Windosurfing

I'm too late. Like a straggler from a flock of migrating geese, the odds now seem stacked against me from escaping the harsh winter of northern Japan.

My objective has become to "complete" Hokkaido by reaching its southwest corner, and then crossing the Tsugaru Strait back to Honshu. Looking at the map that doesn't seem a huge ask, but at this time of year the weather windows are at best short-lived and at other times a figment of wishful thinking.

In Japanese, "windsurfing" is called "windosurfing". That seems very apt right now.

My memory of the last week goes as follows.

After a second night at Iwanai I sailed out of the port, paddled past some high ground, then hung on to cross a gulf that was a six-mile-wide wind corridor. The bend in the flow sent me six miles out to sea where it was blowing 25 knots, before lifting me in the second half of the crossing and finally bringing me back towards land. That felt exposed. Beyond Cape Benkei the wind went soft again. Now it was late in the day and I had no appetite for another offshore sojourn, so struggled through the shifting puffs to lower ground where laminar flow was restored. A few cheap miles provided encouragement to push for Shimamaki. Before reaching my target another dead spot intervened, then a headwind arrived as the sun dipped below the horizon. By paddle, then sail, then paddle, I made my way way to the opening of the small harbour.

Shimamaki has a good feel to it, and also a "Seicomart" convenience store. The next day I could have made a meagre advance, but with bad weather coming that would have been a strategic mistake. That night was stormy, and came with a 100 degree windshift that flipped the sail and made me roofless for long enough to soak my sleeping bag. The rest of the night was spent shivering. In the morning the sun shone and the locals took good care of me. Particular mention should go to Yoko-san who checked on my welfare at least twice daily, and the proprietors of the Takada "Ryokan" (guesthouse) who invited me for breakfasts, and gave me privileged access to an off-grid "onsen" a short way up the valley. The day after the storm the sea was far too angry to consider sailing.

On the morning after my third night at Shimamaki I departed with a full heart. The sea began somewhat lumpy, though it took a while for me to find the wind, or for the wind to find me. When we met, once again I found myself alarmingly powered-up and uncomfortably far from land. I tacked in close to the steep shoreline where the wind blew a little less strong, and for a while it was tolerable making progress in short upwind zigzags. Inevitably the sea was building, and a gradual bend in the cliffs meant the wind direction became squarer to the land. When a port arrived I ducked inside its outer layer for respite, and to eat a Snickers and an "onigiri", but there was no place to land as the port walls towered above me and the wind ricocheted in violent gusts.

The next miles were where the sea was at its most unruly. The one-metre swell and overhead-sized wind-waves hit square-on to the cliffs and rebounded back. A small boat would sink in less. Here was also where the wind began to lift, blocked by the 1,500-metre mountain in its path. One mile further on and I was searching for wind, heading seaward once again.

There were still three hours of daylight on my side, but I could not risk running out of wind entirely in a sea where paddling would be impossible, so I held the sail like a balancing-rod and let the waves roll me in to Sukki port, knowing that the job of rounding this lump was only half done.

The location is a remote gem and the village just a few houses. A steep valley, forested and seemingly impenetrable, channels a river of pristine fresh water to a beach of sand and rounded boulders, and the agitated sea froths white around rocks that are jagged and black like canines in need of a dentist. A privilege to stop here and with time to explore.

Porridge and cooked apple provide a hot breakfast. I am away early. My target is Setana, a town where I will sit out bad weather these next two days. A real blow is on the way. I struggle for an hour to find any breeze at all but can observe a sea of white horses approaching. The waves precede the wind, providing ample warning of what is to come. Notwithstanding, when they arrive, the gusts hit with a ferocity that challenges my composure. I head in for cover once again, but the wind is coming over the cliffs and dive-bombing the water below. Too close-in is as good as unsailable. Too far out and the wind and the exposure level are too severe to contemplate. I zigzag forward in some grey zone that is neither attached to shore but neither fully lost to the open sea. When the gusts hit, it is a struggle to hold on. Thank goodness I made the switch(blade) to a 7.8 sail. In the relative lulls I must remind myself to relax arms and hands so that they do not cramp when called upon for the next battle.

In recent days there have been far fewer nets. But today was not a net-zero day. Shortly before Setana port a double-act of nets provide a test for the new fin. I kick back the daggerboard which slides over and then the fins snags, and then releases, both times! Snag and release. It works like a dream.

Inside the port I land to a reception of a trio of coastguards who are curious and register my every detail. I am used to this now, and recruit them to help carry the board to a patch of grass before letting them riffle through my gear. Also observing is a man who I am excited to hear is a local windsurfer. Shino-san had been watching me as I sailed across the nets. I had noted that a car had slowed and been reassured to think that eyes were on me. Shino-san explains that he is one of three local windsurfers. He invites me back to his home, which is where I am now sat, well fed and in a comfortable chair, writing this update.

The weather is as foul as had been forecast. Very heavy rain and now very strong wind. The weekend is a write-off, and Wednesday looks terrible too, but maybe there will be a short window in between to steal the next miles on the quest to get southward.