Island Time

3)

Recap: my friends and I had just survived our first night of camping on an island off the coast of Japan.

When we awoke our priority was too get back into to town and find something to eat. We had rented bikes, so we hopped on and made the 10 minute journey to “downtown Niijima”. The bikes were due back by 10 am, so we figured we had better have a plan when the time came to either turn them in, or hire them for another 24 hours. We rode around in the heat for a while and eventually found a beautiful café. Sora café it is called, if you ever find yourself in Niijima, seek out the Sora café desperately. It is delicious, comfortable, and friendly.

We had the breakfast special which consisted of tomato soup, toast, salad, and yogurt with fruit. For 500 yen. I was again, a happy camper. I also noticed that on the menu they offered something called a Sora O-Nigiri (riceball). If you have read my

con bini article then you know that I am a riceball fanatic. I had to try these special island delights. I ordered two at 300 yen each. When they arrived, they were about double the size of a con bini rice ball. I was excited already, but they were for lunch later on that day (as was a homemade “salty peanut butter cookie” I grabbed off the counter).

On top of the o-nigiri was some type of exotic meat I haven’t seen before. I am used to this feeling in Japan, so I asked

“What is this?” I gestured toward the meat.

“Su-pa-mu” said our server, smiling.

“Huh?” I asked

“Su-pa-mu, Spamu” said he.

I had been taken. It was goddamn Spam. I should have known better, this being an island and all. I thought I was going to have some type of new and exotic meat, a feast for my senses and something to write (blog) home about. Maybe an endangered animal or reptile or some type of psychedelic trip inducing mushroom. It was SPAM! I thanked him profusely.

As we finished our meals, I decided that I did not want to leave the Sora café. Ever. It was that beautiful. In the next room there was a party of Japanese people drinking beers (at 10am) and slowly eating food. I wanted to join them until the sun set, roll out my futon on the beautiful straw tatami floor and sleep…indoors. But, sadly, we had to leave. I packed my cookie and spam balls in my backpack and we were off, back into the elements.

We decided to ditch our island. We made our way back to the camp, packed up, and returned our bikes. We walked to port with our next destination in sight: Shikenijima. Another island in the chain that was about 1/3 the size of Niijima. We came to our “port”, which was actually a parked and rotting trailer. We paid the man 400 yen and had our tickets. I got to talking with a few of the other travelers, a few Japanese making a day trip to enjoy the hot springs on the neighboring island. They gave me some insane tasting fish jerky and a can of what I later found out was whiskey and ginger ale, premixed, and know as highball. It was quite a snack, worthy of a sailor, I thought.

The small boat came to fetch us and about 15 others. The boat was the opposite of the port in all regards. It was amazingly clean, quiet and fast, which two flat screen TVs below deck that nobody watched. Everyone was up on the deck watching the amazing view of our trip through the water and around the rocks. I saw flying fish. At first I thought the “highball” was tripping the light fantastic on the water, but my friends saw them too. They would leap out of water from the wake of the boat and sail through the air, shimmering and gliding for about 20 feet before diving back down. It was indescribable how dreamlike it was, to see fish flying about above the water, with the craggy island in the back, the blue green cappuccino foam sea, and the roar and skip of the boat.

We arrived at Shikenijima and immediately found the first place to rent bicycles. We rode directly toward the beach and set up shop for the day. I didn’t see a single Brazilian anywhere. I was kind of sad, actually, to trade them for the touristy Japanese I know and love so well. No matter, I was in the shade, with my book in front of me, and sounds of a peaceful beach behind me.

Our campground was about ¼ mile from the beach, so we figured we would set up shop around sundown (this was not my idea, by the way, for I know it was certain disaster to try to set up any type of camp as the sun is going down). I was so content with my spot on the beach, though, that I could’ve slept the night no problem. Maybe the highball was messing with my judgment.

I enjoyed my SPAM/rice ball and peanut butter cookie lunch. It was quite delicious, actually. The SPAM coupled with the sea salt from my fingers was amazing, the rice was perfect, and the cookie was, far and away, the best peanut butter cookie I ever tasted. Thank you Sora café.

We rode around on the bikes for a while and visited the islands two of the three hot springs on the island. They were quite relieving. There is no better feeling that to be in a hot spring as the rain is falling ever so slightly, with the sound of the ocean in your ears. We saved the most famous of the three island hot springs for our night excursion, as the island pamphlet said it perfect for soaking and gazing at the stars.

Night began to fall and we still hadn’t set up our campsite. We rode quickly back toward the camp and found a sign declaring that the site was closed for August. We were flabbergasted, astonished, staggered. How could they close this place in the middle of tourist season? Not to mention the busiest holiday in Japan? Its like closing the Ritz-Carlton During Christmas…well maybe a bit different. I was not a happy camper.

We decided that we would wait till as late as possible to set up our tent. Surely the campground police would be asleep by midnight, and even if they kicked us out in the morning we could just go sleep on the beach. We went out to eat at a decent okinomiyaki (big Japanese omelet) restaurant. After we were full and happy, we stocked up on beer from a vending machine and headed toward the last, and most famous hot spring of the island. It was a treacherous walk down a paved, but steep, slope toward a tide pool at the bottom. All around us were signs of construction that the island was possibly trying to install lights around the area. All we had was our solitary flashlight, and my keychain light which I never leave home without. It was absurdly dark. There was no moon, no light from the city; the stars were almost as intense as in the desert of Arizona, almost. I wondered, many times, what the hell I was doing.

We arrived at the hot spring, which did look idyllic, but in the dark of the night had taken on an almost diabolical air. The water belched sulfuric steam in our faces, bubbling and frothing. The pools looked ghastly and forbidding under the tiny beam of the flash light. They were much different than the man made, paved pools we were used to. Plant and animal matter floated near the bottom. There was no way I was getting in. We layed around on the rocks for a while, enjoying the stars, breeze and ocean noise until we realized we were surrounded by massive insects. Rock crawlers the size of your thumb. Like undeveloped shrimp. That was the last straw. I high tailed it up the hill and back toward my bike.

We made our way back toward the campsite and tried to set up our gazebo/tent. At midnight. With a flash light. Setting up the tent was quite simple, except for one major flaw: somewhere between Niijima and our current location, one of the structure poles had broken. The pole lay in pieces, the bungee hanging loosely out of the end. We were screwed. We assembled the tent the best we could, with only 2 of the three supporting structures. It was actually quite sound, until the wind began to howl, and the rain began to fall.

I slept about 90 minutes that night. The wind would blast through the tent, smashing the roof down onto our bags. The tent would pop back up on its on, but it was no shelter. The misty rain would fall every hour for about 10 minutes. Just enough to wake you up and make you made. I got bit by at least 100 mosquitoes. The next day, my friend counted over 12 bites, just on each of my elbows. Not to mention to my legs. It was impossible to sleep.

I awoke with the sun, and tried to gather my wits. I was tired…no exhausted and angry. I wanted to be dry. I wanted a normal meal. I wanted to not be bitten by bugs. I remember waking up and saying “Fuck camping, fuck this tent, and fuck this fucking island.”

I laid out my last dry t shirt, last pair of sparkly clean socks and boxers. I was ready to change into my nicest clothes and hop on the slow boat home at 9 am that morning. I was pissed off to the fullest degree, but I was going to enjoy my last few hours of island time, change into some nice dry clothes and head home. I was a slightly happy camper.

I made my way to the hot spring for one last soak.

Then the rain began. Not the misty peaceful rain of the last few days, but a full on onslaught of monsoon/typhoon caliber death rain. The drops were massive. The winds was howling. I cycled/ran back for the tent and tried to salvage the last of my dry clothes and shoes into a plastic bag. I had made it just in time, only the top part of my folded t shirt was wet and my socks, boxers, and shoes were dry. I was still, supremely pissed, and for once, I was actually cold. I went back to the hot spring, with my water laden towel and soaked until the rain stopped.

As soon as the storm passed, I went back to the camp, changed, and packed up my belongings. I threw my sleeping bag away. I turned in my bike, walked to the port, and fell asleep on the cold linoleum floor. The boat came, I departed and didn’t look back. For once, I could care less to see the view of the islands as we departed. It was 9 am and I drank a beer and ate a hot cup of curry soup from the vending machine. I fell asleep in my assigned seat below the deck, dry and happy to have shelter. I was truly a happy camper.

The rest is history: I made it back to Tokyo, washed my clothes and took a shower. Everything was just dandy. Island time was over. I have plenty of camping experience (thanks Mom and Dad) and I knew what I was getting into beforehand. It was a fun trip, but it was far from a relaxing vacation on the beach. I ate some great food, met some awesome people, and saw things that few people will ever see. But, I will never go back to an island without a proper tent or a hotel reservation.