the ship Royal Star was on to get an idea of ​​the situation. When I called a nearby hotel from the arrival lobby of the airport, a shuttle bus immediately came to pick me up. Everything in America is very convenient. Check-in is at 1pm. I immediately called the shipping company and was told that the ship had already arrived and that the cargo would be unloaded by the end of the day and could be delivered the next day. Newark Port is to the east across the airport from the hotel. It’s really helpful to be close by. I informed the shipping company that gave me the arrival notice that I would be handling customs procedures myself, and received the address of the customs office and the advice that I should arrive after 10am.

　The next day, I took a taxi to the customs office with the necessary documents, and when I went to find the customs counter, I found three fat black women sitting there. We arrived at 9:30am. Perhaps it was still early, but there were people drinking coffee and eating donuts. When I explained to one of them why I wanted to clear my bike through customs, he prepared a form based on my passport and Royal Star registration card, stamped the complicated customs stamp, and the process was completed in about 15 minutes. It is much faster than customs clearance in Vladivostok, which took three days.

　About a 5-minute drive away was a shipping company’s stockyard facing the port, and a Royal Star that had already been unloaded from the ship caught my eye near the gate. When I entered the shipping company’s office and showed the form prepared by customs, the vehicle number was checked at Royal Star and I was allowed to take it out. I reattached the international number plate that had been removed during loading and headed out from the stockyard. First, stop at a gas station and fill up the tank. It cost $6 (about 720 yen) for 4 gallons (about 15.2 liters). In America, a liter costs 40 to 50 yen, which is one-third to one-fourth the price in Europe.

　It is amazing how quickly the Royal Star was delivered to a shipping company in Zeeburg, Belgium, crossed the Atlantic Ocean, and received it on the east coast of the United States in just two weeks. One of the big reasons for this is that I didn’t have to pack the bike. It takes nearly a week just to make a wooden frame that fits the bike, and there is an additional cost involved in transporting the packaging. The shipping company I used let me load the bike naked without packing it so that it could be used on a specialized car transport ship.

Visiting Ground Zero

　I spent about two hours in the afternoon inspecting my bike and preparing to cross the American continent. New York is just a stone’s throw from New York’s Manhattan, across the Hudson River. I stayed in Manhattan for about four months 37 years ago, working at a department store transporting merchandise from the warehouse to the sales floor to supplement my travel funds. At that time, I drove the YDS-III around Greenwich Village on the Manhattan side, which crosses the Hudson River through the Holland Tunnel.

　We visited Ground Zero in Manhattan to also check the vehicle through actual driving. This is the site of the World Trade Center, which was destroyed in the 9/11 terrorist attack on September 11, 2001, and was the first place I had decided to visit after entering the United States. From the hotel, we took Highway 9 and headed to the Holland Tunnel, which passes through the Hudson River. The road is narrow and the road surface is damaged, reminding me of what it was like 37 years ago. The atmosphere around me hasn’t changed much either. Even though it was only 3:00 p.m., the area was packed with cars, and the number was increasing. After paying $5 (approximately 600 yen) at the tunnel entrance, you are finally in Manhattan. Thirty-seven years ago, this area was already home to the World Trade Center, the Empire State Building, and other buildings, and as a visitor from Japan at the time, I was so impressed by the richness of America that I was disgusted.

　I stood there, stunned, with the Royal Star parked on the right side of the road. There is no World Trade Center. It’s a huge shock to not have something that should be there. When I thought of the more than 3,000 lives lost here, I felt that terrorism was not something far away. Scars remained on the surrounding buildings, and the following words were impressively written across the wall of the building: The human spirit is not measured by the size of the act but by the size of the heart. Various things were posted on the walls, including letters searching for disaster victims and T-shirts with names written on them. Each of them seemed to contain the feelings of the family, and they were all things that could not be neglected. While I was engrossed in the sights, it suddenly became dark, so I decided to go back to the hotel.

Through Amish Country

　On September 25th, we will finally begin our final journey across North America. Continue west on Route 80. After driving 50 miles (about 80 km) through New Jersey, you will enter Pennsylvania. The speed limit on the highway is 65 mph (approximately 104 km/h), but the actual speed of traffic is 70-75 mph (112-120 km/h). Perhaps because the median strip is wide and the greenbelts on both sides are wide enough, there is no sense of speed. Most of the trucks were large trailers, about 25 meters long, and they moved along with the flow of the vehicle, but I was very surprised to see some of them overtaking cars at speeds of over 75 miles per hour (120 km/h). Because trucks are limited to 100 km/h on Germany’s Autobahn, without exception they drive quietly in single file on the right side.

　After crossing the Appalachian Mountains, the road eventually entered the breadbasket of America. Corn fields and soybean fields go on and on. After entering Ohio, I turned off the highway and drove on a local road. I wanted to know how the Amish live now, so I visited the area where many of them live. The Amish are a religious group that has lived in this area for a long time.They travel in traditional horse-drawn carriages, plow their fields with plows and horses without using large agricultural machinery, and do not use electricity. These are people who live a life that is kind to nature. When I ran here 37 years ago, I noticed how they lived. It seemed like the locals were treating them like weirdos. I was very worried that these people, who were living a life that was considered to be the most kind to nature, were being forced out.

　I followed a local road through a cornfield and came to a rural town. At the supermarket in town, a log was placed about 10m long so that many horse-drawn carriages could be stopped, and a black-painted Amish horse-drawn carriage was parked there. As I was looking, another horse-drawn carriage came along with a parent and child dressed in black. When I pointed the camera at the child, the child smiled and waved, and the father also smiled. After that, a woman wearing clothes reminiscent of the Middle Ages arrived in a horse-drawn carriage. I looked around at the other shops in this town, and found that many shops, including the post office, had stalls installed so that people could park their horse-drawn carriages safely. When I looked at the intersection in town, I saw a horse-drawn carriage stopped at a red light, and a large trailer was running slowly along the intersecting road as if caring for its horses. The number of Amish has increased compared to before, and they seem to be living happily with the townspeople. The way the townspeople view these people, who value nature, has changed. It’s a relief.

From the United States to Canada

　Move forward with a warm heart. It passes through Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois before entering Milwaukee, Wisconsin.

　Milwaukee is a town known for beer and Harley-Davidsons (H.D.). H.D. is currently the most active motorcycle manufacturer in the world. 25 years ago, when I came to Los Angeles as an expatriate for Yamaha Motor, H.D. was on the verge of bankruptcy. 25 years from now, no one in America could have predicted what HD will be like today.

　As we approached town, we started seeing H.D. riding on the highway, but the riders were not wearing helmets. They either hold their hair back with a bandana, wear a leather cap, or don’t wear anything at all and let their hair blow in the wind. In the United States, traffic rules vary depending on the state, with some states making it illegal to not wear a helmet and others strictly recommending it. It is true that wearing a helmet is safer, but America is a country that does not consider it illegal to wear a helmet uniformly throughout the country.

　From Milwaukee, the ship passed through Minnesota and North Dakota before arriving in Winnipeg, Canada, on October 2nd. It was early summer when I left Japan, but before I knew it, summer had passed and autumn had set in. In Canada, which lies at 50 degrees north latitude, mornings and evenings were cold to below the water point. In the fields, most of the corn, soybeans, sunflower seeds, and grass had been cut, and large tractors were seen mowing what was left.

A Canadian Friend Who Rode Until Age 87

　The reason I went to Canada this time was to visit the grave of my friend Walt Healy, who was in Calgary. I’ve been friends with him since my last trip around the world, and at the time he was running a small bike shop that handled Yamaha and Indian bikes. He has since grown to become one of Canada’s top Yamaha dealers, and is a man who has made great contributions not only to selling motorcycles but also to nurturing young people in Canada. Unfortunately, he passed away in January 2002 at the age of 88. Although we were 28 years apart in age, our love for motorcycles remained the same, and we remained close friends as a family. I can’t help but regret thinking that if this trip had taken place a year earlier, I would have been able to see him in good health.

　Heading west on the Trans-Canada Highway in early winter. The weather hasn’t been good since we arrived in Canada. The cold rain suddenly turned into snow. This is the first snow on this trip. It reminded me of 37 years ago, when I took this same road in the opposite direction at the same time, and also encountered cold snow.

　The transcontinental railroad, the Canadian Pacific, runs along the highway. I occasionally saw freight trains, but they were diesel locomotives, and compared to that, Russia’s fully electrified lines are impressive.

　On October 5th, I visited Calgary’s bike shop “Walt-Healy Yamaha.” Walt’s son Terry has been running the store for over 10 years. Since I had contacted him in advance, Terry was happy to welcome me. He spoke with his eyes red and holding back tears as he recalled the day his father, Walt, died. He left home in good spirits in the morning to attend a conference in Calgary, but when he got up from his seat after the meeting, he suddenly collapsed and never returned home.

　He rode in a sidecar until the year before his death. He was someone who loved riding motorcycles. When I lived in Los Angeles, he visited me many times in his sidecar. When he got older and left the store to his son Terry, he took his wife in his sidecar everywhere he went, not only in Canada but also in the United States. He also traveled overseas, to Baja California, Mexico, and as far away as Australia, where he enjoyed riding motorcycles. In Canada, he was a great man who actively contributed to society, such as holding motorcycle races for the healthy development of young people and holding a mechanic school with government approval. He donated the sidecar he drove until he was 87 years old to a local high school, and part of his inheritance will be used to create the Walt Healey Scholarship.

　Terry and I visited Walt’s grave, bowed our heads deeply, and prayed for his soul. Terry then said, “Thank you so much for coming,” as he handed me a watch that had Walt Healy written on it, which Walt wanted to give me when he was alive. I was also glad that I came.

Over the Early-Winter Rockies and into the Blazing Desert

　I was debating whether to continue west from Calgary and cross the Canadian Rockies, or to go south from Montana, USA, to Seattle via Spokane, as if I was unlucky, I would be unable to proceed due to snow. Either way, you have to cross the Rocky Mountains somewhere. After arriving in Canada, I paid close attention to the weather forecast every day. Fortunately, the forecast this morning said that the cold air would ease over the next few days, so I decided to head west and cross the Rocky Mountains before the cold air hit. As we entered Banff National Park, we were surrounded by snow-capped Rocky Mountains. After passing through Lake Cruise, I looked for a place to stay in Golden while it was still daylight and stayed the night. This is because when it gets dark, the temperature drops and the roads become icy. The icy roads on winding mountain roads are extremely dangerous.

　The next day, we reached Glacier National Park, which was another mountain pass before heading to Vancouver. After riding along the Columbia River for a while from Golden, we started climbing a mountain pass. Just when I thought clouds appeared, it turned out to be snow. Fortunately, it comes undone when it hits the road, but it’s still slippery. The tourist season has long passed, so traffic is light. I proceeded with great care so as not to slip and fall. On that day, October 7th, we safely crossed the Canadian Rockies and arrived in Bellingham, Washington State, USA, via Vancouver.

　As I entered Portland from Seattle, the daytime temperature returned to over 30 degrees. If I continued along the coastline, I would pass through San Francisco and reach Los Angeles, but I decided to go from Redding to Chico, enter Nevada, and then head to Las Vegas. Riding a large cruiser like the Royal Star on the long desert road that straddles Nevada and California with little traffic gives you an irresistible taste of the laid-back American charm. It’s a stark contrast to driving along roads surrounded by Siberian wetlands and endless taiga.

The End of the Journey

　I stopped by because I really wanted to see the “Art of Motorcycles” held at the Guggenheim Hermitage Museum at the latest luxury hotel “Venice” in Las Vegas. We carefully selected 100 models worthy of art from among the motorcycles made around the world over the 130 years of motorcycle history, collected actual motorcycles from all over the world, and decorated them artistically. The first event was held in New York about three years ago, and after that it traveled around Europe and came to Las Vegas. The mere use of motorcycles as a material for art is groundbreaking. Each and every bike on display was a bike I wanted to own and ride. The event will end in mid-January 2003, and the cars on display will be returned to their owners. Collecting such valuable bikes was a huge undertaking, and it was such a valuable event that I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to do it again.

　After enjoying the Art of Motorcycles, we finally headed to Los Angeles, the final overseas stop of this trip. The road from Las Vegas to Los Angeles is a road I’m used to driving and love. Driving along a road with nothing but desert, we passed the ghost towns of Calico and Barstow and headed west, arriving safely in Los Angeles on October 15th.

　In Los Angeles, it received a warm welcome at YMUS (Yamaha Motor USA). I met some familiar faces and felt relieved that this trip was over. The distance covered was over 29,000km over a period of four months. I also met many different people. We were also able to see many museums. The past four months felt like more than a year, especially in Russia, where every day was a new discovery. I’m glad I took the plunge and left Japan as a break in my life.

　The Royal Star was then loaded onto a cargo ship from Los Angeles and unloaded at Toyohashi Port in Aichi Prefecture on November 18th. I immediately flew back to Hamamatsu where my family was waiting.

Two Wheels Can Save the Earth

　What has changed the most since 37 years ago, when you flew around the world eastward on YDS-III? I often get asked this question. It is true that the number of cars has increased tremendously and the roads have become surprisingly good, but I would say that the biggest change is that the earth has become polluted. The places where people live, whether it’s the roads or the ocean, are full of garbage. Big cities are covered in smog, and when you enter a big city, you feel like you are entering a gray smog. Even when the wind blows, smog spreads but does not disappear. There is also not an infinite amount of oxygen. I felt such a sense of crisis that I thought oxygen cylinders would be necessary for human life on Earth in the future.

　In such a situation, two-wheeled vehicles such as bicycles and motorcycles play an important role. European countries are actively working to popularize two-wheeled vehicles. There are dedicated lines on the road to make it easier for bicycles and mopeds to ride, and the people who see the bikes are warm-hearted. When I was driving through a congested town on the Royal Star, many cars were willing to give way to me at traffic lights.

　Approximately 70% of passenger cars in use around the world currently carry only one person. It is said that if 15% of these people switched to two-wheeled vehicles such as bicycles or motorcycles, the world’s traffic congestion could be alleviated and air pollution could be reduced. With the world’s population rapidly increasing, it is natural for everyone to want to become rich, but this will only make the world’s traffic congestion, environmental pollution, and air pollution even more serious. I believe that active use of two wheels, which are energy-saving, resource-saving, and highly maneuverable, will help save the earth.

(Complete)

Source

Bessatsu Motorcyclist, January-May 2004 issues
Yaesu Publishing Co., Ltd.

This article is published by Good Loop Co. Ltd. with permission from the copyright holder, Shigeru Yoshida, and the publishing rights holder, Yaesu Publishing Co. Ltd. Unauthorized reproduction or redistribution is prohibited.