It was supposed to be a noteworthy entrance to Takasago, not a spectacular entrance; certainly a pleasant finale to Jeremy Beins Nice Little Adventure 2002, at the conclusion of six weeks of traveling, but merely a cycle ride from Himeji to Takasago after a ferry crossing from the island of Shodoshima. It might be notable because it marked the first visitor from Latrobe City in Australia to arrive by bicycle, however, for a brief moment it seemed it was going to be spectacular for a small welcoming party on the Himeji wharf. On the roll-on - roll-off ferries, motorcyclists and cyclists disembark first, and cars and trucks are held until they are off the ramp. As the ramp was lowered into place, I was waved forward. It was steeper than I'd anticipated and I was in too high a gear, so I quickly dropped down to a lower combination. At the critical moment the chain slipped off the crankshaft and I had to dismount. As I cocked my leg over the saddle and panniers, I caught the edge of the rolled up bicycle bag with my foot, enough to lose my balance. There was little to prevent my tumbling body entering the somewhat unattractive waters of Himeji Port, and for a brief moment it seemed that was my destiny. Somehow as I fell, I jumped towards a bollard with my feet, and bouncing back off, recovered my balance. I caught the eye of the ferry marshal, his expression said it all. "That was very close!" Somewhat sheepishly I pushed the heavily laden bicycle up the ramp onto the concrete apron, until I turned at the top as someone called my name. It was a reception I had not expected, a welcoming party from the City of Takasago, Eriko Wachi from the City's International Relations Unit, and her husband Shun. As they welcomed me, I was presented with a large bouquet of flowers which I accepted gracefully, though wondered how on earth I was going to ride a bicycle carrying a bunch of flowers. Eriko offered to drive me to Takasago, or even carry some of my gear in the car, but I politely declined both offers, though I readily accepted their offer to take the flowers for me. The near disaster on the ferry and the unexpected reception had unnerved me and I went through a clumsy stage as I prepared for my ride. After assuring my hosts I would be able to find my way to Takasago and by now was used to Japanese traffic, I thanked them again and headed off on the road. In fact I did fail to take a turn-off, but quickly realised my mistake and retraced my steps, only to discover Eriko and Shun had been keeping an eye on me. As I reached a T junction I got street-wise, using the right-hand footpath to avoid the traffic lights and deviating from the highway through tiny urban streets as the footpaths terminated and the highway by-passed a town. The ride took me one and a half hours, and I took brief stops to photograph the Ichi-kawa River and the Takasago municipal boundary on the way. After crossing another river I could see the Takasago City Offices, and rode into the forecourt, where a small welcoming party called me. Here, Eriko introduced me to Hiroko Hattori my host for the weekend. Everyone was in bicycle mode. Eriko and Hiroko were both riding theirs, and as Hiroko transferred the flowers to her bicycle basket, and I waved goodbye to Eriko, we set off for Hiroko's house, a five-minute bicycle ride away. Hiroko set a pretty demanding pace, and I had trouble keeping up. To some extent this was because I was far more cautious crossing roads than Hiroko, and weighed down by panniers, but even taking that into account, it was clear Hiroko was well and truly used to cycling. At Hiroko's house, I met her husband Takahisa, daughter Miki and son Renta. The Hattoris owned a two storey home in a pleasant and quiet neighbourhood where I was staying in their guest's room, which had a tatami mat and ensuite. I readily accepted their offer to take a shower before lunch, and feeling much cooler and cleaner, joined them for a delightful meal. Over the two days, the Hattoris went to great lengths so that I could experience of a wide range of Japanese food, which began with that lunch. Their thoughtful query as to whether I could handle chopsticks was answered as I demonstrated I was adept at grasping portions as small as a pine nut, at which they clapped. Takahisa asked me what I would like to do that afternoon, perhaps I needed a rest, but I assured him that was not the case. I did want to visit Takasago Seaside Park I told him, but I would enjoy seeing anything to do with the history of Takasago. I was curious to see the seaside park. The sea must have strongly influenced the course of Takasago's past, yet in conversations with visitors from Latrobe who had visited, they were unaware of the sea having any critical role in the city's history. Takahisa was more street-wise on a bicycle than Hiroko or myself, darting through tiny laneways between old timber buildings, and pathways that avoided the busy roads. Soon we were on the banks of the Kako River and the park came into view. "The sign says we can't take bicycles past here," he explained; and I wondered if I had unwittingly passed such signs in my travels over the past few days. Takasago Seaside Park was an artificial park created to replace some of what had been lost to industrialisation. The name Takasago literally means 'high sand' a reference to the vast amounts of sand deposited at the mouth of the Kako River. There used to be beautiful beaches backed by pine trees where people used to gather shellfish and go bathing, but that was lost when the Kobe-Himeji seaboard was selected as one of four regions in Japan for intense development aimed at stimulating economic growth in the 1960s. Takasago's beaches were lost as huge land reclamation projects were initiated to develop the land for an industrial base. The park itself is 60,000 square metres in area, with walkways paved with stone from the Hoden quarry that take the visitor through one-thousand Aioi pine trees past a large sandy beach protected in an inlet, terminating at a stone sea wall where people fish, overlooking the Harima Sea I had crossed that morning from Shodo-shima. The landscape also featured some large sculptural pieces created in stone from Hoden, including two standing stones supporting a headstone, mimicking part of the ancient stone circle at Stonehenge. While the park took seven years to create and replicates some of the landscape that might have existed, it is hard to imagine what this area must have looked like just fifty years previously. I asked Takahisa about Takasago's history, why the town had come into being, and the answer lay with the Kako River we were cycling beside on our way to our next destination. Prior to the Edo era, Takasago had remained a small settlement at the mouth of the Kako River, but around 1600, Takasago began to grow and flourish as a vital port and distribution centre servicing a vast inland rice growing district in the upper reaches of the Kako River; mainly due to the influence of the war-lord, Ikeda Terumasa. In return, the small shallow boats that plied the river carrying rice to Takasago, returned to the rice growing districts with a variety of goods for the farmers and townspeople such as salt and sardines. When Takahisa had mentioned the Takasago Shrine as our next destination, I had imagined a single building rather than a complex, but I was to be surprised at the extent of the shrine and its relevance to Takasago and indeed, Japanese history and culture. According to legend, the Empress Jingu returned in triumph from the conquest of Korea and her ship stopped at Takasago where she built a large shrine to one of the ancient gods, 'Onamuchi-no-Mikoto'. As we approached the steps of the shrine Takahisa explained it was a Shinto shrine, and showed me how the pilgrim would approach in reverence, performing a small ceremony in honour of the deity. This consisted of bowing, clapping and bowing. I asked about the thousands of small folded notes tied to parts of the shrine and to nearby trees. I had noted these previously at a shrine in Matsushima. They were tokens of prophecy, indicating what the future held for a visitor should they visit the shrine and select an oracle, leaving a small monetary gift in exchange. Long streams of colourful paper chains dangled from posts within the shrine. A closer inspection showed they had been constructed of tiny origami birds threaded together. Visitors would create a thousand tiny birds from coloured paper, threading them together into a long garland that they presented to a god at the shrine when asking for a wish. It was at that time that I realised that the followers of Shintoism were dedicated to polytheism and indeed there were three gods honoured at the shrine. Two other ancient gods were honoured at the shrine, 'Susano-no-Mikoto' and 'Kushiinadahime-no-Mikoto' a husband and wife whose marriage has been a revered inspiration to Takasago's people. And here at Takasago Shrine stands the fifth descendant of an Aioi pine tree that stood at the shrine when it was built, symbolising the symbiotic relationship represented in the marriage of the two ancient gods. In fact it is two trees joined together, a red pine and black pine that grow together, merging into one in perfect harmony. While the first of the Aioi pines died around 970, the third, again a direct descendent of the first, is preserved in its own adjunct to the shrine. While there are a number of shrines to other deities within the complex, the grounds also houses a bronze statue in honour of Kuraku Matsuemon a pioneer Japanese sail-maker of the eighteenth century. Ships in Japan had in fact used straw to manufacture sails called 'Enhan', but Kuraku invented and manufactured sails of cloth called 'Matsuemon Ho', which led to rapid progress in a developing shipping industry. Kuraku Matsuemon is also noted for his inventiveness in developing machines to assist port building, and special ships for harbour construction. Our third destination, the Oshiko Shrine, lay across Takasago in the surrounding hills near the Hoden stone quarry. In our cycle ride across the City we passed many new developments where the architecture dramatically changed from culturally Japanese to British and American. "It's the trend," Takahisa explained as we passed streets packed with houses that would not have looked out of place in London. Colonial American homes that might line a Washington street were obviously in favour as well and a development still under construction was being promoted and sold with the stars and stripes emphasising their American design. At the end of our ride a cobblestone road climbed a hill to the shrine, but on bicycle we travelled only a few metres before dismounting and climbing two long flights of stone steps on foot. The Oshiko Shrine is in fact built around a large mysterious megalith called 'Uki-Ishi', one of three noted mysterious stones of Japan. Uki-Ishi literally means floating stone, and is a massive 6.3 metres wide and 7 metres high megalith carved from a single piece of rock. Its base has been carved concavely creating a moat that surrounds the rock, giving it the appearance of floating on the water. To add more mystery to the megalith, the back has been carved in the shape of a pyramid. It is believed to have been carved more than 1200 years ago, though its purpose remains a mystery. Our visit concluded, we returned towards Takahisa's house, passing the Jusco shopping centre, the largest in Takasago. I was curious to see inside, and Takahisa said we had time, telephoning Hiroko who asked him to purchase some fruit while there. I found the fish counters fascinating, so much variety; yet the cheese section was tiny. What a difference from France where it seemed so huge. I called into the liquor department to purchase a couple of cans of Japanese beer, so I wouldn't always be drinking Takahisa's. While there I looked at the wine department. Interestingly most of the wine was French, while California, Spain Italy and Chile were represented. There was no sight of any Australian wine whatsoever, so perhaps our wine exporters still have a selling job to do in what Takahisa assured me, was an increasingly growing market. At the Hattori household there was another member of the family to meet, another of the daughters called Mayu. Additionally, Hidemi Goto, a friend of the Hattori family who had recently travelled to Latrobe with Hiroko joined us for dinner, a fantastic feast of sumptuous dishes to tempt my appetite. I was offered a low stool to make sitting at the low table more comfortable. The Hattoris had noticed I had trouble squatting at the table Japanese style, but providing I could stretch my legs out I assured them I would be okay. The meal was delicious, chicken, fish and bean curd dishes, crisp vegetables, noodles and all kinds of tasty pickles. I heard much of their impressions of Latrobe, a trip to Wilson's Promontory, of wombats and of Latrobe City Mayor, Tony Hanning's, hospitality. They asked me about myself, why I had chosen to visit the more remote parts of Japan in Tohuku that Westerners rarely saw. "But how did you find out about places like Miyako?" Takahisa asked. A friend of Miki called Nauko joined us after dinner. Her English was very good and she asked me lots of questions about Australia and Gippsland in particular. Hiroko had a couple of Gippsland feature books on her bookshelf and I was able to talk about some of the places highlighted in those. At ten-thirty I wondered whether I was keeping the family from their beds, and claimed tiredness which was not far from the truth. I thanked my hosts for a wonderful day and went to my room.