Gero trip #2 (Gifu Prefecture)

2-4 December 2024: A town so nice I went there twice. A second journey to Gero hot springs, this time with no stopover on the way up. A full day of rest before the return offered a chance to explore the town just a little, and failure of my camping stove added to the adventure.

Gero, about 100 kilometers north of Nagoya, is one of the three leading hot spring towns in Japan (along with Kusatsu and Arima). For my first visit in July, I spent two days on the journey up, and rode back home in a single day. Both the midway stopover campground that I used on that trip and another that I explored in September require a steep and exhausting climb to the camp, on top of the challenges posed by the main route itself. There is a tantalizing third possibility that I’ll be exploring in the future, but for this ride, I decided to make the trip in one go using the most direct of the routes already covered.

As the elevation stats show, this involves a lot of climbing for a single-day ride, and a kilometer or so of travel over a washed-out hiking trail that’s just barely passable with a bike and camping gear. It was an adventure, I really enjoyed my day in Gero, and I’m hoping to find a less punishing way to get there by bike next year.

[Total route: 107km, 1,640m up, 1300m down]

Map of a route north from Nisshin through Owariasahi, Kani, Hichisō to Gero hot springs
Map of a route north from Nisshin through Owariasahi, Kani, Hichisō to Gero hot springs

From previous travel over the route, I figured it would take about 12 hours. The final run into Gero proper would by necessity be on National Route 41, with high speed traffic and portions with no separated path for pedestrians and bicycles. To have a good chance of covering that last part of the ride in daylight, I planned to leave in darkness at 4:00am. This photo of the loaded bike was taken the previous afternoon.

A black gravel bike by Surly loaded with denim-blue front and rear panniers.
A black gravel bike by Surly loaded with denim-blue front and rear panniers.

This was my fifth trip over the route between home and this particular “Tōkai Nature Trail” (東海自然歩道), and as it was pitch dark for the first two hours of the morning’s push, so there are no photos this time around. Unlike my first encounter with the washed-out trail leading to the footbridge over the Chūo Expressway, I had a pair of hiking boots to hand, but the climb still required roughly an hour for three round trips up and down the hill to bring up front panniers, rear panniers, and the bicycle itself. I’m still in the market for a less punishing northward route.

There is a further goodly run of rough trail beyond this point, most of which is get-off-and-push terrain, due to steepness of the grade, rockiness of the roadbed, or both. It ultimately gives way to pavement at the entrance to a gravel works, and on this particular morning I passed by just as the crew were opening the gates to the plant. They hailed, asked where I was going, and we both let out a laugh when I told them I was aiming to reach Gero hot springs. They warned that there were mountains between here and there, and I said, “I know!” I thanked them in good spirits and set off on the next leg of the journey.

A black gravel bike parked at the rusty railing of a freeway overpass walkway, with four pannier bags and a helmet arranged on the ground in front.
A black gravel bike parked at the rusty railing of a freeway overpass walkway, with four pannier bags and a helmet arranged on the ground in front.
A black gravel bike parked at the rusty railing of a freeway overpass walkway, loaded up with front and rear pannier bags.
A black gravel bike parked at the rusty railing of a freeway overpass walkway, loaded up with front and rear pannier bags.

The paved road from the gravel works runs past the “Multi-World Survival Game” entrance documented on the first ride, then turns to the right along a ridge above the large solar array that presumably stands atop a mature sanitary landfill, before descending steeply into the village of Kitaogi nestled in a small mountain valley. Accessible only by steep country roads, and that from the south being only wide enough for a single vehicle, this area has a truly rustic feel, in sharp contrast to the roar of heavy machinery left behind at the top of the ridge. A drystone retaining wall supports a rudimentary house on the northernmost edge of the enclave. Morning light was just crossing the valley as I arrived. There are no shops in this tiny community, but I paused to take a photo of a meeting hall that provides a “third place” for village gatherings.

A moss-covered drystone wall standing about 2½ meters tall.
A moss-covered drystone wall standing about 2½ meters tall.
Buildings of a small mountain village, strongly lit by warm morning light cast on autumn colors of wooded hills in the background, and with deep shadow on the nearside of the scene, where a loaded touring bicycle is parked in the foreground.
Buildings of a small mountain village, strongly lit by warm morning light cast on autumn colors of wooded hills in the background, and with deep shadow on the nearside of the scene, where a loaded touring bicycle is parked in the foreground.
A modern building bearing a sign reading “Kitaogi Meeting Place” (北小木集会所)
A modern building bearing a sign reading “Kitaogi Meeting Place” (北小木集会所)

The long and relatively (relatively) gradual climb from Kitaogi to the next crest in the hills is nondescript, and followed by a bracing descent to the town of Kani that shares an inland plain with Minokamo and Kawabe. From Kawabe, the route commences a serious climb through forestland. Although I hadn’t planned the trip around it, autumn colors were late this year, and I paused to take a snap at one of my walk-and-rest rest stops on the way up.

Japanese maple trees with in brilliant read autumn color standing beside a narrow mountain road.
Japanese maple trees with in brilliant read autumn color standing beside a narrow mountain road.

I believe this next snap was taken about an hour and a half later, on the way up the final steep grade before descending to the Hida River and National Route 41 for the final run to Gero. Not much scenery here. I just paused at this turnout for “rest and relief,” and to munch on some sweet crackers to lift my blood sugar. As allergy sufferers in Japan can attest, we have a lot of cedar forest.

A turnout from a mountain road, with guard rail ends visible to the left and right. Beyond the opening in the guard railing a loaded touring bicycle is parked in a flat area, with the trunks of cedar trees standing in the forest beyond the clearing.
A turnout from a mountain road, with guard rail ends visible to the left and right. Beyond the opening in the guard railing a loaded touring bicycle is parked in a flat area, with the trunks of cedar trees standing in the forest beyond the clearing.

Despite the pulses of noisy traffic, the ride along the Hida River is refreshing, with the sound of rushing water and several hours of views like this one.

View past the railing of a roadside biking/walking path of a river with a few buildings along its banks and wooded hills rising above. The view is in shade, with brilliant sun on mountains in the distance.
View past the railing of a roadside biking/walking path of a river with a few buildings along its banks and wooded hills rising above. The view is in shade, with brilliant sun on mountains in the distance.

I arrived at the hotel/campsite just at dusk, got my box of camping fixtures from checkout, pitched the tent, took a nice hot bath, and made my way to the hotel restaurant—where I learned that meals needed to be reserved in advance, oops. So I saddled up again, this time with a more nimble bike free of luggage, “to find an eating place in town.”1 Much of Gero shuts down early, but I found a suitable spot at Eating Place Enzō (御食事処宴 蔵) some distance from the main promenade, one floor up next to a pachinko parlor: a local place run by two elderly women with a laugh-track talent show playing on the TV. Japanese light-entertainment television normally annoys me pretty badly but it was fine. I was hungry, I had a couple of beers, and the meal really was excellent. Recommended.

A set meal on a tray, consisting of a bowl of sliced beef braised in a heavy sauce served over rice with sections of fresh tomato and a poached egg on top, portions of pickled lotus root, hijiki, kinpira gobō, orange, and miso soup. A small empty glass of beer stands to the side.
A set meal on a tray, consisting of a bowl of sliced beef braised in a heavy sauce served over rice with sections of fresh tomato and a poached egg on top, portions of pickled lotus root, hijiki, kinpira gobō, orange, and miso soup. A small empty glass of beer stands to the side.

With two nights’ camping reservation for the hotel deck, I had a free day to roam about in Gero. For better or for worse, I was not at loose ends, for after sunrise, I discovered that my faithful little Coleman Peak 1 gasoline stove, which I’d owned since high school (forty years ago) wouldn’t light properly. The pump, which had rasped and grated and been temperamental on the last outing, ran smoothly but pushed no air. After mostening with water (yeah, don’t do that) it worked a bit, but immediately caused gasoline to leak over the housing. I did get it to take fire briefly (again, don’t do that!), but it petered out in a few seconds.

With broken kit to fix, the project of exploring the town assumed a practical character. The first task was to obtain an early morning hot breakfast, which I found at La Haina, a Hawai’ian themed cafe attached to a Cosmo gasoline station. In the style of Gero, the manageress was very kind. I had cafe latte and waffles, and would return the following morning.

I sought light machine oil (like 3-in-One oil), and the manageress at La Haina directed me to a home center reasonably near town center (Joy Home Center, but their only light oil was in one-liter containers. Discouraged, on the way back to town I passed a drug store and the lights went one: mineral oil would serve as well. So I picked up a small bottle of Johnson & Johnson baby oil (conveniently taking advantage of self-checkout to avoid awkward explanations, although in truth that would have added to the entertainment), and returned to the hotel to give that a try. No dice, the stove was broken, leaky, and a write-off for the trip.

Playing the bulldog, I called through to Coleman customer support, and got instructions on how to deliver the unit for (possible) repair. (More on that below.) I then set out to find dinner. It was early yet, and in trawling about the izakaya that I found to be open was a tiny (tiny) place perched above the main promenade on a V-shaped sliver of land, with (as I noticed later) “Kei-chan-ya” (け いちゃん屋) written in large letters on the back-side facing the town. It was what the doctor ordered, a small place with a savvy master, beer on tap, fresh-cooked food, and infused with bonhomie. On arrival in Gero I’d told myself, “Oh, no booze on the second day, I’ll need the energy for the push home,” but between the stove failure making early coffee impossible and the perfect surroundings, that went out the window. I sat and chatted with an office worker and mountain hiker from Sagamihara in Kanagawa, and a pair of workers up for the day from Mie Prefecture. It was a great evening.\footnote{At one point the master caught me reading some of the decorative bric-a-brac in the space, and assumed that I was reading graffiti, which blankets the walls and ceiling. “There’s a lot of graffiti,” he said, and I said, “Because you have a lot of fans,” and he shrugged and said, “No, they’re just drunks.” It’s a wonderful place, highly recommended for Japanese speakers!}

After returning to Nagoya, I learned from the owner of our local bike shop that “kei-chan” isn’t a person’s name, but the name of a grilled meal of meat and vegetables that’s common in Gifu Prefecture, both as home cooking and as a communal barbecue.

The photos below were taken after waking up on the second morning. The delay in departure was fortuitous, as morning dew left the deck and the tent fly pretty thoroughly soaked, and packing up in the dark would have been very awkward.

A bespectacled man with greying stubble beard, wearing a touk and squinting at the camera from inside a sleeping bag, inside a tent. His left hand bearing a wedding ring is curled against his chin.
A bespectacled man with greying stubble beard, wearing a touk and squinting at the camera from inside a sleeping bag, inside a tent. His left hand bearing a wedding ring is curled against his chin.
A one-person tent pitched on a rooftop deck, overlooking a town nestled in a mountain valley, partly shrouded in mist with wisps of cloud in a morning sky.
A one-person tent pitched on a rooftop deck, overlooking a town nestled in a mountain valley, partly shrouded in mist with wisps of cloud in a morning sky.

The final segment of the ride to Gero, and the first stretch of road to cover on the way out, runs over National Route 41. On the way up, it’s two hours of trauma, where a bicycle is forced to mix with traffic over considerable stretches, and a rider on a loaded bike with a healthy sense of self-preservation will pause for pulses of traffic, which often including large heavily loaded trucks moving at speed. On the way back down, it’s more like 15 minutes of terror, rolling at speed (yay), but constantly on the lookout for traffic pulses behind, and scanning for small segments of separated pathway wherever available.

In the off-season, at least, there is a lot of road construction along Route 41, which is necessary to keep it passable. Readers familiar with Ken Kesey’s novel Sometimes and Great Notion will have formed an image of the Stamper residence, and of Hank Stamper’s constant effort to shore up the underpinnings of the house to keep it from sliding into the river. That’s what Route 41’s relation to the Hida River is like.

Two particular scenes from this ride are lodged in memory. In one, I passed a laser transit at the roadside marked by a sign, “Measurement in Progress” (測定中). But there were no workmen. And I thought that was odd, until I passed a second transit a hundred meters or so down the road. The pair of transits had obviously been set to monitor movement of the roadbed. Because there must be a concern that it might be moving. Which would be bad.

In a second encounter, I came to a stretch of work-in-progress and a road crew, one of whom was craning his neck to look upward. The road ran past a tall cut on the off-river side, with a cliff rising many meters enclosed in a steel mesh case to prevent falling rock from spilling into the road. A member of the team was rappelling inside the cage to reach a problem spot near the top of the cliff. Risky work.

Anyway, after the most “exciting” part of the downstream ride was done, there is a rest area that I had always rolled past. This time, I had “cause to pause,” and stopped to use the facilities. I’d completely missed that there is a nice little park next to the tea room and loo where motorists can stretch their legs and enjoy a bit of nature outside their steel cocoons. It’s a nice little spot—possibly a flourish owing its existence to the hydro project visible at the top of the hill above—and on the day it was in fine autumn color.

A sign with the heading “Hida-Kiso River / Nationally Designated Park.”
A sign with the heading “Hida-Kiso River / Nationally Designated Park.”
A view of autumn foliage in a small well maintained park with a pond.
A view of autumn foliage in a small well maintained park with a pond.
An upward view of a hillside dotten with autumn foliage, and with a transfer junction for a large water pipeline standing at the top of the hill.
An upward view of a hillside dotten with autumn foliage, and with a transfer junction for a large water pipeline standing at the top of the hill.

Although the ride home loses a few hundred meters of altitude, there’s a lot of up-down action, with over a kilometer of climbing to be done. Near the peak of one of the climbs there was a particularly nice specimen of moss on an embankment, and I paused for a quick snap.

A roadside embankment stabilized with cemented facing covered in moss.
A roadside embankment stabilized with cemented facing covered in moss.

I got back to Nisshin at around 8:00pm. Before arriving home, I stopped at a local cafeteria for a meal before pushing on over a well-travelled road to arrive home at about 9:00pm.

After unpacking, I took a look at the Coleman stove, and (perhaps still slightly delirious from the ride?) decided to do a multi-modal journey to the nearest Coleman service center drop-off point, at their shop in Mitsui Outlet Park in Mie Prefecture. I’d never been there, and it was also an experience. Constructed on reclaimed fields next to Nagashima Spa Land, it’s the most massive shopping mall that I’ve seen in my (admittedly not hyper-consumerist) life. There was Mont Bell shop, where I picked up a long-overdue replacement for my backpack. There was a shop for Garmin fitness gear, so I checked out their cycle computers (which at over $800 I won’t be buying anytime soon). And of course there was the Coleman outlet, where I deposited my little stove for onward transmission to a repair center. We’ll see how that goes.

The mall was so huge it was tempting to use the bike to get around in the hallways, but that seemed not the thing so I sought out the bicycle parking area. Given the remote location, the only people arriving by bike are staff, so the bike parking zone is of course on the industrial back side of the complex and a grim contrast with the part where the sales occur. I neglected to take pictures of the mall interior, but there are plenty of photos online for that part.

The wall of a two-story utilitarian structure painted beige and bathed in fluorescent light. A row of bicycles is parked along the wall, and a collapsed folding bicycle is locked to a pillar near the wall, with a ratty red backpack on the ground next to it.
The wall of a two-story utilitarian structure painted beige and bathed in fluorescent light. A row of bicycles is parked along the wall, and a collapsed folding bicycle is locked to a pillar near the wall, with a ratty red backpack on the ground next to it.

On the way out to the Outlet Park, I’d ridden the Dahon K3 folding bike from the house to Nagoya station, then carried it as luggage on train and bus, with a short ride to the shopping center from the bus stop indicated by Google Maps. At the mall, I learned that buses stop at the mall itself (of course), and as I was pretty well tapped out by that point, I flaked out and took the underground/subway from Nagoya Station to Nisshin. And so, this final extension to the journey came to a close. I’ll post on the outcome of the stove repair under Hackery when the result is known. Fingers crossed!

  1. From the lyrics of the Depression-era classic One Meatball. ↩︎