Chapter 41: CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

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PART VII

SHIKOKU AGAIN

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

"Well little buddy, at last we can start putting around Japan again. It's warm enough now . . . I hope."

Be-beep!

I'd decided to go around southern Shikoku again. Though not record breaking, John told me this has been the coldest winter since he came to Japan. And he lives in Osaka which is usually a a degree or so warmer than Kyoto. I checked the saddlebags I'd thrown over the luggage carrier with most of my clothes in it and the ropes tying the basket on top of it to make sure all our equipment was tightly secured. I sighed, "Well, little buddy, I guess we're as good to go as we'll ever be."

Be-Beep!

"My God, little buddy, I'm wearing two of my warmest jackets and I'm freezing to death already. And we've hardly started! How icy cold are we going to be when we we get to that Kobe car ferry port?"

Beeep!

Route 171 south was jammed as usual with long-distance trucks zooming by us like we didn't exist. I was somewhat relieved when we turned west on Route 43 and most of the traffic diverted up onto the Meishin Expressway grumbling above us as we twisted and turned around the huge pillars holding it up, again praying an earthquake wouldn't bring it crashing down on us.

"Well, little buddy, we made it to the ferry port without spilling or getting run over by any of those damn trucks. Thank God for that anyway."

Be-beep!

I parked my poor overloaded cub near the boarding ramp and went to the terminal building to buy our tickets. God, it's going to be way too cold to stand out on the deck this time. But I sure as hell don't want to be crammed into that jampacked, smoke-filled, unventilated second class room, either. But four hours in the daytime is too short a time to splurge on first class.

As I was waiting my turn in the line to buy tickets, I looked up at the price list board and spied a "Deluxe Second Class" for only thirty percent more than regular second class. So when it was my turn, "Excuse me, Miss, can you tell what deluxe second class is?"

She looked up. "It's a no smoking cabin with fourteen bunk beds. One cabin for men, one for women. We still have three empty upper bunks in the men's cabin left. Would you care for one?"

"Please!"

I got the usual stares from my cabin mates as I entered the tiny cabin -- a gaijin dressed in motorcycle getup and carrying saddlebags -- once again having been boarded last with my cub down to the truck deck, long after them. The cabin was jammed with bunk beds and no space for getting together like in first class. But from the looks my cabin mates were giving me and each other, I assumed nobody wanted to talk with anybody anyway.

I climbed up to my upper bunk that made that narrow bunk in my first class cabin seem like a queen-sized bed. With no curtains for privacy. At least -- teensy as it was -- I had my own private space instead of being crammed into that huge, smoke filled, regular second class room with hordes of God knows how many people trampling all over me. That alone was worth the extra thirty percent surcharge. I took out the paperback I'd stuck in my back pocket-- another novel by Steve King who I was really beginning to like.

And could mostly ignore my cabin mates who were ignoring me and everybody else, too.

"Well, little buddy, looks like we're going to have to wait for all the cars and then the trucks to disembark, leaving us bikers last again."

Beeep!

As I expected, first the cars came down the ramp, then the flagman waved his flag at each of the long-distance trucks one by one, making me choke with their exhaust fumes and temporarily deaf with their earsplitting diesel engines. Finally the flagman waved his flag to let us putt down the ramp to the dock.

"Well, little buddy, sure feels good to be back in the sunshine and breathing fresh air again, huh?"

Be-Beep!

I putted us out of the port area as fast as I dared and still be able to avoid all the ropes and clutter of the dock area and finally onto a road that I knew would eventually lead us to Route 55 and south to Muroto-misaki. "You know, little buddy, by coming down here to Shikoku again, I know where we want to go and what I want to do. And it's a hell of lot warmer here than Kyoto."

Be-beep!

After weaving around through the few streets it took to get us to Route 55 and turn south to the outskirts of Tokushima, I already know where we going to stay for tonight.

"There it is little buddy, the sign for the 'Sea View Minshuku.'"

Be-Beep!

"Oh, welcome back! I remember you from your stay with us about a half year ago. Do you want meals again?" the proprietress asked.

About to say yes I caught myself, "Hmm . . . do any of the restaurants I saw coming over here have steamed suzuki?"

"Oh, yes. And the closest one to us has wonderful steamed suzuki. It's less than a five minute walk back up the street you came on."

"Great! Well . . . uh, can I stay sudomari this time?"

"Of course. Will the same room be all right?"

The restaurant had the usual long U shaped counter with a few tables on either side. I feasted on my steamed suzuki with its wonderful aroma wafting up my nose. Then I went back to my minshuku and turned in for the night.

Yeah. I've made the right decision in coming back down to Shikoku all right! Everything seems so familiar. And cheap.

And warm!