Hokkaido to Okinawa, the Tohoku leg.

No pictures yet, most internet cafes don't like foreign memory cards with all their mystery data, so I'll make do with as many links as I can.

We boarded the ferry in Hakodate on 8/6 and arrived in Oma shortly after. The winding coastal road, much improved since my last visit, took us past Hotokegaura, pictured right. We arrived at the campsite pretty late, and the campsite manager was overjoyed that I'd kept my promise, made over a year ago, to return with my girlfriend on our trip round Japan. Lovely bloke.

The second day we visited Osorezan - 'fear mountain' - where Japanese families go hoping to communicate with deceased relatives. The bubbling sulfuric vents have mostly caked over, and the place no longer lives up to it's name, but the bare volcanic rock and multitude of stone cairns do give the place a unique atmosphere. I was more interested in the hot spring baths, and the yellow, mineral-rich water made for a refreshing soak, though the day was so hot I spent more time pouring cold water over my head than soaking.

The American military family camping near us was dysfunctional, loud and obnoxious - stand out points were the infant screaming for attention all day and night long, and the father, who regularly used phrases like 'the fountain thing' and 'the (insert vaguely relevant object)-like thing', shouting at his little boy for calling the gazebo tent (is that the right term?) a tent, or the cloth a towel. My first exposure to English spoken by strangers in a long time, and not a pleasant one. Still, the mum was friendly when not snapping at the kids, offering us spare pegs when she saw me struggling with our flysheet - the first time I'd ever used one.

Of more help was Ito-san, a biker who helped me get the thing set up, all the while laughing and urging me to take my time and not rush things. I'm writing this near Sendai, almost two weeks later, and we're about to visit his family home and stay the night - a welcome break from all the rain, but more of that later.

The best thing about camping, and bikers especially, is the people you meet. The next camp site, near Aomori and a large cemetary we drove into by mistake, was full of interesting characters. The site was free, and they were all experienced travellers. First up was the old guy living there in his tent, who had spent a great chunk of his life travelling Japan, but been living at the camp site for several years at least, and taken on the role of camp attendant. He spent the evening drinking shouchu, keeping his fire burning but never actually cooking anything, and accepting any food offered him. Next was the cyclist, tanned walnut brown, claiming knowledge of everything, but cheerfully admitting to lying through his teeth when caught out. Finally was the woman from Gifu, on the road for half a year or so, who started living from her motorbike when she realised it was cheaper than living out of the internet cafe she had been staying at for a great chunk of her adult life. Internet cafes aren't an uncommon option for people who can't afford real accommodation, with showers, free drinks and internet access at 2000 yen a day they can even provide an address for those that need one.

Tsugaru peninsula was wet. Tappi misaki was much prettier than the boring photograph here suggests. I liked the national highway route 399, built with a flight of steps linking the steepest part in the middle of the narrow peninsula, the only one of it's kind in Japan. I guess the engineers just couldn't find a more elegant solution at the time.

Spooky forest campsite deserted except for us and the weird groaning creatures that came out at night was up next.

Beautiful canyon with three waterfalls, the tallest at 42m, at the next camp site. The Anmon waterfalls.

Upon arriving at the next site near Oga peninsula on the Japan Sea coast I was bemused by the manager telling us to go elsewhere, since there was no way our bikes could traverse the steep, winding gravel path to the camp site. Luckily we ignored him as the site was beautiful, free, and to become our home for the next 5 days (he also turned out to be really friendly and helpful, despite his gruff exterior). We had planned on meeting Hozumi's friend, Tanaka-san, in the nearby town, but we hadn't planned on the typhoon and endless rain that followed it. Between getting soaked by rain, and soaking in the nearby hot spring baths, we visited Gojome castle and the 'Pine wood of wind' 風の松原 (because it shares the same last name as Hozumi).

Tanaka-san's grandma did the full palms and forehead to the floor bow, which only grandmas seem to do and always makes me uncomfortable, but seeing Hozumi repeat the gesture back I finally learnt an appropriate response to it. She also talked to herself constantly and forced us to eat a ton, which was nice.

Running out of time at the internet cafe.

The Oga peninsula was beautiful, if wet, and featured 'Godzilla rock', which I would have loved to see at sunset as the link pictures.

The next site was on a plateau covered in wind farms, and would have been a lot more fun if we hadn't come from 5 days of successive rain. Beautiful and clear when we arrived, by nightfall it was cloaked in fog (cloud) so thick it felt like a UFO abduction was imminent. Combined with the endless airplane engine-like sounds of the wind farm we ended up calling it 'jime-jime jigoku' (the damp hell?) for it's otherworldly atmosphere. On the plus side we found what was perhaps the best hot spring we've ever been to - Hamanasu - accessible after descending from the cloud cover, with thick swirly yellow spring water that felt wonderfully healthy.

Fleeing from the jime-jime-jigoku (I love the way that sounds) we treated ourselves to the use of a washing machine and tumble dryer for the 12th night of our tour, dried off, but woke to rain that continued all night and sporadically throughout the morning.

One last thing before we head to Ito-san's house, we also visited the amazing hot spring that is also a waterfall - 川原毛大湯滝 - running off the volcanic mountain 川原毛地獄. The mountain features not a blade of grass or other vegetation, and stands out starkly amongst the surrounding lush green mountains. The stream that runs off it stains the rocks an emerald mineral green, and where it becomes a waterfall there's a bathing spot - the first time I've ever stood in a natural 35C waterfall, but hopefully not the last.